#thanks anon this was too cute

[froggieetmblr]

Have you ever drawn Gwen Stacy, I'd think she'd be so cute in your style, cuter than she already is lol ?!

Favorite girlfailure (ft. Comic gwen and pav🫶)

[willowser]

you don't know how much comfort your dragon king bkg drabble has given me ever since you posted it!! i keep reading it i love it sm 🥹

as it turns out, the man bakugou is — a bit harder to handle.

he sleeps like a heathen; you once thought the dragon bakugou to be a bit lazy, with how often he tended to curl up in the fields of grass, warm under the sun, but now — it would seem his little human form needs significantly less rest.

almost up all hours of the day, and when he does finally lay down, he's everywhere. a mess of limbs: one thrown carelessly out to the side and the other bent at an angle you can't believe doesn't hurt his joints. his head stays tucked into you somehow, either buried in your neck or pressed against your ribs — or you'll wake to find him nose-to-nose with you. he still snores like a dragon, however.

you're also beginning to wonder if there is a bottom to the pit of his stomach. he ate much before, whole fields of things, but you expected that appetite to dwindle, at least a little, now that his stomach has decreased considerably in size. and in number ? you're not even sure how many stomachs a dragon has; that's not something that was mentioned in the fairytales.

it burns through him quickly, gives him more energy than he needs, and it doesn't ever seem to affect his weight much. already, he's huge and thick with muscle and eating as much as he does never dulls the severity of his cut abdomen. not that you're looking all that much.

— not that you have a choice not to, as he seems to have little-to-no understanding of —

the door to the bathhouse kicks open, with enough force that you already know who it is without ever turning to look. you try not to shriek when you see him, because he seems to like that in some evil, impish way.

you've been alone to wash so far, thankfully, as the inn you'd managed to find was small and far enough out from the nearest kingdom that the occupancy was low — enough for you and your little brute.

the man bakugou comes to stand in front of the bath, blinking and huffing against the steam. finding clothes for him was — nearly impossible, and so the trousers you'd found hanging on someone's line outside fit above his ankles, a bit too tight around his waist. instead of a shirt, you've wrapped him in a scratchy linen, swaddled him up like a baby to cover the small smattering of scales that decorate his body, almost like freckles from the sun, though they gleam just as bright and red as they ever have. no matter his form.

a horn has started to sprout, on the right side of his forehead, and you've done your best to cover that, too.

you have no idea how long this man thing will last. if it's permanent or if he even has control over it. the last thing you need is for him to switch back, somehow, while you're in the middle of feeding him, absolutely demolishing whatever tavern you're in and calling all of king todoroki's guards to attention.

bakugou grunts, almost sleepy, and tosses a fat, weighty sack onto the edge of the bath. it jingles a certain jingle that makes your heart stop.

"oh, allfather—" you move for the edge, awkwardly keeping one arm against your chest despite the fact that he's seen it all by now. when you peek inside and confirm your fears, you lob it back to him furiously, as if it were a steaming potato. "where do you keep getting this stuff?"

things have started to turn up, miraculously. shiny things — like coins and rings and gems. things he could not have simply found rolling around in the dirt.

"go put it back!" you hiss at him, and the tone of your voice makes his frown deepen. you never realized how pouty he was, when he was still a dragon.

you think he understands you, and you're pretty certain he just chooses not to listen; instead of doing what you've told him in the slightest, he simply dumps the coin-purse to the floor, and then lets his linen and stolen trousers cover it as he unceremoniously undresses.

the biggest issue that you would say the man bakugou poses is — his complete lack of understanding of personal space.

"bakugou!" your voice wavers, shocked again by his nakedness. as if you haven't seen it all by now. "no, you — get out!"

but he does the exact opposite, which is hop into the steaming water, ignoring the arm you hold out to keep him away as he saddles up beside you. skin against scales, pressing a nose into your hair to huff out his annoyance, to make it something you can feel.

if anyone were to walk in right now, they would — probably think the lie you'd told the innkeeper was true. that you are a simple traveler and this is your mute, over-sized husband.

regardless, you think this behavior isn't polite. especially in a public bathhouse.

"bakugou," you try again, turning your face away as you speak to the wood-paneled wall. "i'm taking a bath, you have to wait your turn."

all you receive in response is another huff against your ear and a low rumble of disagreement from his chest.

he has yet to speak back, and has only used inhuman sounds as his points of conversation. the only word you've ever heard him utter is oi, which he does when he really thinks he needs your attention. you're starting to wonder if he's named you that in his head. oi.

curiously, you turn back to him and the movement has him pulling his face from your hair, just enough that he can look down at you, too. watch you, with the red-rippled sea in his eyes.

they're — amazing, you will admit. just as bright and detailed as they always have been. fit for a fairytale told by the fire, veiled by the soft-ash of his lashes. he watches you through them, half-lidded, and you wonder if it's something other than fatigue that has them so heavy.

"do you know what i'm saying?" you ask quietly, voice lacking the firm heat you want it to. instead it's heavy, too, weighted by something soft and unfamiliar and frightening. "can you even understand me?"

bakugou doesn't respond, not with a huff or a rumble or ever a purr, like the one he let out on the night he lay over you by the lake. you've only heard it sparingly since then, oftentimes in his sleep when his face is pressed into you.

you try not to frown at his silence, try not to let it disappoint you because it shouldn't; he's a dragon afterall, and you're not sure what it matters. the little horn protruding from his forehead catches your eye and you reach up to touch it gently, watching him blink away the water that drips from your wrist — and then he's turning into you again, too close.

beneath the water, you feel his hands skate up your bare thighs, wrap around your waist until your chest is pulled flush against his. you feel his huff, again, against the damp skin of your neck but it's slower, lighter. not laced with his frustration. some unknown thing you feel guilty for liking.

you drop your hand to his hair, rushing full force into all the damned things you've thought about doing but have been too afraid to. he's soft between your fingers, and you trace your nails lightly against his scalp until he groans quietly; a new noise, one you don't know how to translate.

your fingers stop when they brush upon little spines that have grown at the base of his skull, that have started to trail down the center of his back.

suddenly, tangled up in the bath with him, you wonder how much time you have left.

bakugou huffs again into your skin, a little fiercer this time, and it's because of his light jostling that you realize how rigid you've gone. you try to relax so that he will, too, though you must not do a convincing job, because a sharp nip comes to your earlobe.

"ow!" you squeal, but he doesn't let you go far, not even as you try to jerk away from him. in fact, the harder you try the more his teeth show: into your cheek and the point of your jaw and then dangerously low on your neck.

it's not until you finally freeze that he stops, huffing again, with a warmth that burns more than the steaming water.

and then, very quietly, he grumbles, "shitty wife," into your collarbone, just before biting you again.

[i3utterflyeffect]

cursor selkie sc (due to some unlikely plot contrivance) in god with a bag of groceries au would be so funny...bystanders watching god pass by with a bag of groceries, followed by tiny god with a packet of cookies. adorable.

ANON... YOUR MIND..........

[lxvi-gloria]

Drabble Prompt: Post-canon Levi, struggling with chronic pain and mourning his dead loved ones, being visited by his still alive loved ones

Anon, you knew how to talk pretty to me <3

hihi requests are still open btw

I feel like I gotta put a disclaimer or something lmao. So, the length of my drabble requests is usually something between 100-400 words. This request is just an incredibly unexpected exception. it just happened to fit into this idea I already had been thinking of, which was how the remaining 104th would ask Levi to be part of important events in their lives because well, they like the dude lmao, so expect that sort of one-shot soon. Additionally, since I kept reminding myself that this was supposed to be a drabble, I might have glossed over the chronic pain and mourning bits so I'm sorry about that ;;

that being said, 2.4k words of Levi and Gabi be upon ye <3

Now on Ao3!

The angry hissing of the kettle makes him flinch. It brings a loud ringing to his right ear. Instinctively, he places his right hand over it, and gives his ear a couple of gentle taps; it's more of a grounding gesture, a distraction from the buzzing. He usually keeps watch over the kettle, so that he can lower the heat just right before it gets a chance to scream at him. 

He realises then that he must have spaced out while waiting. It’s alright, he thinks. It’s been like that a lot, recently. He’s been like that. Lost in thought-- lost in time, if he allowed himself to be precise. The last days, weeks even, as the temperatures started to drop, blended into each other. There’s a little calendar on his bedside table, it had been a birthday gift from Armin – or had that been Mikasa��s? He isn’t sure, he had received an absurd number of presents from the kids last year, it had been hard to keep track of who gave him what and now the fact escaped him. Turning the pages of the little calendar, with its delicate botanical illustrations on each day, quickly became part of his morning routine, and so he was sure that time was passing at all. The stillness of the routine, he guesses, made him like this.

His vision blurs momentarily while he scoops the tea leaves into the teapot. He squints, trying to will his good eye to focus, but all he gets in return is a throb in his right eye. After putting the tea canister away, he presses the inner sides of his wrists to both eyes, placing just enough pressure to relieve the discomfort. When he opens his eyes again, he is pleased to find he can read the small print on the canister an arm’s length away. 

There’s a loud slam coming from the front of the house, followed by footsteps coming further into the house.

He quickly recognizes the heavy stomping as Gabi’s gait. She’s always been so loud.

Gabi crosses the arch into the small kitchen and dining area. 

“Don’t slam my doors,” he says as a greeting, slowly turning his head to his left side, trying to catch a glimpse of her in his periphery.

“Aye, aye,” the kid waves her hand, shoots him a teasing grin, “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Levi hums in response but doesn’t say anything else. He busies himself with placing everything they need for their morning tea and coffee on a metal tray on the counter, which Gabi takes from him as soon as it’s ready and sets it on the table.

He grabs his cane from where he had hooked it on one of the kitchen drawers. He has been leaning against the counter, his right leg supporting most of his weight all this time. He braces himself for the sharp pain that will surely surge from his bad knee, through his left hip and up his spine. Cold mornings like this one and being still in one place for long will do that to him. It’s not so bad. It could be worse.

It takes 4 steps to get from the stove to his chair, which Gabi has already pulled out for him. It sits at an angle that allows him to easily slide down on it and rest his right elbow on top of the table, leaning back and against his good side.

“I have something that will cheer you up,” she holds a couple of envelopes in her hand and waves them at him, “You’ve got mail!”

He nods at her in acknowledgement but does not take his attention away from preparing his first batch of tea of the day. There’s a ritual to it, it almost feels like, and he doesn’t want to mess it up. Not when the ringing in his ear is still there, the building pressure in the upper back part of his eyeballs, and the cold air seeping into his bones through his thick jumper. Oh, how he needs a good cup of tea right now.

While Levi waits for it to steep, he grabs the papers that she had shoved in his face, squints his eyes at the first envelope and finds that he is unable to make out much of the handwriting. He brings it closer to his face, squints harder, steals a quick glance across the table and hopes Gabi isn’t paying him any mind, too preoccupied with choosing from the bag of pastries she brought with her. It is with an impassive expression that he hands the stack of envelopes back. 

“Read it for me.” A beat and then he adds, a little reluctant: “Please.”

He knows Gabi prefers coffee in the mornings, and black tea in the evenings, so he makes sure to have a fresh brew of the former whenever he knows she’s coming over; so, with shaky hands, Levi gets to prepare her cup of coffee. While he enjoys the aroma of it, he remains faithful to tea; at first, he thought he didn’t like it because he had butchered his first attempts at brewing it. But even after Onyankopon had taught him how to do it properly and he had enjoyed his cup, it didn’t bring the same comfort as tea. It just never hit the spot.

She shoots him a mischievous grin, “Oh, you sure? What if I read something personal, hm?” 

Levi just shakes his head, scoffing at the idea of Gabi finding his junk mail fascinating.

“Is this how I find out you have a secret lover you’re exchanging raunchy love letters with?” Gabi teases, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He lets out a tired sigh and rolls his eyes, “just wanna be done with it, ” he stirs the milk into Gabi’s coffee, which now has turned into a cup of milk with coffee. “We have a lot to prepare for tonight.”

She clicks her tongue at him, but still rips the first envelope open, “Mr. Levi, your reading won’t improve if you keep doing that,” she jokingly scolds him.

Although Levi mentally recognises handing her and Falco stuff he couldn’t be bothered reading before, that’s not the case this time. He’ll let her think that for now, though, because he doesn’t want to mention the pressure building in the back of his bad eye, it’s not important and she, a kid, doesn’t need to know his newly found ailment of the week. He can see just fine around him right now. He can see Gabi’s big eyes and playful smile at the other side of the table, and that’s good enough; smaller details, he doesn’t feel he can do them, not without making himself go dizzy with a migraine.

Levi slides the cup of coffee to her and is pleased with himself when she approves of the colour of her drink.

“It’s from Armin,” she announces as she scans the letter. 

From this angle, the soft morning light illuminating her face and thanks to his faulty vision, Gabi’s image stirs his memory. His heart faintly constricts as he is reminded of the many times Hange read their research reports to him during breakfast in the mess hall before presenting them to Erwin. Levi always wondered how they could read so fast, sometimes he even doubted they were actually reading at all, their words barely being able to catch up with her eyes; he never asked about it, maybe reading came easy to them as numbers did to him.

A high-pitched squeal from Gabi startles him, bringing him back to the here and now.

“Oh… ohh, Mr. Levi,” she starts, her smile widening by the second “This is good news!”

Gabi makes a show of clearing her throat and then starts reading “Dear Captain, I hope this letter finds you well and in good health.” 

Levi can’t help but let a sardonic huff at the irony of the greetings but doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. He has written only a handful of personal letters throughout his life, and by now he knows it’s just something you’re supposed to say because jumping straight to the point isn’t acceptable, or so that’s what he had been told. 

Gabi continues reading Armin’s words to him. For the most part, it’s a standard letter coming from him: he asks Levi how he’s dealing with the changing of the seasons, how Gabi and Falco are faring, if business at the tea shop has been good, if there’s anything Levi needs that he can’t get in town so that Armin or the others can get it for him. He tells him a little about the country he’s writing from, he even includes a photograph. Then, after the expected pleasantries, Gabi can barely hold her excitement and starts reading faster, trying so hard not to trip over her words.

“If I’m being sincere, we would prefer to ask you in person,” Gabi stops for a second to look up at him from the paper, gauging for a reaction and finding nothing, she continues. 

Armin apologises for not being able to visit him before the holidays, Annie included, and so it is implied that he won’t be attending tonight’s reunion. 

Sometime during the last five years, the Alliance brats had decided to make showing up at Levi’s doorstep together once a year a sort of custom; the first time it happened was during an early winter, a blizzard had stopped them from leaving Levi’s until the next morning. It had been a really nice evening despite the awful weather, Levi remembers, after everyone pitched in one way or another, they all shared a simple but hearty meal together. It was Connie who jokingly said they should do it every year. The following year, Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco joined them. 

This year would be their fourth, and the first someone wouldn’t make it. That fact sits heavily in Levi’s chest, stealing the spotlight from his throbbing eye.

“...Annie and I have decided to get married. The both of us would like you to officiate our ceremony!” unable to contain her excitement, she tears her eyes away from the paper and looks at Levi. “Huh?! This is good news! What’s with the constipated face?!”

That doesn’t sound right. It figures that Annie and Armin would be the first to marry; in a way, he is happy for them, they clearly care for each other. No, that part is easy to understand. Their union is logical to anyone who knows the couple. What Levi can’t figure out is why they are asking him such a thing.

He clears his throat, assumes it’s been 3 minutes and his tea is ready to be poured and so he distracts himself with that.

When he doesn’t answer Gabi, she picks up where she left off. 

He isn’t… well, he isn’t that close to either of them. He’s sure Annie must have other relatives that could step in his stead. Maybe a brother, a cousin. Even Jean or Reiner would be better options than Levi. He isn’t good with words or people like they are, he couldn’t possibly give them a speech about something foreign to him as it is that kind of love, that’s what people expect, right? His title of Captain is obsolete in this new world, so it can’t be that either. Hell, he has never been to a fucking wedding. 

Just… why him?

As expected, Armin doesn’t really go into the details of their choice but does let Levi know they do not expect a fast answer and that they do not want him to feel pressured to accept it, despite how much it would mean to them if he did. Armin asks if there’s anything in particular that he would like for his birthday, as it is a month away, and closes the letter by saying he looks forward to seeing him and everyone then.

When the letter is closed and put back into its envelope, silence falls around them. For a moment the only sound that can be heard is the clinking of tableware as Levi places the teacup back on its saucer.

It bothers him, that he knows he will be letting Armin down by refusing something that any other well-adapted person would consider an honour. But the thought of embarrassing him and himself, because he gave an awkward, most likely insensitive, speech, mortifies him. No, he can’t put them and their guests through that. He will find a way to make it up to the couple, maybe he can… he doesn’t know yet, but he will come up with something.

As he finishes his first cup, Levi realises that at some point while he was lost in thought, the ringing in his ear has subsided and now it’s back to that muffled, cotton-in-ear sensation he’s used to and he doesn’t feel his eyeball pulsating anymore. Glancing at Gabi, he notices she is trying really hard not to say something, her brow furrowed as she takes a sip of her own drink, followed by a big bite of her pastry. Flakes stick to the corner of her mouth and for once it doesn’t disgust him. Instead, it makes his lips twitch as if going into a smile.

“I can help you... if you want,” she says eventually, sounding uncharacteristically careful and small of her.

Levi quirks an eyebrow “Help? with what?” 

She shrugs, “How to… tell them you don’t want to,” she avoids looking at him for the first time, finding the flakes on her plate more interesting. She shrugs again and tilts her head to the side, a thin line of a smile appearing on her face. “...or prepare for the ceremony.”

Not unlike many times before, Gabi’s words render him speechless, if only for a moment. He spares his tea a glance and he thinks: it’s bold of her to be so upfront about offering her help to him, and had it been any other morning, one where he couldn’t think past the constant ache in his body, he would’ve chewed her head off for simply trying to help him because he himself doesn’t know how to accept that kindness.

This kid is trying her best and he can’t help but feel somewhat proud of that.

“You have shit on your face. Here,” he points to where the flakes would sit on his own face and picks his refilled teacup back up.

Gabi quickly wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, getting most of the flakes off. Levi gives her a thumbs-up with his free hand.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally concedes and tries to ignore the little happy dance she does in her seat.

This time, when the amber liquid touches his lips, it’s remarkably sweeter than before.

[alexbkrieger13]

[splatoonusna]

How do you feel about the Neo Splatana Stamper to Splatana Stamper Nouveau official change?

[kissofthemis]

Artem and Rosa chatting over coffee BECAUSE they're pulling an all nighter again?

The whirring of the coffeemaker felt exceptionally loud in the otherwise quiet office.

Rosa didn't want to waste any resources or time by making a full pot of coffee, so she had defaulted to heating up a pod. However, she forgot how loud the machine was when heating up a single pod, and she lifted a finger to her lips to give a whispered "shush."

She wasn't worried about disturbing anyone at this hour, as she was fairly confident that she was the only one still at the Themis office at 11:52 PM, but the jarring buzzing noise and now the echoing plops of coffee falling into her mug were a bit too eerie for her liking amidst the silence.

"At this hour, I would recommend not adding as much vanilla syrup as you usually do. Can I grab you a sugar?"

"Eeeek!"

The unexpected voice caught Rosa entirely off guard. She whirled around, one hand clutching her chest, only to find herself face to face with what was now an equally startled Artem.

"Sorry. I wasn't... trying to judge your coffee habits."

"N-no, that's not..." Rosa exhaled sharply, willing her heartbeat to return to a normal rhythm. "Please don't sneak up on me at this hour, Mr. Wing," she managed to sigh out at last. She was still audibly panting, but she tried to act as nonchalant as possible as she grabbed her mug and stepped to the side. "One sugar sounds great. Thank you."

Rosa practiced some deep breathing while Artem fetched two sugar packets. "I wouldn't recommend both at this hour, but I do know you have a sweet tooth, so..." His voice trailed off, and he instead punctuated his sentence by handing her the packets.

"Thank you." Rosa accepted them and dipped her head politely. "Um... you aren't going to chastise me for drinking coffee at this hour?" She was admittedly surprised to find him being supportive, although she couldn't help but think he was concealing his disappointment in her.

"Well, I certainly don't agree with it," Artem admitted. "But if I were to criticize you..." A small smile cracked at the corners of his lips.

"Then that would make me a hypocrite."

Artem placed his own mug underneath the machine and added a fresh pod. As the coffee began brewing, he turned to Rosa with a more neutral, but slightly curious, expression. "Do you expect to be here for a while tonight?"

Rosa sighed and leaned against the pantry counter top, drumming her fingers against the surface in a bit of frustration. "Yeah. Hopefully not all night, but at least another hour or two. Did I tell you about the acquisition deal I've been working on?" When Artem gave an affirmative nod, she continued. "Well, it turns out their accounting methods and records were alarmingly inaccurate. Now we have to rework the working capital calculations, and it's possible that the company we're acquiring doesn't have that minimum threshold in their treasury. Now our client wants to entirely rework that aspect of the purchase agreement to protect themselves from any losses we may incur, and I don't blame them. The problem is that the other company doesn't want to own up to their mistakes, and their counsel is more or less enabling their bad behavior." She slumped against the counter top with a heavy sigh. "Which means I'm spending all night going over the absurd revisions that opposing counsel made to our latest draft of the purchase agreement... and I probably have to reject most of them! Oh, and here's another kicker. We're inheriting some employees that work remotely from outside Stellis, so we have to make sure that their employment agreements don't contain any weird wrinkles we need to know about. Some of the foreign laws just don't have analogous laws in Stellis, and vice versa. The price of growth, I suppose...."

Just how long had Artem been standing there, watching her, while stirring the very-clearly-finished cup of coffee in his hands?

"Oh my gosh! I've been talking your ear off! I haven't let you get a word in! I'm so sorry, Mr. Wing!" Rosa bolted upright and dusted herself off before bowing apologetically.

Artem raised a hand to stop her and shook his head. "No need to apologize," he tried to assure her. Was it her imagination, or did he sound a bit flustered? "I quite like listening."

Rosa was a little surprised by that statement. "Really? Even though it's all..." Whiny? Complaining? Work-related? What was she most embarrassed about, actually? "You must have enough on your plate," she finished at last, before nervously beginning to twirl a loose curl around her finger. "Please rest assured that I have this under control!"

"I know you do."

Was it her imagination, or did he sound a bit tender?

'Oh, no. It's only midnight, and I'm already delirious.'

"I like hearing you talk," Artem said simply. How could he say something so ridiculous with such a straight face? "I know that I've dragged you out of your comfort zone with criminal cases," he went on. "To hear you speak so passionately about the work you prefer to do, about economic and corporate matters, is quite refreshing." He wrapped his long, slender fingers carefully around his mug, as if wanting to ensure he could capture the entire circumference in his hands. "Your passion is warm. It's admirable."

"A-anyway, what brings you here at this hour, Mr. Wing?" Why did she say that? He was already here and stayed late, obviously. Why didn't she phrase her question that way? Now he was going to think she was dumb!

If Artem found her question bizarre, he gave no indication whatsoever. "I was supposed to depose a witness next week, but the deposition was moved up due to scheduling conflicts." He paused to take a sip of his coffee, then he glanced over Rosa's face with a knowing expression. "Opposing counsel asked if I would prefer to push it back an extra week, but I declined."

Her emotions must have been easy to read. Her first thought had naturally been, 'Opposing counsel is a real jerk to cut your preparation time instead of extending it!' Rosa opened her mouth to inquire as to why Artem agreed to move the deposition date up, but as she looked up at Artem's face, realization struck her. She lowered her gaze and simply nodded.

"Your client is anxious, and you didn't want to incur further delays. Otherwise that anxiety would only continue to grow."

Artem's expressions tended to be calm, cool, and perhaps even stoic or cold. The way he carried himself emitted an air of confidence and calculation, as if he were prepared for anything and everything, and as if nothing could ever faze him.

But Artem wasn't just a legal robot. Rosa saw the emotion hidden in his azure eyes. Once you cracked the surface of the lake, the depths of those blues contained compassion, sympathy, concern, determination, sorrow, and an overwhelming dedication to justice.

Artem was the type of person who would inconvenience himself in order to ease someone else's burdens.

"Don't forget to take care of yourself too, you know."

Artem blinked in what was probably the most outward expression of surprise that he had ever shown at the office. "Pardon?"

"You can't take care of others if you don't take care of yourself first." Rosa shrugged as if that were the most obvious fact in the world, and then she turned to head back to her desk.

"Wise words," Artem murmured, and he stopped next to her desk as she sat down. "I wonder where you heard such advice."

Rosa tilted her head to the side in confusion. Artem tended to be straightforward, but she couldn't help but feel as though another layer of meaning laid beneath those words.

The twinkle in his eyes gave her the answer.

"Well, don't give people advice that you won't follow, Mr. Wing!" Rosa folded her arms over her chest in a huff. When had he become so bold as to tease her like this?

"I think the same principle applies to you," he responded simply. "You do have a tendency to avoid asking others for help."

Rosa aggressively lifted her mug to her face, hoping to conceal the fiery blush spreading across her cheeks. "I just don't want t--"

A coughing fit broke off her sentence as coffee went down her windpipe.

"C-can I get you some water?!"

"N-no!" Cough. "I'm!" Another cough. "Fine!" She wasn't convincing him at this rate.

But Rosa trusted him to keep this intimate, somewhat embarrassing moment of the midnight hour as a secret. She just prayed the moon could do the same.

[veemimis]

hiiiii!!! i LOOVEEE your art your bayojeanne art is the cutest ever

i saw your post and maybe 👉👈 could we maybe get some bayojeanne foreheads touching or jeanne kissing cereza's forehead? uwu or if a two person art is not what you wanted suggestions of maybe a cereza with a butterfly on her nose looking all cute? :3 👉👈

thank you for the consideration and for sharing your art with us!!! it's wonderful!!!

HIII ANONNN ! ! !

HEHE YOU'RE SO SWEEEET and thank yew for the requests >:3

I have the other two sketched out I'll post them whenever I finish them , but heres the first ! ! ! It kinda turned into nose touching rather than forehead touching but WHATEVER ! !

[heartorbit]

I love your talking/ranting in the tags of your art. very underappreciated art form and I've only seen myself and like two other people do it. go forth mighty warrior tell us what youre doing tomorrow in the tags of your art post for myself and the other three ppl who read them!!!

helpme Thank you brave warror i'm not in the habit of talking about myself on social media but something about tumblr tags has me laying on my stomach kicking my legs with a glitter gel pen like it's my diary. Except then people reblog my post (very nice) and tag it laughing at MY tags and i'm like FUUUUUCK PEOPLE CAN SEE THAAAAAAT (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

[moon-buggg]

I love your scp au art so much, they're just too cute it makes me tear up ((if I saw them irl with those big blank eyes would I cry out of fear? probably. but are they still the cutest, squishiest thing? yes.))

you're scared of this little guy and his big old eyes? he can't help that he only has a clear membrane over his eyes and no eye lids :(

[i-like-forcefem]

There’s a bunch of cute trans girls in this discord server I’m in, one just posted “gotta crack a few eggs to make a discord server”

am I in danger of being forcefemmed

Not at all! Don't worry your pretty little head about it, cutie :3 Though just to be safe I would recommend you find as many femboy and trans-pride memes as you can get your hands on and post them in the discord! Just to let them know you're an ally :3

[anonymocha]

can u PLEASE draw more medblue i need more yuri beyond my comprehension

Baby Blue and Medicine Coquette just for you 💗🎀 Thank you anon you get me

Inspo^^ Re99 requests still open btw!

[mariatesstruther]

okay just hear me out modern au where tommy ends up picking up ellie from pre school almost everyday since joel is busy but he keeps meeting teacher maria

okay bestie as a preschool teacher you GOT me with this one. like you got me SO GOOD. this might actually get published to ao3, you got me soooo fuckin’ good right now. i have so many unnecessary details for such a simple plot so here’s a cut

tbh i feel like even as busy as joel is, he’d prioritize picking up and dropping of sarah as much as he can, so maybe he and tommy would alternate???? so on days when tommy drops off, joel picks up and when joel drops off, tommy picks up. sarah goes to a public preschool with a lot of kids, so she gets easily overwhelmed and sometimes needs extra cuddles or kind words in the mornings to make it out of the car.

one monday, a couple months into school, sarah is particularly VERY anxious because there’s a new teacher to replace ms. doherty, who quit unexpectedly on friday “because she said we gave her alooooottt of headaches, daddy.” now, sarah knows nothing about the new teacher except that shes a girl from a place called new york—and sarah doesn’t even know what new yawk IS like, thats So Far Away??? (“it’s not really that far, baby,” joel says to her. “and it’s new york. with an o sound.”) still, sarah is VERY concerned:

is new yawk like another planet???? (no, babygirl.) but what if she’s an alien???? (the school only hires human teachers, baby. they promised.) but what if she’s a SECRET alien??? (she won’t be, i promise.) okay but what if she’s mean???? (if she is, you tell me or tommy and we’ll talk to her about it, okay? she shouldn’t be mean to you.) what if she doesn’t play good music at quiet time???? (you can ask her nicely and i bet she will, baby. just say please and thank you, okay?)

still, even with her questions answered, sarah is very nervous on monday. both joel and tommy go with her in an effort to start her day off extra good, especially because joel can’t pick her up. they reassure her that new york has plenty of nice people and her new teacher will probably be one of them. she also gets TWO WHOLE extra minutes of cuddle time with BOTH of them before she and daddy have to leave the car—it’s half for her and half for them, because they’re honestly pretty anxious for her to like her new teacher too

joel is the one to hold sarah’s hand and walk her inside, because the school prefers only one guardian to drop off at a time. tommy’s nervous, but joel actually seems pretty pleased when he gets back to the car with no sarah in tow. surprisingly, he’s back faster than any time they’ve ever dropped sarah off before. with a proud smile, he tells tommy is that miss maria seems really nice. more importantly, she’s Black, which joel says Sarah got really excited about. tommy pries for more details, and he’s glad he does: apparently miss maria has locs, a few even blue and purple, and the first thing sarah’d said to her was an emphatic “😲😍🤩 i like your hair!!!!!!!!,” to which she had responded “thank you! i like your hair! what’s your name, sweets?” and that’d been that

later, when tommy does pickup that day, he doesn’t know what to expect. most times at the end of the day, sarah is super reserved and a bit cranky, eager to get home to finally have time to herself. tommy’s goal is usually to try and get her to at least wave goodbye to her teachers like joel asks—but, more often than not, she opts for reaching for uppies and hiding her face in his chest until they leave.

today??? no. it takes sarah a full two minutes to even notice tommy’s there because her and this drop-dead-fucking-gorgeous woman in a soft-looking lavender pants and blouse set are finishing up a painting at the easel wall. they’re working on what looks like a brown and purple butterfly, probably the most carefully shaped sarah’s ever made.

tommy’s heart stops when this goddess miss maria finally looks over at him and smiles with perfect pearly-whites, waving him over behind sarah’s back. when she says “sarah honey, i think someone’s here for you!” in her sing-songy toddler-tone, tommy swears an angel gets his wings. sarah turns around, shrieks with joy upon seeing him, and runs down to him with her arms out, yelling all the while: “THOMMYYYYYYY!!!!!”—because sarah’s still working on her hard ts—“thommy!!!! thommy thommy thommy come look!!! i made a butterfly for u!!!!! look!!!!! it matches ms. maria!!!!!! it’s gorgeous!!!!” (she’s been obsessed with calling things gorgeous ever since she heard tommy say it about a harley motorbike last week. joel especially thinks it’s cute, especially because of how she over-emphasizes the j-sound: gor-Jus.)

tommy’s never seen her so excited to show her art off at pickup-time before; usually, she waits until they’re home and she’s feeling less shy to start showing off, but she’s babbling and pointing to it as he picks her up and sets her on his hip: “it’s brown and purple like miss maria!!! isnt it so gorgeous, unca thommy??? do you like it???? aren’t they SO gorgeous????”

and now miss maria is looking at him. and he’s looking at her. tommy knows he’s blushing, and he hesitates—which sarah does NOT appreciate, so she says: “unca tommy!!!!!!! don’t be WUDE! thell miss maria she’s gorgeous!!! she is!!!”

luckily, miss maria saves him by explaining, in a slightly firmer teaching voice: “sarah sweets, that’s okay! we’re only just meeting, and that’s not really something you say to a stranger, okay?”

“but why noooooooot?? you are gorgeous! like my butterfly! isn’t she so gorgeous, thommy?”

“well, yeah, of course,” tommy agrees easily, because she obviously is—and shit. now miss maria is looking at him like he’s a fucking bonehead, because he obviously fucking is. “but—uh, i mean—she’s right, hon’. you gotta listen to your teacher, and that’s not somethin’ you say to a stranger, okay?”

but then, after thinking to her tiny self for a few seconds: “well if she stays my teacher then she’s not a stranger, is she???” sarah asks tommy, then turns her conniving little head towards maria, too. “and you said you’d stay! so can he say you’re gorgeous tomorrow?” then, without waiting for an answer, she’s back towards tommy to finish: “i think you should call her gorgeous tomorrow.”

“i think we should go home, s’what i think,” tommy says, finally deciding to save himself from four-year-old torment. he sets sarah down and pats her on the end with a gentle but firm request to go get her stuff from her cubby, which she goes to do without her complaints of being too tired to walk. maria watches them closely with a close-lipped but relaxed grin. when sarah’s out of earshot, he apologizes. “sorry ‘bout that, ma’am.”

“don’t be,” miss maria teases, crossing her arms. “you did call me gorgeous, after all. i’ve had worse introductions.”

“tommy miller,” he offers, moving to shake her hand. he notices her nails are done-up, a sparkly blend of pretty shades of purple that look tie-dyed on somehow. her hands aren’t soft, not really, but they’re smooth enough to make him shiver as he pulls away. “sarah’s uncle.”

“oh, i know,” she reassures, then nods her head pointedly towards sarah. the little one is coming back towards them with her lunchbox in one hand and her water bottle in the other, walking extra careful so she doesn’t trip over herself like she did last week, tommy guesses. clearly fond, maria continues. “she spent all day telling me about you and her daddy. you’re doing great with her.”

“unca thommy! i’m ready to go!” sarah sing-songs, interrupting whatever miss maria might’ve said next. internally, tommy thanks his niece—the you’re doing great was already enough to make him cry, and he’d rather not do so in front of either her or her amazing new teacher. plopping her lunch and bottle at tommy’s feet, sarah gives not one, but two eager waves to miss maria, hands flapping madly up towards the woman’s face. “bye miss mariaaaaa!!!! i’ll see you tomorrow!!!!”

“bye sarah sweets!” maria says back, waving just as enthusiastically. to tommy, she raises an amused, teasing eyebrow. just loud enough for him to hear as he turns away, he hears her say “bye, gorgeous,” and laugh, giving yet another angel a pair of wings.

it takes everything in him to not fall straight to the floor, toppling his own precious niece, right then. he doesn’t think he even breathes until both he and Sarah are secured in the car, him in the front and her in her carseat. she’s already babble singing mary j. blige’s “just fine,” which they usually play and sing on their way home from school to help her regulate. when he plays the song this time, sarah smiles bright at him through the rearview and says “i already feel just fine, unca tommy!!! but can we still play it, just for fun?”

“of course, baby,” he says, and start singing along with her. he’s feeling just fine, too.

🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

tagging some homies (btw just let me know if u wanna be tagged in this kinda stuff or not guys! im never sure lol): @becomethesun @clickergossip @boilingcowboy @bumblepony

[percabeth4life]

hc: everytime percy almost dies or miraculously recovers right before death or sees the god or survives smth that wouldve killed anyone else, he makes an offering to Thanatos basically going "sorry if i messed up your schedule again, hope you have a great day, am happily awating when you can actually collect me, bye!<3"

Thanatos considers them good friends, says it once in front of Hades, Persephone&Demeter(&through an amazing game of telephone, Poseidon gets told his Son is "making good friends with death" and Poseidon takes that to mean Percy is (1) almost dyinf even ore frequently than usual or (2) they are sarcastic and he is sassing thanatos&he(Than) does nOT appreciate it

Lmao, Poseidon is panicking, Thanatos when rescued in SON is just like "<3 bestie! How nice to see you <3 You doing good? How am I doing? Yeah just trapped here"

Percy does not realize Thanatos considers them good friends and is just confuzzled. He's happy Thanatos seems to think he's chill tho.

[r0semultiverse]

psst...ur cute

anon, you got good taste, thank you 💜

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Arsonist Neil/firefighter Andrew snippet plsss🙏 (i hope the wips don’t fight you too much this week❤️)

WIP Wednesday (4/24)  Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 158)

Okay, his arsonist friend is having some sort of clothing-related crisis. That’s great. But Andrew will humor him. He counts the shoes lined up in the bottom of his closet, surprising himself at how many identical pairs of boots he’s got.

“Five pairs of boots, three pairs of sneakers, two pairs of slip-ons, and a pair of bunny slippers that my cousin gave me which I have ever worn in my life." Andrew lies, looking down where they are currently on his feet. "Why do you need a rundown of what’s in my closet?”

10 sighs before answering with, “Everything I own fits into a duffle bag.”

Andrew can definitely relate to that, except he never had anything that nice. He thinks of the big black trash bags he’d carted through foster home after foster home. He remembers one move in which he didn’t even get to take the shoes he’d come with. The Wilkersons wanted his sneakers for their real kid and gave him a pair of dollar store flip flops right before the social worker showed up.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re asking about my wardrobe.” Andrew says as he drops onto his bed.

There’s a sigh and then, “I guess I always knew that it wasn’t normal, but it has been for me for a long time. Just the necessities, you know? I just wanted to know how much a regular person has.”

“I wouldn’t count myself among the regulars,” Andrew admits. He likes having clothes, but he doesn’t even wear most of them. There are several items that still have tags attached and two of those pairs of boots are scuffed up beyond repair. But he can’t get rid of them. He might need them.

“So, do you think it’s weird that I’ve got eight outfits and one pair of shoes?”

“No. Your clothes look good on you. As long as they’re clean— and don’t have scorch marks,” Andrew adds, making 10 snort. “It doesn’t matter how much you’ve got. The man makes the clothes, not the other way around. Why is this coming up?”

“I just unpacked my bag. And my clothes barely take up one drawer.”

Andrew clicks his tongue. “You’re just now unpacking? You’ve been in town for weeks.”