#lots of feels

[sleepisapriviligethatidonthave]

I've been composing a list of songs for Optimus and Megatron for a while now and that's what I have so far

Beware some of them are just MegOp angst

I'll update this post every once in a while when I find more songs

I'm just putting this here bc it's easier to see: almost anything made by ABBA fits them both together and individually

If anyone has any other songs feel free to share them so I can add them here

[mudhamster]

Touch (1/5) Observe

I'm broken, tell you I'm fine

But you wouldn't believe me if you knew the things that crossed my mind

And I'm hurting, but I show no sign

'Cause I'm afraid to give in, break down, and waste your time

You say that you'll help me, tell me I'm worth it

But I don't deserve it, I don't deserve it

It's easy for you ‘cause you know you're perfect

And I need your hand, but I don't want to burn it

Izuku sat on the couch with his knees on his chest and a blanket around him to keep the world away. The apartment was shrouded in darkness and the television was on, playing the last melancholy scenes of a drama to the sound of piano music. Katsuki threw his keys on the table and turned on the light at the same time. He routinely looked back at the exact moment when Izuku would startle and turn to him with eyes as big as... but Deku hadn't made a move to face him. Katsuki wasn't even sure if he had noticed that the light in the hallway had come on. Or that Katsuki was actually home.

"Oy."

[aidaran-alha]

“...and we never went for that picnic, Crowley, now that I think about it. Remember I suggested it in the 60s?” Aziraphale’s comment took Crowley out of his self-deprecating reverie.

“Uh?”

The angel rolled his eyes. This was going to be a long day. “I’m saying, I want to take you out to the park. Just you and me.”

Had Aziraphale had any more knowledge of computers, he would have noticed the blue screen flashing behind Crowley’s eyes as the demon’s brain crashed and tried to grasp what the angel had just suggested, burning all the circuits of his mind in its wake.

“You mean… outside.” Crowley.exe stopped working, and a couple ram modules decided they wouldn’t accept those unhealthy working conditions anymore.

“Yes.”

“Um… Together.” All the cooling fans stopped working at the same time, making his head start to overheat and burn some microchips.

“That’s sort of the meaning of going with you to the park, dear.”

“In… ngk… in public. With, ah… people. Around.” The hard drive crashed too, all the information stored there cleanly wiped out.

“You told me several times we’re safe here on Tadfield, Crowley.”

“Just us.” Finally the system in Crowley’s brain stopped working altogether, his processor beyond any possible repair. He was quite sure smoke was coming out of his ears.

“That’s pretty much the idea, yes.”

“Ngk. Ah. Ok. Yes, sure. Right. When?”

(Continue reading in ao3)

[jaimebluesq]

I know you have a lot of WIPs, but if you're still taking requests, could you write a take on Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue's reunion after NMJ's release from Nightless City? Maybe NHS caring for his Da-ge? No Niecest sexytimes please, just two brothers who are each other's world. Thank you!

I'm always up for requests!!! And I read your request and was immediately in my head, thinking I had a WIP on that very topic - and I did! And I've just worked on it a bit more to flesh it out - still rough, so not ready for AO3 posting, but here's what I have of it so far :D

Warning: Nie Bros Feels ahead!

~ ~ ~

Nie Huaisang slowed his horse as he approached the Nie Sect's camp near Nightless City. He'd received word just over a day earlier that the war had ended, that the Sunshot campaign was victorious in taking out the evil of Wen Ruohan, and he'd quickly packed up a handful of items before saddling up his horse in the stables. Two other disciples had insisted on joining him to protect him along the roads, and the three of them had made record time reaching Qishan.

The closer they came to Nightless City, however, the more evidence of the war they saw. There were dead bodies everywhere wearing various shades of sect colours, defaced emblems and signs that had once stood proudly announcing the territory belonged to the Wen Sect, and large chunks taken out of the earth from the sheer power the cultivators had been using against one another. Once again he was thankful not to be a fighter, that he'd missed seeing all of this carnage up close and personal.

As he neared the camp, he saw a few disciples who appeared to be in good spirits. They recognized him immediately and helped him and his guards dismount, leading their horses away to be cared for after their hard journey. He asked the directions to his brother's tent and tried to make his way through the camp, though he was stopped every now and then by disciples calling out his name and asking him to share a toast with them to victory.

He paused when he saw a familiar face sitting by a nearby fire, hands running a sharpening stone over one of two sabers sitting in his lap. Nie Huaisang approached, making certain to step as noisily as possible before reaching out to place a hand on the man's shoulder.

“Nie-er-gongzi,” the man said before he even lifted his head, and when he did, he gave a half-smile up at Nie Huaisang. His eyes were weary with dark circles underneath, and there was a healing scar across his jaw on the left side, but otherwise he looked well.

“Nie Zonghui.” He didn't think it would be proper to say aloud I'm happy you survived, even if that's how he felt. “Of course you would be maintaining your weapons while the others are celebrating their victory.”

Nie Zonghui glanced over at a pair of disciples nearby who were doing just that with bottles of wine and joyful singing, and nodded. “They deserve it. They worked hard, everyone did.”

“As did you,” he said softly, patting Nie Zonghui's shoulder before taking his hand back. “Don't forget to rest and take care of yourself, or else I'll tell Da-ge.”

Nie Zonghui's expression shuttered. “You're on your way to his tent.” Nie Huaisang nodded. “Good. He's barely left it all day, and any of us who try to check on him get sent away.”

“Did something happen?”

“He led a group to infiltrate Nightless City while the rest of us were fighting outside.” Nie Zonghui paused, his voice turning rough. “There were... casualties.”

And knowing Nie Mingjue, he would be placing most of the responsibility for their loss on himself, no matter who committed the act. “Thank you for the warning.”

He left Nie Zonghui's side and reached the large, central tent at the same time as another disciple holding a tray with food upon it. The moment she set eyes upon him, she sighed in relief. “Nie-er-gongzi, it's good that you're here. I was just about to bring this to Nie-zongzhu's tent...”

“Has he eaten at all today?” She shook her head. He tried to offer her a small smile and took the tray from her hands. “I'll make sure he eats something.” She gave a quick bow and scurried away before he could change his mind and call her back.

He pulled the tent flap aside and walked in, wrinkling his nose at the scents of blood and metal and stale sweat. There was some light coming in from a small window flap, enough for him to see the space in disarray, a tray of uneaten food upon a low table, and there on the tent's lone cot, a large figure bent forward, head cradled in his hands and hair tangled around his guan. Nie Huaisang set the tray next to the other and tried to approach his brother carefully.

“Da-ge?” He tried to step as noisily as he had for Nie Zonghui, not wanting to startle his brother. “Da-ge, I'm here. I came as soon as I heard the news.

“You should have stayed at home.” Nie Mingjue's eyes only just flicked up to glance at him. “You didn't come alone, did you?”

“Of course not, Li Fengwei and Nie Yifong rode with me.”

“It's a long ride. You should get some rest.”

Now this wasn't acceptable. Nie Huaisang may not have been a good fighter, but he was excellent at acting like everything was normal, and sometimes that was what his brother needed. “But Da-ge,” he whined, stepping closer to his brother. “Yours is the best tent in the camp. I could use a nap, but I'd rather sleep here.”

Nie Mingjue lifted his head this time, giving Nie Huaisang a look that seemed to say Really? You're doing this now?

Ignoring his brother's glare, he flopped down onto the cot next to him, tried to ignore the smelliness of it all, and lay his head on Nie Mingjue's shoulder. “Ew, Da-ge, when's the last time you took a bath?”

“I've been a little busy,” his brother snarked back at him.

“No wonder you're so grumpy. If my hair was this bad, I'd be grumpy too.”

“Huaisang. You're free to leave.”

“Not happening.” He could see the beginnings of resignation in his brother's eyes and gave a short sigh of relief. “But I think this is where I can help.”

He got up briefly to search out his brother's comb, and was thankful to see a bowl of water and a washcloth nearby (likely dropped off by other disciples concerned for their sect leader). He brought everything over to the cot and placed them behind Nie Mingjue, then knelt up behind his brother.

The fact that Nie Mingjue had no other protests to issue spoke volumes.

He started by untangling the mess of hair from around his brother's guan so that he could remove it. The moment the guan left Nie Mingjue's head, there was a slight shift in the room – Nie Mingjue's shoulders dropped and he pressed his face into his hands again. Now they were no longer sect leader and heir, but brothers.

Nie Huaisang drew back his brother's braids and slowly began undoing them, setting aside the decorations in a safe place. He took his time, slowly running the comb through his brother’s hair and using the washcloth to scrub away any remaining dirt and viscera from the battles. He occasionally spoke aloud to keep the room from going silent, muttering about the long ride to Qishan or expressing his concern that Nie Zonghui wouldn’t allow himself to rest until all the other disciples did.

By the time he was finished, his brother’s shoulders were shaking, and Nie Mingjue took in a sharp breath that wasn’t quite muffled by his hands.

“How many did you lose?” he asked gently, setting the comb aside.

“Too many,” Nie Mingjue whispered back.

Nie Huaisang was reminded of when he was nine years old, and his brother had taken over as sect leader. There had been a night hunt and something had gone wrong, and the party his brother led had returned two disciples short. Nie Mingjue had put on a brave front until his people were cared for, then had retreated to his room and collapsed on his bed. Nie Huaisang had been too young to do more than crawl into his Da-ge’s bed and curl up beside him, but eventually his brother had cried out his pain at having lost his first disciples, and Nie Huaisang had held him until it was over.

Over a decade later, and Nie Huaisang only felt slightly more capable of helping his brother.

“Do we have their sabers?” he asked gently, and his brother nodded. It had always been a Nie tradition that, even if the bodies could not be returned to Qinghe, that every disciple’s saber was brought back.

Nie Mingjue breathed again into his hands. “I failed them.”

“And how do you think you failed them? The men and women outside don’t look like disciples who were failed by their sect leader.”

“I should never have led them into Nightless City,” Nie Mingjue’s voice shook. “I should have known it wouldn’t go well, that-” He gasped, then pressed his lips tightly together.

Nie Huaisang didn’t know what his brother wasn’t saying, he only knew that he was glad his brother had made it out alive. “You’re not a god, Da-ge, no matter what the disciples think. There’s no way you could know everything. You did the best you could – you would do nothing less – and you made it out and back to us.”

Nie Mingjue shuddered. “I wish I hadn’t.”

His face growing wet at his brother’s admission, Nie Huaisang leaned forward to wrap his arms around his brother’s neck. “You don’t mean that,” he sniffed into his brother’s ear. “You’re upset, but you don’t mean that, because then you’d be leaving me all alone, and you said you would always protect me.”

His brother reached up to grab one of Nie Huaisang’s hands, and he thought he brother was going to shove him away – instead, his brother simply gripped his hand where it rested under his chin.

“I watched them die,” he hissed. “One by one, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

“But you can remember their names,” he replied. “You can tell their stories, make sure they’re remembered for their bravery and their loyalty.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t reply, but he made a low keening sound as his head lowered further.

“They knew what it meant, going into battle,” he whispered to his brother. “Everyone in our sect, from the disciples to the kitchen staff, know that something might happen one day and we will be gone, us more than any other sect. Everyone knows, and they accept it, and they still will follow you into death and beyond – because they know you would do the same for them.”

Nie Huaisang held his brother in the silence of the field tent until he was no longer shaking in his arms. He pulled back to fetch the washcloth and offered it to his brother, and was thankful when Nie Mingjue began running it along his still dirty and tear-stained face. He then went to retrieve the food tray – the rations were nothing fancy but would fill them all the same. He somehow convinced his brother to eat with him, and they shared a meal for the first time since Nie Mingjue had left for this final surge on Wen territory. By the time they were finished eating, Nie Mingjue looked like he was barely keeping his eyes open.

“All right, Da-ge, time for my nap,” he announced, crawling onto the bed like he was ten years old again and curling up next to his brother, settling his head on Nie Mingjue’s large thigh. And much like when he was a child, his brother’s hand idly ran along his hair as if he were trying to comfort Nie Huaisang rather than the other way around.

Eventually, Nie Mingjue fell asleep where he sat on the bed, and Nie Huaisang guarded his brother’s sleep from anyone who might dare disturb it.

[daniwib]

What's Yours is Mine

Buck and Eddie wake up to an unusual situation. Predictably, they don’t talk about it. Instead, they have sex. Friends-with-benefits sex, not I-love-you sex, because that would require talking about it. Something these two are absolutely terrible at.

AKA the Dick Swap fic

Chapter: 1 of 6

Length: 23k in total . Fic is fully written, chapters will be posted weekly.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

[disintegratingnoodles]

right no one is going to care about this or my thoughts but like- MHA is over? its finished??? done?? finito??? i dont know how to feel- ive been reading since like before the traitor reveal came out in like the beggining of 2022 and i just- w h a at. i cannot process these feelings and emotions and i am just severely underwhelmed and overwhelmed like i knew this was going to happen but it never really clicked and now it is over and they're all grown up and adults and i just dont know what to do with myself but i do know that i am proud of these characters and how far theyve come and yes i know they're fictional characters and yes i know im the same age as them but STILL-

anyway have a good day sorry to peeps who dont read the manga but technically this isnt even a spoiler so like- anyways bye.

[tailsbeth-writes]

By now, I thought I'd be over it

A hurt/comfort request (that I probably should have got round to quicker) & as usual it's a 400ish word drabble that turned into over 1000.

[alivingtypo]

you can pry starting sentences with 'and' or 'but' out of my cold, dead hands

[shrubsparrow]

It's in the eye of the beholder

[sweetwhispersofchaos]

In the words of Hangman…hoooollllyyy shit…..

LEWIS PULLMAN Skincare (2024)

[vamprisms]

i feel like a lot of the 'i hate kids' crowd would be more tolerant if they understood that due to a kid's limited experience of the world that 4 hour flight might just be the longest they've ever had to sit still for or that trapped finger might literally be the most pain they've ever felt in their short life or they might not have ever seen a person with pink hair ever so of course they want to touch it or nobody's told them yet that they can't run around the museum and they only just learned cheetahs are the fastest animals so of course they want to put that to the test. how were they supposed to know etc etc.

[noodles-07]

on friends and soulmates and that type of love that feels like it's going to burst right out of your heart

@/zmije / @/leptodiera / @/bichopalo / lyrics from two best friends by bb bean / animatedjames on youtube / @/killingmyselfbutnotdying / unknown / @/sadiekane / friedrich neitzsche / katfish draws / @/elytrians / @/wormbus-art aka @/angel-pond / @/mushysuggestion / the unsent project / mhairi mcfarlane / unknown

[markwateneymemorialcrater]

Please note. The orange one is not included because A. He isn’t a billionaire. And B. Calling him obnoxious is too kind for him.

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[nyaa]