#writing this made me feel soft....

[blanceyblance]

*looks around* Can you guys tell me where are you seeing Alpha macho Irep and soft boy Peri?

Because most of the content I see of them is just little shit/annoying clingy loser Irep and bitchy sassy neurotic mess Peri.

And there is only like 70 works for that ship in ao3 and most is them is co parenting Dev or them being bitter exes.

Honestly, why are we now shaming creators when the ones that write the "problematic yaoi tropes" are in the minority?

[javierduffy]

missed them so bad my heart hurt so i slapped these together at the gym

[emry-stars-art]

YES, PLEASE AND THANK YOU @snazzy-jas-z-is-a-fan-of !!

(Find the royal au writing masterpost here 💕)

And I’ll do an art-only version of this post for your reblogging pleasure here :) there's always always more to be said about this so I might make another post on the same topic but later

Anyway onto the juicy stuff

Okay so. Evermore and Palmetto both have glove etiquette, but in Evermore Nathaniel never had to worry about it, because he was expected to constantly be wearing gloves from first day he’s able to after getting nasty scars on his hands. Except for when he’s working or helping Nathan work. The nobles and specifically Prince Riko made it clear that they had no desire to see how ugly his hands were. (This is also why he has a habit of wearing a little of his hair down on the left side; it helped cover the scars on his cheek that ruined his pretty complexion.)

Then he comes to Palmetto and Day introduces him to a whole new set of rules. Gloves are a common and important part of dress and fashion, but people are also able to decide whether or not to wear them at any given time. The only real rules on gloves are when not to wear them; you always take off gloves to eat or drink, and to offer your hand in greeting or service.

Nathaniel gets to kind of ease into it; he’s not around anyone important enough to need to offer proper greeting or help, so mostly he takes his gloves off to eat in the servants quarters, where he doesn’t deal with more than curious glances. There’s a lingering fear of letting anyone important see his hands, no matter what Day says to assure him otherwise.

Then Nathaniel becomes the prince’s guard. Nothing changes for a while - the prince has always been more self-sufficient than most - until one day Nathaniel sees the prince eyeing the fall from his horse. (Really Andrew is trying to get up the courage to dismount, because even if the fall isn’t actually an issue for him, his fear of heights sometimes catches up to him when dismounting horses.) Nathaniel understands by now that he’s allowed and expected to help, so he reaches out - and remembers. He’s also acutely aware that the prince hasn’t yet seen his hands, then also also acutely aware of how serious Day was about the proper etiquette, and slips off his glove. The prince gives his hand a curious look, but accepts the help and all but crushes Nathaniel’s hand in his as he finally makes the fall. Even on the ground, though, he doesn’t let go quickly. Instead, the prince’s thumb brushes once across the back of Abram’s hand and he turns his hold, pulling Nathaniel’s hand up to examine it. The only thing keeping Nathaniel in place is the bone-deep instinct that he isn’t to deny anyone, especially a prince. Maybe the prince would decide he didn’t actually want to see Nathaniel’s hands and Nathaniel could go back to wearing his gloves with little more than a strike to the cheek for making the prince look at them.

But the prince does no such thing. He drops Nathaniel’s hand and continues on as normal. Nathaniel does his best to do the same, but that’s probably the first kind skin to skin contact he’s had in years. He isn’t recovering as quickly as he imagines he should.

(Meanwhile Andrew was NOT about to let an opportunity to hold Nathaniel’s hand slip like that, and he finds that he doesn’t mind the roughness. Most other guards were pulled from a much more privileged crowd - usually who had some callouses or scratches at most. Nathaniel’s hands show Andrew that this one isn’t all bark and no bite. Andrew… really likes them.)

Gradually, Nathaniel (likely soon or now Abram) gets used to taking off his gloves. He doesn’t without reason, it takes him a while not to feel naked without them, but it only takes a few more instances for him to realize that the prince truly doesn’t mind his scars. Helping the prince from his horse becomes easy habit (GS isn’t necessarily tall, but neither is Andrew. No step stool = Abram’s help).

Maybe there’s even a few times Abram is completely gloveless when he’s around only Day or the prince. He finds himself hiding his hands subconsciously when he’s not thinking about it, but he’s never once told to cover up.

Then Abram is kidnapped, taken back to Evermore. All the same rules are enforced and more. In this case, gloves aren’t all that different or upsetting. That much is okay.

It’s when he gets back that things change. Since he’s blind for a while, he’s relying much more on touch and hearing. It’s also a good tactile reminder; if he were still in Evermore, he would never be bare handed. This is when he truly gets used to not wearing gloves. (During this time he’s also touched more gently and more often than ever in his life. Others’ bare hands on his naked skin to care for scars and rashes and fever, first Day and medics and then Day and Prince Andrew. Abram finally, finally realizes that this is what he’d been missing. He actually finds himself calmed and cared for in being touched.)

Even when his sight returns, Abram only wears gloves out of doors or to formal events. Slowly and so, so carefully, Andrew finds more small reasons to touch Abram’s hands, and Abram always finds rationalization to accept. Then Abram even leaves his gloves in his saddlebags or pockets when they go out.

Winter hits. Abram has very few burn scars on his hands, but even the simple knife scars can seize and ache in cold weather. By now Andrew is very attentive to Abram’s pain or discomfort, so he notices. Abram’s hands hurt.

So Andrew buys him new gloves, lined with soft, warm fur. Abram is both pleased and disappointed - pleased because any gift from Andrew is a good gift, and disappointed because the prince expects him to wear gloves again. But the first time Andrew sees Abram wearing them indoors, he says easily, “They’re to keep your hands from the cold. Wear them only as much as you need.” (Because, again; he’s not going to admit it, but he loves Abram’s hands.)

It probably takes a long time for Abram to get accustomed to much more touch. He likes holding the prince’s hand, he’s used to that this far into their courting, but anywhere else with anything more than clinical intent - sometimes including with clinical intent - he gets overwhelmed very easily.

Andrew is careful with him. Like we mentioned in the last post, Andrew’s had about six to eight years longer to get readjusted to wanting and touching; Abram is essentially starting fresh. It’s a lot for him to handle.

(Don’t worry, though, I promise they figure it out. Just like they always do, in every universe, for all of our mental health.)

[birdsong-warriors]

SwiFT, WE CAN SEE YOU.

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Part 1: Friend and Family

See up to thirty pages ahead, with timelapses, on Patreon!

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[necrotic-nephilim]

Hey there, are you ok?

hey! thank you for checking up on me, this was really sweet!

i SWEAR i did not die. i just got a bit busy doing SladeRobin Week (which i will finish so help me god-) as well as things in my real life. i'm still trying to find the balance of like. fandom creation and working. i am very lucky to have the living situation that i do rn, but it is the sort of schedule where i do have to be ready to watch a baby at really any given point so. it's a tricky balance right now, but i'm going to be active here again! maybe not as many asks answered a day as before, but i want to try to answer like, a few a day and whatnot.

i also think i got briefly overwhelmed, in that i got more asks faster than i answered them. which is the opposite of a problem and something i'm very lucky for! but it did make it difficult for me to keep up and know what to answer next. (this is *not* a discouragement to sending asks! i love them all and pls send as many as you want! i just am a little slow sometimes so i appreciate the patience! <3)

so! i'm back and i'm good, ty for asking! we are back to the regularly scheduled programming <3

[sunfloweraro]

LUtober day 5: Companion

Time and Hyrule reminisce on an old companion. Time is grateful to have such wonderful new companions by his side.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

“Other travel companions I’ve had?”

“Yeah,” Hyrule said. The glow of the fire before them left his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Other than us, of course.”

Time hummed thoughtfully. “Well, my first companion… She was my best friend.”

“Malon?” Hyrule asked.

Time shook his head. Warmed his hands over the fire. “No, not her. My first companion was Navi.”

“Navi?”

“She was a little blue fairy—annoying as anything,” he chuckled, could hear her constant ‘Hey listen!’, all these years later. “But she took care of me.”

Hyrule was watching him, eyes soft. “Tell me more about her.”

No one else was awake, and tonight, by the cosy light of the fire, Time wasn’t feeling his usual hesitation to speak of her, felt only fondness where grief normally grew. And so he told Hyrule of how she had come to him as his journey as a hero officially started, how she had guided him through his first dungeon, in the belly of his father, the Great Deku Tree, and comforted him when despite his best efforts, the Great Deku Tree passed.

Grief took hold of him there, and Hyrule set a hand over his shoulder to pause him in his story. “It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me any more.”

A heavy exhale. Time nodded.

“But… I hope you’ll get to see her again someday. It sounds like you miss her.”

Time smiled, ruffling Hyrule’s hair, eye crinkling when his young companion leaned into the physical affection. “You’re a good kid, Traveller.”

[lale-txt]

air smells like one more soft launch chapter before the year ends

[six-white-venus]

I wrap my fingers around the warm cup of tea. I have discovered that I like lemon tea now. I’ve been discovering a lot of things lately; my smile, to breathe without hurting, what it means to exhale, unwinded shoulders, and the love i have for my perima.

I take a sip. It’s new. It’s wonderful.

I learn to play rummy during my vacation.

I’m good at it, but my cousins are way better than me. But that’s okay. I’m still learning, and that’s okay.

I learn how to reduce points from my stack (one by one, I pick my troubles out of my chest. I don’t need them anymore), I learn that I know way more songs than I thought I knew (I look back at the path I’ve walked. How come I never noticed the flowers that lined them?).

My sister wins the game. I grin because I’m no longer in the last place.

I flip through the polaroids taken in the last two months.

click! I hold my birthday gifts in my trembling hands. They’re lovely. I burst into tears as my best friend holds me close. In her arms, I am safe. I know when I fall, she will be there to catch me, always.

click! I talk to her till midnight about all my woes. She’s saved as ‘mushroom head’ in my phone and I miss her terribly. A month later, we sit on the floor of a bookstore and she listens to me ramble about classics. The distance between us isn’t so huge anymore.

click! I’m out of breath from cycling. The girl painted in red sits behind me and yells, “Hurry! Before anyone sees us!” We sit down to catch our breath in a lonely, lively part of the forest. I look at her like she’s my sun.

click! we talk for hours and hours on the phone and dream of our future together, of grocery runs, dorm rooms and fitful sleep. Every time we meet, we end up in a pile of laughter and tangled limbs. He is home.

click! they yell my name whenever they catch sight of me, like my presence matters, like it’s precious. Our feet carry us towards each other, running, running, running, till we meet halfway in an embrace that steals my breath away. I knock my head against theirs and we exhale a laugh.

I close the album with a smile. There are many more polaroids to take.

days blur into weeks. I get my heart broken by the people I love, and I pick myself up again. I gag and push away my sister, laughing, when she bites my cheek. I goof around with my mother, learn to drive from my father and fall on my face once. The wounds don’t bother me because I know they’ll cease to burn one day. My doctor gives me a fist bump and wishes me luck for my exam.

I sleep. I wake up. I wonder what’s for breakfast as I brush my teeth. I’m glad I exist.

[ieidolon]

now that i'm playing dragon age: veilguard i understand hbomberguy so much better. think i could probably do a 3.5 hours long video called "dragon age: the veilguard is FINE and here's why"

[averlym]

"one day, i cut him an apple. when he saw it, he laughed" (click for better resolution!) ,,, tag from @elliotly

[streets-in-paradise]

Me, trying to explain how I got here with the craziest motherfucker in the movie: ... He has a tender, reflexive side that was vaguely explored in the film through the romantical and platonical scenes with his love interest and friends, but then he died. For so, it's fertile ground for me to write exploring it and the duality of the man makes me go insane as i do so.

Meanwhile the craziest motherfucker in the movie:

[mossterunderthebed]

Ever since I saw this comic I always somehow manage to write Yuuji and Ieri as friends.

Not necessarily super close or anything but like... sit in silence together, reminisce about the good times, swallow your sorrow and choke on silence buddies. Unwilling, tortured survivors.

They were there for each other when nobody else was. Because everyone was gone.

I don't know why but their relationship is Very Important to me.

"Please drink some water, Ieri-san," Ijichi says, offering a bottle of water with a deep crease between his brows. Always awkward, that one. Shoko doesn't know why he even tries. She should probably be grateful that someone in this hellscape does.

Utahime crouches beside her, reaching out to warm a patch of her arm. Good old Utahime. Soft hands, soft heart, soft voice. "Shoko, we need to move somewhere safe. Can you walk?"

She stays still long enough that they leave her alone, hunched on the floor. Alone alone alone. Hollow puppets, walking along; march in time. One by one, two by two. Cut strings left and right.

Who's gonna cut her strings? She's ready. Why's it just her? Picking up messes and dealing with the fallout, it's been this way since high school. She should've known. Bastards. Bastard.

She can't even cry.

Bastard.

"We're leaving now, Ieri-san," a voice says, youthful and bright-edged. Hoarse. She'd recognize those dulcet tones anywhere, even colored with so much grief. Itadori. "I'll carry you. Please tell me if you're uncomfortable."

She's lifted by strong arms, stronger than a teenager has any right to be. The day he ended up in her morgue, Satoru grinning with glass teeth as he contemplated mass murder, she'd thought he was another kid gone too soon. Haibara two point oh. Now she realizes she was wrong.

Try Satoru the second. She should have known.

What a legacy. What a damn- ahh, fuck. She doesn't have the energy to philosophize. Doesn't have the energy for anything, so she doesn't bother to fight as he carries her away, moving yet again, trying to find some safe haven that no longer exists, some hopeful ending that'll never come, no matter how many curses go down.

Heal, succeed; heal, fail; heal, sleep; heal, smoke; again again again. Never-ending. She can't figure out the point anymore.

Her best friends are dead.

She turns her head, tucking her face into Itadori's shoulder as he carries her, silent and solemn, like a wake. A witness to her own funeral, how perfect. The reverse curse user; she was always going to be the last to go. Maybe it was her destiny to witness the falling of a dynasty. Which god does she curse for this?

"We're all alone, huh, Itadori-kun?" She murmurs into the worn flesh of his uniform.

He doesn't reply.

It's not like she blames him. What the hell is there to say? But after a moment, his hands shift to grip her a little tighter, a little more secure, and by some miracle, when she drops off to sleep, she doesn't dream.

[deejadabbles]

Ollo 👀👉👈

Whatever and wherever the muses take you 💜

Only if you want to ofc 😘💜

P.S. sorry for being awkward 🤣🤣🤣

I have gotten flustered and weird and I'm sorry

Instead of proper words I made a chibi anime dragon girl ask instead 💀

One pretty boy Kix coming up, my dear! This is half inspired by the words on that sign, half inspired by the fact that I spent 15 minutes laying in bed this morning wishing I could cuddle Kix instead of going into work lmao

Pretty Mornings (Kix x Reader) fluff

Rating: gen Word Count: 887 Warning: none, besides tooth rotting fluff centered around established relationships <3 also not proof read don't lookatme

In a perfect world, the scene would be bathed in sunlight.

You were made for it, after all. Bright and warm and comforting. Rays of sun were made to light up your face, Kix was sure of it.

Instead there was only the sterile lights of the Republic ship overhead, but that was alright. If waking up to your peaceful, gorgeous sleeping face was as close to perfect as he could get, then it was more than enough.

Kix sifted on the pillow just a little, just enough to get more comfortable, but hopefully not enough for you to notice. When you didn’t stir, he felt a smile lift his lips. He knew what you would say, if you caught him again. You’d get all flustered and cover your face, insist that drooling and snoring wasn’t cute or pretty, and he would beg to differ. 

And that was just fine too, he’d spend every morning reminding you how pretty you are, so long as he got these moments in the first place.

Of course, he couldn’t resist, couldn’t stop himself from eventually reaching out giving your cheek the lightest brush of his fingers. You did stir at that, but it was just you turning into his touch, subconsciously rising to the familiar feel of him. There was also a slight, inaudible mumble, but that just made him smile more.

Unfortunately, all good things, in other words, all near-perfect mornings, had to come to an end. He hated to wake you, hated to break the serenity of the moment, but getting reprimanded for tardiness on duty would not make the day any easier. 

After allowing himself one more long look at you, Kix leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, mesh’la, time to wake up,” he whispered against your skin. 

And of course, at first, all you did was groan and shift towards his warmth, snuggling against him. He chuckled and kissed the top of your hair, hand moving to rub your back.

“Come on, sweetheart, we need to get up,” he murmured, barely staving off the cozy haze of sleep wanting to take him over again. 

It was so easy to just fall back into the comfort of such things when you were cuddled to him. A little firmer pat to your back finally had you rustling proper. He leaned back and found one annoyed eye peeking up at him.

He laughed lightly again, “There you are.”

“Ugh, why do mornings have to be so early?” you mumbled, pulling back enough to stretch a little.

“There aren’t really mornings out here, you know. You would say that even if we were on the night shift.”

“Don’t cloud my complaining with facts.”

And there it was, another reason having you was a near perfect way to start the morning, you always made him laugh. “Trust me,” he said, “I would much rather stay here and stare at your gorgeous face all day.”

Kix really knew you too well. As predicted he saw your eyes go wide only for a moment before they were hidden by you yanking the blanket up over your head.

“Oh no you don’t,” his teasing tone matched his tickling hands as he wrestled the covers away from you, “None of that, no hiding that cute flustered face!”

You were smiling when he unearthed your head again and Kix took the chance to roll over you, effectively trapping you from hiding again. He planted a light kiss on your lips before pressing his forehead to yours and letting out a content sigh.

It was your turn to mumble against his skin, “Not fair, you know, calling me pretty when I’m barely even awake to defend myself.” With some effort, you freed your arms from the sheet prison he’d wrapped you in, and threw them around his shoulders. “Especially since I’m the one who likes to stare at your pretty face in the morning.”

That made him pause. Or, rather, made his brain stall. He blinked down at you and, if he were any less distracted, he’d praise your ability to turn the tables to fast as he felt his face heat up.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Oh, I’m pretty, am I?”

Your lips brushed against his cheek as you whispered, “Prettiest man in the GAR.” He couldn’t know exactly what look he had on his face but, whatever it was, it didn’t hide the effect your words had on him because you hummed in appreciation. “Ooo, you like that, don’t you?” Your hand reached up to cup the back of his neck gently, “Should I remind you how pretty you are more often?”

He turned his face so his lips brushed yours, “Maybe.”

With another light kiss, you pulled him closer, embracing him wholly, encouraging him to indulge in the domesticity just a little longer. “Don’t worry, pretty boy, I'll make sure you never forget.”

The smile that came to his face as he pressed it into your neck was so easy, as natural as breathing. In a perfect world, this moment would never end. But, if the way you held him and the way you loved him was as close as he could get, then it was more than enough. You were always more than enough.

“I’d like that, mesh’la.”

[witheredgardenparty]

Every now and then I see the discourse circulate on this hellsite, and I wonder if people know that the term 'yandere' used to have an extremely specific definition that no longer holds up to how people use it today

[non-un-topo]

Biggest fear is that the long-awaited old guard 2 is going to be really disappointing because we've built up years of fandom and headcanons and whatnot, and that a week or so after it's released the fandom just dies

[unriding]

Me sneaking into your asks with this drabble:

Disclaimer: I have yet to get a good grasp of Moze's character so this might be a bit OOC and on your side as well (sorry). I did my best. Also, this was inspired by the post you made abt telling Moze your tasks for the day | 600+ words (not proofread)

.

.

.

In Moze's eyes, you reminded him of a dog catching a case of the zoomies.

You were quite literally everywhere. He'd find you talking to someone one moment before you're rushing off to do something else entirely the next. It seemed like you had quite a lot on your plate as of recently. Tasks, things you wanted to do, and so much more spinning around that mind of yours. You've told him a bit of your plans so he has a general idea. But seeing you juggling all of those tasks at once makes both admiration and concern bloom in his chest.

One time, Moze found you carrying a box filled with items. It would've been amusing to him how comical it was that the items piled so high— he could barely see you behind it. However, he did worry right after given how you almost tripped over something. He managed to catch you and the items before both came crashing all over the floor.

He insisted on helping you carry the items to wherever its destination was. It took a bit of pursuasion on his side. Convincing you that it truly wasn't a bother to him at all, and that he'd be very much glad to be of assistance to you.

"I need to get these delivered first. Then go stop by the shop to buy some things. After that…" You go on to ramble about the things you had to do to help get a better vision on what else you had to do. "Oh, no… I messed up." The smile on your face dropping at the thought that had slipped your mind until that moment. "I forgot to invite Jiaoqiu to dinner with the others—"

"It's tomorrow evening, right? He knows. I mentioned it last time when I spoke to him." Moze says with a calm tone.

You blink at him, slightly caught off-guard by the man beside you. Though it's immediately replaced with relief and gratitude. The smile on your face already back, lighting up your features once more. Infectious as always, it makes the corners of his lips tug upwards as well. A small part of him feels quite proud to have been able to help you ease your worries even by a bit.

And this is when you start noticing it.

Did you mention that you're running out of a certain skincare product, but you can't find the time to stop by the store to buy it? Moze conveniently has to stop by near the store and buys it for you. Did you also mention that you wanted to do a certain task but keep forgetting about it? He gently reminds you about it via message or verbal if he's nearby. Did you also happen to mention that you've been meaning to try out a certain desert from a cafe, but the schedule simply doesn't seem to allow you? No fear, he passes by the store to buy you the treat.

Moze doesn't see you as someone incapable of handling things by yourself. To him, he simply sees it as a way to show his care. If making a quick stop somewhere, sending you a small reminder of something you had to do that day, or even helping you out with the tasks you need to accomplish, makes you smile? Gives you a chance to take a break? Let you worry less about the things you need to do? It's worth it in his eyes.

He does his best to avoid making you feel like you're bothering or troubling him (you really aren't). Most of the time, he does them discrcetly and casually. Partially, since he's also scared that you'll think he's weird or a creep for acting like that.

Please don't think of him badly.

Moze truly means well.