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#this was supposed to post way earlier
poorly-drawn-mdzs · 3 months
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Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 4: Deranged Bedfellows
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.5)
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#mdzs au#lan wangji#nie huaisang#Yungmeng Jiang training arc AU#This is the *first* part of what was supposed to be a much longer comic (LWJ's morning routine in full).#I'll finish the remaining part as a reblog to this post! I just think this is the funnier chunk.#Lan Wangji absolutely is the kind of person who has a perfect internal alarm clock for when it is time to get up.#He already has a dedicated sleep schedule. He is accurate within 10 seconds of 5am every day.#I think the Jiang disciples are most likely used to waking up around 6:00-7:00am#But the allure of having a guaranteed time keeper getting you up in the morning is worth the earlier hour.#I imagine they started outside lwj's door and slowly moved closer as the weeks went on.#Now LWJ has to cope with being way too warm in the night from all the extra body heat.#LWJ is not a fan of this but they scamper off immediately after he wakes up and they at least show initiative to follow routine.#NHS joins in only because he is a chronically heavy sleeper and needs this level of intervention to get up early.#His boldness would be a death sentence in the cloud recesses but here? Whole new game.#Yungmeng Jiang isn't a lawless land. It's just a land with different laws.#And one of those laws is to forcefully domesticate the catboy coded Lan boy through any means necessary.#Completely different tangent: I drew the thumbnail for this before I did comic 134. I then realized they had the same visual gag.#So I had to space this one out so it didn't seem like I repeated the waking up joke. That's my secret and all of you have to keep it.#And in my land the law is that snitches get itches (telepathically transfers hives onto your body)
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cheesyz · 4 months
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"should we do this the easy way, or the other easy way?"
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flowercrowngods · 1 year
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ronance yearning hours
Mornings like this are becoming Nancy’s favourite thing, with the rising sun painting the room in golden light that always, always lands on Robin, who usually sleeps long past sunrise when she can. Nancy lets her; there’s nowhere for her to go anyway on this slow Saturday morning in Steve’s house, and the boys will only wake in an hour or so.
Nancy has taken to using that time to watch the picture of absolute serenity that is a sleeping Robin, with her cheek smushed into the pillow and her hair falling over her face in a way that never fails to make Nancy smile.
It also never fails to make her fingers twitch, itching to reach out and brush that hair behind her ear and see if her cheek is as smooth to the touch as it looks.
It gets stronger, this urge, with every slow Saturday morning that she wakes in the same bed as her. The journalist inside her wants to find a better word for it, a stronger one, to avoid repetition and ensure clarity. But all the words are big and carry implications for which Nancy is not yet ready.
She refuses to call it longing, this need inside her to touch and linger. She refuses to call it yearning, the way she looks forward to Friday nights at Steve’s with Robin and Eddie, or the way it fills her chest with excitement and giddiness just to think about sharing a bed and waking next to her and watching as all the things that overwhelm Robin on a daily basis are held off for at least another hour yet.
What’s in a word? she’ll scoff when it comes to interviews and articles and hours of agonising over sentence structure and synonyms.
But it’s on mornings like this that she realises that some words require bravery and tenderness rather than simple contemplation and calculation. Some words take time.
Beside her, Robin sighs quietly in her sleep, and Nancy shuffles closer. Because if she can’t be brave with words yet, not even with herself, she can at least be closer.
Using the momentum of a moment unguarded, her right hand comes up before she can stop it, finding a home on Robin’s cheek as she slowly, reverently brushes the hair out of her face and behind her ear. Her touch is light, fingertips ghosting over soft, warm skin — and feeling that softness upon her touch, she wonders if falling in love with Robin would be just as soft, just as gentle; just as warm.
Not a second later, Nancy pulls her hand away as if burned, her heart racing in her chest as if it were signalling her to run, you should be running, i’m racing like you’re running for your life before you’re caught and found out. Nancy balls her hand into a fist and scoots further back on the bed, feeling a heaviness inside her chest that has only been there for a few of these mornings. A fear. A panic.
Because terrible things happen when Nancy Wheeler wonders about love and touch and tenderness. And worse things still, because it’s not supposed to be like this. Not with Robin.
So she stays on her side of the bed, watching the sun dance along Robin’s skin, her hand still warm, the ghost touch of Robin’s soft cheek still present. And she watches, hand cradled to her chest to stop herself from reaching out again. She watches and wonders if maybe she should start using bigger words, because the pit in her chest is growing larger with every passing second and she needs something to fill it.
~*~
It happens again the next week. And the week after that. It seems like the first time broke something in Nancy, or maybe it came alive, but either way she can’t really stop reaching for Robin now. And her repertoire of words is growing with each Saturday morning, too. Longing, aching, yearning — they are classics. But there’s basking, too. Hoping, wishing, and imagining. God, does she imagine.
She imagines Robin’s lips turning up into a smile with Nancy’s hand on her cheek, she imagines her hand coming up to capture Nancy’s and just holding it. Or an image that makes her heart race again: kisses brushed to her knuckles. Or her lips.
She imagines, and she wishes, and she longs. But there’s also belonging. In fact, there’s a whole novel Nancy feels she could write in those early morning hours. A thousand pages dedicated to all the words that exist around Robin Buckley. Words that live inside Nancy; that part is important.
Four weeks have passed and the feelings have only grown stronger, developed more words that will forever remain between her and the morning sun. And Nancy can’t stop herself from trailing the back of her finger along smooth, warm skin, the touch too light to disturb the sleeping beauty.
Sleeping Beauty, who stills and stiffens minutely, but Nancy is too mesmerised to notice until it’s too late.
“You’ve gotta stop this,” Robin whispers, her voice hoarse from sleep, and Nancy’s heart leaps out of her chest in panic and embarrassment.
“Sorry,” she whispers, pulling her hand back toward her chest. She’ll explain. Robin had something on her face that Nancy brushed away, that’s all. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—
“Or I’ll fall madly in love with you if you don’t.”
Oh. Oh?
Oh.
Nancy swallows as her thesaurus dissolves and all words escape her. She blinks. Robin’s eyes are still closed but there’s a shadow of a smile on her lips, dimpling the skin that Nancy caressed just seconds ago.
There is the chance to just ignore that this ever happened, with Robin not looking at her, not making this moment real yet, on the brink of sleep and wakefulness. All she’ll have to do is wait. It’s the best chance she’s ever going to get, to forget about all this and get over it. Over her. Over whatever she has been building inside herself under the light of the rising sun over the past weeks.
All she’d have to do is remain still and silent and wait for Robin to fall back asleep.
But there was something about big words and bravery, and even though her thesaurus has left her and the thousand pages of things to feel, to say, to do, to think around Robin have torn themselves up because they were bleak and bland and not enough, Nancy feels brave on this particular morning.
Because the world hasn’t ended yet in all those weeks that she’s been thinking about Robin. In fact, the world has stopped ending since she started seeing Robin for who she is. And in a world where bravery is not about surviving, it is always about love.
And maybe that’s what she feels, maybe that’s what she wants, what she allows herself to want when she lays her hand on Robin’s cheek to caress the softest skin and gently comb back the strands of hair that are threatening to fall back over her face again. Her beautiful face that’s pulling up into a smile now — and Nancy is not imagining it. In fact, she’s smiling, too. She’s smiling so wide that a tiny little laugh bubbles past her lips.
Robin scoots closer, eyes squinting open now, as if to make sure this is real. As if she’s feeling the same. As if she meant it, what she said just now.
Nancy swallows thickly when Robin tucks her head under her chin, her body curling into Nancy’s, finding one of her hands to hold it. She still feels too raw, too vulnerable, and she wants to ask. Wants to be sure. Wants it to be real.
“Five more minutes,” Robin says, already on her way back to a deep sleep. “And then we’ll talk about this. I’ll tell you all about this girl I like. Think she might like me back. And she’s so warm.” She buries a little deeper into her side to chase that warmth that is now filling her whole body.
And Nancy gasps out a laugh this time, a tiny one, gentle and tender and all those words that are slowly coming back to her now that Robin is curled into her side and holding her hand. Her free hand comes up to comb through Robin’s hair in steady motions to lull her back into a slumber.
“Sleep,“ she breathes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Robin hums, cuddling impossibly closer, and Nancy feels herself drifting off again, too. With a smile on her face. For the first time in years.
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transldpdl · 2 months
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Louis de Pointe Du Lac 'In Throes of Increasing Wonder'
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meownotgood · 9 months
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hallo. if you'd like to be tagged when this fic releases, please reply to this post. you will be added to a taglist and tagged in all subsequent chapters!
please be 18+, and please make sure your age is visable, whether in your bio or a pinned post somewhere. something that says your age, 18+, or adult. otherwise you will be ignored!
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fullmetal-angelgrace · 9 months
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OK WAIT
metatron specifically asks crowley if he recognizes him, but how would metatron know crowley saw video files of him? unless he has met crowley before and knew that crowley knew him too, and later metatron says that crowley always asked "damn fool questions"
AND
angel crowley in the opening scene talks about putting his questions into a suggestion box for god, which we know IS the metatron, as we see in season 1 when aziraphale tries to talk to god
SO im pretty sure that means crowley asked his questions to the metatron, and the reason he fell at all is because of whatever was said in that conversation, (obviously he wasn't struck down immediately, the war still had to happen, but im sure whatever metatron said made crowley want to 'hang out with the wrong crowd') and metatron left enough of an impression that he remembered what he looked like more than metatron's own fellow angels
just a thought I hadn't seen anyone talk about
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diathadevil · 10 months
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Both have the same energy. No I shall not elaborate any further.
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worm-in-a-trenchcoat · 6 months
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Mattel is a fucking joke
Literally how did they all manage to sell out before they even landed on the site for some people?? I only saw these after they sold out 🙃
Congrats to anyone who got something, but I feel like majority went to scalpers cause there’s no way actual customers got to the site THAT ridiculously fast
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stardust-vi · 19 days
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Dumb ramble but I hate that you can't critique The Thing you love within a fandom space without some dude breathing down your neck like "Well actually that means you hate The Author and The Thing! And what about all the times The Author did this Good Thing? Checkmate, liberal." as if you can't be critical of something because you love it and want it to be better.
#just. i'm in a rush rn so i'm probably not articulating myself well and i could go more in-depth with my thoughts#at the risk of someone spinning my words into “cringe blue hair pronoun wants to cancel araki!” which... will happen inevitably#even though i don't know how many times i can repeat “i do not hate araki#this is specifcally about jjba btw because like.#look i love it and araki has done some good things (or at least had good intentions in most cases)#but i'm so over the fact he constantly has to reach for some form of traumatizing women in his writing#and I already hear “well it shows they're a villain!”#but does he HAVE to use assault? why does he have to use that instead of demonstrating their villainy in other ways#that don't need to use it as a crutch#i'm not even saying you can't ever write about assault#that's not my argument either.#I'm not even accusing him of being a bad writer or person but just. Can we please retire the overusage of assault for shock value?#i obviously don't hate people who enjoy the series regardless#i'd be a massive fucking hypocrite#i mean i've literally been in this damn fandom for 6 years and just now decided to post my art.#but i'm tired of any time someone brings up legit criticisms of the misogyny in his writing#it's met with “but araki did this-” like it changes anything.#i'm glad he did somewhat improve writing women over time compared to the earlier parts#that said. that doesn't cancel out the blunders he did make or will make in the future#even if he has good intent.#or really any criticism of the writing being hit with “but its not supposed to make sense#anyways rant over. probably going to delete later bc im tired.#tw assault#assault tw
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captainkirkk · 1 year
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I'm finally heading home so be on the look out for the first fic round up of 2023 sometime in the next few days
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andthebeanstalk · 1 year
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I can't believe Janelle Monae is the new Mona Lisa! Couldn't have happened to a more deserving gay!!
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pcktknife · 1 year
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opening sketch comms while I finish these last few up ! pay what you want, $20 minimum 6 slots dm if u want one ^^!
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there-will-be-a-way · 9 months
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Also, my hallucinations have become so frequent that I talked to the ward's psychologist about them because I was scared I might develop a psychosis. Seeing cats that aren't there, hearing angry footsteps, seeing the door fly open when no one's there, seeing smoke, hearing someone whine "no no no" over and over almost every evening. The psychologist said it's not psychosis but my PTSD. That I'm so stressed flashbacks turn into pseudo-hallucinations, basically. My brain really is overwhelmed, huh
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oakskull · 2 years
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trafficblr is scrabbling to come up with a ship name/duo name for Jimmy and Tango and for the names I vote for a canary and his coalmine or TnT (Tango 'n Timmy) OR. or, I hope we use jimango,,, its just really funny guys
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virgilisspidey · 1 year
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Friendly reminder to update the master post 😊
No 💜
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bandzboy · 8 months
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so glad an idol talked about this! and i’m sure many have seen the comments others are getting and it’s quite literally ridiculous how much of a debate this has become cr.
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