#there's like a slight mention

[bright-omens]

Autistic Aziraphale headcanons because we're all sad and I need something to distract myself

You read the title lol. Just my general headcanons about Aziraphale's autism because he's very autistic and Crowley is his ADHD partner (Crowley is also an autism magnet but I'll get into that some other time lmao)

Obviously he likes most human food, but I headcanon that he genuinely can't handle fast food because of how greasy it is. Like, he doesn't mind greasy food (like bacon, steak, fried chicken, foods like that) but fast food is just a whole other kind of greasy and he can't stand it

He loves the texture of his clothes. Those are absolutely comforting to him when he gets too stressed and/or overstimulated (they also just make him very happy in general)

Crepes and sushi are his main safe foods (I will die on this hill)

When he's overstimulated he does become very touch averse depending on the situation

For example: In a large, loud, and crowded area, he wants absolutely no touch other than maybe a pinkie link with Crowley

However, when he touches something with a Bad Texture, he immediately goes to hug or touch Crowley in some way to get rid of the feeling

It's basically canon that he's the Doesn't Know When To Stop Talking Autistic

And while everyone around him (*cough* Heaven *cough*) finds it annoying and absolutely hates it, Crowley loves it and could listen to him ramble on about the stupidest things for hours. Obviously he'll tease him for it though

His special interest is either books or humans in general. I can't decide which one I like more and both are very plausible

He has so many things that he's gathered throughout the centuries for stimming purposes

He also will lightly flap his wings while he's reading, but no one can see that (In a human AU the equivilant of that would be either wiggling his nose or ears while he reads)

He gets so hyperfocused on reading and will stay up for weeks just reading and reading. The other shopkeepers get worried and try to get him to sleep but they won't take "I don't need sleep. I've been drinking coffee all day," as an excuse, and Aziraphale can't exactly explain to them that he's an immortal being that doesn't require sleep

That being said, he does enjoy wrapping himself in layers and layers of blankets

When he found out about weighted blankets he went wild

He has a lot of trouble understanding and remembering human expressions, which is why he talks more like someone from the 1920s (plus, that era's expressions just give him happy feels)

That's all for now. Btw feel free to request anything or even give me headcanons of your own! I love hearing about people's headcanons! The main things I write for is Good Omens and the movie Bright Young Things, so yeah :)

[cvnt4him]

izuku and (large tit⁉️) virgin reader 🙀

maybe he a virgin too, i’ve always guessed he was a dirty dog since junior high, he’s got to have watched porn or smth for a whirl at some point, you see the way he is around girlies

anyways, i love your writing style and energy, will be making many more requests if you would like them !

writing this bc I too suffer with big tiddie-itis. I completely agree with everything you have said and would love for you to come again, ty for the appreciation and i hope you [all] enjoy<3

Izuku midoriya has always been kind of.... a perv. It wasn't exactly obvious that he was a pervert however, he made damn sure no one knew this little secret about him. However he couldn't keep it from his best friend, his best friend katsuki had always known izuku was a little freak.

Whenever he got yelled at by people he thought was attractive he'd unintentionally pop a boner, whenever someone complimented him, whenever he was too close to a pretty person, it doesn't matter. He was just a natural perv.

Now izuku wouldn't call himself a pervert, just an easily excited person. When izuku got into high school he never intended on befriending the local pervs. Denki kaminari and mineta minoru, they're literally known for being perverted in some way, in denkis case.

When he met you though, for the love of all things good and holy. He couldn't help the way his eyes mercilessly trailed up and down your body. He couldn't hold a conversation with you without his eyes accidentally trailing down to your voluptuous bossom. To him it seemed as if your breasts wanted to be looked at, that they'd wanted to escape your U.A uniform.

The way they bounced when you walked or when you laughed, and oh, when you'd just stand there they seemed as if they were practically bursting from the seams, the buttons were literally trying their hardest just to do their jobs.

Izuku loved being around you. Your company was extremely pleasant to him, you were nice and strong, a caring and giving person. You were just nice all around, he felt so dirty and guilty for looking at your body in such ways..

Imagining all the positions he would put you in just to watch your beautiful big and round boobies just bounce for him. He would stroke his fat leaky cock to the time his shoulder accidentally poked the side of your boob. You acted like it didn't happen but he was a flustered mess, his body, his skin came so close to your, albeit clothed, titties.

Izuku would shove his tie in his mouth while he helplessly squeezed his cock head and fiddled with his balls, pathetic little whimpers leaving his mouth. He was practically drooling from a simple poke to your boob. My goodness, he craves to put his face in them, suffocate beneath them.

You had a crush on izuku for a while now, of course it went unbeknownst to him because he's an oblivious idiot who only really pays attention to himself despite being a very observant and selfless person. When you invited him on a 1 on 1 study sesh in your dorm he was terrified. He didn't know how he could face you after he just milked his cock for all it was worth........

He went anyways.

Izuku could not keep his eyes off of you the entire time, hardly even focusing on the work or what you were saying. You were wearing this absolutely adorable frilly pajama set, he'd heard you when you said it matches the one mina has. He wouldn't mind seeing you both in them together side by side... Wait no! He has to stay focused on the work! That's what you invited him over for!

Not to fantasize about you and your best friend in little to no clothing.......fuck. izuku groaned lowly to himself as he stared at your chest, gulping at how huge they truly were. He wondered how warm they were.. how soft, did you want him to touch them? Did you like them to be touched? Have you ever had anyone touch them before? Have you ever had anyone's cock in betwe——

“ uhm.. izuku? are you uh, alright? you're like kind of red..”

“ huh!? o- oh! yes! haha! I'm fine! ahem..”

Izuku was flustered red and so embarrassed. You'd just caught him looking at your tits... Kind of. It was so embarrassing, devastatingly so he just wanted to be swallowed whole by mother earth herself and be reincarnated as fly. He deserved it.

“ i- I'm sorry... I should g-”

“ I.. didn't mind you looking.... y’know.”

Oh. Izuku turned to face you with a completely red face and those stupid huge puppy dog eyes of his, his breathing was stuttery and he was absolutely petrified. Had he heard right? Did you... Like him staring at your tits?!

Izuku gulped down hard, his eyes accidentally switching fastly between your tits and your face. You giggled which caught hsi attention back to your face completely.

“ I- I, uhm.......what?”

His voice was wavering. Shaky in some sort, he didn't know what to do with this information. You just smiled at him stupidly and that made his cock fill with even more blood. Goodness do you even know what you do to him?!

He's jacked off countless of nights thinking about you and those glorious godforsaken big titties of yours. Squeezing his cock until it cried milking white tears, he'd overstimulate himself thinking about you. You. Now because of you, he had no intentions on holding back.

Izukus lip was shaking, with no second thought he grabbed your hand and walked you to your bed with no words being spoken. He laid you down and gently crawled onto you, his thighs on either side of your body as he leaned down. His lips were right up close to your ear, shaking as much as his breath was. Quivering even.

Izuku noticed the little things. Like for example, how your thighs kept squeezing together each time he spoke to you, he didn't think much of it before. Until just now, you're squeezing your thighs together whilst he's on top of you. He scoffed lightly into your ear and kissed along the shell of it making you jolt lightly.

“ y- you have no idea... How many nights I've touched myself to you... The post nut clarity I had, worried you'd think I'm a disgusting pig when really.... You like it.. you've always liked it. You love when I look at your titties, huh?”

You truly were speechless. Where had that shy little guy gone? Why was he speaking like this? As if you're in the wrong.. he's the one that had been staring at your body in such a disgusting way.

“ I.. uhm...”

The way you couldn't answer him, that did something. It did something bad to him. He bit his lip to muffle the moan that threatened to come from his throat, he ground his growing hard on into your thigh and sucked in sharply at the friction, the stimulation of his clothed cock against your bare thigh.. thin fabric covering his cock from touching your sweet soft angelic skin.

Izuku moved back from your neck and got a good look at you, the way your boobs were splayed out and how huge they looked. They way they spilled it at the top, he couldn't contain the moan this time, his mouth fell open and his eyes slightly rolled at the sight. He groaned and just desperately began humping your thigh, he started speeding up out of no where.

His moans started getting even more whiney and his movements sloppy. He just shoved his face in your boobs while he came, the smell of your lotion and body wash flooding his senses it began to all be too much, he didn't stop rutting into your thigh as he finished, oh no. He kept going, overriding his high and overstimulating himself.

The whine that left him was so adorable and so pornographic, it seemed straight out of a porno. His breaths were quivering and he was mumbling random things whilst whimpering. He was trying his hardest to regain his composure but it was just so hard.. he just came in his pants whilst grinding on you. He's sure it was the most he's ever made...and izuku cums alot.

He lets out a rather long breath before lifting his head to look at you with glossed over eyes. You had a small smile on your lips as you rake your fingers through his hair. A shiver goes down izukus spine as he sighs eyes fluttering shut. This is exactly what he needed to get rid of the upcoming post nut clarity. The fact you held him with no judgement made him feel so...good?

There was no word to describe the way he felt in this given moment. But it was so perfect that he could only whimper in your arms.

AN: guess who lied ab taking a break from writing? That's right!!!! So erm, this is ass and unfinished. It's a draft that I'm just getting out now instead of actually finishing so, yeah sorry for the disappoint

[lilybug-02]

Weird Route...

Spoilers for CT Weird Route below.

Please check tags for anything triggering ❤️

Afterlife...

........

This is not cannon, as the weird route is finished and it will not be added upon. But.......I often find myself wanting to draw for it. So here you are...

The weird route ends abruptly and without art for a reason. I wanted to make it painfully obvious that as YOU continue the route/story YOU stop getting anything out of it. You're only hurting the characters, and by the end, there's nothing left to do except start over.

I had thought of Asriel discovering Chara...well, dead. But I think that would have been too much for the scene. I didn't want to get any more depressing than it already was.

tbh I only hope that I can make an ending even half as good as this one. I still think about it often and I'm proud of the amount of work I put into it.

[welcometogrouchland]

I understand that literature nerd Jason Todd is kind of overblown in fanon compared to it's actual presence in canon (a few issues during his pre (and post?)crisis Robin tenure that highlight it) BUT consider that I think it's hilarious if the unhinged gun toting criminal has strong opinions on poetry

[bipbopdepmop]

something something these guys are almost always used as just a sidepiece to grian

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 240

You know what I think could be a really interesting premise?

Liminal-as-fuck Batfamily (and maybe all of Gotham itself) who aren't part of the Justice League. Like I am saying full on cryptid batfam who terrorize the criminals of Gotham and aren't well known outside of the city besides rumours.

And now throw in the Phantom team, either via Sam or Ellie or otherwise bringing the anti-ecto acts to their attention. I'm saying feral ghostly children barely being held back by Alfred from destroying the GIW buildings with their bare hands. Yes, that includes Bruce and Kate.

[critai]

8

[inu-jiru]

Jazz's "Apology Tour" ramble

Episode was trash, let's go.

First off, the whole "Fuck Blitzo" party is so stupid to me, like you're telling me this 30-something year old man had intimate relationships with ALL these demons and HE was the sole thing that ruined ALL of them?

And how did Verosika even find out about Stolas? Like I know Ozzie's happened, but how'd she hear about their "breakup" (they weren't together but whatever, show)?

Why the FUCK does Verosika care about Stolas being an uwu sad victim of mean old Blitzo aside from everyone being written to want to huff Stolas' sad boi farts?

Why is no one trying to kill Stolas like in Loo Loo Land, like suddenly we're just cool with the oppressive racist now (who am I kidding, the rank system doesn't exist anymore unless the "meanie supremacist" characters bring it up I guess)?

Don't think I'm trying to be "Blitzo's#1Bitch69" or anything, but Season 2 is just so gross in how they've written him. Either he's the big bully meanie for hating his abuser, or they've had him commit the most out of pocket atrocities (like possibly SAing Stolas since he was technically drunk or the circus incident or the shit he pulled with Verosika because what the fuck kinda trauma makes you steal someone credit card for horse riding lessons???) that they just gloss over because fuck having Blitzo actually progress normally or Stolas taking actual responsibility for his own actions, let's just speed through everything so it's back to Stolitz City, don't think about the implications. I just can't stand itttt, I still like and pity Blitz to an extent but his writing is killing meeee

Stolas, stop whimpering about being wanted YOU HAVE A KID WHO HAS STILL NOT APPEARED SINCE SEEING STARS WHERE IS SHE?

Am I really hearing that people are hating the dude flirting with Stolas like come on yall STOLITZ IS NOT OFFICIAL YET CHILL

I've honestly started skipping through episodes, like I can't fucking listen to "WAHHHHH BLITZO I WANT YOU TO WANT ME" for the millionth time, I wish this episode could've just been Blitzo and Verosika facing their issues or something I just don't wanna see this owl loser act like a victim anymoreeee

Man really said "when have I ever been condescending?" SEASON ONE???? How about every time you grab his face and call him out of his name and watch him be shot at while demanding he come over one a month? Oh, but when Blitz starts doing it back it's "Oh I'm uncomfortable ooOoOoo stop it Blitz hnnghhh I don't like it :C :C :C", like whatever man.

The Striker comment was dumb and wrong but that's because Stolas is dumb and wrong

Honestly I feel like I'm repeating the same points I and others have made in the past so all imma say is, I hope Octavia and Stella are enjoying their off-screen and better written adventures together. I'm gonna draw some AU stuff now to give my eyes something better to look at.

OH I forgot to talk about Verosika, uh, she was there? I honestly think she should just get over herself at this point, idk when she and Blitz broke up but what the fuck is it about this clown that she was so enamored over where she's this hurt? I can get being mad about her credit card and Blitz being a lazy partner but if that's the case, I fail to see how they got to a point where she got his name tatted on her arm. Idk it's weird

The Mayweather shit or whatever her name is was pointless and made no sense, like "I want you to kill this woman who made me attempt to kill her and myself but now we're dating" like? Hey Vivzie if yall can callback to that why can't yall call back to Stolas being a creep huh?

EDIT: They really made that fuckass "it's hell" excuse canon, huh? Like, it doesn't even make sense in the context of Blitz saying that, like people say "it's hell" because Biblically speaking, it's where those who truly oppose God in order to live a life of wickedness go as just punishment. Blitz the equivalent of a regular guy in Hell unlike the Hazbin characters, he shouldn't understand that there's a better alternative to Hell because he's not human and never had any opportunity to learn about Heaven or God (unless it's just in their DNA or something idk who knows with this show)

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 19

PREVIOUS

There’s a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.

1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesn’t understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasn’t perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like he’d just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.

He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesn’t understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friend’s names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).

So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. He’s even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.

So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.

He’s heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.

He’s heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the ‘Moriyamas’ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else they’d be killed.

Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.

He’s heard Andrew soothe Captain Neil’s worries about playing for a professional team. He’s heard Captain Neil mention that at least ‘Ichirou’ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.

Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.

(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasn’t playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.”)

This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.

2.  Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neil’s life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.

After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. There’d been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exy’s arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neil’s HEAD.)

But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.

For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didn’t have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.

This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FF’s, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.

Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neil’s positive feelings about them).

FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.

Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.

He’s proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadn’t been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.

Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neil’s case.

Including two of the Butcher’s top men who were still on the loose.

Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.

He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.

Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding ‘Nathaniel’ and that he’ll have to grab one of ‘The Wesninski brat’s friends’ to draw him out.

FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.

FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.

After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolm’s penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)

He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.

FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?

The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of ’One of the FBI’s Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friend’. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if there’s no door it’ll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-

The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.

He’s in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because he’s fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.

He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kid’s birthday party.

He is ULTRA stealth.

Romero’s gaze glides over him.

Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).

His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (“Do you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.”)

His phone’s extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.

Well fuck.

He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, he’ll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).

He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.

He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBI’s most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nicky’s wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.

He sees Romero’s eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.

He’s out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.

He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his body’s ability to process that so all that is left is determination. He’s got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only ‘weapon’ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.

He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.

He pretends to be on a phone call.

“Hey Captain Neil,” he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romero’s gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like he’s about to pass out). “Yeah I think I’m going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.” He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. “Yeah, yeah, okay I’ll mention it to that bartender guy.” He says and pretends to hang up.

He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failure’s not).

He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetie’s Nicky had mentioned that he wouldn’t let FF’s first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.

He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. “Oh you’re Neil and Andrew’s new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-“

“Hi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrew’s friend.” He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.

“Captain Neil? Oh wow that’s adorable.” The man gushes. “What can I help you with? I won’t ask for ID for one of their friends.” He winks.

“I’d like to order the uh…” he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, “…the deluxe chocolate martini?” He asks and knows he got it right when the bartender’s expression shifts ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?” He asks and oh great a coded conversation. It’s nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.

“They don’t know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.” He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” The bartender says, “Nicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaron’s not a lightweight either.” He adds.

FF struggles to find a coded way to say ‘It’s not that someone’s hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. It’s that there’s a mafia hitman in your club.’

Finally after a moment, “It’s not the usual kind of drink they get.” He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.

“Y’know you’re really cute.” He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. “How about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.” He says. “I’ll get started on that chocolate martini for you.” He says.

HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.

“I’d like that.” He says.

He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.

‘Armed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. I’m going to the back alley. Phone is dead.’

The bartender comes back and looks at his note. “We’re out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-“ He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, “something else?” He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.

“Can I just get some water then?” He asks.

The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FF’s “You don’t need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?” He offers.

There really are some kind people in the world.

“I think it’s better if I’m not in here for a bit.” He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, “What’s your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.” He says.

The bartender swallows, “It’s Roland.” He says.

“Thanks Roland.” He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.

He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.

He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.

His heart is pounding and he can’t BELIEVE he’s doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible but…but…

He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.

(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)

He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.

He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.

Jackson Plank.

FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.

Okay now what genius?

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

5/26/23: EDITED. Can’t believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neil’s name on the meme. I’m blaming the accidental early awakening.

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings​ @blep-23​ @dreamerking27​ @andreilsmyreligion​ @belodensetdust​ @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace​ @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world​ @obscureshipsandchips​ @booklover242​ @whataboutmyfries​ @sahturnos​ @pluto-pepsi​ @dreamerthinker​ @passinhosdetartaruga​ @leftunknownheart​ @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead​ @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme​ @tayspots @nick-scar​ @crazy-fangirl2524​ @blue-jos10​ @stabbyfoxandrew​ @splishsplashyouropinionistrash​ @sammichly​ @the-broken-pen​ @bitchesdoweknowu​ @very-small-flower​ @ghostlyboiii​ @its-a-paxycab​ @bisexual-genderfluid-fan​ @cheesecookie​ @theoneandonlylostsock​ @foxsoulcourt​ @blueleys @adverbialstarlight​ @elia-nna​ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner​ @nikodiangel​ @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat​ @hallucinatedjosten​ @satanic-foxhole-court​ @vexingcosmos​ @chalilodimun​ @insectsgetcooked​ @angry-kid-with-no-money​ @queer-crows​ @lillyndra​ @themugglemudperson​ @readertodeath​ @apileofpillows​ @mortalsbowbeforeme​ @hellomynameismoo​ @next-level-mess @youreonlylow​ @interstellarfig​ @notprocrastinatingatalltoday​ @percyjacksonfan3​ @queenofcrazy27​ @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares​ @spencellio​ @adinthedarkroom​ @harpymoth​ @sufferingjustalilbit​ @anxietymoss​ @oddgreyhound​ @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken​ @ken22789​ @atiredvampire​ @isoldescorner​ @not--a--pipedream​ @azure-wing​ @bushbees​  @roonilwazlib-main​ @crumplelush​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​ @thesenseinnonsense​ @let-tyrants-fear​ @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe​ @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it  right but you didn’t  get a notification there might be something  switched around in  your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

Lillyndra it worked this time!!!

[caluupin]

Finished TGAAC around 2 1/2 weeks ago but only finished the doodles today. but still, here ya go!

[st4rstudent]

snrrrrkkkkkkk

[cryptidmads]

hi venture mains im here to tell you personally that their first legendary is going to be ugly as SIN and that is a GOOD thing actually.

queer people have been synonymous with dressing loud and garish and ugly for centuries at this point. its practically a form of communication for us, and its something that we have to continue to embrace to avoid being sanitized as a whole by society bc thats a fate worse than death if you ask me. and sloan "dirt-fucker" cameron is not someone who goes well with the word "sanitized".

its entirely and incredibly in character actually. they geek out at the very mention of anything historical. their default fit is a jacket thats like three sizes too big for them. they have a pet rock with a purple mohawk. they were associated with nothing but rock eating for like six months. they eat ice cream for dinner and call people "doofus". you're telling me someone like that wouldnt voluntarily choose to dress in the goofiest shit you can think when their whole shit is being a goofball?

they've lived in probably at least half a dozen small towns in the province of nova scotia (they are not from the city bc city kids don't grow up playing in the dirt), meaning i can say with every ounce of personal experience that 90% of their shit is thrifted and they consider something "nice" if its cheap and isnt covered in stains when they pull it off the rack. they'd wear a flannel over a hoodie on a windy day and 10 degrees celsius is t-shirt weather. they dont care about how they dress day-to-day bc nobody else they know does either, and that can translate to both casuality and confidence in flawless fashion.

"ugly" isn't an option we should be immediately disparaging of anyways. there is no separating "good" ugly from "bad" ugly in design, as any form of ugly can be made good looking despite what the adjective's conotations might have you believe. you look at the roadhog skin in the s13 battle pass and tell me its not so ugly that it wraps back around into being adorable. ugly should be approached with an open mind rather than being shunned bc its not what you wanted

tldr venture's first legendary deserves to be adorably and atrociously ugly for all the right and most in-character reasons you can think of and thats exactly what its going to be! i cant wait to see it <3

[hanzajesthanza]

the new witcher novel is going to be mid as fuck. and you know what. i’m so ready for it

[romance-rambles]

modern clarence | an appropriate staring distance

While at the beach, you take a moment to appreciate your handsome boyfriend while he's taking a nap—and also when he's not.

1.2k, fluff + established relationship, reader is mc, series: none

NAVY BLUE STICKS OUT TO you the moment you open your eyes.

Your aching shoulder protests your decision to stay as you are, on your side, facing a still sleeping Clarence. Like this, he looks much younger—you're reminded of the time you had to force him to take a nap. Like this, he's simply the cute guy you managed to score not one but multiple dates with, just Clarence, instead of the incredibly smart and wonderful and kind Student Council President.

You glance at the circular table set between your two beach chairs, taking note of his glasses resting primly upon its surface. With him often having to juggle two different kinds of glasses, you'd offered to put them in your bag so that he could pack lighter. Or, as light as he can.

Right now, it's awkwardly squished behind you, miraculously still on the chair only because it's too big to fall out the gap under the armrest.

Filling in the blanks comes as easily to you as the smile on your face when you get to see your boyfriend, nearly the same one on your face right now—and the expression that goes with it is so endlessly fond that you find yourself with the urge to hit something.

Simply put, your boyfriend is a handsome man—the most handsome one, of all the men your keen eyes have gazed upon. And gazed, they certainly have. But even if they didn't have to pick, then they would gaze at only Clarence for the rest of their life..

You almost giggle at the thought, but think against it at the last minute.

But pressing your lips firmly into a thin line has the opposite effect on your budding smile. You imagine you look rather strange to anyone who passes by—what with your mockery of a wide smile and the silent scream building up in your throat, paired with the quiet thumping of your feet against the legrest.

If you were in a more private space, you would resort to kicking instead.

A proper squish to your still warm cheeks as you begin to sit up helps ease up the passion swirling chaotically across your body. You exhale, then allow your hands to slide off your face. One side of it bears the consequences of your actions more than the other.

With a one last longing at the sleeping Clarence, you start to dig through your bag for the only thing in your arsenal that could substitute for a sketchbook.

There are a few miscellaneous promotion emails waiting for you on the lockscreen. A message from Cael asking about dinner tomorrow too. Somewhere between them, there's a notice about the weather, with the temperature from an almost hour ago listed uselessly.

You swipe past them all and hurriedly slip into the camera app.

The hand holding your phone steadies itself against the armrest as you swing your legs over the edge of your chair. A thumb hovers over the capture button, vigilantly awaiting your command. The fingers of your other hand, meanwhile, busy themselves with zooming in on the captivating scenery.

With each pinch, the focus grows ever narrow—until all that remains is Clarence and nothing else.

At one point, you try to zoom into the mole under his eye, but it doesn't make for a very compelling photo. After a few attempts, quite a few of which involve staring at your screen for prolonged periods of time, you reluctantly give up.

Your pout is soon covered up by your phone. When its front camera presses against your upper lip, your gaze is free to wander back to the sleeping beauty beside you once more.

A healing effect, exclusive to him, takes hold of you instantaneously.

Eyes brimming with fondness narrow slightly. You slide off your beach chair, hands on your bent knees as you take a closer look. You can make out the shadows cast by his long lashes and the drool dribbling past his chin.

He's perfect.

You're content to stay there until your knees begin to ache, reminding you insistently that this isn't a very comfortable position to be in. As a compromise of some kind, you adjust your arms atop the nearby armrest.

It really would be better if you'd brought your sketchbook along—but, you think, remembering his workaholic tendencies, would he even bother to take a nap then?

You scrunch your nose up at the thought.

In that moment, Clarence seems sense to your presence. When you look back at him, you're greeted with the sight of confusion in his now opened, but still drowsy gaze. He blinks, and it earns him an amused grin from you.

"Morning," you say, though it's well into afternoon.

That seems to wake him up. His cheeks flush a warm pink, and he hurriedly wipes away the drool on his face, as though you haven't already committed the sight to your memory.

Clearing his throat, he responds in kind, careful to sit up in such a way that he avoids looking at you.

"You don't have to be so close...I can see you just fine."

You laugh, not unkindly. "What if I'm the one who's having trouble?"

For a moment, when he turns back to look at you, he looks alarmed. Then, his shoulders relax to the tune of a sigh, his groggy mind apparently having caught onto the fact that you were joking.

Without breaking eye contact, you reach for his glasses. But as with the issue of walking into a cave without a flashlight, even if you vaguely recall where your destination is, there's no guarantee you'll actually reach it.

"Give me a second," you mutter, your annoyance making your tone a bit too sharp.

You follow your words up with an apology. His glasses held are carefully by the frames as your sheepish gaze connects with his faintly amused one. Clarence reaches out, getting as far as grasping the slanted tips of the frame before the two of you reach a mutual agreement.

"Well." His cheeks return to being a rosy hue. He coughs politely. "If you would."

Cute. Biting your lip giddily, you shake his grip off. A quick once-over of your surroundings before you stand up shows that no one seems to be paying attention to you. And unless your friends and acquaintences have come to together to unlock the secrets of invisibility, no one you know seems to be present either.

Leaning over, you line his glasses up against his face, the tips of his frame brushing against his cheek. It takes only a moment to slot them into place—and you have enough experience with doing so that they don't snag against his ears.

It takes only a moment longer to give him an innocent peck on the lips.

"There," you murmur, not entirely satisfied with the kiss.

His Adam's apple bobs. Clarence adjusts his glasses with an awkward look that suggests he has some kind of solution to your dilemma. You, of course, beat him to the punch.

"Why—" Your voice cracks a little. "—don't we go find a different spot?"

He smiles, narrowed eyes watching you fondly. "I was about to suggest the same thing."

[arts-and-drafts]

Wherever You May Go (Hermit!Tommy AU)

Summary; Continuation of ‘Minecraft Championships’, in which TFC discovers a stowaway in his strip mine.

(Title from ‘Follow You’ by Imagine Dragons! I highly recommend reading ‘Minecraft Championships’ first to understand what’s going on! This one has been in the drafts for a WHILE and I had just recently finished it. This won’t be the last iteration of this little storyline! Enjoy!)

((And don’t worry, Come Morning Light is still in progress!))

CWs; Mentions of death, mentions of violence, slight body horror

-

Tubbo didn’t know what he was thinking when he ran through that portal.

He considered himself to be a smart man. He always tried to think rationally, to let logic decide his best move, and let it back up his choices when he did rarely make an emotional decision. Very seldom was he moved by his heart and his heart alone.

That all flew out the window when he heard Tommy scream.

His best friend, who he thought dead, cried out for help. And like the gods themselves puppeted him, Tubbo ran to his aid.

He didn’t bother squashing down the terrible hope rising in his throat, that he was actually hearing his dead best friend’s voice instead of him finally having lost it from stress. Tubbo ran, hope and fear blindingly bright in his chest, shoving any Player in his way aside with little care.

Please. Please. Please.

Tubbo pushed through the last people in his way, and froze.

Tommy.

Tommy was wrapped in the arms of three other players, all comforting him with words Tubbo couldn’t hear. All he could do was stare as his dead best friend smiled, shakily, tears streaming down his face as he answered back.

He barely took into account that the portal back to the Dream SMP was gone. His attention was all on the boy that made up Tubbo’s other half, alive, alive, alive.

The Players surrounding Tommy helped him off the floor, the avian among them draping his great gray wings over the backs of the entire party, shielding their faces from view.

Tubbo made an aborted cry in the back of his throat, jerking forward like his bones and muscles had been replaced with decrepit redstone machines, barely clinging to function.

The group containing Tommy didn’t notice, and seamlessly passed through the portal back to the place Tommy must have been since he die—went missing, the place Tubbo had no idea how to reach to try talk to Tommy again and beg for his forgiveness.

But now the gateway to his best friend was right in front of him.

Tubbo broke into a desperate sprint, throwing himself at the pure-white portal with the desperation of a dying man.

His vision went white, all encompassed by the void between worlds, where he simultaneously existed and didn’t all at once.

And then Tubbo tripped, landing hard on the ground that materialized right under him.

He groaned, his head spinning from the transition of being and not-being and back again.

Tubbo tried to raise a hand to his head, and his entire body lanced through with wrongness that he swiftly recognized to be the work of whitelist magic.

Panic reared its head in Tubbo’s mind, but he shoved it down, his meticulously logical side rising to his aid. With eyes that were becoming increasingly hard to keep open, Tubbo scanned through the lines of code in his communicator screen.

A Player with limited knowledge of how the world operated would not see the code behind the comms, but Tubbo had delved into the magic that made up the fabric of existence since he was small.

Tubbo knew he was on a time crunch. Even the worst-maintained whitelist could discorporate a Player in time, and based on the fact that Tubbo could already feel his atoms destabilizing, this whitelist was very maintained.

Still, he willed himself not to panic, drowning out the instinct roaring in his ears to fight for his life. It would not help him here; there was nothing tangible to fight against.

Tubbo located the string of magic in the code that was tearing him apart, a very powerful enchantment that attacked his being like a white blood cell destroying a virus. It was too powerful to cancel out, so Tubbo didn’t even try; instead, he attempted something he had never done before.

Tubbo mentally reached out to the magic, and embraced it, tangling the data in his veins with the enchantment that was attacking him, knotting them together so tightly that they were indistinguishable.

It was messy, and imprecise, but Tubbo kept a calm mind through the entire process, even as he felt his consciousness beginning to slip into nothingness. He continued to wind himself into the code of this server’s existence, knitting himself into the fabric of reality stitch by excruciating stitch.

Then, all of the sudden, with a SNAP that echoed through Tubbo’s very being, the magic of the whitelist pulled taut, unknotting itself, and Tubbo felt the data in his soul smooth out with it.

Tubbo let out a ragged gasp, his eyes flying open as feeling returned into his limbs. He coughed roughly, scrabbling at the earth underneath him to pull himself off the ground onto his shaking hands and knees. He choked and gasped for breath, willing himself to recover faster from being nearly disintegrated.

He took a minute to just exist, shivering and shaking as he tried to calm his body into functioning again.

Eventually his senses returned to him, and Tubbo raised his eyes.

He looked out to a great ocean, surrounding him on all sides. He was laid upon a cheerfully sunny sandy beach, with a chest to his left and a simple farm of carrots beside it.

There was a handwritten sign beside the chest, displaying the words ‘Take what you need!’ in curly handwriting that made Tubbo’s dyslexia flare up.

Tubbo shakily rose to his feet, and made his way to the chest, opening it to see loaves of bread and a few oak-wood boats inside.

He took a breath, raising his head to glance around at the empty ocean.

This must be the server’s spawn. Tommy nor the other Players he was with were here—which made sense, though it set a deep itch of urgency in Tubbo’s bones. They probably spawned back in their beds after coming through the portal.

Leaving Tubbo stranded alone, with no idea where to go from here.

He inhaled sharply, willing his despair to ebb away into the back of his mind. He summoned his compass from his inventory, glancing down at it before he psyched himself out too much to look.

The needle was still. After spinning uselessly in the SMP for an entire year, it was finally pointing straight and true, towards the boy Tubbo thought dead by cause of his own actions.

Tommy was alive.

Tubbo let out a breath that was between a laugh and a cry.

It wasn’t a dream, a hallucination or a snap of the psyche. Tommy was alive.

Tubbo pushed the bangs out of his eyes, looking up at the direction the needle pointed.

Tommy was just beyond the horizon. He was here all along, wherever ‘here’ was, and now Tubbo was too.

Tubbo grabbed a boat from the chest, and as much bread as he could carry, throwing the wooden item against the water and jumping in as soon as it expanded to size.

I’m coming, Tom.

-

TFC knew his mines like the back of his hand.

They were just as rough and aged as his hand too, but still, he had memorized each one of them. Strip mines that had long been given up on, once the dwarf had run out of torches or ran out of durability on his pickaxes. He had no reason to venture down once he was comfortable with resources, but still, he walked the lengths of his underground tunnels often.

He felt most at home with rock over his head, and he traveled his handmade mines so much that he could recount the route of them all with his eyes closed.

It was how he knew someone had disturbed them, and done so recently.

Now, he was no stranger to the other hermits accidentally breaking into his mines during digging out room for their own projects. The matter was always dealt with amicably, with the offending hermit patching up the tunnels like they were never disturbed and redirecting their dig site out of the way.

However, they never failed to mention it to TFC, even if he wasn’t around at the time of the incident.

So when the dwarf noticed perfectly smooth stone innocuously laid among the walls of one of his strip mines, he knew he was dealing with someone else entirely.

To even the most careful eye, there was no hint of disruption along the mine wall. But that was precisely why TFC noticed it.

Being one arm short, he wasn’t the most graceful with his pickaxe. He carved the rock rough and uneven, making sure there was enough room for him and the torches, but leaving the edges of the tunnel untidy, because it was work to make it look all pretty and he didn’t mind it how it was.

Whoever had squirreled away in his mine, though, thought otherwise. Or perhaps they didn’t even notice the rougher stone, too focused on covering their tracks to care.

TFC hummed to himself as he hobbled down the tunnels, his rough tune echoing off the stone and carrying his voice far into the mine.

He leisurely came to a stop where the stone smoothed out, where he’d been hearing quiet footsteps up until he halted. The owner of said footsteps didn’t make another noise as soon as they registered TFC wasn’t either, a smart move to ensuring they stayed hidden.

Unfortunately, they didn’t account for the sharp hearing of a dwarf, nor said dwarf’s attention to detail.

TFC let the quiet linger for a moment, only sighing when there was no movement to be heard for several minutes.

“Alright,” TFC finally said, keeping his tone light of any accusation. “Who’s down here?”

The someone in the walls, predictably, didn’t reply. TFC cleared his throat.

“C’mon, now. I’m not gonna be mad. Just wanna know who I’m dealing with.” TFC tried again.

The silence continued on. TFC was debating fully sitting against the wall and waiting out the Player, infinitely patient as he was, but then a quiet voice spoke up through the rock.

“You first.” A young voice demanded in clearly false bravado, and TFC chuckled.

“Sure, if that’ll help.” He agreed, making sure his tone wasn’t too rough. “I’m Tinfoil Chef. Everyone calls me TFC.”

The young voice was quiet for a beat.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” They spoke again, that same brave streak hiding their trepidation. TFC raised an eyebrow.

“Tellin’ the truth about my name, or that I ain’t gonna hurt ya?” He countered. The kid in the walls made an aborted noise.

“Cuz the answer is the same for both.” TFC continued, sparing the confusion for the kid. “It’s the truth. I just wanna know who’s in my mines.”

The voice was quiet for a few moments. TFC wondered if he’d have to speak again to keep the conversation going, to assure the kid further that he wasn’t going to do anything to them, but then they finally replied.

“Tubbo.” The kid said quietly, almost incoherent. “I’m Tubbo.”

TFC nodded. “Well, Tubbo, nice to meet ya.” He said. “What’re you doing down here in the walls?”

Tubbo was quiet.

TFC waited.

“I’m hiding.” Tubbo finally answered, sounding a bit sheepish. TFC hummed thoughtfully.

“I see.” He said slowly, thinking through his options. He truthfully wasn’t one to get into other people’s business; he tended to stay out of the server-wide shenanigans, and interacted with the other hermits very rarely. He would be perfectly content to leave his and Tubbo’s conversation there, after he’d gotten the answers he needed.

He had a feeling, though, that this kid shouldn’t be by themself.

“Well,” TFC spoke again, shifting his weight to his good leg. “You don’t have to hide all the way down here.”

“People rarely come around my place.” He continued. “You can hide and be comfortable too, at least.”

Tubbo was quiet, though TFC could practically hear the gears turning in their head.

“Why would you help me?” They asked, a bit abrasively, and TFC was reminded starkly of Tommy.

Huh. If he had a diamond for every kid that unexplainably showed up one day on Hermitcraft, he’d now be two diamonds richer.

“Just…seems like the right thing to do.” TFC answered honestly, shrugging. “I know it ain’t comfortable down here for most other than me.”

There was silence from the kid again.

Then, the stone wall broke, and the tip of an iron sword pointed warningly into the hall, held by a small goat hybrid with lapis-blue eyes.

TFC blinked.

“What are ya planning to do with that, exactly?” TFC asked neutrally, keeping his hands at his sides. The kid’s brows furrowed.

“It’s just insurance,” They said, their young voice firm. “I wouldn’t try anything if I were you.”

TFC blinked again, and then let out a laugh.

The kid’s face twisted to shock and uncertainty, obviously caught off guard by the dwarf’s reaction.

“You can point that thing at me if it’ll make you feel better, kid.” TFC amended. “But I’m not gonna hurt you. You can believe me if you want to.”

And with that, he turned and started walking back down the mine the way he came, his gate just as unhurried. He heard the kid behind him pause and then climb out of the hole in the wall, keeping a steady pace a few blocks behind.

Tubbo paused entirely when they made it to the ladder leading back up to TFC’s house. The dwarf turned back to them and gestured to the ladder.

“It takes me a good year or two to get up there.” TFC joked. “You first.”

Tubbo narrowed his eyes. “Not a chance.” He replied firmly. TFC shrugged.

“Suit yourself.” He answered, and promptly turned his back to the kid again to begin the process of arduously climbing the ladder with only one functioning arm and leg.

After he climbed a few blocks up, he finally heard the ladder creak behind him as the kid started his ascent, and he smiled to himself. Maybe Tubbo would be more inclined to trust him after the agonizing few minutes he’d be stuck behind TFC’s slow-moving butt.

TFC finally pulled himself through the hatch in his house floor, slowly rising to his feet and moving away from the hatch to his chests. He heard Tubbo emerge from the trapdoor soon after, the kid getting to his feet much quicker than the old dwarf and notably keeping his distance.

TFC grabbed some wool and wood from his chests, meandering to his crafting table. Tubbo shifted behind him.

“Where…are we, exactly?” The kid asked, his brave act lowering slightly.

“My very humble abode.” TFC answered, arranging the wool and wood methodically on his crafting table. Tubbo made a noise in his throat.

“No, I mean—what server?” He tried again. TFC collected the bed he constructed and turned back to the kid, holding it out to them with a slight smile.

“Hermitcraft.”

[sleep-nurse]

bof

go die in a hole