#thank you !! and sorry for being vague !!

[ophanstears]

🍀

I know that Clover's gender is up to interpretation (the devs DID say so themselves) but I still feel weird when people make them exclusively male or female LOL Like it's TECHNICALLY fine??? but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

more in tags as usual because I am a yapper. i am so sorry for having strong opinions about gender and representation. i am usually more fun than this 🥲🥲🥲🥲

[syn4k]

area man somehow stumbles into the mianite fandom, does a triple front flip, accidentally introduces 2,000 people to the series, sticks the landing, and is basically singlehandedly responsible for a miniature fandom revival in the year of our lord 2024, illustrated

[sonicchaoscontrol]

Oh my gosh… Your last post just made me realize why shadow doesn’t use his original rocket shoes anymore. He doesn’t need them.

And I think I know who Rouge persuaded to help.

Haha! Obsoletion is a nasty beast, isn't it? Let's bring the shoes back from page 23:

... Yeah, it's safe to say it was time for an upgrade. Besides, why bother wearing rocket boots when you are the rocket? Regardless of whether or not the old things still fit. Something something modern problems, modern solutions

Rouge is pretty persuasive when she needs to be, yes. Someone has to make sure the job gets done right.

[fadewalking]

Bellara lowkey pissing me off with all this feeling guilty bs

[nonokoko13]

Ok so today I found out Nanbaka ended some time ago so I spoiled myself and man, the ending was so rushed and angst for no reason and overall disappointing??? The author threw very important lore info and a plot twist that felt all out of the blue near the ending... I love angst but when it is well written, and this was not. Their friendship was real, even if prior to the series start wasn't I know what I read was real friendship and this ending ruins for me one of the main themes of this show.

I don't post a lot about this series because I started it before I even had Tumblr but Nanbaka was everything to me back then. Even after I was forced to move on because the english translation stopped and finding all chapters fan translated was very difficult I'd find myself thinking about these characters sometimes and I almost dare to say that it was a comfort series. Not being able to keep reading it without going through a Odyssey was already upsetting but the ending? What in the actual fuck is that. Is not even the fact it was a sad ending what bothers me the most, it's that it was sad and felt bad written or without proper building 🙁

This literally summaries my opinion regarding what happened to the main group:

Now I feel bad? Bad like when you receive bad news irl? Like I've received a punch in the stomach or a betrayal from a dear old friend

If spy x family or yuu & grim (including all of their friends in twst) separate in the end I'm losing all hope of being happy and relaxing with this trope without fearing the chance of getting backstabbed again forever

God please let them stick together or I'm going to make you the same thing you have done with me

[sparky-is-spiders]

aro Jon is so real to me

(i need to study this man (gender neutral) like a bug. chew on him and maybe even swallow him whole. Jon)

It just suits him so well. Idk it's just. Something about feeling so distant from this common human experience that everything else seems to have just fine. Something about feeling like you're missing some part of your humanity.,,,,,, or maybe that everyone else will see it that way, if you say anything....... idk it's just uggggggh. I have SOOOO many thoughts about Emotions and Love and Romance and Humanity and Jon is So Good for exploring that (literally as soon as I decided to fully use an aro label I went and wrote 800 words about aro Jon lmao).......... like that post that was going around............. something something "well this character isn't canonically trans/aro/whatever but they do have a profound sense of loneliness and alienation" or however it went. Idk. I don't think those things are or should be like. Totally inherent. To the aro experience? But at least for me personally there's something about Jon that makes it so easy to project onto him. Perfect guy (gender neutral) to Rotate for these concepts.

Um. All that to say. Yes agreed agreed aro Jon REAL.

(Also just wanna be clear I'm not saying romance or love generally or whatever else makes anyone human or that NOT having those things is tantamount to being inhuman. Just. I think a lot about how it feels to NOT have those things or to not have them "correctly" in a society that values love (especially romance) so so highly and ties them so deeply to humanity. Y'know? God I really really hope I'm making sense here. I did mean it when I said I had a lot of Thoughts about love and emotions and romance and humanity and Jon but mostly those thoughts are incoherent screeching. That stick figure drawing of someone grabbing and shaking something rapidly that I'm too lazy to find rn.)

[crushedsweets]

OK @ THE ANON AGAIN:

I found the post youre talking about, and after a quick Pinterest search, it looks like they just used the same reference! I could send it to you privately if you’d like to see, but I Don’t think any theft was happening , just the same ref!!

[lemony-snickers]

@butter--peanut ficti-gram for you!

to: @butter--peanut from: @wind-becomes-lightning message: Hello my love, I mean my rival, I am currently working through the first pages of the book you are writing and am in total awe of your work!! I want to send you this little sweet thing so you can relax a little for a minute with a good fic before you dive into rewrites again! I am very happy that I met you and that we have met in person so many times and hopefully many many more times until you leave forever! (;(). Sending you many hugs!! <3 characters/pairing: kakashi hatake/obito uchiha word count: 3,646 prompt: the smell of coffee

Obito Uchiha has always hated the smell of coffee.  Freshly roasted at a fancy kissaten or poured from a grody two-day-old carafe into a travel mug, he thinks it always smells like burnt piss.  No amount of sugar or milk or cream or flavoring could ever make it palatable, and Obito will never understand how anyone, under any circumstances, could ever find themselves so desperate for an infusion of caffeine they would resort to drinking it.

Admittedly, coffee might be a useful beverage to keep on deck in the event of poisoning, to make a person throw up.  Maybe.  He’d have to be really poisoned to consider it, and Obito sees no other reasonable purpose for the existence of such a foul liquid.

Normally, Obito is fairly adept at avoiding coffee in all its forms, but there is one occasion upon which he has little to no control over whether he’s subjected to it and that is whenever Kakashi Hatake texts him to say he’s on his way over.

It’s still relatively new, all the Kakashi stuff.  When Obito ran across his old classmate on a dating app, he’d only partially been serious when he swiped to match with him.  Mostly, Obito was curious.  He smirked when he saw Kakashi’s profile—pathetically sparse and with a picture that didn’t even show his entire face—because it was very clear Kakashi was looking specifically for hook-ups while Obito had spent hours agonizing over which photos to upload, how many of his own scars to show, and how to make an appropriately-but-not-too-seriously self-deprecating joke about them in his bio.

Online dating is a terribly complicated thing, it turns out, when half your body is marred by the mistakes of your past.

Obito had not expected to match with Kakashi in the slightest.  At best, he thought he might receive a message something along the lines of, “Fuck you, loser,” before he was blocked.

Instead, Kakashi invited him out for a drink and Obito—perhaps foolishly or at least with a dash of foolhardy optimism—said yes.

The alcohol helped soothe the awkward sting of their reunion.  They spent hours at the bar, ordering round after round, allowing the fuzziness of the booze to seep into their blood, their bones.  Cloud over all the terrible parts of their shared history they did not wish to relitigate or relive in any detail.  Their conversation remained light, easy.

Perfunctory shit only.

“How have you been?”

“Good, you?”

“All right.  What do you do for work now?”

“A little bit of everything, really. Whatever brings in enough to cover my rent.”

Kakashi cracked a grin at that and Obito turned his attention toward his beer to hide that he liked it.  There had always been something terribly magnetic about Kakashi.  Even as a kid, when they first entered school together, Obito always found himself drawn to him, desperately trying to escape his orbit with very little success.

It would take several years of distance and a decent amount of therapy for Obito to recognize the feelings of his adolescent self for what they were.  That all the jealousy and anger had been part and parcel to something else, something soft and unknowable, then.  Something he hadn’t been yet able to acknowledge or put voice to.

Obito didn’t realize he was interested in men for a long time after Kakashi was no longer part of his life.  Now, though?  It was painfully clear Obito measured every man he’d ever dated by the metric of his old schoolmate, and not one of them had ever passed muster.

So when Kakashi invited himself to Obito’s apartment after they split their bar tab, he acquiesced.  When he shoved Obito against the wall in the entryway and bruised a kiss against his mouth, Obito’s knees buckled.  When a hand shoved its way down the front of his jeans, Obito whined.

It was so easy to succumb to decades of longing.  To open the half-crushed box where he’d packed it all away and dust it off, return it to a shelf in the sunlight where he could stare at it.  Covet it.

Ignore everything else in the box except this one thing.

And now when Kakashi calls—err, texts, he never calls—Obito unlocks his front door and waits patiently for him to stride in and repeat it all again.

It’s rather infuriating if he gives himself any time to think it over.  That he allows Kakashi to wander in and out of his life like a wraith without expectation or explanation.  He comes and goes as he pleases and part of Obito hates himself for allowing it to continue.

The rest of him, though, sees it as a reward for all his patience.  For all the progress he has made since they last saw each other, broken and bruised and grieving.

Obito’s therapist tells him there might be too much history between them for any of this to work on a functional level.  But then, Obito has never really been all that functional.  At least now he has someone in his life who will touch him, make him feel good without also making him feel self-conscious of his body.

It’s complicated.  At least, that’s what he tells himself (and his therapist), so he doesn’t have to unpack the rest of the box.

But Obito knows deep down none of this is sustainable.  While he’s willing to take what he can, he’s also not a moron.  He’s willing to take what he can get and be satisfied with it; always has been.

What makes things infuriatingly more tenuous, though, is that Kakashi always smells like coffee.

Obito knows that’s probably a sign, but he refuses to read it.

It doesn’t matter what time of day or night he appears at Obito’s door, all hungry eyes and demanding touches, there is always this persistent burnt scent that lingers under everything else.  It’s pervasive.  Poisons the very air of Obito’s apartment as Kakashi swoops in without a word.

It clings to Kakashi’s clothes, his skin, his hair.  It’s on his tongue when it pushes its way into Obito’s mouth, staining itself onto his teeth.

Coffee.  Every time.  Everywhere.

And during the course of their liaisons, the scent transfers itself to Obito, sliding against his scalp and burrowing into the thick folds of his scarred skin.

The burnt piss smell lingers in his nostrils long after Kakashi departs, trailing in his wake like a vile stream, and Obito spends an inordinate amount of time in the bath afterward trying to scrub away the putrid scent and replace it with fruity-smelling body wash or the lavender oil his therapist tells him is good for promoting relaxation.

He doesn’t think he agrees, but it smells nice, so what the hell?

His therapist might also have something to say about Obito’s obsessive need to clean himself every time Kakashi leaves his apartment, but he doesn’t like to think about that much.  Each time, he convinces himself it is the smell and not their fraught and complicated history which demands another cycle of shampoo.  He dips his head beneath the surface of the water until his vision stings and blurs so he won’t imagine what his therapist’s frown looked like when he said as much during their last session.

Obito is a big boy who can make his own decisions, thank you very much.  He just wishes his potentially poor life choices didn’t come with a side of putrescent coffee bean stench.

After a brief On my way text message, Kakashi arrives this time with a soggy-looking bag of takeout and plops it on Obito’s kitchen counter.

“For me?” he asks teasingly, “You shouldn’t have.”

Kakashi rolls his eyes.  “It’s mine and you can’t have any,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.  Obito rakes his eye over Kakashi’s frame, taking in the lean, wiry muscle of it.  His posture is terrible, he looks like a shepherd’s hook the way his spine curves too much at the top.  As always, Obito’s gaze eventually finds the scar over Kakashi’s eye, traces it carefully.

Whenever he tries to touch it while their kissing or fucking, Kakashi pulls him away, tangles their fingers together or tugs his wrist down to the mattress and restrains his hand there, like it can’t be trusted not to wander.

He doesn’t like to acknowledge his scars any more than Obito likes to acknowledge his own, and Obito wonders if that is part of why they remain within one another’s terrible, destructive orbit.  Because neither of them needs to explain their scars to the other—they were together when they were earned.

Kakashi, for the first time since this all started months ago, looks unsure.  He stands in the liminal space between the kitchen and the living room, rocking slightly back and forth on the balls of his feet.  His energy is nervous.  Sizzling.  Like a crack of lightning splitting the night sky in half.

“Something on your mind?” Obito asks, trying not to let the panic he feels fluttering in his chest make its way into his voice.  It’s like there’s a hummingbird trapped in the cage of his ribs, frantic to escape.

Kakashi shakes his head.  “How, uh… how was your day?” he asks, and a grimace follows immediately, slicing its way across his face like the dull side of a kitchen knife.

Obito can’t help it, he tries not to laugh, but it takes only half a heartbeat for the raucous noise to skitter out of his chest, setting the hummingbird free as he guffaws.  Watching Kakashi try to be normal, try to treat their interaction as if it is casual and regular, is the funniest shit Obito has ever seen.

Kakashi rolls his eyes and takes two quick, purposeful steps forward.  It’s then the coffee scent slams full force into Obito, snaking its way up his nose and into his throat.  He gags a little and Kakashi halts his advance, pausing just as his knee would have brushed against Obito’s own where he sits on his ratty old couch.

“Something smell bad?” Kakashi asks, glancing over his shoulder at the takeout he deposited on the counter.

“Yeah,” Obito says, pinching his nose closed for dramatic effect, “you.”

Still, after all the years of knowing him, of provoking him—and then missing him—Obito experiences the same swift thrill whenever he catches Kakashi off guard.  And watching the confusion blossom over his features, first in the subtle downturn of his mouth at the edges and then in the wrinkles of his nose and crease of his brow, is a glorious, wonderful thing.

“Me?  I smell bad?”

Obito rises slowly from his seat, the good side of his face pitched up in a grin.  “You smell fucking terrible all the time.”

There’s that gorgeous, adorable confusion again.  Deepening.  Pulling Kakashi’s lip toward the infuriatingly beautiful mark on his chin, carving a ravine between his eyebrows.

Obito wishes he could take a photo, blow it up, and hang it on his wall.  He knows he’s probably picking a fight—knows it’s probably long overdue—but this moment is worth the risk of blowing up the very small good thing he’s managed to unpack from his past.

Of course, Kakashi does not handle discomfort well.  Obito doesn’t need a therapist to tell him that.  Kakashi is a man who thrives on control, and Obito’s revelation has clearly thrown him.  It doesn’t take long for lovely confusion to break apart, resettle itself against Kakashi’s features as something vicious.

“Fuck you, I didn’t come here to be insulted,” he says.

Obito’s grin widens.  “But you did come here to fuck me, though.”  He chuckles, and Kakashi spins on his heels.  Before he can snatch up his takeout and head back out into the hall, Obito grabs the bag first and holds it out of his reach.

An impressive feat, if Obito does say so himself, considering they’re close in height but Kakashi definitely has longer arms.  He’s always been built like a swimmer, lanky with a broad chest and narrow hips.

“Stop being such an asshole,” Kakashi says, grabbing for the bag and missing as Obito passes it to his other hand behind his back.

“Don’t be such a fragile little flower,” Obito chides, “take a little criticism for once in your life.”

Kakashi’s face hardens and he stops trying to reach for his food, which Obito knows probably means he’s gone too far, pushed some invisible button too hard.  Rather than acknowledge that; rather than walk himself back or apologize, he simply opens the bag of food in his hands, maintaining uncomfortably intense eye contact with Kakashi as he reaches in, grabs the first food-shaped thing he finds, and brings it to his mouth.

He gags when it hits his tongue, spits it half-chewed right back into the bag without any concern for the rest of its contents.

When he glares at Kakashi, nose wrinkling, pulling his facial scars in a way that tugs uncomfortably at the unmarred flesh of his face, Obito expects to see the same sharp and acerbic glare from a moment ago.

Instead, what he finds is mirth—light dancing in Kakashi’s dark eyes as his mouth splits into a smile, revealing his perfect teeth.  Obito knows his left canine is false, but it’s hard to tell since the rest of his smile is just as dazzlingly white.  And as Kakashi tilts his head back, the apple of his throat jumping wildly in time with his laughter, he wheezes out a high-pitched, “Serves you right!” and then keeps on laughing.

Obito supposes it does, to some extent.  But how was he supposed to know Kakashi Hatake, well-established hater of all things even remotely dessert-like, would be carrying coffee cake in his to-go bag?  Obito keeps sticking out his tongue, like exposure to the air will somehow cleanse the taste from his mouth.  He must look like a frog; a big dumb amphibian who snapped its tongue out only to realize it caught a stink bug.

He tosses the bag back onto the counter, content to have it as far from his person as possible.  “I thought you hated sweets.”

“I do,” Kakashi says, finally regaining some semblance of stoicism.  “It’s for my neighbor.”

Obito frowns.  “Since when have you been that social?”

Kakashi shrugs, but says nothing.  Typical.

They stand there, awkward and unmoving, for several long seconds.  Obito can feel sweat prickling at his nape, his temples.  He has no clue what he’s supposed to say, now.

Do you still get to fuck someone after you’ve told them they reek and then spit half-masticated baked goods back into their extremely kind bag of neighborly good will?

Probably not, which is disappointing.

Is he supposed to open the box, splay the contents across his floors so they can examine all the missing pieces?  Try to fit them back together?

Obito decides that isn’t something he’s ready to do.  That whatever exists between them, now, is still too new, too fragile, to bear the weight.  One day, maybe, it will be strong enough.  But not now.

Mercifully, Kakashi clears his throat, which clears the air enough for him to ask, “Why haven’t’ you ever said anything?”

“About what?” Obito asks, realizing a moment too late that he’s fucking dumb.

Kakashi knows, too, and infuses as much incredulity into his clarification as possible, each syllable dripping with a sickly-sweet undertone of are you fucking kidding.  “You said I smell, Obito.  All the time.  Why didn’t you tell me before?”

There’s no truly easy answer.  Because of course, Obito thinks Kakashi smells like burnt piss, but he doesn’t actually.  What he smells like is coffee, which is a perfectly reasonable thing to smell like, probably.

Assuming Kakashi drinks the stuff because if he doesn’t, then what the fuck?

“I hate the smell of coffee,” Obito says finally, after Kakashi reaches out and flicks him on the forehead for taking too long to answer.  He rubs at the spot where he’s sure the gesture has left a red smudge on his skin.  “You always smell like fucking coffee.”

Obito isn’t sure what he expects Kakashi’s response to be.  More incredulity, maybe.  Irritation.  Hands thrown up in the air and then a purposeful march out of his apartment.  An annoying dissertation on why coffee is wonderful and Obito is wrong.

Instead, Kakashi grins like a very smug cat, takes a step forward and presses his forehead to Obito’s, arms crossed over his chest like the smug, self-assured bastard he has (almost) always been.

Obito bristles, mostly because the move is unfamiliar.  For all Kakashi enjoys making people uncomfortable, he typically uses his words to do so.  The proximity of him, the coffee smell and the warmth of his skin and the faint tickle of his breath as he leans close to Obito’s ear are things typically reserved for the duration of their sex and that’s all.

Kakashi doesn’t like being close to people.  Obito understands why, respects the boundary for the most part.  He nearly topples backward trying to maintain any semblance of space between their bodies.

Then Kakashi rasps almost alluringly against his ear, “I own a fucking coffee shop, you dumbass.”

It occurs to Obito in that moment he has never bothered to ask where Kakashi works.  Their first meeting at that bar replays in his mind and he recalls Kakashi asking him what he did for a living, but Obito had gotten distracted by his momentary embarrassment and never returned the favor.

He groans loudly, leaning his forehead against Kakashi’s shoulder, which jostles as he chuckles at Obito’s expense.  Obito snorts, a short, half-hearted attempt at that self-deprecating humor he has so perfected over the years.  “Figures I’d fall for someone who smells like my least favorite thing.”

He pulls away, flustered and embarrassed.  The heat of his face is probably enough to warm that coffee cake like it’s fresh from the oven.  Obito wonders suddenly if the cake came from Kakashi’s shop.  Wonders where the shop is and what it’s like inside.

If they serve anything other than fucking coffee.

Kakashi’s fingers are rough against Obito’s jaw as he pulls him in for their first kiss of the day, but the kiss itself is gentle.  He doesn’t open his mouth, isn’t as greedy or demanding as usual.  And Obito relishes the temporary softening, the tender moment offered to him.  He clings to Kakashi’s shirt and tries to breathe as little as possible so the coffee stench won’t invade his nostrils.

Though, he must admit, at the moment, he cares a hell of a lot less than usual.  Because Kakashi’s kisses are delicate and coaxing, one hand skimming over Obito’s scars with a carefulness that makes his chest ache.

A carefulness he has never experienced before, not with anyone, and especially not with the man he knows deems himself responsible for their existence.

Obito pulls away first, finally in such desperate need of a full breath he can’t hold out any longer.  He doesn’t pull far, though, just enough to let his lungs expand without restriction.  And when his eyes meet Kakashi’s, the light in them is still there, less twinkling and steadier.

A porch light welcoming him home, peeling away the shadows to reveal safety and comfort.

“Let’s take a bath,” Kakashi says quietly, grinning.

Obito has the decency to laugh.  It’s a convenient enough sound, anyway, one which hopefully drowns out the erratic thudding his chest.  The hammer beat of a heart only now realizing Kakashi didn’t run away when Obito said he was falling, didn’t put up the cool partition Obito is so used to running up against every time he tries to open up, to be opened.

To drag the box out and bring its contents back into the light.

The tub is not large enough for two grown men.  Not really.  But they Tetris their limbs into the basin as well as they can, tangling together like brambles—perhaps just as prickly—and laughing at their own foolishness in unison.

“It’s smells like a department store in here.”

Obito splashes the scented water at Kakashi, who squints and spits.  “I need all the eucalyptus and lavender I can get my hands on to wash out your coffee shop’s stench.”

Kakashi leans back against the tub with a serene smile and closes his eyes.  “You should come visit sometime,” he offers and Obito knows it’s no small thing to be invited into Kakashi’s life even such a minor way.  He looks up to wink at Obito through the steam of the bathwater.  “Maybe not on roasting day, though.”

“You couldn’t pay me.”

His therapist will probably still tell Obito this is an unhealthy attachment at their next session.  But Obito thinks today is a step in the right direction, at least.  A limping movement toward the honesty that comes so hard to them both.

Maybe they can figure the rest out together, peel back all the layers and scars until they are raw and open to each other.  Until they can repair all the marks of their shared past, their fractured future.  Maybe.  Someday.

Obito likes the idea that his past and his future might yet be able to exist together.  That one day there won’t be any dusty boxes he has to carry around, regrets and secrets stuffed between tabs of moldy cardboard.  He likes the idea that maybe he and Kakashi can unpack together.  Build a bonfire afterward and burn away all the shit they no longer need to hold onto.

The smoke would smell better than coffee, at least.  And as long as Kakashi agrees to take a bath when he comes over, Obito thinks they just might be able to make this work.

[jonesypiercedme]

I apologize if I cannot update or donate anything soon - I am going to try !!!!!!!!!!

Personal Update: I have no doctors or psychiatrists who believe me, but based on my medical history and current lucidity, I think I may be having had absence seizures my whole life and cannabis is the only thing helping to balance out the dissociative seizures because everyone already diagnosed me with DID/psychosis and assumes I am lying if I don't take medications that exacerbate physical symptoms and those seizure symptoms, and now Im going to be put on more as none of them believe me capable of suddenly having emotions and want me to prove I'm mentally okay by physically driving there and acting normal when terrified which .... i cant .... and I start doing seizure symptoms.

Writing out the prayers I made to God/Greek Gods throughout my life as strange written works has been helping. But I can't even share those because theyre weird half poetry

[fappellmoan]

real life drama moment eye roll sams apparently struggling bc he wants to move out and is touring this building hes been eyeing but his roommates dont want him to but also apparently theres beef and he just 'doesnt want to be friends with those people anymore' and he was really vague about what that was all abt and his friend group and who he wanted to even still talk to. and well. not my circus not my monkeys....... but im gonna go ahead and keep my feet in two lanes here does that make me a shady bitch. girl i literally dk any details and thats fine but like. idk whatever..

[emry-stars-art]

WIP WEDNESDAY

BATH!!!

- Ash (@Jtl-fics)

Aug 2 [wip wednesday game]

Abram stilled as the door clicked shut behind them, blurry eyes still shifting and leaking tears.

“No,” he whispered, but Day was across the room to check the temperature of the water. Andrew looked over.

“No?”

Abram’s mouth shut, tight enough Andrew could see the muscles working in his jaw. Andrew prompted, “Speak,” and Abram’s head tipped the tiniest bit as his brow pulled. There was a long pause.

“…Thank you for caring for me, sir,” he said quietly. His voice shook.

[californiaquail]

gonna need people who are not so much as a us size 6 to stop referring to themselves as things like "fat pig" and so forth. obviously no one should be doing this but if i can count all your vertebrae when you lean over and you consistently wear sizes xs/s you can at least not say things like "i've been really good lately and not been eating until the afternoon" in front of normal people

[cgetbrmj]

HI HELLO SO SORRY FOR HARRASSING YOU IN YOUR INBOX FEEL FREE TO TELL ME TO STFU WHENEVER BUT YOURE JUST THE ONLY MUTUAL THAT ACTUALLY IS INTO TBOSAS AGERE.

anyway do u have hcs on cg!Sejanus and little!coryo? I’ll probably be back stalking ur inbox to shove my hc for them in your face but I’m curious of yours and if we have any mutual ones??

peace n love and I’m sorry again for harrassing you-

hahaha never harassing me, I promise!! I adore getting messages in my inbox!! I'm also very hyped by having a mutual who is just as excited about tbosas agere as I am lol please feel free to send your hcs my way I love hearing them

ugh cg!Sejanus 😍😭 I have so much love for him - and Little Coryo is a massive guilty pleasure at this stage. I do have some hcs on them - mostly assuming this is in a littles are known verse (though I do have a couple vague fic ideas on an age regressing Coryo in a non-littles are known verse if anyone cares to hear about that)

Probably gonna put a break here because I'm probably gonna ramble about them for ages lol - this ask has been a great excuse to post hcs on them so - you're getting more than you signed up for lol!!!!!!! Sage feel free to message me that I'm doing too much haha, hoping that you won't mind the rambling but idk just lemme know if it's too much - and also if you like any of the hcs/agree with any!

Despite Coryo being the person defending Sejanus more often than not, Sejanus is so loyal to Coryo and Very protective of him, no matter the circumstances.

Early on (pre tbosas/early academy days) Sejanus is more concerned with protecting big Coryo's representation than he is with considering caregiving for Little Coryo, and totally helps to hide that Coryo is a Little from everyone.

Absolutely found out that Coryo did not have anything for Little him and absolutely immediately started sneaking him gear.

Probably tries to do it in a way that Coryo won't notice and argue against it - gives him a paci when he's practically asleep, hands him a stuffie to keep when he's already started slipping.

sneaks him bite size snacks periodically across a long time until he's confident Coryo's eaten enough to get through the rest of the day without realising Sejanus has caught on to his food problem.

(If in a verse with any kind of headspace suppressants) Sejanus refuses to let Coryo ignore/supress his headspace - will do anything for him but let him hurt himself.

Is really big on hand holding. They're going anywhere? Sejanus is interlocking their fingers immediately. Is Little Coryo much of a runner? Not at all. Is Sejanus giving him the opportunity? Nope. That boy is constantly at LEAST in eyesight of Sejanus.

LOVES playing with Coryo's blonde curls. Mostly only gets the chance when they're both half asleep already but it's such a soothing and comforting thing for Sejanus to do.

I feel like Sejanus would be the type of caregiver to give daily affirmations. Especially with how obvious it is that Coryo overthinks every moment of his life. I can see him trying to get Little Coryo to repeat positive affirmations in the morning and before bed.

I see Little Coryo as an easy crier. He's just so overwhelmed about everything and has barely processed any of it. When things don't go his way, he tends to break down easier because of that.

Not much of a tantrum thrower - but Little Coryo is Very petulant. He's pouty and fussy and whiney, and thinks he deserves anything and everything he could possibly want, and he Will be devastated if that doesn't work out (for like 5 minutes and then will absolutely have moved onto the next thing)

Little Coryo adores Tigris and definitely thinks she's the boss of everyone and that anything she says is always 100% true and never doubts it. Tigris is far too kind a soul to take advantage of this.

Little Coryo is definitely touch starved but also definitely does not realise it or believe it.

Sejanus tries to comfort him by hugging him and totally thinks he's made things worse for a second with how emotional of a response he gets from Coryo from doing it.

Coryo is extremely adamant that he's an independent big kid who doesn't really need Sejanus help with anything - right up until he's a little bit tired and sleepy and has decided that he's done with whatever he's doing, and then he's just about the clingiest thing ever and wants to steal every drop of Sejanus's attention.

Sejanus loves reading to Little Coryo - picture books, children's novels, poetry, (if Coryo is tired/little enough to allow it - touch and feel books/ anything interactive).

Coryo is either very talkative or barely verbal - Sejanus narrates his every movement though and fills in the silence most of the time

As I said - kind of used this ask as an excuse to dump some very random hcs on these two - I definitely have a lot more but that's heading into plot for some fics I'm currently working on territory sooo...

Sorry if this has been unintelligible or a nightmare to read - I am incredibly tired and basically writing this asleep haha but I loved rambling for a bit <3

[kachimera]

Sometimes The Tags are a fun and fine experience and sometimes you gotta hold yourself back to avoid engaging in mass genocide with various degrees of success

[24-guy]

Two fucking weeks to go.

I'm. Yeah.

It'll be a day, for sure. :\

[saltybiowarefantears]

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