#there’s really no point in writing in the tags anymore

[animeyanderelover]

Dear lord above, I at least want to write something today but with the little energy I have I do not want to publish something that was requested and write it with less motivation so just have those quick Hc's.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, blackmailing, threats, violence, disrespect, overprotective behavior, abduction, death

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

Fushiguro Toji Hc's

🪱​Toji for me is very interesting to view because he has been pushed to a point beyond return and he himself has embraced this fact already years ago. He just doesn't care about anything anymore. His wife was his only hope but even that has been taken away from him and with her death any chance for him to ever be a decent man has passed away too. For Toji you are no saving grace. How could you be when what he is feeling for you is so much more twisted than what he was feeling for his dead wife? As irresponsible and neglectful of other lovers and even his own child he is, Toji is actually very perceptive of his own emotions as soon as he realises that there is something brooding within him. His wife made him want to change and be a better person for her. That simply isn't the case with you. When Toji looks at you he only feels that primal desire to keep you to himself and to murder anyone who even attempts to get in his way. With no morals he feels like he has to uphold back and with nothing to lose either he willingly walks into the hurricane of his growing obsession. He wants it that way. Because whether he is going to admit it or not, those feelings make him feel alive.

🪱​Unashamed and direct, Toji is everything but subtle to express that he wants you. From the very first day he is suffocatingly possessive of you and aggressive and rude about it. He easily tracks you down via your odor as his experience of being an assassin really are more than just useful and overall just frightful for you. Honestly, he doesn't plan to woo you. He just wants you to be his and he doesn't expect to care about what you think. Initially that is indeed the case. That is until he discovers that underneath all that possessive greed other feelings for you start budding. Tender feelings which remind him of the emotions he had for his previous wife. He does care after all. Subtle changes happen only then but only when it involves you. He still continues his job of assassinating people as long as it earns him his money and he still doesn't give a shit about people overall. He doesn't have the capacity to do that. The only one spared from the blatant disrespect and rudeness he expresses to his surroundings is you. It's all he finds himself capable of. Better for only you, still the same asshole and ruthless murderer to everyone else. That should be more than enough for him.

🪱​Jealousy is not a word that Toji would use to ever describe himself. It isn't a word that you would use to describe him with either. Overly possessive is a description much more fitting for a man like him and it is indeed his raging possessive emotions for you that reign predominantly whenever he catches sight of someone else with you. However, he is no grown manchild who barges in the moment he spots such a sight as long as the interaction has a practical function like you buying something and asking for advice or taking care of other business. What Toji hates though is idle chatter with no bigger meaning behind it all and that is when he always interrupts the conversations and pushes you away. His enhanced senses give him the advantage of being able to tell when there is a case of someone liking you a bit too much and then everything is over. No matter what you do, the other individual always gets hurt and the best thing you manage to do is have Toji tone down his violent response to the point where no bones are broken and only a few large and throbbing bruises serve as a reminder for the next few weeks. It's no surprise that you never see the face of such people ever again.

🪱​Toji has confessed to you what he is doing to earn his money as he doesn't even bother to paint himself as the good guy. This is just who he is and how he does things and it only leads to you fretting from a very early stage on for everyone. He's made it clear to you that he is not going to ever murder you but everyone else is a free game and it is this fear that Toji uses to keep you on a leash if he senses that you have rebellious thoughts. He has absolutely no problems assassinating whoever is a thorn in his eyes but that doesn't mean that he brags about it in front of you. There seems to be some semblance of decency that he relearns as soon as he starts living with you and this is one of them. It's such a casual routine for him that it might even happen that he brutally taunts someone, swiftly ends their pathetic life afterwards and then brings some takeout back home for you and him. Still, if someone from your surroundings suddenly disappears you always know whose doing it is. He never confirms it verbally to you but sometimes his green eyes give you that look that have you quickly shut up. You've learned to know what it means. 'Careful now or someone else will be next.'

🪱​You're already stuck in a relationship with him long before he has abducted you but at that point you already know that this outcome is inevitable. However, despite all the shit you have grown through at that point already you still manage to be mildly flabbergasted when he one day drags you to the place the two of you will live in together from now on. It's a decently sized apartment and whilst the kitchen has already been littered with cups of instant ramen it is much cleaner than you expected. You find out soon after that this place has actually only been recently purchased by him and that's how you find out that he's basically been living in the houses of other woman or hotel rooms before he met you. He's literally telling you that he's been homeless before he decided to live together with you, realising that you shouldn't have to adapt to his previous lifestyle. He doesn't expect you to act like a housewife and keep the apartment clean though. By all means, you can litter too if you want to as he is used to living shitty. You do abide by some basic expectations you have yourself though as you do not want to live like a racoon in a trash can and Toji lets you do as you want.

🪱​After years of not having looked properly out for his own hygiene Toji actually finds himself caring about such aspects again but only because it is very obvious that it bothers you. He's never really minded that he smells like sweat, blood and fast food but you do, especially whenever he gives you a bear hug. He very much forces physical affection on you as he has only ever promised to draw the line at physically harming you. Honestly, you do realise from an early point on that Toji lives in a different world than you do and that you wouldn't be able to escape and run away from him even if you had the opportunity. There's no way for you to escape someone with senses as enhanced as his and immense physical abilities that easily outperform top athletes. So as strange and frightening as it is, you try to adjust to a life with him even if only to protect family and friends who are very much a green light for him to threaten and end if you do something stupid. You're actually allowed to go outside as soon as he knows that you have learned how things work but you aren't allowed to interact more than necessary and if you just want to go outside to have fun he always accompanies you.

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - Bathroom Break

I am baaaaaaaack on the story ! For those who missed it I published everyone's backstory, all are linked in the master post !

@ancha-aus it's been a while since I tagged you here

First

Prev

Next

I feel like this chapter is way too short compared to the time it took me to write it

Here it was: the moment Dust dreaded the most... going back to work. Not that there was a problem with his job, his colleagues were fine, the customers were usually nice except for some exceptions, but it was to be expected when working in a fast food. No, the thing that worried him was leaving his roommates, because they were basically roommates, alone all day. He wasn't afraid they would fight, thought Nightmare had been quite distant these past few days, he didn't participate in conversations during meals and usually just translated for Killer and asked him a few things, but apart from that he always seemed moody, mad about something and avoiding them. It did worry Dust, maybe it was something he did, or didn't do, that caused the noble to change his behavior ? He'll need to talk about it with him. Regarding the others they all seemed to get along, he noticed Cross would sometimes lower his guard when Killer talked, or rather rambled, to him to listen to what he was saying, which was something important to note as the knight only ever left the door to eat, Dust knew it because he saw him sleeping while still standing. Horror was nice to everyone, just not paying much attention to Nightmare as he seemed to avoid him more than the others anyway, and Killer just liked to chat with everyone, not caring if they understood him or not. So no, Dust wasn't scared they would fight. He was scared they would get bored, get curious and break something or even hurt themselves, that someone would knock at the door and call the cops when seeing them, or many other things they could do that could result in troubles both for them and for Dust. He really didn't need that.

Dust sighed, preparing yet another burger and putting it in a bag for those at the drive through, he didn't need to think about it anymore, the movements were basically muscle memory at that point. Should he introduce the others to burgers ? Maybe he could order everyone a burger once he got his paycheck, and he could buy soda and potatoes to make the fries himself ? Would they even like it ? Nightmare would probably despise the grease, maybe Cross too as he seemed to be very in shape, but he had a feeling Killer and Horror would like it. Well, that could be a plan for later then.

He felt someone tap on his shoulder.

- Break time, I'm taking your place.

His colleague said. Was it already his break ? He didn't see the time pass, for once. Well, he usually didn't have much to think about, so he must admit he wasn't particularly focused on the time that day.

- Oh, okay, thanks.

He finished the burger he was making before putting down his apron and going to the changing rooms to grab his phone in his locker. He then went to the bathroom, not that he needed to go as he was a skeleton, but he liked sitting on the throne in his little cabin, that way he didn't have to sit in the staff's room and make small talk with the others, he could just scroll on his phone for fifteen minutes without being disturbed. He sometimes wished he had a digestive system so he could take a dump on company time and be paid for it, but he didn't have one, anything a skeleton consumed was either turned into magic or would get thrown up if the body couldn't "digest" it. What a shame, honestly.

He wondered for a moment if he should call home on the land-line, but he soon figured it would be useless as he didn't teach them how to pick up a phone, so he just hoped everything was fine and went on socials to see what new brainrot was available to pass the time.

His alarm went off after fifteen minutes, indicating the end of his break. He sighed.

- Alright, here we go again...

He muttered to himself, getting up without flushing, and opened the door to step out of the cabin. He tripped on a branch and fell face first on the grass.

Cross flinched, planting his sword in the ground as to maintain balance when he felt everything shift around him. The house had dissapeared, and he found himself in a field surrounded by a forest. It felt like a few days ago, when he appeared in Dust's backyard, he had felt the air sting and crackle before everything shifted, and when he opened his eyes, he was somewhere else.

Where was he now ? He pulled his sword from the ground, holding it tight in case a threat would appear, and looked around him, were the others here too ? He heard a noise behind him, and quickly turned, only to see Killer gripping on a branch, hanging from a tree. As he was about to run by his side he saw Horror coming out from behind a bush, leaves and twigs stucked in the furr of his coat. Killer saw him too.

- Horrooooooor ! Adiuvaaaaa ! He cried.

Horror jumped, not expecting to hear a voice above him, and quickly went to grab Killer and put him safely on the ground. The Roman then immediately opened his bag to make sure all of his stuffs were with him, and sighed in relief before looking up at the Viking.

- Gratis..

Horror nodded, then looked at Cross.

- Vel ?

He asked, thought Cross didn't understand, but he supposed Horror asked him if he was doing good, as he looked concerned. Cross was doing fine, he wasn't hurt and by chance landed on his feet and on a plain surface, unlike Killer who ended up in a tree.

- Eo vais ben, mercit.

He thanked him, before hearing a spine-chilling scream.

- Google noooooooo !!

All three of them turned quickly, startled, and saw Dust, a little farther, kneeling on the ground with his little magic rectangle in his hands, visibly distressed.

- Dust ? Killer called, bene facis ?

- Google's dead ! Dust cried out, holding his rectangle in the air, it's mort, morz, mortuus, liflátinn, dead !!

Cross froze, who was dead ? Who was so important that Dust had to announce their death in five languages ? Was his rectangle dead ? Wait, wasn't the rectangle what allowed them to communicate ? Oh. They might have a problem then.

They looked at each other for a minute, not knowing how to save the rectangle from death, before Killer went to the wheeping skeleton and kneeled before him, looking through his bag. Dust looked up at him when he took out the thick book Dust had been reading recently: the Old Norse dictionary. Cross remembered Killer shoving the book in his bag when Dust left without it, saying he would keep it safe until he returned. Dust looked at the dictionary in awe, taking it carefully.

- Oh my fucking god, Killer, I love you so much right now, gratis.. !

Killer smiled, happy to have been useful.

As Dust was getting up with Killer's help they heard a new noise, and as they turned, they were met with a rather unusual sight: Nightmare, the very sophisticated Nightmare, was laying face flat in a mud puddle, the only mud puddle in the whole field, and looked particularly horrified, and disgusted, when he stood on his elbows, his face covered with mud. Killer couldn't help but burst out with laughter, especially when Nightmare tried to get up only to slip and fall again. Cross heard Dust fight back his own laughter and Horror chuckled, but even if the scene was indeed funny, Nightmare trully looked distressed, and Cross couldn't leave him like that.

- Sire !

He rushed to his side, helping him up by letting him grab him for balance, not caring if he dirtied his armor as it was rather easy to clean.

- Vous trouvez cela amusant !? Nightmare yelled, angry, and shaking slightly, asking if they found it funny.

Horror raised his hands in an apalogy motion, but Killer was still pretty much dying on the ground, wheezing and holding his non-existant stomach, Dust simply avoiding his gaze. Nightmare huffed, a shameful blush on his cheeks as Cross helped him step out of the puddle and sit on a log nearby as he tried to wipe the mud from his face, taking his gloves off as they were just as muddy anyway.

- Estes-vos blecié, sire ? Cross asked, wanting to know if he was hurt.

Nightmare shook his head, he wasn't hurt, physically at least. Cross nodded, standing straight again to look at the others: Killer had stopped laughing and was now catching his breath, Dust was looking at their surroundings, and Horror was looking at Nightmare, thoughtful, but didn't come any closer.

Now that everyone was here, they needed to think of a plan. They needed to figure out where they ended up, or when, if they could seek shelter somewhere, or if they couldn't and would have to build a sort of nest at least for the night, what they could hunt or gather, take turn to stand guard, ... Horror didn't seem to have his axe with him, which was... rather inconvenient, but he was pretty sure Killer still had his knives in his bag so it meant they were at least two with weapons to defend the group. He looked down at Nightmare again. They had to find water.

He sighed and gestured to everyone to come closer. He would rather they didn't split up.

- Nos devons trover eaue, he said, glancing at Nightmare who was still staring at his hands, senz se séparer, he added, looking back at them.

- Okay wait, Dust stopped him, "eaue" means water, right ? I mean he does need to wash himself so it would make sense he needs water... wait I think I remember the translation... he thought for a while, looking throught the dictionary, okay so.. aqua for Latin ? Aaaand... vatn for Old Norse.

Killer snorted.

- Sordidus est, aqua eget.

Cross wasn't sure what that meant, but judging by Nightmare's glare it most likely was a mockery, or one of the Roman's usual tease at least. He wanted to reprimand him, now wasn't the time for teasing, but Horror was faster than him and gave Killer a gentle nudge on the shoulder, shaking his head disapprovingly, to which Killer whined but didn't push it. Horror then pointed at the woods.

- Vatn.

Before anyone could reply, he opened the way. He had fallen in a bush and heard running water in the distance when he got up, surely there was a river nearby.

- Wait wait wait ! Dust interrupted again, Horror stopping to look at him. We're just gonna accept that we apparently got tossed throught time ? I mean it ain't you guys first time but it is mine ! And I actually have to go back to work !

Cross frowned. Work ? He knew what work meant, but why was Dust talking about work ? Oh, right ! Dust was supposed to be at work ! But he couldn't get back to work now, they didn't even know in what time they were, but surely it wasn't Dust's time anymore as these strange buildings were nowhere to be seen. Cross shook his head, Dust couldn't go back to work for now.

- What do you mean no ? I need the money.

Cross thought for a while, trying to remember the translation for money, and shook his head again.

- Nos sommes denz une altre époque, pas de "work".

He tried to explain, telling him they were in a different time. Dust frowned at him, before sighing.

- Well it's gonna be one fucking long bathroom break then... He mumbled, before following Horror again.

Cross held out a hand for Nightmare but the noble got up by himself, and simply followed the others from a distance, Cross walking behind to make sure no one deviated from the line and no threat appeared.

After only a few minutes they heard running water, and at the next turn around a tree, they saw a small river. Nightmare went to kneel on the shore and put his hands in the water. Killer went next to him, crounching down, and ignoring Nightmare's glare to rummage through his bag and take out a piece of cloth that he handed him. Nightmare looked at it for a while before taking it without saying a word, still bitter that they laughed, and put it in the water to clean his face. Dust stayed near Horror, looking at the trees.

Cross stood back, watching them all, making sure everything was safe for them to stop here.

He really hoped they could find a shelter soon.

[devils-little-sista]

Lungs trying to asphyxiate me constant coughing head hurt back hurt shoulders hurt feet hurt occasional sinus clogging starting to feel hot and cold at the same time. All these things trying to kill me at once and failing. I’m starting to root for them to succeed because I know there’s no way to stop or lessen any of it.

[roomba-mangga]

thoughts on thistle and yaad's dynamic that i vomited in the tags of another post but will now try to articulate here: they're not actually family, or at least they shouldn't be. not in a conventional sense anyway. framing them as uncle and nephew (even in a non-literal, silly fantasy world way) rides more on technicality than anything concrete.

what i mean by this is yaad calls thistle by name and says he and delgal were raised "like" brothers. he talks about thistle like he's an outsider imposing himself into the melinis' space, and it's clear that thistle was never legitimized as a member of the family. for thistle's part, though we don't know how he would treat yaad pre-demon brainrot, it's safe to assume based on the way he punishes him—turning him into a doll—and how little is shown in the way of any sort of relationship between them that thistle only cares* about yaad as an extension of delgal (otherwise i'd expect something like kabru and milsiril, because it's not like another complicated interspecies family dynamic would be out of place, yet there's next to nothing on them even in bonus content, just their scant interactions in the main story).

in essence, they're strangers to one another. thistle's desperation to preserve the illusion of a family, a model where he doesn't even fit, was the snare they were caught in for the past thousand years of stasis. yaad-as-nephew is a prop to uphold that illusion, and thistle is playing a role he's unfit to play. in the context of post-canon interactions, attempting to reconstruct that facade would only be a reenactment of trauma for them both (in a deeply compelling way i'd love to watch unfold, tbh), as that "uncle and nephew" framing places thistle in an implicit position of power over someone he's already traumatized through misuse of authority in the past, a role which also perpetuates his adultification and yaad's infantilization in turn. it'd mostly be an obstacle to any real connection.

best to burn the melini family bridge, i think, and if there's still anything salvageable left in the rubble, let something different supplant it.

[can-of-slorgs]

I'm personally blaming @starbiology and everyone who has reblogged or commented the other piece for this.

Bonus comic featuring my grundo:

[rainintheevening]

Hungry to write, not knowing what project to pick and work on.

[muninnhuginn]

Writers tag game

Prompt: share some writing

Thanks for the tag, @miyamiwu!

So, I'll be honest, I don't actually have any WIPs I'm intending to do anything with, but I have some oldish abandoned stuff I managed to relocate. It's back from 2021 so in my Untamed era and this bit was specifically set during Fatal Journey*:

Nie Huaisang woke blearily, cold seeping into his clothes from the floor. It was dark and it took several seconds to remember where he was. He could hear the muffled sounds of clanging and voices. As he lifted his head off the ground, they slowly resolved themselves into the clash of swords and yelling. [...] He didn't know what to do. What would his brother do? Xichen-ge? San-ge? He had his flute with him– he could try Cleansing. This was what it was for, right? Before he could doubt himself further, he started playing, pouring all the qi he could muster into the tune. He'd practised for hours the night before, long after San-ge had left, but despite that, he hadn't truly thought then that he'd need to play so soon. Was that so naïve of him? As he watched, Da-ge began to slow in his movements and Nie Huaisang felt himself start to relax. He kept his lips to the flute, trying not to let his relief fool him into making mistakes. Still, he knew he only had to play a little longer and then they could all escape. Him, his brother, his cousin. They could flee far away from the darkness that haunted these halls. And then Nie Zonghui's head hit the floor. He stopped playing.

And then I had this other bit:

He'd messed up. He must have played a wrong note. Maybe he'd misremembered the entire thing? And now Nie Zonghui was dead and his brother - what looked like his brother - was stood, Baxia dripping blood to the floor. [...] The sword was pointed at him. He tried to hold himself steady as he looked down the blade. Tried to blink away the tears that kept escaping without his permission. He could tell he was failing, unable to stop the trembling, but he forced himself to meet the eyes at the other end of the sword. He couldn't die here. He refused to die here. After all, he was the only family his brother had left.

*(it was meant to be part of a short time travel fic where post-canon characters went back not long before NMJ died. It would've had flashbacks to Fatal Journey interspersed with the "present" up until the point at which future NHS tipped off past NHS about the poisoned music. I actually got as far as figuring out where I wanted all the characters to be at the end of it, but I ran out of motivation pretty quickly so there's only this WIP stuff and the intro part written in the end.)

Ahh not sure who to tag when it comes to writing stuff. I know @roseofcards90 and @floofiestboy write some stuff? And anyone else who sees this who writes, feel free to consider yourself tagged ^^

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another

[shannonsketches]

something something foils moving in opposite directions Goku's always happy to seek and fight stronger opponents because he spent most of his life being the strongest guy in the room and Vegeta wants to be the strongest/is always exhausted to find stronger opponents because he spent most of his life having to navigate his survival around the whims of the strongest guy in the universe room and so Goku has a foundation of safety and stability and so spends his time craving challenge and adventure and Vegeta has a foundation of challenge and adventure and spends his time craving safety and stability and the overlaid section of their venn diagram is that the only way they know how acquire and maintain those things is through battle

[worldsokayestdragon]

GreedxLing Week Day 1: Love Language

Read on AO3

Returning to Xing wasn't what Ling had expected when he'd left home all those months ago. So much had changed, it was hard to believe it had been less than a year since the first time he'd trekked through the desert with Lan Fan and Fu in tow, planning out his first steps for finding the philosopher’s stone and considering the best way to trick the emperor into believing he held the key to immortality for long enough for Ling to maneuver himself into power. Fu had advised him not to get too far ahead of himself, but Ling had refused to even entertain the notion that he might return empty handed. His clan was counting on him. Failure wasn't an option.

Now they were making the return trip with the Chang Clan heiress and a homunculus who until very recently had been coinhabiting Ling’s body. 

Lan Fan had lost her arm, and as guilty as Ling felt for dragging her into the fight that had claimed it, she wouldn’t let him apologize. She insisted it was her choice, and one she’d gladly make again, and he knew her well enough to recognize that if he kept feeling sorry for her she…probably wouldn’t actually punch him in the face–because that would be improper and against her vow to protect him–but she would be seriously tempted to do so. He didn’t mention it again.

And they were returning without Fu.

They were bringing him home, of course they were. They could hardly do otherwise. But it was only his remains making the journey in the urn Lan Fan insisted on carrying herself, carefully checking and repacking it every time they stopped to rest. The old man himself would never again walk at Ling’s shoulder and offer advice that Ling was often too stubborn and foolish to take.

Ling wished they could have stayed in Amestris a bit longer. Just to take some time to heal and rest, to adjust to everything. But the emperor’s health wouldn’t hold forever, and if one of his siblings ascended to the throne before Ling’s return then everything would be for nothing. And Lan Fan’s new automail made it crucial to get across the desert before the summer heat could settle in and threaten to burn her. 

Most importantly, Fu needed to be laid to rest properly, with full rites instead of the stopgap cremation ritual that Lan Fan had been taught as a child–because the life of a royal bodyguard was dangerous and often took one far from home to die. To truly let his spirit rest, Fu needed a real funeral. Getting that done as soon as possible was the least Ling owed to the man who had been like family to him, closer and more beloved than most of his blood relatives.

If Ling thought about that for too long he’d break down, and then Lan Fan would feel obligated to try and comfort him even though she’d lost so much more than he had. He couldn’t do that to her. He had to stay strong.

So he focused on easier things, like getting to know Mei Chang, and adjusting to Greed having a separate body.

The fact that bonding with the little sister he’d been raised to regard as an annoying obstacle at best, and a credible threat to his life at worst, qualified as “easier” was a testament to how out of control his life had gotten.

The fact that he felt the need to adjust to not sharing his body with the personification of a deadly sin was probably evidence that he’d gone completely insane.

He didn’t really know how to interact with either of them.

Mei didn’t seem to know how to interact with him either. She switched between regarding him with a suspicion that bordered on outright hostility, as she’d no doubt been taught to act around any competing heir, and a starry eyed admiration that came with repeated thanks for promising to protect her clan and offers to help him with anything he needed that frankly made Ling more uncomfortable than when she looked like she wanted to stab him. He didn’t know how to convince her that his commitment to bringing together all the clans was genuine and not dependent on her sucking up to him.

Also her tiny panda had bitten him like five times, and he didn’t heal as quickly as he used to.

And Greed. Greed was the same as he’d always been, probably, but Ling wasn’t used to observing him from the outside. He knew what the homunculus was thinking and feeling in any situation still, could make his stupid sarcastic jokes in unison with him most of the time, but that was just the knowledge of familiarity. He couldn’t hear the outline of Greed’s thoughts the way he used to, or feel the echoes of his emotions. And Ling was starting to realize that for as good as they’d gotten at communicating, their mental conversations maybe hadn’t been much like talking, because he found it difficult to put anything he wanted to say to Greed into words.

He wanted to say so much to Greed. He wanted to reassure him that they could still rule Xing together even if they were separate people now. Wanted to ask if Greed still wanted that, or if he’d rather find something of his own, even if Ling was scared of the answer to that question. He wanted to scream at Greed for being an idiot and trying to sacrifice himself, for lying to him, for almost leaving him behind. He wanted to beg Greed to never do that again, because Ling needed him, and missed him even when he was still here, and he didn’t know how he’d ever recover if Greed left him entirely.

Ling wanted to tell Greed he loved him, and that he thought Greed loved him too, thought he had felt it when Greed shoved Ling away to protect him at the cost of his own life.

But now that Greed was in his own body, looking like his old self and also an entirely new person to Ling, it was hard to be confident that he still felt the same, or even that he’d ever felt that way at all. Maybe Ling had been projecting, the confusion and emotion of that moment overwhelming him and making him feel what he wanted to feel from Greed. 

Certainly Greed hadn’t said anything to indicate he felt that way toward Ling since Lan Fan had flung the philosopher’s stone she’d been carrying into the homunculus’s dissipating form and–in an alchemic reaction that Ed said “made no sense” and “gave him a headache”–Greed’s body from before he’d been merged with Ling reformed around him.

Greed had let Ling scream at him for lying, and being a self sacrificing idiot, and scaring him, had let shove him and also let Ling cling to him and tell him to never do anything like that again. 

He’d apologized for hurting Ling, but notably didn’t say he was sorry for what he’d done or promise not to do it again. Ling had been a little tempted to stab him then, but he wasn’t sure how many times the incomplete philosopher’s stone inside him could heal him back up. He didn’t want to risk losing him again. (And, Greed had pointed out later, they’d need to “do the hammer trick” at least once to prove to the emperor that Greed was immortal. Ling had vague, second hand memories of “the hammer trick,” and he was sure they could come up with something a little less traumatizing.)

But other than the apology, Greed hadn’t really talked much to Ling after coming back to life. He didn’t even say that he planned to come back with them, just fell in step beside Ling as they headed out and asked how long it would take to get to Xing.

So Ling couldn’t know if Greed felt the way he did, and the thought of being wrong, of ruining the relationship they did have, kept him from asking. Every big, important thing Ling wanted to say to Greed got caught in his throat. 

Greed didn’t say anything either. Sometimes it seemed like he was about to. Ling knew him well enough to tell when he was working up to being honest in a way that wasn’t just not telling a lie, a way that was hard for him, but he never followed through. 

But even though they were completely failing to talk to each other, even though the silence was awkward and painful at times when Ling thought about how easily they’d talked and joked before, he couldn’t bring himself to leave Greed’s side for long. They were rarely out of arm’s reach of each other. Most often they stayed so close that Ling thought if it was anyone else he’d be freaked out by the invasion of his personal space.

It never felt like an invasion when it was Greed literally breathing down Ling’s neck, walking so close to each other it was frankly a miracle they didn’t trip over each other’s feet, sitting practically in each other’s laps by the campfire when the chill of the desert night set in. They’d given up the pretense of settling into separate bedrolls after the second time they’d woken up wrapped around each other in the sand between two unused piles of blankets. 

But for all that easy closeness, they still barely talked.

Ling couldn’t bring himself to talk to Greed, and he didn’t know how to talk to Mei, and Lan Fan never liked to talk about things before she’d had a chance to process them on her own, so Ling hardly dared to interrupt her grief with conversation. It was shaping up to be the most awkwardly silent trip in history.

Except actually Greed and Mei seemed to have no trouble talking to each other. Half the time the homunculus wasn’t right beside Ling it was because he’d walked off to talk to his little sister. She wasn’t nearly as standoffish with Greed, and he apparently had plenty to say to her. They got along great, other than the first time they’d talked, when Mei had squealed “Mister Greed, that’s so—” and Ling had never found out what that was so because Greed had clapped a hand over the girl’s mouth and hissed something at her, ignoring Xiao-Mei biting his hand in retaliation. 

Since then they had quiet conversations that cut off when Ling approached basically every day, and any time Ling asked Greed what they were talking about he just said “don’t worry about it,” or sometimes “wouldn’t you like to know,” which was the type of nonanswer he only gave when he wanted to keep something to himself without technically lying.

Ling watched the two of them conspiring or plotting or whatever it was they were doing, and had to firmly remind himself that he was not jealous of a thirteen-year-old who’d been forced to travel to a foreign country alone in a desperate bid to save the clan she was too young to bear responsibility for.

No matter how easily she got to talk to Greed.

Other than talking to Mei, the only times Greed left Ling’s side was when he’d seen something on the ground he wanted to investigate.

That at least was familiar. Ling remembered spending the winter trekking through Amestris, and how often Greed wandered off the trail to pick up a shiny rock or a weird shaped stick or a bottle cap with an interesting logo to shove in their pocket. Ed griped at him constantly for wasting time picking up trash, but that had never stopped Greed.

What was weird now was that Greed always looked at whatever he picked up critically instead of pocketing it and rejoining the group immediately. He twisted the objects this way and that, examined them in the light, and most of the time he dropped them again as if he’d found them lacking. 

Maybe admitting to himself that what he really wanted was people to care for had eased his compulsion to collect whatever caught his eye.

(Maybe having Ling around was enough, even if it wasn’t the same as it had been. Maybe he was satisfied to have a friend, and Ling could be satisfied with that too, even if neither of them ever made a move to make it something more. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.)

The first time Greed found something that met his new standards, it was nearing sunset on their first day in the desert between Amestris and Xing. Greed split off from the group and came back with a rock worn smooth by the blowing sands. The sunlight shone on the rock’s surface, and revealed little clusters of sparkles when Greed twisted it at the right angle. In different lighting it would probably look like an unremarkable gray lump, but it was beautiful in the moment. Ling understood why Greed decided to pick it up.

He didn’t understand why, instead of shoving it in his own pocket as usual, Greed held it out for Ling.

“Here,” he said, looking at Ling expectantly. “Take it.”

“Um, okay?”

Ling held out his hand and Greed tipped the rock into it. It was smooth as marble, and warm from lying in the sun. It fit perfectly in Ling’s palm. He absently ran his thumb over the surface as he looked back at Greed.

Greed had a concerningly smug look on his face. 

Suddenly suspicious, Ling asked, “Are you trying to make me carry your stuff so you can pick up even more rocks?”

The smug smile disappeared from Greed’s face. 

“No, It’s–ugh nevermind!”

Ling watched, bemused, as Greed stomped away, as much as anyone could stomp over shifting sand, to talk to Mei. The girl patted him comfortingly on the arm and shot Ling a dirty look that he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve.

Ling tucked the rock carefully into his pocket for safekeeping, and then hurried to catch up with Lan Fan and offer to help her find a good campsite.

A few days later, as they were approaching an oasis midway between the Amestran border and the ruins of Xerxes, Greed once again found something he deemed worthy of hanging on to. 

The oasis was one of the better documented sources of water on the journey through the desert and trade caravans came through the area regularly. They’d been seeing little bits and bobs that must have fallen off a wagon throughout the day. Greed had stopped to investigate most of it, but only found one thing he actually liked. 

Once again, Greed carried his find over to Ling, this time keeping whatever it was closed in his fist as he offered it.

“Here. I want you to keep this. Not carry it for me.”

“...Right.” Ling decided not to comment on Greed’s weird behavior, instead just holding out his hand under Greed’s

A ring dropped into Ling’s palm, a black band set with a purple gemstone almost the exact color of Greed’s eyes. 

The stone was fake, Ling could tell right away. He didn’t know if Greed couldn’t tell or just didn’t care. For all his talk about appreciating the finer things, Greed didn’t actually put much stock into how expensive or high quality anything was, perfectly content with costume jewelry as long as it was suitably flashy. 

This ring actually wasn’t nearly as gaudy as Greed’s tastes normally ran. It black band was simple, etched with a subtle geometric pattern that was only visible up close. The single stone was large, but not ridiculously so, not something that was deliberately ostentatious.  

Ling actually liked it, and maybe it was unbecoming of a future Emperor of Xing, but Ling found he didn’t care much more than Greed did about having only expensive belongings just to prove he could afford them.

Greed shifted anxiously, and Ling realized he’d been silently staring at the ring for long enough for it to get uncomfortable.

“Thank yo–”

“We must hurry, my lord.” Lan Fan called, interrupting Ling’s thanks. “We need to reach the oasis before sundown if we hope to replenish our supplies tonight and get an early start tomorrow.”

Ling knew most people would think she sounded perfectly respectful, as befitted a bodyguard speaking to her master. But he also knew her well enough to hear how annoyed she was getting with the hold up.

“Coming Lan Fan!” he called. Turning to Greed he added, “We’d better go before she decides to stab you.”

Greed looked a little disappointed, but nodded, easily matching Ling’s pace as they began to walk again. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t really want to fight her.”

“Because you don’t fight women?” Ling asked.

Greed hummed in agreement and Ling rolled his eyes.

“That’s such an old fashioned attitude. She could beat you easily, especially if you do that thing where you refuse to use your full shield until you’re already losing.”

Greed looked at Ling like he was stupid. 

“Of course she could. She’s insane. I guess you never met my ‘sister’ before she bit the dust, but she was fucking terrifying. And Martel was–” Greed cut himself off, looked away for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing. “Ed’s teacher took out my whole crew single handedly once. That Winry girl’s not even a fighter and she tossed us and Darius and Heinkel and those two Briggs guys out of her room like it was nothing. Not to mention your little sister being–”

“Wait,” Ling interrupted Greed’s list. “Are you saying you’re ‘not the kind of guy who fights women’ because you think all women can kick your ass?”

“I don’t think all women can kick my ass,” Greed argued. “I just think women who like to fight are more likely to kick my ass than men, which is not fun for me, and women who don’t fight probably have no idea how to because of stupid human gender rolls, so I’d feel shitty for beating them up. Also the one time I tried to fight Lust she backed me into a corner and slashed my arms off like ten times in a row while saying I should never hit a lady, so. Don’t really want to do that again.”

Ling burst out laughing as they hurried to catch up with Lan Fan, and ignored Greed’s protests about his reasoning making perfect sense.

He slipped the ring onto his finger as they walked.

He didn’t miss Greed’s pleased smile.

They reached Xerxes before midday, and decided to rest there and head out again the next morning. 

Greed announced that he was going to take a look around the place. When Ling stood to go with him he added that he wanted to go alone.

Ling tried to hide his hurt and disappointment at that. He had thought they’d been getting a little more comfortable around each other the last few days.

He must not have succeeded, because Greed suddenly looked panicked and added, “I mean alone for now! We can go together later, that would be cool. But you should…rest! Because you need more of that than me. And you should let me find places that are safe to explore first since you’re all human now and…squishy.” He winced at his own word choice. “Okay, see you later, bye!” 

Greed all but fled from where they’d settled in the shade of a ruined building, and Ling watched him go.

Greed was being very weird since the Promised Day. Well, he was always weird, but now it was obvious even to Ling, who’d mostly gotten used to his baseline bizarre behavior. 

Greed almost never said what he meant, for all that he didn’t lie, but he was normally way smoother at talking his way around things. Smooth enough that he could even fool himself into believing his bullshit.

And Ling couldn’t figure out why Greed kept giving him stuff. Sure, his whole “I want everything” routine was just a cover for the fact that he couldn’t even admit to himself that he just wanted friends. Ling was able to tell that almost right away, once they joined up with Ed and he let himself think of Greed as something other than an enemy he had to resist. 

But he’d never picked up on any real inclination to give things away, no matter how much he cared about the people around him more than he’d ever let on. He also liked having stuff. And yet he hadn’t kept any of the things he’d picked up on their journey.

Ling could hear Greed make his way through the ruined city streets. He was not gifted in stealth, much to the dismay of their traveling companions when they’d been trying to evade the Amestran military over the long months of winter. 

It sounded like he was digging through the rubble and flipping stones too big for a human hands to easily move. Ling wondered what he hoped to find. The place had been abandoned for generations. Then again, most people left it alone rather than ransacking it, out of respect for the terrible tragedy that had happened here, so maybe there was something worth finding. 

Ling was considering whether he should tell Greed to stop rifling through the remains of a dead civilization when Greed made a triumphant noise and the sounds of digging through rubble stopped, replaced by the sounds of sprinting back towards the rest of them.

Greed audibly stopped running just around the corner of their makeshift shelter and then strolled casually into sight. Ling very kindly refrained from laughing at the terrible attempt at acting like he hadn’t been rushing back. Mei had to turn away and disguise her giggles as a cough, and Lan Fan didn’t bother to hide her judgemental stare. 

Greed looked a little excited and a little nervous as he walked over to Ling, though Ling wasn’t sure if someone who hadn’t spent a few months inside Greed’s head would be able to see that through the false air of confidence he’d put on. He was holding something behind his back.

Greed stopped directly in front of Ling and said, “I found this for you,” before all but shoving the hidden object into Ling’s hands.

It was a dagger in a sheath that had maybe once been brightly painted but had long since faded to the barest hints of a pattern. The hilt and cross guards formed elegant curves,  and there was a blue jewel inset in the pommel. Ling drew the blade, and though it had long lost its edge, it must have been well made and also incredibly sheltered from the elements wherever Greed had dug it out from, because it was in remarkable condition for how old it must have been. It would probably only need a little bit of maintenance to be usable. 

It was a beautiful weapon, but also a practical one, lacking in the tacky extra spikes and jagged edges that Ed liked to give things, and that Greed had often praised as looking “pretty sweet.” It was obvious that Greed had picked it with Ling’s tastes in mind.

“Thank you,” Ling breathed. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

He looked up from the blade to find Greed grinning at him, somewhere between elated and self satisfied.

“I don’t have anything for you,” Ling added, suddenly feeling guilty for taking so many gifts from Greed without offering something in return. “I could go find–”

“You don’t have to,” Greed interrupted, still smiling. “I mean, you can if you want. You know I’ll never say no to a present. But you don’t have to. I didn’t give it to you so you’d give me something.”

“Why did you, then?” Ling asked.

The smile slipped off of Greed’s face, but before Ling could freak out about making him sad, Lan Fan and Mei both groaned in frustration, in a display of synchronicity that Ling didn’t think boded well for his future well being.

“Ling Yao, you are so stupid!” Mei exclaimed. She sounded less hostile than he might have expected with that statement. Her tone almost reminded him of when Al would sometimes despair over what an idiot his big brother was.

“He’s not the only problem,” Lan Fan argued. “Greed, you need to stop acting like a child and use your words.”

Ling was officially lost. He looked between his three companions in hopes of finding a clue to what was happening, and was completely disappointed in that hope. 

“Lan Fan, do you know what’s going on?” Ling asked. 

“Of course I do!” she snapped before taking a deliberate breath and continuing in something closer to her normal calm and respectful way of speaking to him. Ling could still clearly hear her holding herself back from calling him an idiot.

“Ling, you are my prince, my lord, my future emperor. I would follow you anywhere, I would kill and die for you, and I know you will be a good king to our people. But I cannot deal with this foolishness another second. It was a nice distraction at first, but it’s gone on for far too long.”

She turned away from him to speak to Mei. “I'm going for a walk. Would you like to join me, Princess?”

“Yes, actually,” Mei chirped, hopping to her feet. “ I wanted to take a look around and see if I could find any surviving records of the types of alchemy that were studied here. Hopefully something that doesn’t involve human sacrifice for a change.”

“Wait,” Greed said, sounding slightly panicked. “Mei, you said you wanted to help me.”

“I did want to help you, mister Greed, but Lan Fan’s right. This is taking too long. You two need to sort this out before we get back, or we’re kicking both of your butts, okay?”

Lan Fan, alarmingly, did not object to the idea of Mei kicking Ling’s butt, and instead calmly walked away with the younger girl.

Ling looked back at Greed, who was staring after Mei like a man lost at sea watching his last hope of rescue disappear over the horizon.

“Do you know what we're supposed to be working out?” Ling asked, watching Greed's attention snap to him in a wide eyed stare. “Because I really don't want to get beat up by my little sister and my best friend. Actually, I think I liked it better when they hated each other.”

“Right,” Greed said. He took a deep breath and shook his arms out, his expression settling into something more calm and confident that was almost convincing. “I can use my words, no problem. I don't act like a child.”

“Of course,” Ling agreed, trying to sound encouraging. 

Privately he had his doubts. This sounded like it was going to be a serious conversation, and while Greed has many strengths and good qualities, the ability to talk about serious things–or gods forbid his own emotions–was not one of them. He hadn't even been able to tell the difference between wanting world domination and wanting friends until Ling spelled it out for him.

Ling thought he might know what this was about, or hoped he did anyway. But he wouldn't push. If he was wrong it would be awful, and if he was right then it was best to let Greed try and get it out on his own time.

“I want–I mean I–you’re so–” Greed cut himself with a muttered curse. “Let me start over?”

“Sure. Take your time.”

Greed took a few more breaths, looking everywhere but at Ling, before seeming to gather the nerve to continue.

“I want to rule Xing with you,” Greed said in a rush, so fast Ling could hardly make out the words. “I mean, if that offer's still on the table. If I didn't screw it up forever with the lying to you and almost dying and making you waste that philosopher's stone to save my ass. I really hope I didn't screw it up?”

That wasn't exactly what Ling had wanted to hear, but it was still good. It meant Greed wanted to stay with him, and Ling wanted to rule Xing together too. That could be enough. It really could.

He refused to let himself be disappointed.

“You didn't screw anything up,” he reassured. “Of course the offer still stands. I thought that was obvious when you decided to come back with us.”

Greed shook his head. “No–well yes, but. What I mean is…we aren't sharing the same body anymore.”

“Yes, I've noticed that.” Ling agreed slowly, once again lost as to what Greed was even talking about.

“Right. Of course you have. Obviously.”  Greed waved his hand vaguely, as if shooing away Ling’s comment. “So, now we’re two different people. I mean we always were, but like, legally or whatever. And, you know, normally if two different people are ruling a country together it’s because they’re together. I guess usually married, technically.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

That was actually a bit more than Ling had been hoping for, to be honest. But Greed never did anything halfway.

Before Ling could say anything, Greed’s mind visibly caught up with his mouth. His face turned a very interesting shade of red.

“Wait, no, that’s not what I–” Greed waved both hands in the space between them, like he could maybe catch and take back the words. “I don’t mean we should get married right now! Or ever, if you don’t want. We really haven’t known each other that long, even if it feels like I’ve known you forever. I just meant–I really want to stay with you, and not just because I want to rule a country. So maybe we could date? Or something? God, I sound like an idiot! Forget I said anything, I’m just gonna go dig a hole and bury myself for a few hours. Or years.”

Greed turned away, and Ling just managed to shake himself out of his shock in time to catch his hand before he could make a break for it. 

Greed could have pulled away easily. There was no way Ling, who was back to being an ordinary human, could have held a homunculus who really didn’t want to stay put. But Greed didn’t pull away. Instead he stopped like he was rooted to the ground. He looked down at where their hands were joined between them, then twisted his so he could interlock their fingers.

Ling couldn’t stop the huge smile growing across his face, no doubt completely goofy and undignified, and not even serving a purpose like the ones he used to put on for his airheaded prince act. He didn’t really care.

“I don’t think you sound like an idiot,” Ling said. “I want to stay with you not just to rule a country too.”

Greed eyes darted up from their hands to look searchingly at Ling’s face. “Really?” He asked.

Of course, for all Greed’s blustering self aggrandizement, he really didn’t think very highly of himself. Ling might be the only one to know the truth of that, so he knew how hard it must have been for Greed to come out and say that he wanted to be with Ling, without even hiding behind some convoluted speech about wanting to own him.

It gave Ling the courage to do something hard himself.

“Yes, really. Couldn’t you feel it when we were sharing a body?” Ling really hadn’t thought he’d been subtle, but Greed just tilted his head in question. “Greed, I love you.”

Greed gasped, looking at Ling like he’d just performed a miracle. He raised his free hand and gently, almost hesitanty, cupped the side of Ling’s face. 

“I–” Greed started, and then gave up trying to talk in favor of leaning forward and kissing Ling.

It was a chaste kiss, just a brush of their lips really, and Ling wasn’t sure if Greed was being considerate for his comparative lack of experience, or if the vulnerability of the moment had made the homunculus feel uncertain in the action himself. 

Either way, that simple press of lips felt amazing, electric in a way it maybe didn’t have any right to. A part of Ling would probably always miss the closeness of sharing his body with Greed, but now he realized that having their own bodies opened up a lot of exciting new possibilities.

All too soon, Greed pulled away again. He stared into Ling’s eyes, looking every bit as dazed and happy as Ling felt.

“I love you too,” Greed said, his voice barely above a whisper but the only thing Ling could hear. 

Greed’s new old body was taller, and Ling had to reach up to wrap a hand around the back of his head and tug him down into another, deeper kiss. But Greed leaned back in so easily he barely had to pull, so that was okay.

Eventually they’d need to talk more, about what they both wanted, about how to frame their relationship to the emperor and the people of Xing so it wouldn’t hurt their chances at the throne. But all of that could wait. For now, Ling was more than happy to let the world fall away as he stood in the ruined city and kissed the man he loved.

When the girls returned to find them like that, Mei seemed torn between finding the romance sweet and being disgusted by her brother kissing someone. She landed on disgusted, sticking her tongue out and saying, “Blech! Do that somewhere else!” before flopping down next to her bags and pulling out a notebook, presumably to take note of whatever alchemical oddities she’d spotted on her walk.

Lan Fan still looked tired and sad, and probably would for a long time yet, but when she smiled at Ling he could tell it was genuine. “I’m happy for you, young lord,” she said, and her voice sounded lighter than he’d heard it since before she cut off her arm.

So much had changed since he’d set off for Amestris nearly a year ago, and Ling had lost things he would never get back. But he’d gained more than he’d ever thought to dream as well. 

As he sat in the ruins of the city whose destroyer they had helped defeat, with his best friend, the little sister he never thought he’d be allowed to care for, and the love of his life by his side, Ling thought he’d be ready for whatever changes the future might hold.

[fulcrvm]

Last Line Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me @teejaystumbles ! A really nice surprise!! :D I am indeed contemplating writing two Dead Boy Detectives fic right now, but they're both in the very early 'being-outlined-in-my-head' stage, haha. They both revolve around post-s1 Edwin pining for Charles, one where Edwin takes matters into his own hands and one where he decides to have a chat with the Cat King about it. Not sure if they'll ever be written but they're intriguing!

But for the sake of the tag game, here's a lengthy bit from a Dreamling wip I've slowly been chipping away at for a few months!

A scene from Every Little Thing (Working Title)— In which Morpheus is a figure drawing professor who has just been fired from a film production based on his comics, and Hob does part-time figure modeling and is determined befriend the aforementioned professor.

Morpheus picks his class schedules wisely— he runs two first year general figure drawing classes, at 8 a.m. and at noon on Mondays and Thursdays. He helps the uni’s live figure workshop club on Wednesdays and Fridays at 6 p.m., and meets his sister for lunch on Wednesdays. All other free time was dedicated for his industry work. That wouldn’t be a concern anymore, would it. By the time Morpheus unlocks the door to the studio, sets his bag down by his desk, and starts fiddling with the ceiling studio lights pointed at the model stand, all of Morpheus’ thoughts have reduced to pure spite. Fine, maybe the big studios don’t want him. They don’t deserve him, then, their loss. His portfolio and repertoire are infamous in the industry, they’ll be crawling back to him in no time. Too bad, maybe he would have started his own production studio and he’ll end up with the next ground-breaking animated film. Maybe— Morpheus’ thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. He shakes himself out of it, calling, “Come in.” A glance at his watch tells him it’s only 7:48, perhaps it’s an overeager student here early. It’s only the second week of the semester, they grab every opportunity to prove themselves with a spirited step that Morpheus might be slightly envious of. “Hello, Morpheus Endeles?” Hearing his full name startles Morpheus, and he turns from the lighting settings to the door. “Yes?” The man who steps into view can only be described as radiant. He can’t be much older than Morpheus, not much taller either but wider in the shoulders. His hair is cropped just above his shoulders and he sports a neatly kept beard. Morpheus registers this all first simply because of his profession but— he gets caught on the man’s brilliant smile and deep brown eyes. There’s something there that knocks all thoughts clear out of Morpheus’ head. The stranger smiles warmly, smiles like he already cares. “I’m here to model for the morning and noon figure classes?” The man says. Morpheus clears his throat and steps forward, “Yes, this is the right studio.” He extends a hand, “Robert Gadling, I presume?” The man takes his hand— god, he’s so warm— and shakes it steadily, “Please, call me Hob! All my friends do.”

I'm a sucker for the 'Morpheus catalogues Hob's appearance during their first meeting' trope in most Dreamling human AU fics, I couldn't not do it too :]

Besides this, I've also got a Dreamling Velvet Goldmine-ish AU fic that I want to get done this summer. I'm a very slow and ruminative writer so let's see if I can commit to any of these fics now that I've posted about them lol!

No pressure tags! I have no idea who's been tagged recently so-- lol. @hardly-an-escape @valeriianz @moorishflower @amielot :)

[jumpingjoltiks]

To the people who say nice things about my fics when sending in requests, I hope you know you are the only reason I'm continuing with this stuff

[raiiny-bay]

finished dhes & kel's character pages so here are the lil edits i made for both of em :-)

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[sleepyblr-heart]

old yuri comic GO

[kyouka-supremacy]

(´･ᴗ･ ` )