#they are there to teach me

[nei-ning]

Share at least three things you have in common with your blorbo(s)

I was tagged by @evelhak, thank you SO MUCH! :D This looks like so much fun so... *cracks her knuckles* Let's get down to business since this will be more or less long post, muahah! >:D After all I have MANY blorbos (tho, I don't like that name... it makes me think of some kind of sex worker blobra (from Final Fantasy game series) instead of my beloved characters...)

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Gan Ning (Dynasty Warriors).

I'm used on doing things my way.

I hate being bossed around.

Protecting & supporting those dear to me (trying my best!).

Having FUN FUN FUN in life & not worrying about things (still trying to become better at these).

Speaking my mind

Sense of humor

Playful

Getting hell pissed when others (animals and humans) are being treated badly / wrongly in any kind of way.

"Open hearted spirit who runs free!" (aka no society chains me).

Grimmjow (Bleach).

Again doing things my way.

Hating being bossed / ordered around.

Stubborn.

Autistic.

Enjoying darker stuff / violence (fictional only!).

Getting pissed in a snap of a finger.

Loving cats (because I refuse to believe he wouldn't love cats!)

Being my own "King" / "Queen".

Confident (still practicing this).

Fearless (practicing this too :'D)

Aomine Daiki (Kuroko no basket).

I won't do anything what I don't want to do. None can't force me.

Loving animals

Confident (practicing)

"Only one who can beat me - is me."

Exercising

Lazy (in his / my own way)

Sleepy

Horoscope: Virgo (Yay! :D)

Provoking won't work on me (heard one drama CD where Kagami tried to provoke Aomine and he just snorted in amused way, not letting Kagami get to him).

Hard working (via training / exercising)

Sukuna (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Doesn't like people coming in my home (Private place).

Fearless (practicing)

Confident (Practicing)

Being my own King / Queen (second time :'D)

Strong (practicing)

Proud (in healthy way)

Kuroko (Kuroko no Basket)

Most of the time I'm happy and calm.

Piss me off and whole Hell breaks loose.

Unnoticed (but then again I don't like attention :'D)

Kagami (KNB)

Passionate.

Dork! :'D (in our own lovely way!)

Cleaning (I honestly started to clean more after buying and hanging Kagami wall scroll in the living room :'D)

Kazuya Mishima (Tekken)

I actually can be hell cold dick who doesn't give a shit about anything or anyone.

Distant

Not a family person

Dressing well (more or less).

Karlach (Baldur's Gate 3).

Strong

Fighting for my freedom

Refusing to go back to live in the old ways / in the old place

Humor

I honestly have MANY MORE characters but they all are pretty much similar to each other (as you have seen above already) so not gonna list them all and spam you with the same traits over and over again :'D

Tagging @slady-ao3, @blood-and-pepper and all others who are following me :D Naturally you also CAN ignore this! If you, however, decide to do this, please mark me as your tagger so that I can see your characters and you :D

[mroddmod]

rough seas

[dominicanangel]

When someone you love offers a bid for connection, you say yes every time. When someone sends you an article, a video, a funny post, it’s a bid for connection. They are trying to connect with you. When someone shares details about their day, their life, their thoughts, or their feelings with you, that is a bid for connection. They want to connect with you on a deeper level. They are trying to pull you into their world. If you love them, you say yes every time. Yes, even if the article they send is not particularly interesting to you. Yes, even if it means listening to them ramble about a game you don’t care about and think is stupid. Yes yes yes. And let’s hope they always say yes to your bids, too.

[swordy-da-goat]

Do the traffic cones have any basic knowledge like shapes and colors or do they have to learn all that from road wiz?

They have a school session every week

[dinosaur-ears]

I love people who craft and I love learning about other people's crafts because every single one is full of little things that non-practitioners wouldn't notice but others in the craft RAVE about.

Like, I'm a knitter, and before I started I couldn't tell a knit fabric from a crocheted one, and I mostly would appreciate pretty color choices and overall patterns. But now I drool over perfectly uniform stockinette or a good stretchy bind off, and don't even start me on neat floats on the back of fair isle!

Quilters will talk about the binding and stitch choice on a finished quilt, ceramics artists will gush over how a glaze turned out, embroiderers will sigh at perfectly smooth satin stitch, and a woodworker can spot a good join from a mile away.

There is so much more beauty and artistry in the world than we can see on our own.

[anna-scribbles]

old doodles from the archives 🫶

[egophiliac]

can't believe that skeleman has turned on us, and Halloween Prom is tomorrow.

(what a top-tier UM...we are about to be just totally obliterated in the absolute silliest way. what possible use could this power have outside of bringing us to the brink of utter holiday disaster.)

[darthsuki]

[akanemnon]

It could get worse and it DID get worse

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[apllecrash]

Dreams of you all the time Feels so good when we're together, love

[loumandivorce]

is anyone else seeing this

[hansoeii]

dear ed, I love everything about you.

[rhupi]

Kushina sensei au, where she trains obito and Rin (tho mostly Obito at first, since she first encountered the lik guy @ the training grounds)

[zombroach]

“Perfect isn’t easy…but it’s me!”

Inspired by medimedes from quazie’s lil pootis series.

[artdcnaldson]

NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit

This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other

A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”

Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.

Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.

“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.

“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”

“How?” Patrick asked.

Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”

Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.

With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”

You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.

His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.

The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.

Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.

Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”

You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.

“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.

Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.

And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.

Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.

You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”

“Good,” Patrick said.

At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”

Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.

“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.

Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”

You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”

You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.

“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”

Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.

Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.

Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.

You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.

“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”

You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.

He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”

Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”

You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.

“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”

Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.

And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.

And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”

Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.

Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.

“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”

He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.

Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.

Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.

Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.

“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.

They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”

[jonjaydami]

How hilarious would it be if there was a superbat timeline or fic that was just all the kids thinking that Bruce and Clark were dating for years but just lived separately due to work and how stubborn they both were. Cause it's not like Bruce could move in with Clark in his tiny apartment.

But they also know Clark is a man with values and knows he wouldnt just want to be a "trophy" husband so they full on believe for the sake of everything they were already married in private and full on treat them like a couple and the beautiful idiots they are just play along cause they think the kids are joking. They are not.

"B-but Bruce! I already told Steph I was going to go on patrol tonight"

Bruce sighs. Pinching his brows together.

"Tim you broke your wrist I can't let you go out"

"Well...I'll just ask clark!"

"No you can't"

Tim already calling him.

Clark: hello?

Tim: I want to go out on patrol. Can I?

Clark: what did Bruce say?

Tim: *pouting cause he knows he won't get away with it* he said no

Clark: hand Bruce the phone

I think the opportunities here are limitless. The shenanigans the bat family would commit and not to mention the artificial cherry on top is superbat. Someone can use this as inspiration to write it out or maybe I will write a one shot about it later. But if someone would be open to debating this idea or even dropping more onto dm me!!