#lin writes !

[linderosse]

Guys.

Super long post; read at your own peril (tl;dr at the end).

But I just had a brilliant possible idea about where Echo (the new Zelda from Echoes of Wisdom) fits in the Wisdomverse, so I’m documenting it in case I decide to use it.

See, merging Echo into Fable would be cool. They seem very similar already (relevant post), and it’s a good option.

Yet there are a few small problems with this. I can get around them, but they’re still something to consider.

Fable’s already in four separate games (Most Zeldas get one game or less). Adding EoW makes a fifth.

Fable is already quite powerful amongst the Zeldas. Adding EoW makes her a bit OP. I’ll have to balance that carefully.

Fable has a planned story arc in the Wisdomverse. This might conflict with EoW (for example, this is why LU decided against adding TotK to Wild)

So while I still think it could be cool to merge Fable and Echo, I’m also looking for other possibilities. I don’t want to introduce a new Zelda between Fable and Dawn unless I have to.

And then I realized:

There is already a canon Zelda between Fable and Dawn.

I’ve literally already introduced her.

I have plans for her that could totally work with what we see in Echoes of Wisdom.

She’s vastly underpowered and could use the abilities from EoW very well

I could totally see myself writing her personality into EoW Zelda— it’s a different take than how I’ve depicted Echo before, but it would work equally well imo

And she’s also the Zelda with the least canon information; the one we know the least about overall— especially since we never meet her in her own time.

Guys, if Fable doesn’t work out, I think it might be awesome to merge Echo with Aurora— Hyrule’s second Zelda.

Imagine this:

Aurora woke up centuries in the future, after the Great Decline. She’s trapped in a vastly different world with Dawn and Hyrule as her only solace. She loves them, but she’s not from here; and she can’t shake the dread that she’s left everything behind: her friends, her realm, her brother, who she still cares about despite everything he did to her— and also, of course, her Link, who she loves, and went on an entire adventure to save.

When she was Echo, she was a hero. But as Aurora, she’s an echo of the past; a mournful ghost of a bygone age

Tl;dr: What if Echoes of Wisdom is the era Aurora came from— and where she desperately longs to return?

Masterpost

(More thoughts on the timeline under the cut.)

So— Echoes of Wisdom seems (so far) to take place around the time of Legend’s era, with enough ambiguity that it could be either before or after Legend’s era of ALttP/Oracles/ALBW/TH.

Currently leaning towards “EoW before Legend” considering the similarities to OoT, but I could very well go with “EoW after Legend,” which would be necessary for the Aurora merge. The Oracle games, after all, have a lot of similarities with OoT in terms of races and characters present (Zoras, the Deku Tree, Zelda’s design, etc), and they come after ALttP, which doesn’t have quite as many. Same thing with FSA, which is canonically after Twilight Princess but obviously resembles Four Swords more, and both Wisdomverse and LU have shifted the timeline to match. So there is precedent for similarities to skip a generation or two, even in canon.

I also doubt EoW is going to include a Prince of Hyrule (the one character we know of from Aurora’s backstory). This is fine, because I’m confident I can come up with a reason the Prince was away during the events of EoW. Perhaps during the events of EoW, the Prince left on a journey of his own and first encountered the Wizard that leads to Aurora’s downfall.

Anyways, these are just tentative plans. We’ll see what happens when the game comes out!

[goblinhoursinsomniaramblings]

I Know Those Eyes, Part 1

one dramatic in-universe reveal per chapter, let's go!

writing based purely on vibes, but i do have an actual plot brewing.

@grimdarling69 made more feel free to dm things you might want different

Prologue here

Tim had been the first to see the shape of his family’s future collective stress nightmares.

He’d been right there, after all. He had been asleep in the Batcave when Damian had decided to… he’d been right there, waking up to a single chance, loud noise Damian normally would have never made, with a chance to stop him, bring him to the others, talk it out, find a solution to whatever Luthor had been planning with concentrated Lazarus water. But he hadn’t woken up fast enough.

He had nightmares about that night for years. Sometimes, he knows exactly what’s going to happen and lets it happen anyway. Sometimes, he gets Damian to promise he’ll talk it out, only for him to run when Tim’s back is turned. The worst are the ones where he stops him, and everything works out for the best, and Tim wakes up and remembers what actually happened. Sometimes, he wakes up after getting to see Damian grow up, take on a new mantle, and haze a new Robin.

He always dismissed those dreams as filtering a fresh wave of grief through his knowledge of forensic analysis. He’d seen both Talia and Bruce, therefore he could map rough predictions of what he would grow up to look like, once he hit various milestones. It was all academic, since he would never get the chance to prove what he would have… been.

At least up until Oracle called him to verify something.

(“Red Robin, I need a judgment call.”

“A judgment call? Seriously? What exactly is stopping you from sending this to–”

“Luthor might be alive again. Check the footage I’ve sent you.”)

And… sure enough… here Tim was, three cups of coffee into an all-nighter, manually highlighting every shot in the security camera footage he’d been sent of a visiting CEO of a new tech startup that showed the man’s features. Which, actually, weren’t a lot, but once he started going through them all–yeah, that was Luthor alright. Same build, same face, the only thing that son of a bitch did was grow hair.

Like that wouldn’t have been the first disguise anyone who saw Lex Luthor would have suggested. Hair! Long, practically a lion’s mane of the stuff, tied into a low ponytail, with one of those chin beard things to hide the shape of his face more! All of it silvered by age and possible Lazarus contamination, and he hated that Luthor might purposely be affecting a ‘silver fox’ look.

And the worst part is it would have worked if anyone had removed him from the high priority list for being flagged for recognition. Tim almost had, but… Lazarus water. A mysterious death around concentrated Lazarus water. And apparently he had been, once again, completely right!

Tim had been furious by the time he’d combed through enough angles of his face getting out of a sleek black car to confirm, without a doubt, who he was. But then, the passenger side door had opened. All his anger had become shock. His hands shook as he opened a different, far more heavily encrypted profile.

Damian Wayne, priority 0.

Almost nothing came back an exact match, of course. The growth between 14 and 18 would have affected every feature, and the footage wasn’t nearly good enough to lift a retinal pattern or fingerprint from a distance (he noted the black gloves and mirrored shades blocking both), not to mention forensic prediction wasn’t an exact science, and beyond all of that, he could be totally wrong and Luthor was hauling out a clone, or a doppelgänger-

But as each feature lined up in his predictive model, as he watched the young man get out, brusquely close his door, and fall in at Luthor’s side without a word, a (surprisingly slight, far closer to Talia than Bruce) shadow falling into his wake like it was old habit, Tim felt certain he was right. He was certain he had dreamed of a world where Damian lived long enough to have that exact face. He called Oracle back.

“Hey, Oracle? I need a judgment call.”

***

It had taken minutes for Vlad and Danny to begin calling each other by their original names again. It had taken far longer, however, to get back to a familiar dynamic.

Oh, in the short term, it hadn’t been a problem at all. However, it was simply a matter of fact they had both led very different lives before remembering who they were meant to be. Vlad’s disgust at who he had been had colored much of his early days reclaiming his ghost half, and Daniel…

A childhood as a trained assassin had not been kind on the boy. Parts of Damian Al Ghul had needed to be chipped away over these last few years, most especially the fear of the League of Assassins that still hummed through him. Thankfully, Vlad had some help on that front and oh flaky pastry he was smiling again-

Though on second thought he supposed a warm and fatherly smile would help distance himself from ‘Lex’ Luthor. Yes, Lionel Vladimir Luthor, CEO and founder of VladCo, would be a man of warmth and fatherly compassion, and absolutely no one would suspect how thoroughly he could destroy them until they had dared to cross the line.

“You know we passed a dozen security cameras, right?” came a quiet voice to his left, the young man’s eyes flashing an even brighter green on occasion behind the shaded glasses he used to mask as Vlad’s bodyguard.

Oh, Daniel. So paranoid these days.

“Really? I only counted eight,” he replied, as the two of them were waved in by the desk clerk of their hotel.

“You’re not being creative enough with the word ‘security’. We’re meeting investors with ties to organized crime.”

Ah. So they were connected to weapons instead of larger networks of cameras. Classic Gotham City logic. Why only be corrupt, when you could be corrupt and violent? Though, it wasn’t as if he and his companion had to be careful anymore.

It had taken years to get to this point. Reclaiming their ghost halves, their powers, their lairs, their titles–their many, many titles, in Daniel’s case. Not to mention dear Daniela and Dante had taken years to recover, were still recovering, really, but at least now they could be comfortable staying with a substitute caregiver-

“Oh, any word from Frostbite?” he asked absently as he plugged the number code into the elevator to bypass the purposefully broken button for their intended floor. He had never encountered these kinds of silly little spy games after regaining his memories, it was almost endearingly pointless now.

“Nothing critical,” Daniel said with a small smile as they found their way to their specific unmarked door.

That meant there were pictures. Well. Good reason to get this nonsense done quickly. He raised a hand to knock.

“Game face, badger. We have a foundation to lay here.”

“Right back at you, frootloop,” said Daniel, slipping back into the resting scowl of his new childhood.

Honestly. Spy games. Next to what he and Daniel had planned?

Minor leagues.

***

-dramatic reveal in this chapter: the lazarus tech event brought back its victims.

-i don’t want to spoil their whole plan here but they’ve got obsessions to feed that are aligning super well right now and vlad wants to take the opportunity to show he cares and ruthlessly fuck over people who have personally wronged daniel/damian along the way.

-yes i am referencing the name used by luthor's father in the tv show, but in practice i'm referring to the time superman died and luthor pretended to be his own son, replete with luxurious hair.

[kusanagihaku]

i will turn into clouds sanguine 

⭢ lyca and mc, 1.2k

q is for qilin. ˖⁺‧₊⟡ alphabet series | ao3

The front door of Obscuary creaks open under your touch. 

Rui must have left it unlocked for you after you texted him earlier today about leaving paperwork for some new missions – you step inside and let the heavy door groan closed behind you. You make a left turn into where you told Rui you’d leave the files…

…only to come face to face with Lyca and a huge, huge canvas. 

You blink. Woah. 

It lays flat on the Obscuary dining table, long and white and half-covered in fine, black pen strokes. If you had to guess, it’d be Lyca’s height when propped upright, with a width double that. 

“You’re here,” Lyca says. He flicks a glance at your shoes. “Did you get lost?” 

You flush. You did make a wrong turn or two in the forest but… you made it, didn’t you? “Um. No.”  

Lyca sniffs, frowning. “You smell like the soil from Rui’s garden. That’s not on the way in.” 

“…maybe?” You can’t help the sheepish grin that breaks onto your face, and are rewarded with Lyca’s triumphant snort. “Anyway, what’s this?” 

Lyca glances back down at the corner of the canvas he’s bent over. “Rui asked me to draw something we could hang in the bar. He promised he would buy me paints if I did it, so I did.” 

You walk closer to the canvas to get a better look. The fine lines coalesce into four large shapes under the dim dining room light, vaguely reminiscent of mythical creatures you might have read about once upon a time. “What are these?” 

Lyca points to his left. There is a small book propped open beside the pen he has just set down – comparing the yellowed page to his canvas, you realise he must have been using it as a reference for most of the details. “The idiot grandpa gave me this book and told me to do this. It was the only thing he suggested that Rui agreed to.” 

You wince; you don’t want to imagine what else Ed suggested to Rui. You turn your attention back to the tangle of black strokes on the white surface. 

Nearest to you is a completed tortoise, mouth open and claws pointed and sharp. It is seated atop a stone, and is angled to face a phoenix floating down from the top left. The phoenix, despite being only rendered in swift, short lines, is striking – its wings are outstretched and its glare fierce. Hidden under the furrow of its eyes is a desperate sort of determination you had no idea could be captured in pen. 

In the top right corner, snaking down from a hastily sketched set of clouds is a majestic beast, teeth bared and horns like fire. Scales slick off its back in flames, and its claws extend towards the foreground. It is lit in part by the warmth of the overhead light, but in part by the soft moonlight streaming in through a nearby window; the silver of moonlight makes the creature almost glow. 

You let out a low whistle, impressed. “Is that a dragon?” 

Lyca nods. “They’re supposed to be the four is- es- suspicious beasts.” 

You pause for a moment. “…auspicious?” 

Lyca scrunches his nose. “Yeah. Anyway, Ed says Rui is supposed to be the dragon.” 

You wrack your brain for mentions of the Four Auspicious Beasts – you know you studied something similar for a class two or three months back. “Isn’t it supposed to symbolise power or strength, or something like that?” 

“Yeah.” Lyca scratches the back of his neck. “Rui has the most power out of all of us. Given his curse and all.” 

You half-smile. Once upon a time you’d have said Ed was the strongest in Obscuary – knowing him now and thinking about the dynamics of the house, it makes more sense that their harried and lively vice-captain would be their dragon. 

“What about the tortoise?” 

Lyca frowns, as if it is obvious. He picks up his pen. “It’s that moth-eaten Casanova, of course. Slow and can’t do anything but make gross jokes.” 

Well. You can’t refute that.

“Also, he said it was supposed to represent longevity and stability,” Lyca adds, adding a few pen strokes, “and he’s supposed to live forever, so.” 

You look carefully at what Lyca is sketching. It is half-complete, details on its face yet to be finished. “Is that you?” 

He nods. “Rui said this was a…” he squints back at the tiny reference book, “a Qilin.” 

Makes sense. From what you remember, the qilin symbolised righteousness and integrity, both qualities Lyca possesses in bounds. 

You hum, watching his hands work. “Did you know that qilin are said to be so gentle and respectful of life they don’t step on blades of grass?” 

Lyca looks up at you, briefly. “I step on grass.”

It pulls a laugh out of you. “Yeah, well, but you’re still one of the most respectful ghouls I know.” 

You feel Lyca straighten a little at that, almost like he’s holding back a beam. He lets out a small huff. “Well. That’s what Suba told me to do.” 

If his tail was out it’d be wagging. You bite back a smile. “That’s good!” 

A silence lapses over the both of you for a few minutes as you watch his pen glide across the canvas. Your eyes wander back, again, to the eyes of the phoenix. 

Come to think of it, aren’t there only three occupants in Obscuary? You know that the set needs all four to be complete, but if Rui was the dragon, Ed the tortoise and Lyca the qilin, who was the phoenix? 

“Lyca, who’s that supposed to be then? Since there are only three of you.” 

Lyca slides a glance at you, brows furrowed as if he cannot fathom why you would be asking. “Isn’t it obvious? That’s you.” 

You blink. 

He taps the back of his pen on the reference book. The little taps are heavy on the lump growing in your throat. “The old man said phoenixes mean rebirth. After you’re cured, you’re gonna have your second life, right?”

His tone is so matter-of-fact, as if he has never had a doubt that you’d be cured, that whatever response you might have had swells in your lungs and stays there. 

The weight of his conviction sinks into the surface of your mind. You know the Mortkranken ghouls have been working overtime for you, you know the Hotarubi ghouls have been poring over dusty old tomes for more information, you know the rest of the ghouls have been working on your curse in their own ways and yet… 

And yet some part of you has never dared to hope for the success of a cure. 

You swallow. 

But here they are, holding a torch you have never dared to light – you will break your curse before the year is up. You will be cured. You will get to return to normal, life irrevocably changed by your time at Darkwick and bound to the ghouls that you’ve helped and been helped by, for better or for worse. You will get to live. 

Your nose burns. 

Lyca looks at you curiously. 

“Nothing,” you say, quickly. You cough to cover up the thick in your voice. “The fact that you’d accept me into Obscuary… that’s really nice to hear.” 

Lyca snorts. “Of course you’ll be with us. Where else would you be?” 

You grin. It comes out watery, probably, but you don’t care. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

[hunniez]

✎ fic preview | sandstorm (poly!satosugu/reader. modern!au)

hi baes, it's been a crazy past two months since I moved but I finally have had time to get into it and write! I'm still fleshing this fic out but here's a little peek ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

“I’m..sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” Gojo said softly, standing stiffly at the front door of the apartment. He opened his mouth once more but hesitated and instead pressed his lips into a grim line. Bowing his head, he cleared his throat uncomfortably before opening the door and exiting promptly as if he wasn’t affected by what had just transpired. If he wasn’t affected by leaving you like this.

A shaky exhale escapes your lips as you grab at your thighs, nails digging into the skin exposed by your lounge shorts as if to alleviate the agonizing grief, pain, and sorrow that currently tore through your heart and mind. The faucet of the kitchen sink dripped quietly. You grit your teeth as you lean over your lap, burying your face in your shaking hands as the sobs crawl up your throat, constricting your airways and making it hard to breathe. Droplets of condensation steadily trailed along your forgotten glass of iced water.  One tear turned into another. And then another. And then another.

Outside it started to pour.

[enlitment]

My attempt to translate Voltaire's The Divine Émilie into Czech because I just love it so much.

I don't think anyone who speaks Czech will actually see this, so you'll have to trust me that I tried my best to keep the rhymes.

[pinkheichou]

Chapter 25 of my Gofushi longfic 'It's Corporate Baby (The Zenin Revenge)' is up!

WHAT'S MEGUMI'S ANSWER TO GOJO'S QUESTION??

REGULAR UPDATES / Corporate AU / Revenge-themed

Chapter summary:

"It's a promise."

"You don't have to make a promise."

"I wanted to, though.”

[coffeewithcutcaffeine]

Sometimes I think my writing is a pile of rubbish, and then I suddenly manage to come up with paragraphs such as this:

She despises herself for harbouring such thoughts. She loathes herself for suddenly devaluing her worth, for appreciating herself so little, for immersing herself in such frivolous concerns. Her body has given life to two beautiful creatures, living and breathing human beings, so why does her mind conspire to deceive her so cruelly, to trick her into feeling so powerless? Is it not a woman’s body that conjures such a marvel — a resplendent, delicate, rosy little creation emerging from a place of anguished cries, agony, blood, and sweat? What mortal man has ever created such enchantment on a battlefield as macabre and crimson as that which unfolds between a woman’s legs? Is not every battlefield etched with toil and sacrifice? Her body maps the victories won in those wars.

[linderosse]

This is 1000% true.

Echoing this for me as well: comments/tags give me life and I read every single one of them, no matter how old the original post. It’s incredibly nice to see what people think about my work. Always brightens my day <3

I dont care how old an art post of mine is, its always open to comments. I work hard on them. Its so sad that a comic i could work weeks on only gets comments or funny tags for like two to three days before trickling to a stop. They are like fuel to me. It shows me that people are actually interested.

[yurinaa-world]

"𝐼'𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓀!"

Characters: Scar, Jiyan, Geshu Lin, & Calcharo x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: Kisses while drunk?!

Warnings fluff, spelling mistakes

𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇 "𝒪𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐹𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒹𝓊𝓈"

“Ugh...You’re such a bastard..”

Who would have known that Scar would also join you for drinks—sitting right in front of you with a grin—but now how you two are arguing? Well, it’s just you being a jealous drunk while he’s acting like his usual flirt since he isn’t forcing down a drink every second like you—this argument is completely one-sided.

You take another slip from the bottle—it used to be full but now you’ve left it almost empty—you sigh after your lips leave the bottle.

“You’ve shattered my heart with that insult.”

He’s mocking you! You can tell how he’s holding his laugh! His head was slightly tilted to the side while his chin was on his palm. 

“I hope it’s broken till it can’t be fixed!”  You huff and take another sip of your drink while he hums while ‘taking in your words in for consideration’—he’s just getting some information to tease you with when you're sober.

“Must have been fun to go on your ‘little date’”  

he snickers at your statement, such a jealous little lover of his. "You know you're the only person I'd love." His unoccupied hand went to your cheek, pinching and pulling at it while you frowned with annoyance. "You're my only one, darling~"  He smiled, his eyes closed as if enjoying a wonderful dream. You push his hand away, annoyed by his actions.

"Say that to your new lover."   You sneer at the thought. "Oh please," He scoffs, "who else in the entire world would I burn everything for? I'll give you a hint: it's the same person sitting in front of me"  His voice lowered into an even more teasing tone, leaning in closer to you—your lips inches away from each other—so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body, causing you to shiver in anticipation. His hand on your face is now gripping tightly on your cheek, making sure not to let you pull away as he leans forward and whispers lowly 

"And it's you. you're my everything.~" When leaning to kiss your lips—just like always it's rough—his hand moved down, cupping your jaw as he deepened the kiss, biting the bottom of your lip. You pull away trying to catch air and breathe out while flustered out of your mind.

"Why don't you call me a bastard again, hmm?"

𝒥𝒾𝓎𝒶𝓃 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝒪𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝒾𝒹𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈"

“Loosen up Jiyan, you're so tense!

He really should loosen up! always refusing to drink at parties. Even now that’s the case! you're both all alone together so he really should take a break and let his mind just go numb for a while with how much thinking he does.

He might not be able to resist you for any longer with how you are straddling his lap, an arm loosely around his neck and the other with a drink in hand—to get him to try—you were wasted out of your mind.

"You should calm down before you get hurt.” 

He tells you, very gently pushing you off of his lap and taking the drink from your hands. “Aren’t gonna drink it?” You clasp your hands together and beg him. which just makes it worse for him not to listen to you.

He listens to your request, immediately chugging the drink quickly and fast to get it over with just to make you happy.  

He could see how bright your smile was when he finished—how can you be so happy over something so small and how the way you giggled and squealed.

“See! You're not so tense anymore after a drink!”

He just sighs and pulls you close as you lean on him and rests your head against his chest. “You’ve had too many drinks..”

“But I want just one more.” 

𝒢𝑒𝓈𝒽𝓊 𝐿𝒾𝓃 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝓂𝑒𝓇 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝒪𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝒾𝒹𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈"

“You’re drinking too much..”

“Huh? I’ve only had three though?” You mutter, laying your head against his shoulder, while Geshu has his arm loosely around your waist—drinking his nonalcoholic drink while you had been drinking till your heart's content maybe too much with the fact you can’t even remember how many drinks you’ve had, and your face was sooo red.

All you feel is fuzziness, mind burry and just in general not having too much consciousness in your actions—yet you keep on drinking, small little cup yet still filled to the brim—with the warmth of his body, the solidity and softness made you want to come closer.

Looking to the side to see him smiling at you lovingly,  his eyes warm as he continues to hold you close. “I don't want to let you go.” You incoherently mumble,  snuggling closer into him. 

 Feeling his fingers gently caressing your hair as he looks down upon you. His lips quirk up further, making you put down your drink, and his hands gently cup his face. leaning ever so gently to kiss him on the lips.

He could just taste the hard alcohol from your lips,  but it didn’t bother him, nor did he mind. In fact,  after a moment or two of kissing, he deepens it.

You respond by letting out a breathy sigh, deepening the kiss.  pulling away, you feel dazed and dizzy but the smile never leaves his face. You stare up at him as if you were even more drunk than before.

“I think it’s time for you to get to bed.”

𝒞𝒶𝓁𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑜 "𝐿𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝐻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝓈"

Ugh…What a pain. Having to deal with you while you’re drunk is a nightmare for him. 

“Come on! Calcharo! Why are you pushing me away~?” Your words are all slurry and muffled because of the alcohol in your system. While you try to hug him yet his hand on your face, pushing you back.

 “Look at yourself in the mirror before talking. you’re a complete drunk mess.”

You pout at his stubbornness, giving up on trying to get closer before grabbing the bottle beside you and taking a deep sip of the alcohol—numbing your system even more, making you feel so warm on the inside.

He grabs the alcohol bottle from your hands, pulling away from your reaches. “enough drinking,”  he spoke sternly.

You immediately frown at his tone, “You’re no fun!” You say in a whining tone. It was true though—you were drunk out of your mind.

Putting the bottle away—far from you—you stare blankly not sure of what to do now while Calcharo eyes you suspiciously. You were planning something and he sure wasn’t wrong.

 Grabbing his arm, wrapping your arms around his,  you pull his body towards you until you are chest to chest, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. “I want a kiss.” Gazing up at him with a hot expression on your face.

 he seemed stunned by the sudden action immediately pulling you off of him and covering your eyes. “Ask me when you're sober.”

“What! That is so not fair!”

“Since when did I care about it being fair?”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[seiwas]

suguru looks at you and thinks he could tell you everything.

it's tempting—how you hold his gaze when others normally avoid it. anyone else and their eyes dart away immediately, blurring him into the background. not with you though; with you, he exists in central focus.

there's a strand of your hair that's fallen out of place, and he reaches to tuck it behind your ear, quickly. it's a trick, a sleight of hand that conceals the tremble of his fingertips.

(your breath hitches when he grazes your cheek.)

the noise in the cafe is a symphony of indistinct chatter and soft alternative folk music, with ceramics clinking as the constant underlying beat. none of it is supposed to go together, but it carries the ambiance in its harmony.

he leans in closer when you speak.

you continue your story, off on a tangent already; his head tilts to the side, a finger to his temple as he nods along, lips curling at the edges fondly. this same look has made others nervous, flustered, but you seem unfazed; meeting him eye-to-eye overtly.

which isn't normal.

and if he's being truly honest with himself, none of this—what he's doing, thinking, how he's feeling—is normal.

suguru believes in secrets, that some things are better kept to himself.

but, it's one look into your eyes, at the way you regard him so unlike everybody else that has him wondering how you'd react if he tells you you look pretty instead of nice today—how you are pretty much a frequent visitor to his thoughts lately.

(you talk and talk and talk because you can never tell what he's thinking—mysterious smile matched with an unnerving stare is a combination too deadly.)

he doesn't do 'brunches'—it's either a late breakfast or an early lunch, pick one—yet he finds himself seated in a cafe at 10:27 a.m., having one with you.

the lock to his chest has been tampered with; if he dusts it off, he'll find your fingerprints, left behind unknowingly. you are innocent until proven guilty, but his lips, usually shut tight, are now slowly unzipping; it's you, the root of all this.

if he tells you he likes looking at you—might always want to—would you consider having another brunch with him? to stay longer in that suspended in-between of breakfast and lunch time?

(you blink, suguru still leaned in, listening.)

(if you tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, will his breath hitch just the same?)

for @rinniessance; a lil birthday gift for you angie bby! (i might be a lil early posting this... oop!) i've never written sugu but wanted to try for you 🥹 ily you beautiful soul!! (not a birthday fic itself but i hope i gave a decent characterisation of him! 🥺)

thank you notes: @mysugu @soumies for helping me try to figure this man out 😭

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[linderosse]

Fic readers in the house, I’ve got a question for you all: After how long is it considered bad form for an author to reply to a comment on AO3?

See, I read every comment on my fics almost immediately and absolutely love receiving them, like many authors do. But often a mental block takes hold of me, and writing a response— even to the comments I freaking love— becomes difficult. So I put it off and sometimes never end up getting back to it.

And then, sometimes, I see a bunch of old comments and think, “Hey, why don’t I reply to those now?” Yet I’m not sure if that’s polite, since so long has passed in between.

So— what do y’all usually think if a few months pass before an author replies to your comment? Or a year? Or longer?

Would it be considered rude to reply at all, at that point, since the commenter may not even be in the fandom anymore?

Let me know what you think!

[goblinhoursinsomniaramblings]

why am i allowed to do things

inspiration struck

i am so sorry

They had been getting along so well, too. The mood swings had ebbed as the baby had started getting big enough to make visible changes to him. He had been able to actually enjoy being held again rather than alternating between needing it desperately and loathing it with every fiber of his body. He and Daniel had been enjoying a lovely, quiet evening with just that, Vlad getting some reading done while his badger had wrapped him and his belly in arms, radiating the low hum of glee one only truly felt around a ghost whose obsession was actively being fed.

It had been sweet, but certain things took priority, and Vlad being absolutely overwhelmed by a need for a cheese bake was one of those very things. (He still believed that, because he still didn’t have it, and if he didn’t get one as soon as possible he was probably going to burn this entire state to the ground.) However, the second he had tried to shift his weight to get up–

“Oh, do you need something? I can get it,” Daniel had suggested.

More strongly than he probably realized, given he had not unwrapped his arms from around Vlad.

“Just a craving, little badger,” Vlad had said, but that had made the arms no looser.

“For what? I can get it for you.”

“I want to make it, Daniel,” he had said, trying very hard to stay patient.

If his mood swings had ebbed, Daniel’s protective instincts had started to flow, and frankly Vlad was finding it insufferable. He knew how hard an obsession could strike, so he did try, but sometimes that Fenton bullheadedness would raise its obnoxious head and the biggest hint in the world would not be taken.

“Let me make it, you take it easy-”

And there it was. The exact moment he knew he would need to be blunt on the matter.

Targeted intangibility let him slip away (and the yelp from behind him as he did so was hilarious) and he moved quickly to his kitchen before the discussion followed him. Thankfully, he had everything in the oven before Daniel had his argument ready and waiting at the entrance.

“You turned on the anti-ghost shields?!”

Not the argument he was expecting, but a compelling one. He had, in fact, turned on the passive defenses so he could bake in peace.

“If I hadn’t, how fast would you have been down here trying to convince me it’s dangerous to bake in my own kitchen?! Cheezits, I have a portal to the Ghost Zone in my basement and this is what you–”

Oh, he saw the exact moment he should have stopped talking. That light in Daniel’s eyes that flicked on when logic clocked out and sheer opportunistic determination kicked in. He had pressed the obsession button, and it was very likely the Ghost Zone was about to pay for it.

“I’m just… going to…” started the young man as he moved towards where he’d hung his jacket.

Vlad followed, mainly out of a complete disbelief he was going to be this… no, end sentence, he could not believe he was going to be this.

“You know I need that portal open-”

“I know but what you said–what if the baby phases down there-”

“And what, somehow fires up the highly advanced technology and wanders out into the shifting infinite energy fields? Are you hearing yourself??”

“I’m just saying, what if they wander out somewhere unsafe? Sometimes the exit point shifts, I gotta make sure it-”

“Yes, and sometimes it randomizes entirely and has to be compensated for, my point is it’s a hypothetical, and a ridiculous one!”

Aaand, he was still putting on his jacket.

Unbelievable.

“What are you going to do, Daniel? Babyproof the entire Ghost Zone?”

“Maybe!”

And that was Vlad’s limit for the night. He was getting his cheese bake, and he was going to forget this entire asinine argument even happened.

Up until he remembered Danny actually had a very credible claim on several portions of the Ghost Zone. And his obsession had just flared.

So this is how Daniel discovers ambition, thought Vlad as he rubbed one of his suddenly throbbing temples.

*skedaddling into your inbox* Hello I heard old man mpreg. Danny cuddling Vlads bump and just has the strong instinct to protect him. Fretting over him like a mother hen and it starts to get on Vladdys nerves. *skedaddles out*

[goblinhoursinsomniaramblings]

@grimdarling69 hey heres the thing i talked about

(AU of the above writers crack treated seriously danny as damian au)

I Know Those Eyes prologue

“We need to go faster.”

Lex only barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

“I’m going as fast as I can, little badger.”

“... if you’re making a stable portal. I don’t believe it should be stable.”

Ah. Attention: caught.

“You think someone will find it.”

“No. I know someone will find it. I’m not-”

The boy cut himself off, but he heard the full message loud and clear:

I’m not ready.

In that respect, Lex had been lucky. He didn’t have anyone he wanted to return to, save the two cores he had (rightfully, apparently) entrusted to Damian. Damian, however, clearly planned to reintegrate his two selves. Troublesome, but he was sure he would have time to address that once they’d dealt with more time-sensitive concerns.

“Alright. What do you suggest?”

“There’s exactly one design that cut corners and still worked, afterwards. We can rig it to fail after one use.”

Lex smirked.

“Fail safely, or fail catastrophically?”

And Damian–Daniel–did not disappoint in his response.

***

Whatever Luthor had been trying to do, he had taken it to his grave.

At least they had learned why Damian–high concentrations of the radiation unique to Lazarus water had been found at the…blast site. Clearly, Luthor had thought Ra’s Al’Ghul’s grandson had some knowledge of the inner workings of the substance, and Damian, their brave, dearly missed Damian, had decided to fake his death to keep his family out of range of his…sacrifice.

Maybe one day, Bruce could make peace with that. Forget the size of the damage from the explosion. Stop thinking about the mere minutes they had missed Damian by.

One day.

A funeral, a mourning period, one year stretching into another, until it was four years later, and though he always kept Damian close to his heart, his son no longer haunted him.

Until the day he did.

[kusanagihaku]

tkdb | alphabet series ⊹₊ ⋆

a little fic for every letter of the alphabet!

ao3 | masterlist

s ⭢ jin ⋆˙⟡ ?

h: height ⭢ tohma ⋆˙⟡ think about the consequence - tohma calls you a good girl...

j ⭢ luca ⋆˙⟡ ?

a ⭢ kaito ⋆˙⟡ ?

p: phone calls ⭢ alan ⋆˙⟡ goodnight (goodnight) - soft alan fluff!

d ⭢ alan ⋆˙⟡ ?

t ⭢ alan ⋆˙⟡ ?

r ⭢ leo ⋆˙⟡ ?

e ⭢ sho ⋆˙⟡ ?

k: kindergarten ⭢ haru ⋆˙⟡ running in love in the season of you - college au with a hint of teacher!haru!

c ⭢ towa ⋆˙⟡ ?

x ⭢ ren ⋆˙⟡ ?

b ⭢ taiga ⋆˙⟡ ?

? ⭢ romeo ⋆˙⟡ ?

? ⭢ ritsu ⋆˙⟡ ?

w ⭢ subaru ⋆˙⟡ ?

g ⭢ haku ⋆˙⟡ ?

n ⭢ haku ⋆˙⟡ ?

o ⭢ haku ⋆˙⟡ ?

y: yellow ⭢ haku ⋆˙⟡ and everything you do - haku fluff/pining!

u ⭢ zenji ⋆˙⟡ ?

? ⭢ ed ⋆˙⟡ ?

f ⭢ rui ⋆˙⟡ ?

q: qilin ⭢ lyca ⋆˙⟡ i will turn into clouds sanguine - gen lyca!

v ⭢ yuri ⋆˙⟡ ?

m ⭢ jiro ⋆˙⟡ ?

[enlitment]

Frev Halloween I. 🦇

As we are getting into the spooky season, I remembered @robespapier 's great idea to do a Frev Community Halloween event .

I thought the concept was super fun, so I wrote a little something. French Revolution meets Mary Shelley's Frankenstein in a way, just with more blood and less electricity. It's only a start, but I'll do my best to keep at it.

Hope you enjoy & I wish everyone a great start of the Halloween season!

[pinkheichou]

Sukuitafushi one-shot! (Sukuna x Itadori x Megumi)

Summary:

Sukuna didn't like being a spectator of Yuuji's life. He hated it.

And now he was stuck with witnessing his vessel and Megumi enjoying themselves as a newly established couple?

Fucking hell.

He hated witnessing that from inside of Yuuji's body.

So why shouldn't he just join in on them?

If he was stuck with them, why shouldn't he just have his own fun?

WARNING: UNDERAGE

Rating: E

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: canon-divergent (pre-season 2), PWP, Shameless Smut, Sukuna with his extra mouths, bottom Megumi, Ambiguous Ending