#worlds-fluffiest-detective

[mothpawbs]

I like to draw rainwings with enormous frills

same

[13eyond13]

There once was a young man named Light,

whose pants were incredibly tight,

and to make bad wrongs right,

would do nothing but smite,

but to criminals' delight,

he was caught in a fortnight-

for the shape of the notebook, if only by chance,

was shown plainly to all, through the seat of his pants!

Light heard that, and he told me to tell you that this is his face rn

[wc-confessions]

what if Firestar wasn't actually orange, he was just wearing an orange jacket

[honey-beann]

Sooo does this mean we can get some nines fluff? plssss?

Sweet, and Soft, and Gentle

Nines x Reader

Well, this certainly isn't the fluffiest thing I've ever written, but here's a little fic that I wrote randomly last night because I am weak to whatever the hell this trope is haha. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1,643

The front desk assistant walked quickly into the bullpen, looking a little bit nervous as he cleared his throat slightly, catching the attention of everyone there as he did so (much to his chagrin).

Today was his very first day without the desk manager present after she had called out sick, and of course that also had to be the day that an unexpected visitor with an almost unbelievable reason for coming in waltzed her way into the office, asking for someone that the poor assistant had never once heard anyone ask for before.

So now, here he was, walking as quickly as he could without causing alarm in an attempt to stay ahead of you so that he had the opportunity to ask the many precinct workers if they happened to know anyone by your name.

Sure, you had requested one man in particular, but he just couldn't imagine what someone like you could ever need someone like him for, so he opted instead to announce your presence to the entire room in hopes of someone you actually knew telling him that it was okay if you came in to visit without a supervising attendee present.

"Sorry to bother you guys, but I have someone by the name of-"

"Nines?"

Your voice was a little quiet and hesitant as you spoke, as if you were worried you might be in the wrong place.

Immediately, all eyes shifted from the front desk assistant to you, including a pair of steely gray orbs that had notably not been watching the man standing at the front of the room prior to your voice being heard.

To everyone's surprise, the android who went by the very same name you had spoken stood up, abandoning his coat on the back of his chair, which he left two entire feet away from his desk as he made his way over to you.

And that alone was a shock.

Nines was the office neat freak, and regardless of weather, when he moved away from his desk he always put that jacket of his on, no matter how brief the trip away would be.

And to leave his chair out of place?

It was almost unthinkable to imagine he would do something like that. Hell, he even begrudgingly pushed Gavin's in when the detective left it sitting away from his desk.

But here Nines was, walking toward you, a stranger to damn near everyone in the office, as if nothing else in the world ever had or ever would matter more.

You let out what appeared to be a sigh of relief at the man's approach, smiling tiredly up at him as he offered you a faint grin, one that touched his eyes far more than it did his lips.

"Button."

He said as he grew closer, causing nearly the entire office to look around at one another in surprise.

Had Nines just used a pet name?

You blushed a bit but took a few steps forward, meeting the android closer than you would have otherwise as he reached down to cup the side of your cheek, allowing you to lean into his touch contentedly.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this sudden visit?"

He asked gently, causing you to shrug your shoulders a bit in response, cheeks still pink with embarrassment.

"I uh, I had to make a delivery next door and thought I would pop in to say hi, but then I learned that I wasn't actually on your guest list yet so I tried to back out of it, except I didn't want anyone at the desk to think I was just some weirdo who had been trying to get in randomly so I decided to ask if someone could escort me in to say hello... Kind of a dumb idea in retrospect..."

You sighed, gaze cast downward as the android in front of you raised a brow at your words, clearly confused about something, but more than patient enough to allow you to finish your thought.

"I'm sorry for bothering you at work."

You continued softly, refusing to make eye contact with Nines until he tutted and used two of his fingers to lightly push your chin upward, all but forcing you to look him in the eye as he spoke.

"Listen to me, Button."

He said almost sternly, though his eyes were alight with a slightly smug amusement,

"You're never a bother."

You sputtered a bit at the kindness of the android's words, but had very little time to reply before Nines was turning towards the desk assistant.

"Why couldn't you find her on my accepted visitors list? Is the system down?"

He asked, his tone full of a nearly unkind sternness far different from the one he had regarded you with as he spoke.

The assistant blanched.

"To be honest Detective, I never checked... During my training I was told that you never got visitors, so I had assumed that you just didn't allow for them..."

Nines scoffed, turning his attention back towards you, expression as apologetic and soothing as ever,

"It was only a misunderstanding."

He said gently, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear as he glanced back toward the desk assistant,

"One that I am sure will be remedied in the future."

That sentence was damn near growled, and the assistant was quick to nod before rushing off under the guise of work.

Strange, considering his lunch break was only three minutes away.

Nines however, could not have cared less about how much he had undoubtedly frightened the young man, and instead leaned forward, bumping his forehead lightly against your own as he sighed, murmuring a quiet apology before you shook your head and stood on your toes in order to press a sweet kiss against his lips.

Nines seemed a bit surprised at this, but grinned nonetheless, reaching an arm around your back and using it to tug you closer before he gently applied a downward pressure, urging you to stand normally as he leaned further forward to better accommodate for the height difference the two of you shared.

The entire room watched on in awe save for a few pairs of exasperated eyes, which remained mostly trained on the screens in front of them.

But to everyone else, this was far too jarring to even imagine looking away from.

It just didn't make sense.

You were sweet and soft and oh so gentle, everything a city like Detroit could've eaten up and spat out in a second.

And Nines was well...

Nines.

Even those who were closest to him would call him unyielding at best, and occasionally outright cruel at worst.

No one had ever seen him bend to the will of anything.

So why was he quite literally bending down to press his lips to yours as you all but melted into his touch, obviously soothed by his typically threatening presence?

The entire precinct watched on in shock as you smiled against the rk900's lips, pulling away after a few seconds to plant a gentle kiss to the very tip of his nose as he chuckled quietly, his eyes rolling ever so slightly in a way that made it obvious how much he enjoyed your foolish expression of adoration.

"You have a very interesting way of saying hello, little one."

Nines said softly, his hand moving to cup the back of your head as he regarded you with amusement, eyes following the gentle curve of your smile lovingly.

You blushed a bit, but couldn't help but grow giddy beneath his gaze, mouth opening slightly to comment,

"Are you not a fan?"

You asked, watching as Nines all but scoffed before shaking his head,

"No, I think I prefer the way you go about things presently over anything else you might come up with."

He teased before planting a soft kiss against your forehead and pulling away, glancing towards the bullpen full of officers and detectives who were staring shamelessly at the two of you.

Usually, he would roll his eyes, or even laugh if he caught the entire room watching him like that, but this time he ignored them completely, glancing down at you and offering his arm before speaking again.

"How about I take you out to lunch to make up for all of the confusion, hmm little one? Make coming to visit a little bit more worthwhile?"

You grinned and nodded in response, grabbing his arm and taking a few steps towards the exit alongside him when you suddenly stopped, gasping lightly as you realized that Nines was missing something he would typically consider important.

"Your jacket!"

You announced, dashing over to the garment before knocking the chair it had been hanging on back into the spot against his desk with your hip thoughtlessly, your smile dangerously close to contagious for all who watched as you rushed back to the man who remained standing near the doorway, amusement evident in his expression.

"Thank you, Button."

He said genuinely as you grew closer, holding his familiar white jacket out to him,

"Whatever would I do without you?"

You laughed cheerily at that, and everyone watched as you took Nines' arm once more, walking out of the building and into the warm afternoon air side by side.

The room was silent for a few moments afterward, before murmurs began breaking out around the office, until finally everything got quiet again after Gavin piped up rather loudly,

"Who the hell was that?!"

He shouted, a confusion that nearly everyone in the room shared evident in his tone.

But still, not everyone had been left in the dark, and three men sitting at their respective desks spoke up in accidental unison to prove it, all of them sounding mildly exasperated and reasonably amused.

"His wife."

[minhosimthings]

Blackberries

Synopsis: When Seungmin takes you to a cat cafe

Pairings: Bf!Seungmin × gn!reader

Warnings: when I say this is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff

A/N: fullfiling @like-a-diamondinthesky 's fantasies and writing this because ✨ obviously ✨.

The skies and the clouds high up in the heavens reminded you of him. The sweet honey, harvested freshly from the buzzing bees at your mother's flower farm reminded you of him. Hell, even the flowers reminded you of him.

But there was nothing in this world that reminded you more of Seungmin than puppies.

The little critters playing in the windows of the adoption centres, with their tongues stuck out and their ears flailing away into eternity, it was almost as if Seungmin had beem one and had been turned into a human by some witch. Atleast that was Hyunjin's theory.

So when Seungmin had proposed, out of the blue, to go to a new cat cafe which had opened down the street, it was safe to say you were more confused than Newton when the apple hit his head.

"A cat cafe?" You questioned, raising a brow at Seungmin, who sat nonchalantly, solving a crossword puzzle in his magazine.

"You're literally suggesting that we go to a cat cafe?"

"Well unless you're hard of hearing-" Seungmin poked his cheek with his tongue, eyes not once faltering from the magazine, "yes. I want to go to a cat cafe."

"This is suspicious." You narrowed your eyes like a detective, playfully creeping upto him akin to a cat, and staring at him.

"Darling if you want to know whether or not I'm on drugs, don't worry, because I'm not." Seungmin chuckled, his gaze finally shifting to you. He brought his lips down to your forehead and gently pecked it, getting up afterwards and strolling down the hallway into your bedroom.

"Are you going to keep staring at me like that or are you going to get ready, darling?" Seungmin cracked a small smile to your figure lying on the couch trying to figure out why exactly a puppy was being interested by cats.

"Y-yeah I'll get ready." You sauntered off the couch, your mind still unable to wrap itself around Seungmin's sudden epiphany.

Seungmin never had an eye for cats much. Or any feline really. He even had proof, videos on top of videos of him bickering with the biggest cat in his life, Minho.

But something about you, the way you adored them, bending down hurriedly to run your fingers through their beautiful coats whenever you'd see a stray one, it warmed his heart more than any fire in this world could.

And you never failed to bring up cats in any and every conversation.

Whether it was failing to ice skate in the winters, "Seungmin this snowflake looks like a cat!"

Or gulping down wine after a long day, "this wine smells like my sister's cat."

Or even hanging up fairy lights, "You know what would be a good investment?" You'd say, admiring all of the pretty sparkling lights, "Cat shaped lights, just imagine the-" you wouldn't get to finish the sentence however, before Seungmin pressed his lips to yours, unable to control himself over your adorable mouth.

"Well howdy beautiful." Seungmin leaned against the the door, eyes full of his fast beating heart. "Please tell me you're not thinking of a cowboy job now." You laughed, finishing the last touches of your hair, and striding over to him.

"I think I'd look pretty good in a hat, don't you?" He joked, wrapping an arm around your waist as you locked the door to your house and hid the key somewhere no one would find it.

"Nuh uh, you're not walking on that side of the road darling." Seungmin spun you on your heel, placing himself on the side nearer to the traffic ridden road. "Aww you care about me?" You giggled, ruffling Seungmin's already messy hair again.

Seungmin was intoxicated by you. The way the moonlight fell on your eyes, the way your perfume perfectly mixed with the sweet scent of the evening dew, the melodious way your voice would harmonise with the songs of the night birds. Seungmin had always heard about the notion that a healthy relationship is where two independent people just make a deal that they will help the other person be the best version of themselves. And Seungmin was convinced that meeting you made the personalities he had often hidden away, shine. You loved every version of him, every universe in which he existed. And he couldn't have been more thankful of that.

"So this is what a cat cafe looks like huh?" You stared in awe at the all the balls of furs playing with their tails on the floor.

"Im glad you like it." Seungmin pressed a feathery kiss to the side of your head, "Should we find a table then?"

Walking throught the warm carpeted floor, with hundreds of cats following your tail, you sat down by a table at the window, where a tiny black kitten slept, its mouth drawling across its face and it's tiny paws stretched out.

"It's so adorable." You scrunched your hands together, too overcome with cuteness agression.

"Hey there!" A cheery voice sounded in your ear, "What can I get both of you?"

After placing your orders and learning that the cat cafe was set up by its owner to double as an adoption centre, Seungmin picked the tiny black kitten into his hands. He was gentle with the creature, carefully adjusting it to his grasp.

"I wonder what its name is." Seungmin thought out loud, his eyes widened at the sight of the kitten blinking up at him with its tiny pupils.

"The waitress said they didn't have names." You hummed, stroking a lazy Scottish Fold in your arms. You saw Seungmin's face visibly drop at your words, his eyes going back to the kitten.

"Thunderbolt?" He chuckled, stroking the mangled coat of the kitten with his ring finger, "That would be a pretty name."

"Seungmin it's a cat, not a rock band." You giggled, your heart melting as the kitten let out a small but audible meow.

"Hmm Blackberry then." Seungmin smiled up at you with his teeth on display, "You love blackberries." "Well that I do." The cat on your lap shifted a bit as you ran your hands through its silky coat, "But tell me one thing; are you honestly thinking about adopting that tiny little kitten?"

Seungmin's eyes looked up at yours, cocking a brow. "Why? Have you not been wanting one for a long time?"

"You hate cats." "I don't hate them."

Seungmin argued back, carefully setting the kitten back on the table where it stood on its four paws and yawned with it's adorable mouth opening to show its barely growing fangs.

"You really want to adopt it?" You asked, your eyes filling with tears for some reason, "Really Minnie?"

"Hey hey don't cry." Seungmin cooed at you, caressing your cheeks with his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

You didn't know whether it was the sweet atmosphere of the cafe, or maybe it was just you, but your heart melted like snow on the first spring day, feeling Seungmin embrace you in his arms.

He was a cornucopia, a mystery, a puzzle that you would have to take hours to solve. But he was your mystery, and he always made sure you knew that, whether it was surprising you with dates to unlikely places, or even naming a kitten 'Blackberry'.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

"Meow."

Your eyes shifted to the tiny kitten looking up at you with confusion, making you giggle.

"Let's not argue about who loves whom most in front of our child shall we?"

"He's our child now is he?" Seungmin pressed his nose to yours, sinking the stars in his eyes into your being.

"Yep." You let out a laugh, not being able to say anything more, and sinking into Seungmin's warm comforting love, knowing that he won't ever let go, until the stars rain down from the heavens.

[jason-todd-fangirl-14]

So this is my first time writing anything on Tumblr so please bear with me while I try and figure out how this app works lol. Any tips would be greatly appreciated. I’m probably going to do another part of this with other Batman characters (when I get to know more characters that is. I only just recently got into DC and Batman in general so my knowledge is either pretty basic or not a lot). Anyways, without further ado, this is how I imagine the Batfam’s hugs would be or feel like while they hug the reader. Let’s start with an individual who’s most likely to actually hug someone, and that’s…

Alfred Pennyworth 

Let’s face it, the man is the kindest one there is. Aside from another character that I’ll get to next, he is the most likely to hug you. I imagine his hugs to be as warm as the biggest and fluffiest blanket. If you were sad, he’d definitely be the first one to comfort you, and once he knows you’re stable, he would make sure your comfort food is stalked up for whenever you're hungry. If you’re not much of a hugger, or not you just need to be left alone for a bit to figure things out on your own, he would still be there to comfort you, but from a distance until you’re ready and approach him first. He won’t hesitate to comfort you, in any way that he can. 

Dick Grayson

This boy would hug the actual life out of you when you're sad. It’s just going to happen. For your sake, let’s hope you’re also a huge hugger, because there’s nothing Dick hates more than seeing someone upset and hurting. His hugs will most likely just happen out of nowhere, and it will be instinct for him. Like one single tear falling, lip trembling, and or head tilting downward, he’ll just react and hold you close. Even with the slightest silent or non-silent reaction from you, and he’ll just assume something isn’t right, and being the caring, kind and good guy he is, he’ll be there to support you in any way he can be. He wants you to know that he’s in your corner, wherever and whenever you need him, and he does that through physical touch, but sometimes his obsessive affection can be very overbearing and a bit much. Just know that he loves and cares about you, and wants the best for you, and just wants to be there for you. 

Bruce Wayne

Bruce is probably one of the last people to want to hug you, let’s be real here. Hugs and comforting people are extremely hard for him due to his traumas and constantly pushing people away. He doesn’t hug a lot of people, generally others have to be the ones to initiate it first because he won’t. He’ll definitely notice when something is wrong or when someone is sad, he is the world’s greatest detective after all, but he’ll feel awkward and maybe even uncomfortable at the thought of hugging someone, but after some urging from Alfred and perhaps Dick, he’ll come around. His hugs will most likely be tight, and stiff, as he’s unsure if he’s even doing it right, but the sentiment is there, and it’s sweet that he’s trying to comfort you anyway, even if he doesn’t know exactly how. 

Tim Drake

This boy will either hug you in two ways. 

1) He’ll be so sleep-deprived that he’ll just cling to you so willingly and fall asleep, or 2) he’ll be in such a rush to get work done that the hug feels forced and honestly, a bit unpleasant because there’s no equal participation. It’s not exactly his fault. Tim is naturally a workaholic, and feels the need to prove himself worthy of being apart of the family. He doesn’t dislike hugs, he just hasn’t ever really experienced them much, and doesn’t have much experience on how to hug correctly. The boy’s a genius, but his knowledge of doing such a normal humane part of life is extremely low. Your best bet is to get him off the laptop, and teach him how to hug and if he happens to be sleep-deprived, it’s best to hug him until he falls asleep because chances are, that’s the first time in awhile he’s actually rested at all. 

Jason Todd

Jason, I imagine, is a strange and even unexpected case. Like Tim, he’s never really had many hugs. Given this, he’s very inexperienced, but I also imagine that he’s extremely touch-starved, but that part is secret, because he had a reputation to uphold. The one day you came to him needing a hug, it surprised you how tight he held you against him. How willing he let you hug him, and how he willingly hugged you back, almost like he needed it as much as you did. After that day, you decided to test him, and went around randomly hugging him to see how he would hug you every time, and he hugged you with pretty much the same level of tightness and gentleness as the first time. It was a relief really seeing how much he has grown and how he let those high walls drop, letting his vulnerable side show, and you were proud of him for letting it. 

(Older) Damian Wayne

Damian is another example of Jason and Tim’s hugging inexperience. Seriously, somebody needs to hug these guys more often. (A/N I volunteer as tribute!!)  

Anyways. Back to little Dami here. Damian has only ever known hatred, violence, and murder, so obviously he has never known about love or affection. The first time you ever hugged him, he accidentally punched you, because he wasn’t expecting it. You knew he didn't mean to, so anytime you went to hug him, you warned and/or asked him first. Eventually, he allowed you to hug him, mostly out of courtesy for you (also after Alfred insisted he’d tried to let his guard down and let people love him). I imagine his hugs to be extremely stiff, almost like if you tried to hug a cat who was not at all affectionate. It would no doubt take awhile for him to warm up to hugs, so it would be best to just give him a bit of affection a little at a time, because once you scare him away, all the progress would have been in vain. Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he actually doesn’t hate hugs, but he would never say that, ever, and it would be wise not to tease him about it because that would be how he gets scared away from it. It would be rare that he would ever come to you for comfort, but I can’t imagine it would be impossible. An example of him coming to you for comfort is if he was having problems with his father, or his brothers, or if something would happen to all of his plethora of pets. Also if he watched a sad movie of an animal dying. Other than that, the chances of him running to you for comfort would be rare, so hold him close if he lets you, because he most likely won’t let his guard down to let you do it again. 

So, how do you guys think I did? I hope it was somewhat accurate to their characters. If anyone has any advice for writing the Batfam characters, please let me know! I imagine that these were more if the reader hugged these characters romantically (excluding from Alfred, ofc), but I’ll let you guys decide for yourselves. Again I might make a part 2, but with some other characters (I’m thinking platonic for the girls, Barbara, Stephanie and Cassandra, but I’ll have to do a bit more research on them before I’d try to write one of these for them, as I would hate to accidentally screw up their character, I’m really not confident that I did these guys well but too late now).  I also want to try to make platonic Batsis and Batmom content at some point, because I think it’s fun to mix stuff up then just writing romantic x reader content, but that will probably be a bit before I try to tackle that. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed and have a great rest of your day, evening, afternoon, whatever time you're reading this. I’ll see you next time :)

[exocynraku]

could u do lesbian mudclaw or bluestar pretty pleaase

nightcloud for @rileynotfound69 firestar for @sirpoopy2 squirrelflight for @worlds-fluffiest-detective

[landwriter]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @tiltingheartand <3 thank you!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

11!

What's your total Ao3 word count?

129,874. Brevity evidently is not my strong suit! Which is also why the rest of this is under a cut.

What fandoms do you write for?

The Sandman! I also just watched Dead Boy Detectives and think I might write a couple little things for it too.

Top five fics by kudos:

Saint Morpheus (11,882 words) - My first fic! Saints and worship

The Death of Translation (10,968 words) - the Language fic

Oaths (60,443 words) - Tam Lin AU and my precious baby. I'm so proud of this one. It's got so much of me in it. Def the first fic I would consider a full send

Border Country (6,100 words) - Clothing, the inherent body horror of being alive, and self-denial. Have always meant to do a sequel for this and may do for S2

Black Shore (3,962 words) - Monsterfucking :-) Weird little beast of a story that came out of nowhere fully formed

All Sandman, all Dream & Hob, haha. Doubt that will change with new fics unless I find a more popular pairing in a more popular fandom to write for

Do you respond to comments?

I do! I love discussing characters and theeeeemes and sharing enthusiasm with people. I love hearing what I've inflicted and I'll thank you for telling me <3 Once I started getting busier I found it a lot harder to keep up, but I treasure all my comments so if you suddenly get a reply like, a year later, you know why!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's for sure The Many Lives of Hob Gadling. Everything else I've written except Border Country has ended, like, tooth-rottingly kind and optimistic and love-filled. But lbr Dream is a man of tragedies. There'll be more

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It's such a personal thing, but Oaths has the happy ending I would consider most wonderful sort of happiness. It's not the fluffiest or most fairy-tale (having written just that also), but this specific flavour of joy and peace in terms of experiencing the beauty of the world around you and being just shot full of love. The happiness of growing things and sunrises. Or Just Like Love. From the Corinthian's perspective. He's so happy with the state of things at the end.

Do you get hate on fics?

Only the once! Fortunately everybody else who has hated a fic of mine has been able to find the back button and gone off to read something else or grouse about it in private, which is the correct way of things. There's no reason, ever, to tell an author you disliked their story. They will not be grateful for it no matter how certain and correct you feel in your criticisms. Nobody wins! Sorry! Go tell a friend instead.

Do you write smut?

You betcha I do! The first time I wrote it for Saint Morpheus it felt so unnatural and I was just making a :| face the whole time but now sex scenes are among my favourite things to write. I feel like I've really cum come into my own with them more than any other kind of scene.

Craziest crossover:

I've never done a crossover! I love reading them though.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so! I mean, not great, etc., but personally I also deeply don't care. I imagine having a job where what I am actually creating & selling for money gets stolen often sort of skews my perspective on my fic getting stolen. It's not a commercial product. It isn't paying my mortgage. I give these words for free and with love. If they end up places I never put them, so be it! Such is the internet.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! 【授權翻譯】翻譯之死 The Death of Translation by Ethiseth. Legitimately one of the highest honours I think a fanfic writer can ever receive <3

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No!

All time favourite ship?

Hob / the world :-)

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My very first WIP for Sandman! I started writing it then joined tumblr the next day, saw some of @messmonte's art, and was off writing Saint Morpheus in short order. Sorry 1989 canon divergence fic! Maybe one day.

What are your writing strengths?

Five dollar words. Long sentences. Big sweeping feelings. Instilling my personal values, i.e. love is real, you are surrounded by beauty at every turn, you deserve the things you want, monologues are a normal and practical form of communication, etc.

What are your writing weaknesses?

God, actually finishing and sharing things, I think. I haven't had enough time in my life lately and it kills me! But it's also such a me problem because I love to worry at and chew on WIPs forever. Writing fast would be so cool. Pew pew pew! New fics left and right. You guys would be buried in them. Man, I wish.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Can run gimmicky but also I love multiple languages in one conversation as subtext so much - I'm torn. Same as accents in that I suspect it's most cases better to just note it in the speech tags, unless you're willing to go through the trouble of inline/hovertext translations, and then at that point it's a bit If You Give A Mouse A Cookie for me where I'll want translator's notes too, maybe some metatextual payoff, etc.

First fandom you wrote in?

Technically FMA, but that's a story for another day hahaha. Sandman, really.

Favourite fic you've written?

Oh golly. Oaths. I did so much for the first time with that story. But it's hard to choose, which is such a nice problem to have. I think it's easy when you've never written fic before for each new thing to mean something different to you!

No-presh tagging @wordsinhaled, @moorishflower, @tj-dragonblade and anyone who wants to do this too - just tag me so I can be nosy <3

[wordswithkittywitch]

Tamaki Suoh, Ouran High School Host Club, Pangender

🌸 - 🍑 - ⭐️ 🌸 - 🍑 - ⭐️ 🌸 - 🍑 - ⭐️ Requested by @worlds-fluffiest-detective Now accepting Pride Month moodboard requests

[aceredshirt13]

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

It’s so wild to think about that less than a year ago I only had six posted fics to choose from and now I have thirty-seven. So this was a hard choice… but in no particular order, here are my tentative top five!

Midnight Marauders - My longest fic, clocking in at more than 17k! It’s for The Great Ace Attorney, and chronicles how a young Herlock Sholmes met, befriended, and eventually moved in with a certain traumatized doctor, with a mixture of humor, drama, and warm-hearted pathos. I hadn’t read A Study in Scarlet when I started writing this, so the meeting is wholly original! (Perhaps Iris took some creative liberties.)

The Musgrave Ritual Sacrifice - My second-longest fic at more than 14k! It considers how the events of canon Sherlock Holmes story “The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual” might have played out in the eldritch horror universe of Neil Gaiman’s “A Study in Emerald”. Follow the brilliant detective, his partner, and their quiet, fond romance through a world of terror, mystery, and doubt.

i’ve studied how to properly love - Did you ever watch Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century and think to yourself, “Jesus Christ, the deeper implications of this children’s cartoon are absolutely horrific”? Then this fic is for you! It manifests as a journal written not by Watson, but by his robot imitation, as he worries over the newly-resurrected Holmes (who has convinced himself the robot Watson is the real man he loved), the self-destructive, guilt-ridden Beth Lestrade, and his own feelings, sentience, and sense of self. One of my favorite things I’ve ever written, actually.

A Proper Celebration - A sequel to an adorable Jeeves-Holmes crossover ficlet by Loremaiden, this is a short little oneshot about Bertie getting published for the first time, and fellow author and lifelong supporter Watson coming from Sussex along with Holmes to congratulate him. By far the fluffiest entry on this list. (And I’m a bit proud of managing a decent Bertie Wooster POV voice that people seemed to like!)

To Taste Death Valiantly - I love the Raffles stories by E. W. Hornung. I also love the 1971 cult film They Might Be Giants, an odd romantic comedy about a man who thinks he’s Sherlock Holmes and the doctor named Mildred Watson who is assigned to look after him. So I thought to myself: what if there was a Raffles version of the same story - but this time they were both girls?? Thus, this is the tale of Sarah “Bunny” Mathers, failed writer and suicidal housewife, and how a chance meeting with a beautiful, delusional burglar gives her a new reason to live. Probably the nichest entry on this list, but I had a lot of fun writing it.

[palatteflags]

Pusheen based Gendercute moodboard! ^^ For @worlds-fluffiest-detective :) hope you like this!

Want one? Send an ask! -mod Jay

[silvfyre-writings]

You are the 'Ran' to my 'Poe' Pt. 1 (BSD Fanfic)

This fic was born from someone in the BSD discord saying that there are not enough fics of Poe comforting Ranpo, so here you go. Everyone that lives for Ranpo comfort, stay tuned for the ride, because you have four more chapter of delicious comfort coming, and then a nice reversal chapter!

Poe, admittedly, hasn’t known Ranpo for very long; in fact, he’s only known the detective for a few short months since the Guild’s attempted takeover of Yokohama and well… those months have certainly been interesting. He has, of course, known about Ranpo’s existence for longer than a few months—over six years at this point—but Poe doesn’t like to remember those years, not when they weren’t overly kind to him, not when all those memories bring is pain and depression.

Poe’s turned over a new leaf, so to speak since deciding to stay in Yokohama instead of returning to America like many former Guild members had chosen to do.

What this means, is that, even if he wanted to leave, he couldn’t, all because of a detective much shorter than him that had decided Poe was his new favorite plaything. Poe knew it wasn’t that exactly, that there was more to this relationship of theirs, but he certainly felt like the shiny brand new toy that caught a toddler’s attention before inevitably being discarded for something much more interesting. And while Poe hadn’t been discarded yet, he knew it was only a matter of time before he was.

Only… Ranpo seemed to grow more attached to him the longer they knew each other.

What had started out as casual visits to the ADA’s office in order to visit Ranpo—usually with a manuscript or sweets in hand—had turned into Ranpo inviting himself over to Poe’s home on the outskirts of Yokohama. He’d never forget the awe on Ranpo’s face as the younger man had opened his eyes upon seeing the extravagant home that Poe lived in. Poe himself, had been a little cautious about inviting Ranpo inside, well aware that Ranpo had probably never seen such a place before in his life. But Ranpo had simply smiled at him before opening the door as if it was his own home they were stepping into.

And that first visit had turned into many more visits, until it became a routine, and by this point, Poe had learnt to keep space free for Ranpo’s things in case the detective showed up unannounced—a cupboard to store snacks, a drawer in the dresser for clothes—which he had done before. On multiple occasions. Especially when Poe wasn’t even home. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come home after a walk, or from grocery shopping, to find Ranpo napping or playing a game on his couch. The first time that had happened, Poe had been surprised, hadn’t expected to see Ranpo dead to the world on his couch, snoring away. But he’d been a good friend, and carefully covered Ranpo in a blanket before sitting down to work on his next novel.

He’d asked Ranpo about it once, after the fifth or so time he’d come around Poe’s place just to sleep. Ranpo had paused where he’d been rummaging through Poe’s cupboards for a suitable snack, and shrugged. “Poe-kun’s couch is comfortable, and your home is quiet. It’s nice.”

So, Poe had bought the fluffiest and warmest blanket he could find, along with a nice pillow, and set them up on the couch, and waited for the day when Ranpo next visited and realized what they were there for.

It’d been rewarding to emerge from his study a few days later after a long session of writing, to see Ranpo curled up under the blanket, asleep and snoring. It’d been adorable.

Poe knew, that he and Ranpo were friends, that much was obvious, and everyone around them—from Lucy and Louisa to Ranpo’s coworkers—seemed to agree that they were friends. But he also didn’t know, and that was because of Ranpo himself. Every time Poe seemed to get a handle on the detective and his mannerisms, Ranpo would come and throw out a new one, derailing Poe’s initial deductions, and it was starting to drive Poe insane from not knowing what kind of relationship the two of them had with each other.

Casual visits had turned into Ranpo pretty much moving in with him; spending more time at Poe’s home than his own.

Naps on the couch had become naps in Poe’s bed, and those naps quickly turned into them sharing the bed each night that Ranpo stayed over.

And then there was Ranpo himself… but that was not something Poe was willing to dive into, not right now at least, and especially when he didn’t understand his own feelings on the matter. Besides, Poe was content with what he and Ranpo had, and he didn’t want to be—

“Poe-kun. Stop thinking so hard and pay attention!” Ranpo’s whines break through Poe’s reminiscing, dragging him back into reality. The detective isn’t even looking up at him, instead focused on whatever game he’s playing on that console of his. “We’ll miss our stop.”

Poe looks at his watch, and then out the window, and determines that they are still at least ten minutes away from the station that they actually need to get off at. He wants to tell Ranpo that he doesn’t know where they’re going either, but he knows that argument would be futile, so instead, he says, “I won’t let us miss our stop, Ranpo-kun.”

“What were you thinking about anyways?” Ranpo asks, glancing up at him from where he sits across from Poe.

“Nothing important.” Because it isn’t, not really. Well, it is, but considering he’s supposed to be focusing on this murder case that Ranpo’s dragged him out on, and not on a bunch of feelings he can’t figure out, so he’s just not going to say anything.

Ranpo gives him a look, that has Poe ducking his head to hide his slowly reddening cheeks, even though his bangs already did that for him. He feels as if his friend is trying to read into him from where he sits, and honestly, wouldn’t be surprised if Ranpo was doing just that. But instead of saying anything, Ranpo goes back to playing his game. “You should think less, Poe-kun. It’s not that complicated.” Ranpo says quietly, so much so, that Poe’s not entirely sure he was even supposed to hear the words, so he remains silent, and settles for looking out the window.

The crime scene that Ranpo had been called out was well outside of Yokohama, a murder committed on one of the mountain paths that had left police stunned enough to beg for the genius detective’s help. Poe had been at the Agency when the call had come through, and had heard how hesitant the other members were at sending Ranpo so much farther than they were comfortable with. The only reason they’d even agreed in the end, was because Ranpo himself had piped up and said that he’d be fine, that he’d take Poe with him.

And so they’d set out, Poe in charge of getting them on the right train and buying the tickets; he’d made Ranpo watch him though, and explained the process in the slight hope that maybe this would be the one time that this knowledge of how to take a train would finally sink in. It didn’t, because Ranpo had just stared at him blankly the entire time Poe was talking.

It’d taken them just over two hours to get to the crime scene, and it’d only taken Ranpo thirty seconds to deduce what had happened.

And it had taken not even five for things to go wrong.

“Ranpo-kun!” Poe cries out as the killer—that instead of running away from the scene of the crime, had chosen to hide in the foliage—shoves one of the police officers to the side, which causes them to collide with Ranpo, and Ranpo, not expecting that, trips over backwards and disappears from view as the earth disappears from beneath his feet. Poe hears Ranpo yelp, but doesn’t immediately rush over. He slows his panicked thoughts and gets in the path of the killer, throwing open the novel he’d brought with him and activating his ability the moment eyes lay upon the words.

Only once the murderer is contained, does he thrust his book at the nearest officer and dash over to the edge. The drop isn’t a high one, and it’s more of a slope than it is a sharp edge, but regardless, Ranpo lays at the bottom of the slope in some sort of plant, glaring up at Poe like his day has just been thoroughly ruined. Poe knows though, that the glare is not actually directed at him, but rather, towards the criminal that had caused this in the first place.

Ranpo wriggles around in the plant, trying to find his feet, and that’s when Poe realizes that he should probably help, and makes his way down the slope, offering his hand when he reaches the bottom. “Thanks.” Ranpo grumbles as he allows Poe to pull him to his feet, brushing off stray twigs and leaves that have attached themselves to his clothing. “Stupid officer for freezing up like that. If they’d just moved, everything would’ve been fine.”

“You can’t always predict the way people will react in the heat of the moment.” Poe says, bending down to pick up Ranpo’s hat and return it to the detective. He pauses just before he does, staring intensely at the bush that had broken Ranpo’s fall with a frown. Is that…? No, it can’t be. Poe shakes his head, dispelling the thought before handing the hat over. “Are you alright though?”

“No!” Ranpo snaps, and Poe’s heart skips a beat before the detective continues on, “I feel like I hit every rock and branch on the way down. Everything aches and I’m starting to feel itchy.”

“But did you break anything? Hit your head?” Poe asks, already regretting helping Ranpo up before he’d asked if he was alright to begin with. Stupid! You know better!

Ranpo pouts and walks past Poe, beginning the climb to get back to where the rest of the police force are waiting. “No I didn’t break anything. And I’m not concussed.”

“But you hit your head?”

“Poe-kun, take a look at this slope and then ask me that again.” Ranpo looks over at his shoulder with an unimpressed look that makes Poe feel stupid. And he kind of does after realizing that there was no way that Ranpo could have fallen without hitting his head. But he does consider it lucky that Ranpo had managed to avoid striking it against a rock or a branch—that would’ve ended in a vastly different scenario, one that Poe didn’t want to see. Not now, not ever.

Poe follows Ranpo up the slope without a word, sticking close to the other man and giving him a helping hand whenever his feet slipped out from under him. As he’s climbing, he feels a stinging sensation in his hand—the one he’d used to pick up Ranpo’s hat—and he frowns. His hand is starting to turn a splotchy red, and he really, really, wants to scratch it. It’s a sensation he’s felt before, but way back in America, and when he was a kid that didn’t have the knowledge that he does now.

Stinging nettle.

But Japan doesn’t have stinging nettle? Poe looks over his shoulder at the plant he’d suspected earlier, and while the leaves are of a similar shape to the plant he’s most familiar with, this one is spread out across the ground more rather than pointing into the air. And he realizes that that is where he went wrong. “Ranpo-kun.”

“What?” Ranpo looks down at Poe just as he reaches the top, and officers try to drag him over the edge. Ranpo lets them, but pushes them off so he can focus his attention on Poe.

“Japan doesn’t have stinging nettle, does it?” Poe asks as he climbs the last few feet. He sees Ranpo looking at him in confusion and raises his hand, fighting back the urge to scratch it. Now that he’s closer, he can see similar red splotches forming on Ranpo’s visible skin, along with dried blood where he’d broken the skin in his fall. “You know, a plant that makes you itch?”

“Japanese nettle. Why?” Ranpo frowned, one had reaching up to scratch at his neck as he does so. Poe’s hand shoots out before he can stop it and pulls the detectives hand away. The two stare at each other for a moment, before understanding dawns on Ranpo’s face. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.” Poe sighs, finally giving in and scratching his own hand, although he stops when it does nothing but increase the burning sensation. He’s grateful that only his hand had touched the plant, but he feels sorry for Ranpo as he watches the discomfort grow within his friend, Ranpo’s hands moving to scratch at all the places he’s suddenly aware of that are feeling itchy. Apparently wearing clothes has done nothing to stop the nettle’s effect, because Ranpo’s reaching under his shirt to scratch at the skin there. Poe lets out another sigh and grabs both of Ranpo’s hands this time, pulling them away and ignoring the way Ranpo tries to pull them back.

“Let go of me!”

“Not if you’re going to scratch. You’ll make it worse.” Poe tries his best to reason, but reasoning with Ranpo has never been a game to win; it’s always been a battle that leaves you feeling drained and years older.

“But it itches!” Ranpo whines.

“I know, that’s the point of the plant. It’ll only last a few hours though.”

“Of course you’d say that when only your hand touched the plant!”

Poe continues to grip Ranpo’s wrists firmly, and does his best not to respond to Ranpo’s sudden foul mood. He knows it’s not Ranpo’s fault; that he’s probably feeling pretty miserable right about now because the plant, and while Poe’s hand is the only part that itches and burns, it’s making him feel miserable as well, and he knows that if he responds to Ranpo’s anger with his own, the two of them are just going to argue, when really, they need to get home and sort everything out.

“Don’t scratch.” Poe orders, knowing that his words will be disobeyed immediately as he let’s go of Ranpo and head over to the officers to explain the situation. Thankfully, they are understanding and agree to let him and Ranpo leave, only telling Poe that they’ll need him to come to the station tomorrow to release the murderer from the book so that they can properly deal with him. A reasonable request, really, so Poe nods before he drags Ranpo away.

The sooner they got home the better.

“Poe-kun!” Ranpo whines, and Poe can hear him scratching harshly from where he kneels beside the bathtub, running a lukewarm bath, because that’s what the internet had told him to do. Besides, Ranpo’s still covered in dirt and blood, so a bath is very much necessary, if only so Poe can see if there are any wounds that will require a doctor’s visit.

He’d long since given up on telling Ranpo to stop scratching, only intervening when Ranpo’s desperate efforts at some sort of relief from the way his skin was burning, threatened to draw blood. Which, thankfully, had only happened once. They’d ended up taking a taxi back to Poe’s place instead of the train because it promised to be faster, and trying to get Ranpo to focus enough to catch the train had not been a battle Poe was willing to wager.

Ranpo had whined and complained the entire way, but they’d managed it, and the only downside was that in the time it had taken, the nettle’s effect was in full swing, and Ranpo was doing everything in his childish nature to make Poe aware of that fact.

“Just a little longer now, Ranpo-kun.” Poe says, feeling the water and adjusting it to be a little cooler. “And stop scratching.”

“Stop telling me to stop scratching. It’s not helping.” Ranpo complains from where he sits against the toilet, moving from side to side as he scratches a spot on his back he can’t quite reach. However, he does stop when Poe throws him a desperate look, and huffs before looking away.

Not that Poe has to see Ranpo’s face to know he’s pouting.

“Alright, it’s done.” Poe says once the bath is full enough and faces Ranpo. “It should help soothe the sting, and get all those scrapes clean. Do you need help?”

“No!” Ranpo is quick to say, his face turning an impressive shade of red—at least, it would be if half his face wasn’t already red and puffy to begin with. “I can bathe myself thank you very much.”

“I’ll go grab you some clothes then. And I’m pretty sure I have some cream that’ll help as well if the bath isn’t enough.” Poe stands and moves towards the bathroom door, pausing just before he leaves. “I’ll leave the door open, so if you need help, just call for me.”

Ranpo doesn’t say anything as Poe leaves, but Poe hears Ranpo move around, and eventually hears him climb into the bath. He’s really hoping that the bath helps, because if it doesn’t, then there’s not much else they can do other than ride out the stinging sensation. Poe’s already over his own sting, since he hadn’t touched as much of the plant as Ranpo had, so right now, it’s only Ranpo that’s suffering.

And Poe hates it.

Six years ago, Poe had wanted Ranpo to suffer, so much so, that he’d written an entire novel on it. And before he’d solved it, Ranpo had suffered, but had managed to overcome it in the end and emerge the victor. Six years ago, Poe had wanted to kill Ranpo, all because of a competition that he’d lost; all he’d been able to see in that moment was Ranpo’s gloating face, and that expression had been enough to fuel six years of vengeance.

Maybe Ranpo truly was getting at something whenever he called Poe dramatic.

But now? Now Poe didn’t want Ranpo to suffer at all. From anything, not even something as minor as a stinging plant. He’d grown so accustomed to the way Ranpo was always carefree and smiling, that whenever something that wasn’t either of those was on his face, it didn’t feel right. In fact, it felt wrong, and Poe felt like he had to do everything in his power to make it right again.

After several minutes have passed, Poe makes his way back to the bathroom, fresh clothes in hand—the baggiest shirt he owns, and a pair of shorts, because the article he’d read had said loose clothing was best until the itching eased off—and knocked on the door.

There’s a sniff before a quiet voice calls out. “Come in.”

Poe pushes the door open from where it’d been cracked open, and steps into the room before coming to sit on the ground beside the tub, and raises a hand to wipe away the tears that are forming in Ranpo’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Ranpo sniffs again. “Nothing. It’s just the stupid itching getting to me.”

“Is the bath helping?”

“Yeah…” Ranpo sighs and leans back to slip under the water, reemerging a second later, water running down his face and flattening his usually messy hair. “Did you catch the killer by the way?”

Poe has to bite back a chuckle; trust Ranpo to think of the case instead of himself. Instead, he smiles. “I did. I have to stop by the station to let him out of my novel, but that can wait until you’re feeling better.” Poe dips his hand into the water, “It’s starting to get cool. Do you want to get out?”

Ranpo gives him a nod, and Poe reaches out to lend a hand, and soon enough, Ranpo is dried and dressed, and oh so desperately trying not to scratch; he’s clutching his upper arms tight, looking physically pained at restraining himself. And Poe’s about to be proud of the restraint that Ranpo is showing, when a quick glance downwards shows that his friend is using his foot to scratch at a red patch on his leg.

“Do you want to try the cream?” Poe asks, already reaching into a cupboard to pull said cream out. Ranpo eyes the cream distastefully, like it’s going to come alive and attack him, but nods in the end.

“Sure. Can’t hurt I guess.” Ranpo shrugs, and obediently sits down on the closed toilet seat when Poe asks him to, lets Poe dab the cream against the itchiest of spots. The effect is immediate, as the tension that’d been on Ranpo’s face begins to ease, and he finally looks comfortable instead of pained and miserable. “What is that stuff?”

Poe looks at the packaging. “Aloe vera cream. I was always told to keep some on hand, that you never know what you might need it for. Usually people use it for sunburns, but it’s used in all sorts of skin irritations.”

“I’m not surprised you need it then.” Poe glares as Ranpo grins at him, and just waits for the insult that’s coming. It only takes thirty seconds before it’s falling out of Ranpo’s mouth. “Considering you seem to only see the sun once a month.”

“What do you mean, once a month?” Poe splutters at the words, eyes wide. He knows for a fact that he goes outside more than once a month, he needs groceries after all. And Karl needs exercise. And he visits—

“Well I thought once a week was being too generous since you get so caught up in your writing sometimes.” Ranpo shrugs, interrupting Poe’s thoughts. He’s still smiling, and there’s a teasing look to his eyes, one that has Poe smiling too.

“You’re insufferable.” Poe mutters under his breath, still smiling. Louder, he says, “You must be feeling better if you’re insulting my lifestyle choices.”

“That cream is working wonders. I still want to scratch but I guess it’s bearable.” Ranpo suddenly sags where he sits, as if the days events have finally caught up with him and he’s too exhausted to sit upright. “Today was tiring.”

“It was. You’re welcome to go to bed if you’d like.” Poe suggests, offering a hand for Ranpo to take.

Ranpo takes his hand and pulls himself to his feet with a nod, pushing past Poe to leave the bathroom behind. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Are you coming?”

“Maybe later. I might do some writing first.” Poe says, but still follows Ranpo up the stairs. He thinks he sees Ranpo look a little upset at his words and frowns, speaking before he has the time to really comprehend what it is that he’s saying. “I can write on my laptop though, and sit with you while you rest if you’d like that?”

Ranpo freezes on the stairs, and doesn’t look back, but Poe can see the tips of his ears turning red where they poke through Ranpo’s hair. Poe knows for a fact that his face is probably a similar colour, but he can’t take the words back or try to justify why he’d even said them in the first place, so he stands, just a few inches behind Ranpo and waits for the man to say or do something, anything.

“Sure. Sounds good.” Ranpo finally says and continues up the stairs, turning into the bedroom that once belonged to just Poe, but is now both of theirs. When that happened exactly, Poe doesn’t know, but he also knows that he never complained when the change happened and, well… he kind of likes it.

He hurries past the room though, heading for his study and grabbing his laptop. Normally, he writes on an actual computer, depending on how far into his work he actually is, but sometimes he likes to sit somewhere that isn’t his study; like outside for example, or on one of the Agency’s couches whilst Ranpo works on the other side of the room. Sometimes he even handwrites, but that’s reserved for the works he’s truly enjoying, or for the ones that Ranpo requests he write for some reason or another that he’s not privy to until the very moment that said work is actually needed.

Ranpo is lucky that Poe always carries some novels with him, because there’s been plenty of times where Poe had suddenly needed to use his ability without being told that he’d need to in the first place.

Laptop in hand, Poe makes his way back to the bedroom to find Ranpo already under the covers, eyes closed, although he’s not sleeping, not yet anyway, but he’s close, if the way he’s breathing is any indicator. Poe crawls into the bed after changing into something more comfortable, and raises a pillow so that he can lean against it. It’s only once his laptop is resting against his knees that Ranpo moves, shifting closer until he can get his arm across Poe’s lap and his face pressed into Poe’s thigh.

Poe drops a hand to run it through Ranpo’s hair a few times, enjoying the way the detective seems to relax at the action. “Sleep well, Ranpo.”

A hum greets him, and Poe gets lost in the story he’s been working on, the warm weight next to him all the motivation that he needs.

[13eyond13]

I think L would tell Light that he wears frilly dresses in his free time to mess with him, and Light ends up coming to the conclusion that if HE expresses a great love for frilly dresses he'll seem less like Kira. He has that sort of thought process

Hahaha, the inner monologuing going on then would probably be interesting. Light just contemplating the possible outcomes to every response for 5 minutes straight while L stares him down and the clock ticks away... No matter what Light ends up saying L will have predicted it and decided it means that Light is more suspicious as well, then Light will point out that no matter what he would say L would find him more suspicious for it, while L inwardly goes "would any NORMAL person be thinking through this many options rn?" And then just as they are about to trick each other into going and trying on frilly dresses together to catch each other in a lie a cell phone rings to tell them some coworker mishap has occurred

[ouranbutworse]

have you deleted the duplicates? you can bother me @worlds-fluffiest-detective

i have 👍

[pronoun-note]

what would @worlds-fluffiest-detective get cancelled for?

ouran

[fandom-fae]

what color dress should L wear

at first i was thinking probably like blue and super fancy bc of how rich they are afdhsdfhdsdht. but then i was like wait no, “what kinda dress would canon!L *actually* choose?” and came the conclusion that he’d still prioritze comfort over looks, so i assume he’d just wear a dress version of that normal white shirt he always wore sdfhxgffhg and idk why but that idea is so cute to me ngl

i hope u like it!! @worlds-fluffiest-detective