#with cute things in between

[leprosycock]

sticker club……. 🤔

[huggywuggysuppy]

Wild Life Snail Treatment Chart

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[keferon]

The tac net crash chapter is one of my favorites so far~

Ah and. Guess what. I just discovered that including this post, I made 50 pieces of fanart for Mistakes on mistakes until.. I’m so sane and normal about this story can you tell👍

[gunstellations]

its sonics turn! 👅

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Tis but a flesh wound!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[kumquatpoo]

I hate these fucking gays

[yuwuta]

please feed us some yuuji blurbs there’s a lack of him rn :(

ofc… sweetest boy all time… here’s something was was meant to be a longer project but got lost in the editing whirlwind… love him so bad... 

NEVER LOST IN TRANSLATION, BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT 

notes: reader is implied to be american/english-speaking, yuuta and megumi are bilingual, yuuji, bless his soul, is not. i didn’t use italics for conversations between yuuji and megumi because it would all be in japanese, but when they get mixed later in the scene, japanese is differentiated with italics. hope that’s not too confusing lololll

Honestly, Yuuji tried his best in school. Some things came easier than other, but with a bit of hard work, and help from his friends, he always managed to pull pretty good grades. But right now, his biggest regret is not taking english more seriously in high school, because it’s been about three weeks since he met you, and he’s only been able to say maybe five full sentences to you without the help of Yuuta or Megumi translating. 

He was excited when Yuuta said his friend from abroad would be coming to visit and study, but god, he didn’t expect you to be so pretty. To have such pretty eyes, and pretty lips, and pretty hair, to have the prettiest voice in the world despite him only understanding every eighteenth word you say. You’re beautiful to him, and Yuuji thinks that even if he could speak your language fluently, the words would still get caught in his throat. He’s so lovesick, it’s embarrassing—his friends have been harping on him blushing and stuttering over you for the past month, and he can’t even blame them.

“What does she say to you when you guys talk,” Yuuji whines, hovering around Megumi, and not-so-discreetly looking back at you where you’re still sat in the living room laughing with Yuuta, “Does she ever say anything about me? I mean—probably not right? Which is fine! Actually, dont tell me—no, do. Or maybe—”

“She asks about you,” Megumi says, matter-of-fact in delivery, as he places a bag of popcorn in the microwave, but that doesn’t curb Yuuji’s enthusiasm. He’s practically bouncing, if he weren’t already—begging Megumi to spill the details, “What did she ask? Tell me! Tell me!” 

“She once asked if you dye your hair.”

“That’s it?!” Yuuji screams, heartbroken, and visibly deflating.

Megumi shrugs, “Yuuta probably knows more. She’s his exchange buddy friend thing, so ask him.”

“I can’t ask him, he’s right next to her!” Yuuji pouts, “Wait, what does ‘exchange buddy friend thing’ mean? You don’t think they’re more than friends, right…? I can’t blame her, senpai is really pretty, too, and he can actually talk to her… so unfair.” 

“You know, she’s not fluent, but she can understand some Japanese,” Megumi reminds him, “So, she can definitely hear you, and probably understand you.”

Yuuji’s shoulders slump, and once again, he turns around to look back at you. This time, you two make eye-contact, and that instant, Yuuji’s cheeks go pink, a nervous hand raised to wave at you, and instant internal regret at his actions; but, then you smile, and wave back, and Yuuji stays like that, dumbfounded and lovestruck and on autopilot as he waves with hearts in his eyes until Yuuta looks up from his phone and catches him.

Embarrassing. He knows he’s not the brightest, but he’s at a record high of self-embarrassment since he’s met you.

Yuuta finds himself chuckling when Yuuji spins around and goes back to prodding Megumi with questions. When you turn to face him again, it’s with a shy smile.

“I told you you’d like him,” Yuuta grins—the kind that seems sweet and innocent, but has just a kiss of that all-knowing tease to it; the kind that reminds you that he’s truly related to Satoru.

“Oh, be quiet,” you grumble, tucking your legs in and resting your chin on your knee. You spare another glance in Yuuji’s direction, for once, grateful for the language barrier between the two of you, when you turn back to Yuuta to proclaim: “I can like someone and not do anything about it. You’re real good at that, aren’t you?”

Yuuta’s slightly cocky grin falls into a scowl, and now you get to smile when he argues back, “We said not to bring up he who shall not be named in the presence of my friends!”

“Then don’t bring up my he who shall not be named in the presence of him!”

“Aren’t Americans all about forging new frontiers and chasing after your dreams?” he taunts, “Well, your dream is right in front of you.”

“My dream right now is to kill you.”

“Lucky for me, you’re going to have to hold off on that because your lover boy is approaching.”

You don’t have time to argue back with Yuuta when Megumi and Yuuji approach the living area with snacks in tow. Yuuta scoots to the tail end of the couch under the guise of giving Yuuji space to place the popcorn and nuggets in the center of the coffee table, but he has just enough time to flash you a wink before Yuuji settles in between. Megumi opts for the loveseat closets to Yuuta’s end of the couch, and you do your best not to reach over Yuuji and strangle Yuuta.

The boys decide on watching a movie you’ve never heard of, but Megumi reassures you it’ll be easy to follow and has English subtitles. You don’t mind, settling in to your corner of the couch with a handful of popcorn just as the title-screen for Human Earthworm 3 rolls across the TV.

You can follow along well-enough—even without subtitles, you get the gist of the movie. What you really find entertaining is Yuuji, who occasionally blurts out a comment or exclamation, or audibly coos whenever something sad is happening on screen. He’s almost as animated as the characters; you’re more of the silent-watcher type, but you find yourself endearing by this commentary, even if you can only understand parts of it.

You particularly appreciate the way that after every comment, he either motions to Megumi, or turns to you himself to repeat his thoughts in his best broken English, and even when you don’t understand his words, you understand him. His emotions are all on his sleeve: frustration, happiness, confusion, curiosity—communication between you two should be more difficult, but Yuuji makes it easy.

It gives you the confidence you cough out your own observation, “You, um… you’ve… seen the others? You seem to like this series.”

Across the room, Megumi and Yuuta hold their breaths, opting to not translate for you when you switch from Japanese to English. Yuuji is quiet for a moment, turned to face you with a slightly confused look on his face that makes you nervous, until his eyes brighten up and he smiles and begins nodding fervently—“Yeah—yeah, I do! It’s my… hm how do I say it… Oh! It’s my favorite!”

Between the smile on his face, the blush on his cheeks, and sincerity in his voice, you feel like you’re wrapped up in his world. It’s a little confusing, and scary, but it’s not all that bad. Maybe you can do something about it, eventually.

“I.. I think I like it, too.”

[caramel-flan]

A little doodle! the new event is so sweet! 🍃⭐

[kaurwreck]

I think it's cute that Chuuya only chokes Dazai by digging his fingers into Dazai's carotid arteries, since that's generally considered "safer" (insofar as any strangulation can be safe) than applying pressure to the trachea, which risks crushing it.

(In 55 Minutes, Atsushi similarly chokes someone via their carotid arteries to knock them unconscious without damaging their throat— so we can assume it's intentional here too. Asagiri clearly knows the difference.)

[deadrlngers]

I'm the reticent vampire of the Ninth Arrondissement. I walk the night capturing disappointment and regret as only the reticent vampire can.

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (2022-)

[platoapproved]

OH NO I'VE JUST REALIZED SOMETHING. It's so obvious how did I just catch it.

So Lestat and Armand meet up earlier in Memnoch the Devil, and Armand is wearing all denim and is super dusty. Lestat sees him and lovingly thinks about wanting to clean him up, do his hair, etc. Armand responds 'yeah, you're always wanting that, back in Paris you wanted to perfume me and comb my hair and put me in velvet and embroidery'. (see here for excerpts)

WHEN LESTAT GETS BACK NEAR THE END OF THE BOOK ARMAND IS WAITING FOR HIM! Wearing velvet and embroidered lace! He has left his hair down and uncut like it was back all those years ago in Paris, only it's cleanly washed. (see here for excerpts)

He.... he gave himself the Lestat-likes-it-when-I-look-like-this makeover while Lestat was out.

[cuubism]

I didn't even share any exterior shots with you all. Failure.

Go to the New Inn it only takes an hour and a half to get to from central London 😂

Can't miss it the sign is painted on like 50 times, presumably so Dream would DEFINITELY find it.

No WAY Dream can miss this. Well, maybe he can, he can be a bit dense at times.

THE NEW INN! TOP LONDON ATTRACTION! (in my heart)

[necrotic-nephilim]

au - tim sneaking out of jason's room one night at the manor and accidentally locking eyes with dick who is sneaking out of bruce's room at the exact same time, breakfast is very awkward the next morning

(i did think of having it be jason instead of tim but honestly jason has 0 shame and even less issue outing himself if it means fucking with bruce and, to a lesser extent, dick)

i'm cackling I love these types of things so much. they're so silly. sometimes we deserve mindless crack for these ships. have a *very* low effort ficlet bc this just makes me snort, enjoy <3

Dick closed Bruce's door as quietly as he could. Usually, he didn't have to sneak around when he slept with Bruce. But the temporary room Bruce had given Jason in the manor was just down the hall, and Dick didn't feel like looking Jason in the eye if he walked out of Bruce's bedroom in the morning at the wrong time.

Just because he was pretty sure Jason knew, didn't mean he needed confirmation and confrontation.

Dick had almost caved to staying in bed with Bruce when Bruce tried to pull him back down, but he kept some level of wits about him, prying Bruce's arm off of him and giving him a final kiss on the cheek before heading for the door.

The one thing Dick did allow himself, though, was wearing one of Bruce's shirts instead of his own. It was a size too large on him but smelled safe and comforting. Dick breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the door latched silently. He let go of the handle, turning around to creep off to his own bedroom in another wing.

And found himself staring at another figure.

With all of the lights off and only faint moonlight streaming through the windows, Dick couldn't tell who it was, at first. His reaction was embarrassing no matter who it was, jumping nearly a foot backward and clutching a hand over his chest.

He was a goddamn vigilante. This was just embarrassing.

The other person wasn't nearly as shocked as Dick, but they stood perfectly still, staring with wide eyes that faintly reflected what little light illuminated their face. Dick squinted, leaning forward to see who it was.

"Tim?" Dick hissed, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. Bruce had fallen asleep and if Dick woke him up now, he was never going to get the stubborn bastard back to bed.

Tim, still looking like a deer in headlights, just blinked at Dick.

"What are you doing up this late?" Dick asked. They'd all agreed to take tonight's patrol off, letting Babs, Helena, Dinah, and Zinda handle it in exchange for tackling the massive human trafficking ring in the morning with fresh eyes and cleared heads. The job was the only thing that had gotten Jason to agree to work with them in the first place. Bruce barely managed to strong-arm Jason into sleeping in the manor, with a decent amount of guilting from Alfred.

Jason, who was in the room only a few feet away from Dick. The room that Tim's hand was resting on the doorknob of.

"That's Jason's room," Dick said slowly.

Tim just nodded. "I know." He wasn't whispering like Dick was, but his tone remained impossible to read.

He just saw Dick walk out of Bruce's room. Had he put it together? It was Tim, after all. if he hadn't yet, Dick assumed he only had a couple minutes before it dawned on Tim.

"What were you doing in Jason's room?" Dick frowned. If he focused on Tim, it could keep the focus off of him for as long as possible. Dick tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.

Tim's expression was hard to make out in the dark. "We were talking about the case." Still, his tone remained entirely neutral.

Too neutral, for Tim.

"At two am?"

"Well, what were you doing?" Tim huffed slightly when he said it, folding his arms over his chest.

He was shirtless, Dick just realized.

Shirtless and coming out of Jason's room.

"I was-" Dick stumbled over his words, choking as he tried to come up with an alibi. "We were talking about the-"

"I already used that excuse, pick your own," Tim deadpanned. Dick was pretty sure he also rolled his eyes. "I've known about you and Bruce for years, you know. You don't have to pretend."

The noise that came out of Dick's throat was almost as mortifying as the realization that not only did Jason likely know, but so did Tim.

"It... okay it has not been years," Dick's face was hot and he was glad it was too dark for Tim to see his blush. "I mean- it's been a while but not years-"

"Whatever you say." Tim shrugged, sounding unconvinced. "There have been feelings between you two for years, close enough for me."

If Dick died, right here, in this hallway in front of Bruce's door, he hoped the cause of death would be put down as homicide instead of natural causes. Because every word from Tim's mouth made another piece of Dick die inside, just a little.

"It's none of your business either way." Dick tried to stand up straight to sound more in control of the situation, clearing his throat.

"Trust me, I don't want it to be my business."

Dick would've laughed, if this was happening to anyone but him.

"What about... you and Jason?" Dick asked carefully.

Tim shifted on his feet. "What about it? I told you, we were talking about the case."

"Right." It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes. "In his bedroom, at two am, without your shirt?"

Tim stared at Dick for a long, torturous moment. A moment that made Dick agree with Tim, about not wanting to know any sordid details.

"I'm going to bed," Tim said suddenly, turning away from Dick. "Goodnight."

Dick had a thousand more questions he wanted to ask. How Tim and Jason even got together, when it happened. Last Dick knew, they could barely stand to be in the same room.

But Tim was walking away at an alarmingly brisk pace and Dick just sighed. He was too tired and mortified about his own secrets to chase Tim down for an impromptu interrogation that would just end up embarrassing them both more.

Maybe it was best for Dick's sanity if he didn't know the specifics.

Dick didn't consider how awkward it would be until he was standing in the kitchen, staring at Jason bent over a cup of coffee.

Did Jason know Dick knew? It didn't seem like he did, but he had always had a good poker face.

When Tim ambled into the kitchen and grabbed overnight oats from the fridge, he didn't even look at Dick. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding it, sitting as far away from Dick as he could at the oversized dining room table.

All while Dick couldn't seem to stop staring.

"Your cereal is going to get soggy," Jason muttered, and it took Dick a moment to realize Jason was talking to him. "At least eat it before trying to explode my head with your mind, or whatever your staring problem is."

"I'm not-" Dick stuttered. he shut himself up with a mouthful of cereal when Cass gave him an odd look.

Would she be able to figure it out just from his body language?

Dick had never fully understood the lengths her ability to read people could go. he looked away from her and stared at a random spot on the table, trying to eat at a normal pace.

Bruce was the last to wander into the kitchen. He squeezed Dick's shoulder as he walked by, making Dick jump. It was an innocent enough touch that no one would question, but all Dick could think about was the brief look from Tim before he quickly averted his eyes again.

The silence around the table was going to eat Dick alive. He started eating cereal faster.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jason broke the tension, throwing his head back and slamming an empty mug down onto the table. "Everyone knows you two are fucking, alright?" He gestured between Dick and Bruce. "Stop being so goddamn weird about it, you're acting like there's a bomb in the room."

Bruce choked on his coffee. "Jason." He tried to sound reprimanding, but his voice was a few octaves too high.

Dick threw his hands in the air. "I knew you knew about that, but I didn't know about you and Tim until last night so excuse me for feeling a little awkward."

"You didn't know about what?" Bruce nearly yelled, spinning around to face Jason.

"Damnit, Dick!" Tim groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Jason just scoffed, pointing a fork at Bruce. "Oh don't even give me that self-righteous bullshit-"

Their argument went back and forth while Tim just rubbed his temples, muttering to himself and glaring at Dick.

Worst of all, Dick was pretty sure Cass was giggling next to him under her covered mouth.

Dick just sighed and ducked his head, dutifully waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

So much for his breakfast.

[pcr-alice]

DPxDC - Morning Tea

also on AO3

Cass didn’t like this room.

It was cramped and full, thick with the woolen scent of Bruce’s suits and tuxedos and overcoats, the remnants of dry cleaning and the plastic bags it was returned in, leather shoes and belts and their oil and polish mixed with the harsh bite of disinfectant spray. Lit by a single bulb, warm in color, lacking in brightness, barely illuminating the shelves, not even attempting to attack to darkness around their feet and under the hanging clothes.

But she was wrapped around Steph’s arm to ground herself.

Danny walked straight to a jewelry box with the confidence of someone who knew what they were doing. For anyone other than Cass, it would have been convincing. He was sure of what he was doing, yes. Unsure of being here and actually doing it. She could see the dart of his eyes in the unknown space and the apprehension when he opened the box lid.

It released a surge of noise from the dozen or so watches inside, all ticking at their own cadence, some three, five, eight times a second, none of them synced, muffled by the stifling fabric packed between the shelves, saturating the hazy space.

But whatever Danny was doing was confusing enough to distract her.

He eased into the rhythm of his task, removing the watches one-by-one and examining them briefly, turning them over and lifting them to his ear to listen to. Some went directly back into the box. Others he set out on the shelf they had cleared off for him. Having picked out a selection he seemed pleased with, he began rearranging them into an order she didn’t understand. It was slow going. He would compare two at a time, one in each hand, raising them to his face for a closer look or closing his eyes to focus on the sound.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Steph hissed.

Danny flinched microscopically out of reflex, but relaxed almost as quickly and turned to face them, clearly comforted by their presence.

“Would you like to do it instead?” He sassed back.

Steph groaned. Danny met Cass’s gaze.

“You good?”

Cass nodded and squeezed Steph’s arm tighter. Danny was always good at checking on her when she needed it, and Steph knew how to lead her away from (or out of) overwhelming situations. He smiled in response and turned back to his work.

“How come you’re only nice to her?”

“I’m favorite.”

Steph pouted dramatically.

“Damn Cass, going for the throat.”

She laughed noiselessly and leaned into Steph harder, knocking her out of her pout and into a snort.

“Ahem.”

Steph shrieked at the sound of a throat clearing behind them and whipped around to the doorway. Or tried to. Cass still held her arm tightly, so she ended up half-twisting her lower body and raising her free hand in a pathetic excuse of a guard as she looked up to see Alfred staring down at her with a single raised eyebrow.

“Good Morning, Miss Stephanie. I must admit, this is not what I expected to find when I heard you two whispering in a back room with our guest.”

“Morning, Alfred!” Danny greeted over his shoulder.

“Good morning to you as well, young Master Danny. Might I ask what brought about your sudden interest in Master Bruce’s collection of timepieces?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m fixing this for Steph.”

Steph shrieked again as Danny turned to face them, holding a single watch in his hand, revealing a white porcelain teacup with elaborate painted flowers and gold trim around the lip and handle sitting in the middle of a partial circle of watches. Perfectly split in two.

“Traitor! You said you’d help!”

“I said I’d help fix the cup. You’re on your own.”

“He’s right,” Cass insisted.

Steph sighed heavily and leaned her head on Cass’s.

“You’ve gotta teach me how to be the favorite.”

“I was wondering where I misplaced my morning tea,” Alfred mused.

“Hey Alfred, what’s the time on your pocket watch?”

He carefully pulled the chain from his pocket and clicked the cover open.

“Ten thirty-four.”

“Give me a mark when that crosses to ten thirty-five, please.”

“I hope these two won’t make a habit – mark – of involving you in their mischief.”

“It’s only fair,” he turned to face them, having placed the final watch down on the shelf, “they get caught up in plenty of mine, too.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring, Master Danny,” Alfred closed his pocket watch with a click and slid it back into his pocket.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t broken anything in the manor yet. That’s just Steph.”

“Ugh, why do I even talk to you?” Steph muttered with an exaggerated eye roll.

“We’re favorite.” Cass answered cheerfully.

There was a tick from behind Danny and Cass’s shoulders relaxed. It took her a second to realize that all the watches were now perfectly in sync. She tilted her head in confusion, and Danny clocked her movement.

“Oh!” Danny exclaimed.

He stepped to the side to reveal the shelf behind him. On top of it was a perfectly repaired teacup.

“What.” Steph blurted.

“Good as new!” Danny gestured with his best jazz hands, “Er, as two hours ago at least.”

They were all silent for an elongated second before Steph gathered herself.

“See, nothing happened! We’ll be home for dinner!”

She grabbed Danny’s arm and yanked him out of the room, dragging him as she ran down the hall.

“Wait, I didn’t clean up! Sorry, Alfred!” Danny called back.

Alfred waited until the noise of their footsteps disappeared behind a slammed door. He sighed fondly and stepped toward the shelf. The watches were laid out in a circle except for the very bottom, where there was a small spot of something red. Alfred scrunched his eyebrows. Blood? He picked up the teacup to look closer, but when he moved his arm away to set the teacup down somewhere else, the mark was gone. He stared at the spotless shelf for a few seconds before making a mental note and moving on.

He picked up the watches one-by-one and meticulously wiped them off with a small cloth before placing them back in the jewelry box, reminiscing as he went. This was the first one Thomas had bought for himself, that one was the one Martha had bought for him, that was the one that Bruce… Hm. Did Danny realize these were laid out in the order they were bought? Alfred made another mental note.

He closed the jewelry box lid and went to pick up the teacup, only to find it full of tea. He glanced behind him to find a still empty closet. When he looked back to the teacup, he noticed it was sitting on a small green piece of paper. He lifted the teacup by its handle and picked up the paper with his other hand.

Your morning blend was delicious. Enjoy one of my favorites. CW

Alfred stared at the note for a few seconds, finally noticing the wonderful scent that had permeated the air. He took a small sip.

“I see why it’s one of your favorites,” Alfred lifted the cup in a polite toast.

He slipped the note in his pocked and flicked the lights off as he walked away.

[sysig]

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