#thanks for the ask sue!

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

10A with witch eclipse! 8C with ghost lunar!! 3G with narnia moon! 7B with dentist eclipse! (you dont have to do all of these, you may pick and choose :3)

here's your guys in order! thanks for the request, I had fun with this!

[elitadream]

A welcome back surprise. We missed you ✨

OMG???

I AM SCREAMING!!!!!

[memorandum]

Miss Namida, what does a typical day at work look like for you?

[ 💉 ] I-Is that an alright answer?

[ ╮( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ )╭ ] I don't think you need to worry 'bout that.

Michiru: Meee?! Mr. Chidouin: You're not in trouble… (yet)

W-Well… I usually wake up here, s-so, work starts early. I check on Miss Maple… Miss Maple checks on me. (Maple: Have you eaten, Miss Michiru?) Rio usually finishes his tr-training early, so he waits in my office. If he d-doesn't need t-to be repaired, I head to the laboratory. AI adjustments, executions, personal projects… Th-Then, I update Dr. Gashu on our progress. Usually, he'll invite me to dinner… but, s-sometimes, lately, I've had other plans. All-in-all, my days are v-very productive. I'm thankful f-for the opportunities here, eheehee…

[yayll]

IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE IT!!! Opposites attract are literally my favorite trope ever, i love bad boy unhinged rockstar Dazai and him developing a crush on the cute, considered the industry sweetheart who dresses in frills and bows idol/pop star Reader, and considering that idols change their outfits to support the themes of songs/tours i can imagine they get a matching outfit set one day and its rock style…..idol reader dressed in black and other dark colors, rips in their clothes and some skin showing……Rockstar!Dazai is biting the bars of his encloser-TeenZai anon

so sorry this is so late angel.... also i may have gotten a bit carried away w this concept................ i love u teenzai anon this one's for u and all the rockstar!dazai adorers out there (and for me bc i'm INSANE for this whole thing put me downnn) basically idol reader taking up dazai's rocker aesthetic for the concept/theme of the tour is literally the DEATH of him. and not in the way he's always wishing for >:3

~ a little something about Rockstar!Dazai and Popstar!Reader finding a middle ground ~

You show up to soundcheck one morning completely in tune with the plan for the show but thinking nothing of it, because you're sweet and cool and in perfect flow! Something Dazai simply isn't and it makes him practically gawk as you saunter past him into the dressing room. a few moments later you walk out in a matching outfit that compliments the one he's wearing and it's all over. Completely fucking done. The man practically goes non-verbal for a few moments when he suddenly calls for his assistant to fetch him his pack of cigarettes so he can dash outside to the alley of the venue to get himself together. The nerve of you to look absolutely ravishing in a completely different aesthetic... So hot. So annoying.

Of course you follow behind him, curious and also hoping he's genuinely okay (you're not just a sweetheart for show and he hates that!) You find him leaning against the wall, his lighter failing to give him the flame he needs for his sweet relaxation. All he hears is soft giggling and light footsteps.

"I'll light it."

You take the lighter from him and flawlessly flicker it alive while he just watches you with the stick between his lips, amazed and slightly aroused. He can't help but notice the way his nerves seem to immediately settle with you nearby and it both comforts and concerns him. Dazai looks down at your face as you lean forward with the lighter, a tiny moment of softness appearing in his eyes as he watches you light the end of his cigarette, the flame from the lighter making his Hazelnut eyes light up slightly. He quickly takes in a long and deep drag, his shoulders visibly immediately relaxing once the smoke hits his lungs, and his cool guy demeanor is back on. You chime in, poking your head back into his line of sight.

"Better?"

You smile at him sweetly, always keeping things cordial.

"Much."

He stares at you under his messy bangs, his narrowed eyes softening by the second as his lips curl upward. You're just too true.

You simply hum, standing around idly though not in the way that claims awkwardness, but rather the comfortable kind of silence neither of them get to experience often in this fast paced industry. You look down at your black platform leather boots, a sheer contrast from who you usually present as and it somehow feels liberating. You breathe out, matching his coolness.

"Thought so."

He almost snorts at that, and turns back to look over the features of your angelic face. no amount of black you wear could overshadow the glimmer that follows you everywhere you go. You're a lucky star that's gone as quick as it comes. One day he'll make a wish on you.

"You know me so well."

You huff into a soft laugh that lingers and eventually dies in your throat when you realize the fluttering in your chest is only growing. Yikes. You mutter, low and careful.

"I just... Didn't want you to have a bad night tonight, I guess. With the concert and the album dropping and all... I hope you don't mind I'm sort of dressed like you, heh."

You end it with a shrug as you look ahead at the clouds in the sky and for the first time in a while you feel a tinge of nerves. you, the industry's sweetheart can still feel that after your major lasting success? shocking.

He huffs slightly in response, leaning his back against the wall and tilting his head up, staring up at the sky as he mutters back.

"It's not like I ever really have a totally good time on nights like this, anyway."

You flash your attention at him, tilting your head. In all your years of the supposed 'clashing' between you, you have never heard him speak this way.

"Nights 'like this'?"

He glances back over to you, bringing the cigarette back to his lips for another quick drag before responding, watching you stare at him intently.

"Ahh, performing. All the people. The fans being all over me. The media. All of it, all the time. It's exhausting, actually. I know I'm super hot and talented, but the performance doesn't always end when I get off that stage."

This causes you to lean in just a tad and murmur, curiously.

"... So why do it? All of this?"

And just when he's about to truly spill it all, talk about his never ending battle with his mortality and his career and the way you dominate every single topic in his mind, he simply just looks at you and blows cigarette smoke in your face with that signature smirk of his you always pretend to find so irritating.

"Sometimes it feels real and constant. It's the only thing I can count on... Other than seeing your silly little imitation of me on stage. Hate the mesh, by the way."

You simply stare, taken aback by his oddly sincere and blunt answer. You mutter under your breath as you bite your freshly manicured nails.

"...Yeah?"

Dazai hesitates a moment, his dark eyes glancing away from you as he takes another drag from the cigarette, a moment of vulnerability flickering through his expression. He takes another moment before responding, his voice gruff and a little shaky.

"Yeah..."

He continues to stare off to the side for a long moment, a hint of something like longing and painful restraint crossing his expression as he seems to internally struggle with something. Dazai's expression hardens a little as he finally looks back at you, his shoulders visibly tense as he puffs on the cigarette again, blowing out a long stream of smoke as he tries to push down his own feelings.

But you can tell, you can always tell. Media training, baby.

After what feels like an eternity, you reach out for his cigarette and take it in between your lips, taking a long drag of it yourself. You puff out smoke in a far less cool way than he made it seem, feigning nonchalance as if this isn't the first time you've ever even TRIED one of these damn things.

"Minty..."

He glances at you as you take the cigarette and take a drag yourself, a small but subtle flicker of curiosity in his expression. He watches you exhale and blow out the stream of smoke, before responding in a sardonic voice.

"Since when do you smoke, little miss bubblegum pop?"

You choke out a laugh, waving away the smoke to regain your breath. You smile faintly with a shrug as you hand it back to him after taking one more drag for good measure.

"I don't."

He raises his eyebrows slightly, giving you a look of mischief.

"Then why are you puffing on my cigarette, hm? Your manager would have a stroke if they saw you like this, you know. I'd be marked as a 'bad influence'~"

You shrug again and hum with all the bravery in the world your little heart can muster.

"...Tastes like you, is all."

He just continues to stare at you for a moment, processing your answer. Dazai's expression still remains as unreadable and emotionless as ever, but his eyes flicker for a moment, something indiscernible flashing through them for a fleeting second. It's the internal panic from how badly he wants to kiss you right here and now. He seems to hesitate for a moment before responding with a small smirk forming on his face and sounding wayyy too eager.

"...Is that a good thing?"

You exhale, the smoke leaving your nostrils as you murmur softly, eyes locked on his.

"...Yeah. It's a real and constant thing."

His breath hitches, shoulders visibly reacting by scrunching up as you give your answer. He doesn't say anything, but there's a flicker of something like vulnerability in his expression, a hint of softness around his eyes that betrays his usual cool and careless exterior. He remains silent for a moment longer before responding, his voice a low murmur.

"Yeah... Real."

And before you know it, you simply decide to say fuck it! And do something you'd never have the guts to do before Dazai and his ridiculous self entered your life. You lean in slowly, inching closer and closer to his lips. You're within an inch of kissing him when you whisper.

"... For good luck tonight, Osamu."

Dazai watches you in silence as you lean forward towards him, his expression going from unreadable to filled with pure unfiltered need. As you pause just inches away from his mouth, his eyes flicker once more, his dark irises shifting down to your lips for a second before returning to your eyes. For a moment he doesn't move, just staring down at you with an almost pathetically vulnerable expression on his face. You know better than to say his name like that. Then, in a low voice, he whispers back.

"... Shut up."

He leans down suddenly, pressing his lips against yours. Dazai's lips press against yours in a firm, almost desperate kiss. One of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, while the other hand moves up to cradle the back of your head, threading his fingers through your purposefully messy yet somehow still soft hair. The kiss is passionate and intense, you can't even fathom how it's all gone down like this but you don't care.

Dazai thinks about how you taste delicious, sinful, and more importantly: Real.

For a few seconds, he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, before he finally breaks away, the both of you gasping for breath as he speaks in a quiet and hoarse voice.

"I can't think straight around you like this you silly little thing."

You smile, suddenly back to being bashful and absolutely ready for whatever happens tonight. You both look stunning and it's not just the outfits that speak on it. It's the genuine spark between you two, the collaboration everyone wanted but you NEEDED.

Just when you're about to reply to his snarky comment, your managers bust through the door to the alley and frantically fuss over you both as they yap about how late you are to soundcheck and the pre-show meet and greet. And why do you smell like cigarettes?!

Dazai turns up the charm and bad boy persona while you play up the apologetic and totally easygoing idol who's more than happy to make up for the lost time with the fans! And now in a different color scheme than they're used to!

Before you and Dazai are whisked away into opposite ends to finish getting ready, he leans into the shell of your ear, barely grazing it with his lips as he whispers playfully.

"You drive me crazy. See you on stage, and then maybe backstage~"

You swear you can feel every nerve in your body twitch when he smugly prances away from you after saying that.

... And of course the concert is a total jam, everyone's raving about the new music + matching outfits you're both sporting along with the undeniable chemistry you're cooking up. It's in the way you smile at each other in between songs, or when Dazai's singing a particularly flirty lyric he gazes at you instead of the screaming fans in the crowd. You dance and he watches, just like everybody else always does when you're in the room. Spellbound.

He may be wishing on you a little earlier than he thought he would be, but you don't seem to mind one bit, his lucky star. ⋆｡°✩

[just-french-me-up]

If you'd still like Dreamling kiss prompts, how about 7 or 17?

@martybaker asked : Hello, your fics are so lovely! May I humbly request ‘A kiss to shut them up’ if you’re still taking prompts? 👉👈 @anonymous asked : Thoughts on dreamling 7 or 17 (to shut them up or to distract - maybe even both at once?) for the kiss prompts?

We're shutting him up, yall! This is a Retired!Dream one, in which Dream struggles with the human body and human condition, and can't see how he can measure up to his old self in Hob's eyes. Angsty you say? Deceivingly horny I raise you! I kept this sorta M rated but... hey if there's more to come *winkwink* who knows?

The human body was a curious thing. It required constant attention, fluids, fuel, maintenance, care. And yet it was so... limiting. Morpheus could still remember how it felt, to think of a place and feel the ground shift under his feet without ever having to move. There had been no hunger then. No thirst. No itching, for his skin had never had the notion that it could be too dry.

If he had ever felt those things, it had been because he had chosen to.

Now the world imposed itself to him, there wasn't much of a choice.

Urges baffled him the most. The dryness coating his mouth on a particularly hot day, his mind conjuring up images of cold, condensation-weeping bottles. The drowsiness taking hold of him after dinner, weighing on his eyelids. The burning, devouring heat flaring in his abdomen as Hob would step out of the shower, a towel lazily tied around his hips, the line of hair trailing down his navel guiding Morpheus' gaze downwards.

It was a strange thing, to be overcome by such sensations. An infuriating thing, really. He ought to be able to resist them. He had been able to resist them, once, to ignore them, dismiss them into nothing if he so chose. How vexing it was, to be a creature of wants and needs, when your existence had been nothing but careful control.

He would not tell Hob, but he could not help but feel... lesser. How clever could his mind be, now that he only had access to his own? How good could his hands be, he who had been able to breathe life into dream clay, fashion lands and castles with a single thought? How pleasing could his touch be, now that he was barred from his lover's unconscious? How could he compare to who and what he had been, once?

They had not made love ever since his encounter with the Kindly Ones. Hob had never pushed, reading Morpheus far better than Morpheus ever could, now. There had been times, here and there, when Morpheus had thought they would, with lingering kisses growing deeper, embraces in bed tighter, but something had held him back. Some bitter gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach. Yet another thing he could not seem to control.

Yet he wanted. Desperately, frustratingly so. The most mundane things would strike him as the most erotic sights he could fathom. Hob drinking his coffee in the morning, his Adam's apple bobbing as he'd swallow. Hob reading the day's papers, his gaze intent, focused. Hob reaching up to grab this or that from a cupboard, his shirt riding up and showing his navel, while his tired pajama bottoms hung from his hips, revealing the slight dips there, a hint of hair...

Morpheus' body would betray him often, subjecting him to fantasies and erections that, much like the rest, he held little control over. Unlike food, lust was a hunger he never seemed to satisfy. It only grew.

If Hob had ever caught him staring, he never said anything. Instead, he was highly skilled at noticing when Morpheus' mind would start spinning on itself, feeding the loop of existential dread looming over him. He had taken to giving Morpheus tasks, then, something to focus on. Although it would not quite clear the storm, it muffled it somewhat.

Perhaps he'd sensed another one of Morpheus' spirals that night, when his voice rose from the bedroom.

"Oh, bollocks! Love? Might need a hand here."

As he stepped inside the bedroom, Morpheus found Hob standing by the mirror, struggling with his button-up. He flashed a quick contrite smile at him, emphatically tugging at the fabric.

"Can't manage to button those buggers off," he explained.

"Allow me."

The human condition was one thing, but buttons he could handle. Morpheus' touch was methodical, surgical almost, as he focused on the task at hand, yet three buttons later, he could not help but feel his focus slip. He could feel Hob's warmth under his fingertips. His heartbeat. As he breathed in, Hob's scent filled his lungs, distracting him further. By the time he was done with the shirt, his mind had gone elsewhere.

Hob wore an undershirt, a thin, almost see-through thing. It required barely any effort to see his chest in spite of the fabric. Morpheus' eyes trailed down, heat flushing his cheeks. Mindlessly, his thumb traced the line of hair down Hob's abdomen, his mouth filled with want. He could feel hot breath against his lips. Humans were not meant to withstand such hunger.

They were kissing before Morpheus could articulate another thought, Hob's mouth warm and soft against his, the coarse brush of his stubble adding fuel to the fire overtaking him. No doubt Hob had meant for this to be tender, but Morpheus was famished, taking, and taking, and taking all that was offered until his lungs might explode. He found himself gasping against Hob, nose to nose, forehead to forehead.

"Hey," Hob whispered, gentle to a fault. "It's okay. There's no rush."

Morpheus swallowed hard, feverishly catching his breath. Hob's palm was invitingly cool against his cheek.

"I will keep," he continued. "We don't have to―"

"I want to," Morpheus rasped, weeks of frustration pushing the words out of him. "I want you. I just―"

"Just what?"

The patience in his voice was the lifeline Morpheus held onto as he sighed, embarrassment flooding through him.

"This form, it feels... finite. Flawed. Lacking."

Fallible, he did not say. He watched as Hob's eyes grew round, ridicule joining embarrassment.

"Duck―"

"I am not as I once was," he continued, overcome with the need to justify himself. "I am no longer suited to anticipate your every want. I can not satisfy you to the degree I once could. Everything I have to offer is bound to disappoint in comparison."

Hob's stare felt heavy, too heavy for Morpheus to hold, but as he looked away, Hob took his chin between his fingers, directing his gaze back to him.

"Love, I―. Sex is not about making some kind of... of ranking."

"Your unconscious would rank it, regardless."

"Fuck my unconscious. It's my conscious self who wants you, magic dick or not."

The corners of Hob's mouth twitched at his own joke, but seriousness soon took over.

"I love you," he said, prompting Morpheus to look away again. "I love you. I would love you Endless, I would love you human, I would love you if you were a tentacled monster and hell, you've been that before if you'd recall!"

Morpheus fought back the smile creeping up on his lips.

"I never cared how we'd fuck. Well, I did, but― I did because it was you. I wanted to be with you. I still do."

Hob sighed, and they stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other.

"At least now we know that mind of yours is well and truly yours and not a Dream of the Endless exclusive."

"An unfortunate discovery."

Hob's hand settled on Morpheus' waist, his thumb brushing the fabric of his shirt.

"I do want you," he said. "Whenever you're ready. If ever. But I don't want you holding back because you've convinced yourself I may not enjoy it well enough, according to some cosmic standard you've set for yourself."

Morpheus nodded slowly, his own thumb back to tracing the happy trail on Hob's stomach.

"I have always found you pleasing enough, after all," he dared, shooting a tentative look at Hob. "As human as you are."

Hob made a face, pulling him closer by the waist.

"Your compliments need work, duck. But I do think there's a silver lining to this whole human condition you are overlooking."

"Is that so?"

Hob smirked at him, fully conscious of how devilishly handsome that made him. He had had, after all, centuries to hone those skills. How long would it take him?

"You no longer have access to my unconscious, right?"

"I do not."

"Which means you can no longer anticipate my every want, as you said."

Now that was rubbing salt into the wound.

"Yes," he conceded with a frown.

"Well imagine how arousing it is, my love," Hob said, his eyes darker by the second, "to be able to surprise you."

A warm shiver went down Morpheus' spine, sending his pulse into a frantic race. He swallowed thickly, holding Hob's gaze.

"How arousing?"

"Very. Cock-achingly, one might say."

Morpheus glanced down, finding Hob's trousers tight, his hard cock pressing against the fabric, making his knees weak. The human body truly was weak in the most delicious way.

"I could dare you to surprise me," he teased back, his breathing loud in his ears.

"You could."

Gods, that mouth of his, Morpheus was quite certain he could be undone from that tone alone. But still.

"But should you find me displeasing, you ought to―"

The rest of his words were swallowed into a kiss, unheard and discarded, replaced by tender sighs and wanting hands, and after a while, Morpheus found he'd forgotten what they even were, his mind blissfully blank save for pleasure.

The human body was a curious thing. A highly pleasing thing, at times.

Send me a kissing prompt?

[stealingpotatoes]

Yoda slander for teaching Baby Yoda his son to eat frogs

if Grogu's his son then our main concern shouldn't be the frogs it should be Yoda not paying any goddamn child support

[miifu666]

Sorry but why is Suklha so damn Sexy!!!!!😳😏😍🫣❤️😩

I slowly start to love women even hotter🔥💋🫣

I love you and Suklha💋💋

Never stop doing what you love 💕

The world needs persons like you❤️

JSHSKJSKS

If you find her smexy, then you have good tastes 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

Lop u too xoxo 💋💋

[ckret2]

I don't know why, but that Wendy ask triggered some kind of confirmation spark in my brain that she DID find out that Goldie is Bill, even though you literally just said that's not the case... who in the story knows who Goldie is outside of the Mystery Shack crew?

Fiddleford (bc Ford told him), Gideon (bc Bill bullied him), and Bill's cultist (bc she came looking). That's it.

Stan, Ford, Soos, Abuelita, Melody, Dipper, Mabel, Fiddleford, Gideon, and the cultist.

And the tooth fairy knows "Goldie" isn't human but doesn't know anything more.

[whatwooshkai]

Heatwave, H E A T W A V E

Eight letters

Number 8, please :D

Heatwave is not small.

Sure, he might be a little out of the average size class for fire trucks, but that’s negligible! He wasn’t even the shortest of his friend group back in Kaon!

But apparently his size is an anomaly in Iacon, because it’s all anyone can seem to focus on.

He's never been insecure about his size before, he's never had a reason to- but the nicknames are getting to him.

Heatwave is at most maybe half a foot shorter than the second shortest mech in their class, but it's all "Hey, Half-Pint!" "What's up, Runt?" "Shortstack" "Little Guy"-

He is this close to killing someone.

“I have an assistant today who’s joining me from the Autobot Fire Force today,” their usual instructor, Rex, announces. He’s a grizzled old mech who has been nothing but the bane of Heatwave’s existence this entire class.

It’s just Firefighter One, and the damn mech runs it like a fucking boot camp.

The other mechs in the class elbow each other and start whispering. He gets some looks from some of the mechs he's friendly with, the kind you exchange when you know the instructor is going to partner you up.

“Now, I expect all of you to treat Quint with the same respect you treat me,” Rex is saying when Heatwaves tunes back in. "He has graciously offered to spend his day off with you worms, so I will not tolerate any disrespect." He glares pointedly at a pair of giggling mechs, who quickly shut up.

"Alright, at attention!" Everyone's spinal strut snaps straight, and Rex looks over the line of mechs. "Alright, everyone's par, okay." He taps away at his comm a little bit, and a silhouette appears in the doorway.

The first thing Heatwave notices is that the mech has to duck through the doorway. Then he stands to his full height, and holy shit.

He's definitely a size class or two above the average for firetrucks, standing maybe five or six feet taller than the tallest mech in the class. His shoulders alone must be twice the width of Heatwave's!

And then he notices the second pair of arms, tucked neatly against the mech's chassis. Four arms!

The mech appraises them with yellow optics narrowed, mouth set in a small frown. Finials flick from where they're pressed against his helm, and when his shoulders shift, the ladder on his back squeaks slightly.

There’s an odd, dark weld over his upper lip and little spots all over his face- and somehow he simultaneously looks like the oldest and youngest mech Heatwave’s ever seen.

“You got anything to say before we start, Quint?” Rex talks like they’re familiar, like they’re friends, but Quint gives him a detached look.

“It ain’t your Primus-given right to be a firefighter,” Quint starts, and damn, that’s a Kaonite accent if Heatwave’s ever heard one. His accent is unusually thick, like he learned Common the old fashioned way instead of just getting a universal translator installed. “You might all be firetrucks, but you ain’t all cut out for this. So don’t expect me to coddle you.”

“Well said,” Rex says with a solemn nod, and Quint side eyes him. After a suffocatingly awkward moment, Rex claps his hands. "Alright. Truck ops with me, engine ops with Quint. My guys, we're running search evolutions until you can do them blindfolded without killing each other. Engine ops, you're stretching until you drop. Alright, break!"

Quint's gaze immediately lands on Heatwave as he shuffles to join the rest of the engines. Heatwave glares right back, shoulders hiking up to his audials.

"Hey, Runt." Heatwave bristles, whirling on Quint with fangs bared.

"Don't call me that," he snaps, but Quint looks unfazed. The rest of the engines are almost at the training tower, but Quint has hung back specifically to talk to Heatwave. Probably about how it's not my Primus-given right to be a firefighter, he thinks bitterly. Fuck off with all that.

"Do you speak Kaonite?" Quint asks, in Kaonite.

Oh, uh. Not what I was expecting.

Heatwave optics go wide, then narrow. "...Yeah," he says slowly in his native tongue, quashing the thrill of hearing it from his own voice again after so long.

Quint brightens significantly, his finials flicking up happily. He gestures for them to walk. "Your accent ain't strong, but it's there. Universal translator?"

"Yeah. I assume you aren't using one?" This feels weird. He's not quite sure why. Quint's lower two arms have uncrossed and are now swinging at his sides, while the top to gesture as he speaks. Heatwave sidesteps to avoid the swinging ones hitting him.

"Nah, learned the old fashioned way," Quint hums. "But that ain't what I'm here to ask you. Why're you so small?"

Heatwave bristles defensively. "I can't control how small I am, okay? It doesn't matter at all, I'm good at what I do-"

"I ain't sayin' you're bad at this, Runt," Quint interrupts, ignoring Heatwave's angry growl at the nickname. "I'm sayin' you should be bigger."

"What?" Heatwave's tanks suddenly cramp, sending a sharp pain through his tcog. He rapidly tamps down his panic. No, not here, fuck, shit-

"You're like, squashed," Quint continues, making gestures with all four of his hands now. "Like you got more mass than your frame knows what to do with."

Heatwave's tanks cramp again. "Are you calling me fat?" he accuses.

Quint rolls his optics. "No. Forget I said anythin'." He points to the training tower. "Now get over there. You're goin' in first."

Fair enough. Heatwave transforms his smoke mask over his face and gets into position next to his fellow firefighters as Quint begins to shout directions in heavily accented Common again.

His size doesn't matter.

Heatwave tries to forget the interaction.

[leafuxxtea]

If you still take suggestions, can you probably bless us with some mikoto, please?

i unfortunately could only make one rough mikoto kayano with my limited skills, and then I unmikoto kayano'd him and now he just looks like Some Guy. so my apologies for that,,,

[avianii]

would love some Slider sketches, maybe more volleyball Slider and Ice?? or Hal and Kyle id love to see more green lantern art <3

SORRY THIS IS TAKING SO LONG BUT SLIDER!!!!! 5 brushes, 5 Sliders :D

[somniumfaults]

My laptop needs to be fixed, so in the meantime! Here's my Tokyo Debunker OC that I've been working on!! Hehe <3 i love her and have both a drawing and fic wip of her waiting to be finished sometime ^^

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

NAME: Misha

PRONOUNS: she/her

HOUSE: Sinostra (formerly Dionysia)

YEAR: 2nd

BIRTHDAY: May 17th

LIKES: cherries, pain/masochism

BLOOD TYPE: O+

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Who’s to say there will be tomorrow?”

Sinostra’s much needed second-year healer. Determined to live her life out to its fullest, she won’t take no for an answer, for better or worse. Some of her self-destructive habits worry those around her, but as long as she has no regrets, there’s nothing for her to lose.

Pinterest Outfit References

Taiga/Misha playlist

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Motives: Take advantage of the opportunities you have to make the most of life and never let anyone take them from you. She was placed in Dionysia and transitioned into Sinostra when the house became defunct. Her placement in Sinostra was due to her resolution to be in control of her life no matter what. At the end of the day, she’ll do what she wants to do.

Demon pact: Sick of being chronically ill with an autoimmune disease no one cared enough to look into and the chronic pain, she chose to make a pact with a demon based on her anger at the idea of succumbing to her helplessness and the whims of other people. Her condition was not cured, but it is (almost always) forever at a stalemate as Buer’s ability to heal counteracts the damage done.

Stigma: Uber - can heal ailments* at the expense of an equivalent amount of her own blood

*ailments defined as temporary injuries or conditions. She can’t undo genetic conditions or change your brain chemistry.

Using her stigma allows for her autoimmune condition and chronic pain to reactivate due to the healing properties of her pact being redirected away from her. The more blood it requires, the worse she feels.

Due to the nature of her stigma, she can’t use it on herself because (a) she would be losing blood anyway and (b) accelerating the healing of other injuries would also allow for the acceleration of her autoimmune condition and risk injuring herself further internally.

Artifact: cherry bombs/m-80s

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❣️ RELATIONSHIPS ❣️

★ Rui ★

Misha → Rui: close friends 🙂 she visits his bar often for some fun drinks and gossip. They partner up sometimes so they can make homebrew hangover medicine and various other quick pick-me-ups. She prefers to use her stigma when he’s around to help offset her pain. They spent a lot of time together in their first year due to being the only two ghouls in Dionysia and work together well. Hearing his voice helps calm her due to the familiarity that it invokes, and she wishes they could still touch each other like they could prior to the curse. She worries that he may be too lonely.

Rui → Misha: close friends! She's his closest friend on campus and one of the few people he truly trusts to voice his grievances to. He isn’t super enthused about their medicinal drink partnership because he knows the side effects on her, but he won’t lie that he likes experimenting with what can be made. Misha is the one who volunteered and pushed to do it though, so he can’t say no. He wishes she would take better care of herself.

★ Haru ★

Misha → Haru: her drinking buddy!! She thinks he’s adorable, especially when he’s all drunk and pouty. She had a fling with him in their first year but now they’re just close friends. She’ll come help out with the park if he really begs and owes her something, because she knows he’ll coax a mile out of her if she gives an inch. She does worry about him though, so it’s not strange to find her stopping by regardless to do small favors for him. Sometimes she sneaks him healing drinks Rui and her made to help give his body a boost rather than just let him down energy drinks. She admires his hard work a lot.

Haru → Misha: his drinking buddy!! He had a crush on her in his first year, but now they’re just friends. He feels bad taking her drinks when he knows they're using her stigma and usually protests if he realizes, but sometimes it's just easier for him to swallow the guilt and take it… He needs it, sometimes. He's a bit sad they didn't end up in the same house for their second year and wishes they could spend more time together. He dislikes that she ended up in Sinostra and is especially unhappy with her relationship and dynamic with Taiga, but he has to swallow his dissatisfaction and concern most of the time because he wants her to be happy. Even though he thinks Taiga doesn't deserve her.

★ Romeo ★

Misha → Romeo: her drinking buddy!! She finds him funny when she’s not the one having to deal with him, and her preferred setting for chatting to him is when they’re both at the bar with a drink. Their interactions can grow tense due to their respective stubbornness and refusal to back down from doing things their own way, but for the most part their day-to-day interactions only get snippy at most. At the end of the day, she respects him and his capabilities even though she disagrees with his attitude most of the time. If there's anyone who is determined to live his life to the fullest at Darkwick, it's Romeo.

Romeo → Misha: she’s frustrating to deal with but capable and more or less reliable, unless she thinks he’s being stupid and in which case she’s an IRB (incorrigible rogue brat). She has good ideas though, and has more drive than Taiga does nowadays, so he doesn’t actually mind her too much. It helps that while they'd never spent personal time together in their first year, it wasn't as if she hasn't already been engaging with and working with Sinostra due to Taiga and her stigma. He definitely abuses calling her whenever he needs help reeling Taiga in. Not that she's the perfect solution, but two people Taiga tolerates and has affection for in his own way is better than one.

★ Taiga ★

Misha → Taiga: they’re in some sort of committed romantic relationship, although it's complicated nowadays. She misses the way he was in his first year; they had interacted a lot because he needed blood in order to use his stigma and her stigma helped a bit with the brain fog side effects. (Although obviously she was not his entire blood source.) Still, despite his mental state clearly having deteriorated, she continues to like him a lot and loves the thrill he brings into her life. It makes her feel alive and in a way, even more in control of her life because the injuries she sustains with and for him are purely by her own choice. (She doesn’t spill blood just for Darkwick. She doesn’t have to heal anyone when she bleeds unless she wants to.) (Also she’s just kind of into it. Even if her brother despairs over her walking into his office with more than just your average hickey.)

Taiga → Misha: he is usually able to remember her at least after a few moments due to their extensive relationship through their first year until now, from work relations to romantic commitment. He finds her presence and voice to be grounding when he’s feeling poor and sometimes when he needs a break from everything, he makes her just sit with him and keep him company as he rests. Over time due to their blood arrangement, she’s become one of the few, if not only, people in his life he feels comfortable being vulnerable and weak around. He likes the feeling of her fingers in his hair. Her blood tastes good to him and he knows he feels better after having some of it (both with or without her stigma), and it's not unusual for him to spontaneously chomp down on her when he’s feeling peckish. Even if she were to protest, depending on his mood he’ll just smirk and/or grumble and say she shouldn't be leaving such a tempting snack out in the open like that then (showing skin).

★ Professor Nicolas ★

Misha → Nicolas: he's her older brother. She’s somewhat detached from him due to their age gap and him having rarely been home when she was younger (thanks Darkwick). Her initial reaction to him was tense and verging on hostile, because she wasn’t expecting to see him at Darkwick and felt betrayed for various reasons. (A) She was upset to see him knowing that he never called home and thought he didn’t care, which not only hurt her but made her angry because their parents missed him. (B) A part of her wondered if this was all his fault and if he planned for this to happen to her and (C) She was angry because if he had just been more present in her life, maybe he could have known about her situation and prevented all this from happening since he had access to superior medical facilities. After a time, she calmed down and forgave him more or less once she realized what the true dynamic/situation of Darkwick was with its staff and students. Now, she’s grown to appreciate his company and appreciate having someone she knows at the school. They have a comfortable relationship even if she finds his concern to be overly fussy at times

Nicolas → Misha: she's his younger sister. He holds some resentment and guilt in his heart towards himself and towards Darkwick for letting her become a ghoul, because he believes he could have stopped it had he been a more involved sibling and realized she was suffering. He also feels guilt towards hearing the confirmation that his family feels abandoned by him, but that’s soothed somewhat by the knowledge that he’s bound by his duties. Although also slightly detached from Misha by virtue of not having been a large part of her life consistently, he cares deeply for her and worries about the choices she makes and the risk of retribution towards her from Darkwick. Even though she's a ghoul and heals quickly, he wishes her and Taiga would show some restraint in breaking her skin or worse. (He doesn't approve of their relationship and dynamic at all, but he's forced to bite his tongue to keep the peace.)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

technically this is still a work in progress bc she's my baby (oc I project onto) and I love thinking about her role in universe and elaborating on her dynamics w diff characters :3 but this is her "final" profile! Thanks for reading all that if you diddddd <3

shout-out and much thanks to @danieyells for their posts compiling info about the houses, stigmas, and more! They carried me a lot in making Misha, and you should definitely check out their posts <3

[elitadream]

Sorry you've been feeling poorly. Hope you feel better soon ❤️‍🩹

MY HEART. WHY, YOU INSANELY TALENTED AND CONSIDERATE HUMAN BEING-!!

Brb. Gotta go lie down and cry. (;﹏;)

[fangsandsoftgrass]

14, 16, and 3!! gimme the juicy lore >:D

OOOOO OKAYYYY

#14 is answered here <3

#16 Languages! How many do they speak? Are they literate?

Cirwedh speaks quite a few! Linguistics are one the easier things to pick up on for her since most of the learning is verbal. Although we know she wasn't literate as far as reading and writing goes until Greymoor, she's learned many languages over her lives. She speaks traditional Bosmeri ofc, she's learned in Valenwood Ayleidoon, Faun (faunish? Faun language fs), she's fluent in bear. She knows the Spriggan language as well!

#3 Which Aedra or Daedra do they worship/champion?

Y'ffre all the way baybe!!!! Cirwedh is a Warden of the Green, but more importantly she was a chosen of Y'ffre from birth. She was gifted an understanding of the Green few others have (Green lady/Silvenar/Wilderqueen/Ancient beings like Selene) and her Magicka has been enhanced by the Storyteller themselves. She can grow plants to heal and harm, summon wildlife to aid her in different ways, she can use the roots beneath her feet to travel distances otherwise difficult. She is deeply devoted to the Pact and the rest of the Bosmeri pantheon, but her faith and devotion to Y'ffre is unrivaled. She is as wild and Green as they come and it shows through every inch of her skin and every drop of blood. Yeah they had a bit of a breakup but every god needs a rabid princess and she's Y'ffre's LMAO

[daintyduck99]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love. ❤️

Also tagging @innytoes and @jmrothwell because I wasn't able to keep up with these throughout the day and I know myself and there's no way my brain will let me do it three separate times now lol

There's probably some recency bias involved, but:

For Julie and the Phantoms:

the sunflower series

Reggie/Julie, QPR Luke & Reggie & Julie, Luke & Flynn

This one is about summer love and how it shines. It's about diving headlong into the surf while your friends cheer you on and holding hands with your ghosts. It follows the echoes of those scorching summer feelings, and the sunflowers that sprout in their wake.

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Feel Alive

Luke/Reggie/Julie, Queer Themes, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort

Julie has several heart-to-hearts as she tries to figure out how to love a ghost (or two).

Kept On Climbing 'Til Our Stars Collided

Luke/Bobby, Julie/Reggie, pre-OT4, Fluff and Angst

Bobby rubs his eyes. He must be more screwed up from the dopamine than he thought, because— There’s an angel in the kitchen.

For Stranger Things:

maybe the stars align

Steve/Jonathan, Canon Compliant Enemies to Friends to Lovers

It all starts with a cup of coffee. “It's just, you know, an orange branch or whatever. To show that I'm trying.” “You mean an olive branch.” “Sure, man. If you say so. The intent's there, right? Isn't that what matters?” Well. Maybe Steve's right. Maybe it is.

For Stephen King's Carrie:

i'm only me when i'm with you

Sue/Carrie, Fluff, First Kiss, Introspection

Maybe, now that they've escaped their bubble—maybe now they can really get to know one another, and just—finally be comfortable in their own skin, together.

[castles-in-the-eyre]

five songs you actually listen to + five tags

@belbeten thank you for the tag!!! and… please ignore how tremendously late this is 🫣

here’s five i’ve been rotating in my brain lately:

hollywood - jukebox the ghost

angel eyes - abba

hard to explain - the strokes

you! me! dancing!! - los campesinos!

pink lemonade - the wombats

and entirely no-pressure tags: @yourlocalgremlin @blutterlie @brizelizi @cx-shhhh @arteyhumano299 :)