#or quarters or smth

[somer-writes]

I’m feeling festive, what do you think would be the best gift for each of the Links for their version of Christmas?

HMMM i had to do some thinking here:

Time: 101 Minecraft Jokes for Kids /j. I think Time would appreciate like a foot roller or smth. idk as a person in my mid-20s, foam rollers are a life saver

Warriors: fancy soap. like the handmade kind you get from some bird name Wanda at your local high school's craft show.

Twilight: a nice fishing lure even though he has plenty

Sky: some kind of collection keeper. like a penny passport

Wild: burn salve /j a novelty hot sauce sampler

Legend: a nice wallet (and/or wallet chain)

Hyrule: a case of red bull

Four: nice leather gloves of maybe a patterned headband

Wind: a cypher wheel and/or invisible ink pen

[bbbbbbbbatman]

I want a Timkon clone baby where tim realises he’s kind of batshit insane right now and not equipped to raise an infant, so he leaves the baby on the manor doorstep and disappears into thin air to do a martial arts eat pray love until he’s sane again because he doesn’t know what therapy is. And now Bruce is not only a first time grandpa but a first time infant caregiver and he’s been thrown into the deep end with an alien baby who instead of pissing on him when he’s being changed can shoot lasers at him, scream so loud it shakes the foundations and launch projectiles at people with TTK. He has to wear a full bomb proof batsuit to change the little guy and has ma Kent on speed dial

Bruce, calling Clark at 2:47 am: Clark, I need your help, it's an emergency

Clark, who has never heard Batman ask for help so directly, knows whatever's going on must be truly dire: What is it? What do you need? I can be there right away

Bruce, desparate: I need your mother's phone number

Clark, not sure what emergency could be solved by his mother in the middle of the night: ...My mother's...phone number?

*loud crash in the background, followed by crying*

Clark: Um...what exactly is going on?

Bruce, using the bat voice: Your. Mother's. Phone number. Now

[tragedy-of-commons]

bare (my soul)

kaeya x gn!reader | wc: ~550

tags/warnings: domestic fluff w kaeya's baggage, he's soggy

notes: i love him

“Kaeya, this is egregious.”

You gesture wildly at his barren walls and the desolate living space more fitting of a Favonius jail cell than a home (or so you complained moments earlier).

“Shatter my heart into pieces, why don’t you?” he sighs, then pokes your side in jest. You’re just too adorable not to play around with - even when you’re critiquing his admittedly subpar interior design skills. “Weren’t you the one who insisted on moving in with me?”

“Only because I’m generous enough to consider proximity to your workplace,” you grumble, trying in vain to balance three boxes of your things in your arms at once. “If you had moved in with me, you’d probably have to run a marathon everyday to captain your non-existent cavalry.” Kaeya plucks the top box from your stack, revealing your unimpressed face to him. He grins. “Careful. If you keep saying things like that, I just might think you like me.”

You move to set your boxes down on the floor beside his boring, singular sofa. “I could wax poetic all day about my love for you–” “Oh, I’m dying to hear it, sweetheart–” “–But we seriously need to do something about your.. lifestyle.” You imitate a pompous noble, splaying the back of your hand across your forehead in distress.

Kaeya Alberich has heard many complaints about his lifestyle. Sometimes it’s in the form of Jean criticizing the way he handles certain intel, or the way he ostensibly slacks on the job. Other times, it’s in the form of rumors that he’s especially privy to; Captain Kaeya who loves his drink a little too much, or Captain Kaeya who uses underhanded methods to deal with threats to Mondstadt.

“We’re going furniture shopping at your earliest convenience!” you beam.

Yet you’re just referring to his apartment. What a miracle you are.

He sets the box he stole earlier down, humming thoughtfully. “Is it truly that horrid here?” (It is. He steps out every chance he gets, preferring a noisy tavern or your former place over whatever husk of a building Kaeya Alberich calls “home” these days.) “Yes. Minimalists shall never be forgiven.” “Well, I’d hate to be in your bad books.” Not once do you let him slip away during the unpacking process, practically shoving your trinkets and knickknacks into his hands for him to “make the call” about where they should live. You also sneak into his closet to try and scare him, but the jingle of one of his ornate belts catching on your person gives you away. He throws the doors open with a flourish. When you pout about him being no fun, he just slides in there with you, clicking his tongue and simpering about how you’re such a troublemaker. It’s quiet and you squint through the slits of the closet door at the surrounding bedroom. “Kaeya, I know what’s been missing!” you whisper-yell at him, head knocking against a hanging cape. 

You, he wants to say, It’s always been you. What comes out instead is your voice, effectively cutting him off. “An ugly vase!”

He can get behind that too. Maybe one day he’ll show his full hand, lay out every card, and wait for the swinging axe to take off his head - and maybe you’ll just pull him along to haggle with antique dealers in the name of ironic decoration. “You read my mind, sweetheart.”

[pokytoad]

Okay listen I see it all the time in hetalia fanfic where x nation is busy with the ambiguous task of "paperwork" assigned by their boss and I can only imagine its always a file that was in the bottom of some govt worker's desk containing a project that was abandoned years ago.

So now said nation is stressed out over something that is so unimportant that if they ask for data no one will know where it is and no thisisntsomethingthatalsohappenstomeatworkokay

[musicalmoritz]

LMAO there’s no way someone made a callout blog for TBHK, you people have way too much free time on your hands

[scootersscooter]

Tom and Jerry is actually so funny because sometimes Tom does actually start the fight or whatever but usually it's just Jerry and Spike going out of their way to make this cats day absolutely horrendous

[jacksprostate]

Let f Narrator be 6'0. Coward.

i am in favor of that as well

[marvus-xoloto]

If you’re still in a writing mood I was wondering if you could write a cute drabble based on a headcanon I have. I feel like when Mallek is drunk he’s not the boyfriend that waits at the door for you in the bathroom when you have to pee, he’s the boyfriend who follows you in and sits down resting his head on the sink. 😂 alternatively for you Marvus gives off the vibes that he would watch you pee, not for a kink just cause he’s peak weirdo energy

I p much completely misremembered the prompt while I was writing lmfao; I have another post I'm drafting for you just as a lil response bc I loved this prompt. I'm dealing with my own seasonal depression so I guess that's what I ended up writing. I'm sorry this isn't my best work; this was hard to write and honestly harder to post, but hey maybe it is something! I'm really not sure; it's hard for me to judge this time of year.

Just to clarify, I headcanon that trolls go to fight the horrible space war when they're about 21 years old / ~10 sweeps.

___

In Vino Veritastic

Pairing: Mallek/MSPAR | Rating: T | Words: 1684 | Content Warnings: angst, emetophobia (briefly), mentions of alcoholism/ substance abuse, mentions of depression, Alternia is terrible | AO3 Link on @chunky-ruckus, check the reblogs!

Mallek is capital-S, complete with italics, dictionary definition Sloshed.

It wasn't apparant to you at first. The trashed hive? Mallek is a bit of a slob. The signs of stumbling around like a daywalker at midnight? Mallek isn't a morn- uh, evening person.

You noticed his shoes peeking over the top of his gamer chair.

He swiveled around like a super villan, all slow grace.

Mallek slurped on something frozen, his expression intensely blank, his cheeks hollow.

While hanging upside down in his gamer chair.

"Did you know these things are alcoholic?" he asked. And then he fell out of his chair, snorted out a half amused sound, and then, like the lusus he takes after, slithered slowly down onto the floor.

___

Your first plan ws to go to the kitchen. The best remedy for an impending hangover: ice water, your coup de glace.

But the kitchen is a complete mess: sink overflowing, fridge and freezer empty. Mallek is a bit of a slob. Mallek is not an evening person.

So now, in present tense, you are in the bathroom, waiting for the tap to cool down. It's early in the dim season: cold weather and cold blood means that Mallek's been down in his basement again, fucking with the water heater.

And now, in present tense, Mallek is capital-S, capital-everything, SLOSHED is outside the bathroom door. Pestering you.

"What are you doing drinking on a Tuesday?" you ask. Mallek is shoving his face through the gap in the door, features pouty like a sad puppy. You almost regret soft locking the door with a pile of his dirty laundry.

You hear a thump against the door and look over: he's shrugging with all of his strength, a caricature of apathy.

"It was me and Diemen," he says. "He wouldn't share his shit."

"You know he doesn't share-" you scramble for the worst meat-related amalgamation you can think of, "his Juicy Dripping Sausage with just anyone."

Mallek visably deflates. "Yeah." A beat of silence. "Well, the shady food stalls were his idea." Then he's pushing his way into the bathroom, sitting catty-corner to you against the wall. The dirty laundry sloshes against the tile floor disgustingly.

"Just going to walk in on me? What if I had been using the toilet instead of the tap?" He wouldn't be the first to see you like that. You like to pretend Alternia has beat the shame out of you by now, but you can still feel a slight flush creep up your neck.

"Guess I woulda stuck my head under the tap. Mighta been faster than whatever you're doing up there." He's not exactly slurring, but he is talking through wiping his nose on his sleeve. You add "laundry" to your mental load. God, why does Mallek bring out the Type-A in you so successfully?

"You woulda burned the shit out of yourself," you say, imitating his tone. "How do I turn this thing down?"

"Here," he says, scooting on his butt to push your legs out of the way, and then opening the cabinet beneath the sink. A bunch of hackey sacks spill out, and Mallek resolutely ignores them. You hear the mechanical clicking of something... mechanical. And then the water slowly goes from center of the planet hot to tepid enough.

Mallek wraps his arms around your legs, smiling a wobbly smile; watch out Charlie Brown. You pass him the glass of water and he drinks like a man dying. Of consumption. He's starting to look pale around the edges, and not his normal punk, barely sleeps pale.

He leans in, now, to your knees. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was trying to knock you out. But you have to admit: he feels amazing. Cool skin and solid weight. He stands, climbing up your body like a very drunken, sun loving plant. He burps into your ear.

Amazingly drunk.

"I love you," he says, dragging his mouth and his words down your cheek.

In vino veritastic.

God. The elephant that has politely standing in the doorway has just barged its way into the room. And this is a small fucking bathroom; damn Mallek and his lack of foresight. And his love for confessions in dank ass, wet ass, inappropriate places. The man is a menace.

You'd both been circling this issue for a while now. You'd been expecting, who knows, a sweet smile and a love-you-no-big-deal-haha over a clown themed happy meal at the skate park. You'd even taken to bringing a little candle with you- stolen from last month's midnight massacre- just to give him that romantic push.

You weren't expecting. This. Earnesty and alcohol and the clear signs that Mallek is going through it.

Mallek takes the rest of his icey, alcoholic abomination from inside his hoodie pocket- the man is a menace- and slurps it up with a little moan of delight.

Another sound you'd thought you'd hear in a different context.

"Marry me," he says- you're stupified, dumbfounded- before he sinks to his knees and is violently ill in the toilet.

Your fears about being walked in on are completely baseless; suddenly, you feel very much like you walked in on Mallek.

"How do you even know what human marriage is?"

"Diemen mentioned it." You have a sudden flashback to asking Diemen if you were married now, after he let you have a mustard packet he'd been saving, and the hour long explanation of human romance and customs that followed. You'd thought the moony eyed look he gave you was just... just that. His normal, moony eyed look. Guess you made an impression with that one, good going past you. Checkov's gun shoots you in the foot again.

"You know it's a, uh," Mallek interrupts you with a look up from the rim of the bowl, expression suddenly hard. The L'Ange Dechu, peering at you from behind his black, snotty sleeve. "Pretty serious. Commitment?" you squeak.

Mal'Ange Dechu does that thing again, that sad puppy visably deflating. In a fit of stressed induced hysteria, you remember that video of that pudding shaped like a little puppy, and the spoon cutting through it. Mallek is that pudding puppy, and you are the spoon.

He leans his head in the crook of his elbow. You realize the tap is still running. Out of habit, you refill the glass.

"They always leave," he says, spitting in the bowl. "After drone season."

"It's not drone season now, is it?" You aren't sure, but, hey, nobody has made the moves on you lately, so it's probably as good a guess as any. "I'm here now, aren't I?" You slink down to the floor with him, soothing him with your hand on his back. "I want to be with you," you say softly, sick of the elephant in the room. "So, I'll stay, no matter the season."

He arches into your touch, sighing. "No you won't," he says, not looking at you. You try again but Mallek is gripping the rim of the toilet like he's possessed. "No," he repeats emphatically. "You won't. Because whether you leave again-" it just now occurs to you that the same time has passed here as on earth, when you were on your personal quest to pester. You wonder how that effected Mallek; you never thought to ask- "or not, I will. At the end of my ten sweeps, I'll be sent out to space."

You pass him the water, and he drinks. Tepid trails leak from the corner of his mouth, and you wipe one away with your thumb, cupping his jaw.

"I've been known to teleport," you say, trying for humor. Or charm. Or anything- anything!- to change the tone of this conversation.

Which is unnecessary because Mallek is sick again.

"I don't want you to see me like that," he says sadly from the toilet.

I'm already seeing you like this, you say to yourself. But you don't say it outloud, just in case it hurts his feelings. Instead, you try for charm again. "I'm sure you'll be the same Mallek. Fighting with everything you've got." You wiggle your fingers at him. "Subterfuging and being rebellious."

Mallek stares at you, contemplating. "I'm tired," he says simply. You understand the shades of meaning. "You know, we only really get to be ourselves on Alternia. That's how it is for all trolls." His face falls. "Topside, it's like we're all just acting in the empire sanctioned play."

"No robo-buddies in space," you say.

"No robo-buddies in space," he repeats, but his tone is light. "Lots of clowns, though."

"You know, good plays are made great through improv." Mallek doesn't react, and you notice he's got his eyes closed.

You guess there were less shades of meaning to I'm tired than you thought.

You help him stand up, your own personal squirm-on-a-string. As you take him to his respiteblock, you have to reconsider your wording: squirm-on-a-string sounds dirty when you're stripping him down to his boxers, throwing his ruined hoodie into the incinerator.

With your combined efforts, he drops into his coon with a goopy splash. Whether through hind brain instinct or some deep need to be comforted, he immediately curls his arms around his chest, loose with drowsiness.

You stroke his hair, kiss him on the temple.

"So does this mean we're married now, since I've cleaned up your vomit, undressed you, and put you to bed?" He laughs once- a single ahuh- but it's a genuine laugh so you'll take the W on this one.

You pull back to leave, and he grabs you by the hip. He looks up at you; the dark circles under his eyes in stark releif at this angle.

"Do you love me?" he slurs, trying in vain to stay awake.

You don't have to think about it. "I do."

But he's already asleep.

You know this about people. About Mallek specifically. It's not just planets that go through seasons. As the sky turns darker, so, too, does Mallek.

Well, if you're the guy with powers from a sun, why not? Why not try?

You start with the kitchen.

[kiralamouse]

SO CRANKY that I cannot find current advice for how to deal with COVID exposure. Pretty sure the WHO's infographic of "isolate for 14 days regardless" is dated. Pretty sure the CDC's utter lack of recommendation is a nod to corporate desires. What does the current actual science say about best practices to keep others safe?

[m-ayo-o]

when i thought my inbox was gonna be full of cute / sexy / smart msgs:(

[lifesver]

u ever watch a horror movie like hmmm [adds another potential trauma to the character]

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

no more hiding. scared? do it scared.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

im going to finish this if it kills me (lucky jumbo fic six)

[seiwas]

LET’S HAVE A SLEEPOVER!!

ask/share whatever you’d like!! something that’s happened to you lately (good or bad!), an ask for tips and tricks (advice if you want!), your new favourite anything! (recommendations too), a fic that’s left you feeling all typa ways, and anything else really!

[aria0fgold]

Well that was... unsettling...

[johnny-chaos]

hlvr anniversary being the same week where literally everything on earth happens is so so evil. hlvr I didnt forget youu I love youu :(