#//hope this wasn't too much!!

[13xwishes]

Is Yusuke too late for a kiss?

Inbox Kisses Meme || Accepting

For @thuganomxcs || Gigi ( 2/3) (3/6) || Eclipsed!Verse

[ Perfectly Shady ]: You're on your own! Try not to cause any trouble while I'm gone. [ Sugar Sun ]: Shouldn't that be my line? Behave yourself with Valentine.

Gigi shook their head in content, knowing Whisp was in good hands with Valentine. They were all the more happy to spend the day with Yusuke. This time, the genie wanted to give the demon manster a good tour around Salem and explore. They didn't bother too much at the Maul except for the food court. Gigi had a feeling Yusuke wasn't the shopping type, even though the majority of their friends were. They settled for more subtle spots like the local fang out spots, some pubs, the park.

Gigi did note Yusuke LOVED the arcade and it sparked their competitive side. After three hours playing, Gigi decided to take him to one last spot which was their personal favorite: the pier.

So here they were leaning on the wooden rail as the sun began to set, exchanging small talk. Gigi admitting they really feel comfortable and loved hanging out with Yusuke, that it made them feel good enough to be their own monster... and not just joined.

A small silence in between as the small nerves grew in Gigi, the question on their mind they've been wanting to ask all day finally voiced out loud.

       ❝ Yusuke... do you... I mean... do you like- ❞

They lifted their head to face him only for them to be caught in time. Gigi felt Yusuke gently grasp her chin before pulling their face close and kissed them

A brief but warm kiss.

They pulled away at the same time. Gigi blinked, taking in the moment as they swore Yusuke said something about them hating the kiss. They took his hand and shook their head with a smile.

       ❝ It's okay. We.... I liked it. ❞

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[ruushes]

my hof was born to be a griffon rider, if they could've given him a griffon at the start of dao the blight would've been over in a week

[gotchibam]

Ogerpon & Darkrai ko-fi doodle for CyclopeanSpook!

[luna-loveboop]

'I've never been in a dungeon before' and 'Who's Ganon?' have literally made some of the BEST reaction panels in Lu I just-

They are very similar conversations- where a Link is pointing out/asking about something that the others have experienced and they haven't. Which is really cool to compare and contrast but they all just freak out about it

Genuinely some of the best conversations in Lu

The lesson here is that apparently the Links will always be freaked out when one of them has missed out on one of the Zelda Fundamentals™

.

Art by Jojo @linkeduniverse au :)

[goddess-of-green]

BotW Link Being a Quiet (and Sleepy) Drunk

(A/N:) Playing TotK and immediately my soul is being recaptured by Linky Winky

(Edit:) This draft is almost a year old! I started it the day TotK came out, lol

Contains: GN!Reader, could be interpreted as either botw or totk link, him being CUTE

Word Count: 474

Link's face pressed into the crook of your neck, having migrated a bit since he'd put his head on your shoulder earlier in the evening.

You smiled and lightly stroked his hair, which earned you a hum--the vibrations of which you could feel in your neck.

It wasn't like Link wasn't affectionate, he was incredibly affectionate when he's certain it's not unwanted. However, even with your constant prompting and encouragement for him to be more open with his displays of affection, he still always kept a respectful distance when you were around others.

You didn't take it personally, you knew it was just the way he was; and a part of you liked that his affection was reserved for just the two of you--that you were the only one who got to see him like that.

Still, that wasn't to say that you didn't like when Link was more open about his love for you, which was something often brought out by inebriation.

He's a quiet drunk, just as he is sober, and one might not think he's affected much at all by the alcohol, but you can tell.

You can see how his eyes linger on you for longer than usual, notice the clinginess that usually comes with him being in that state. And one thing that you loved was how he became more vocal.

Yes, he was a quiet drunk, but less quiet than when he is sober; and you relish in his soft sighs and hums as he nuzzles into your neck, unbothered by the presence of the others.

Zelda smiled at the sight of you two, but the others didn't seem to take notice. Sidon and Yunobo were in deep conversation, while Riju was idly talking about jewelry to Zelda.

Link wrapped an arm around your waist, hand settling on your hip. He seemed intent on keeping his face in your neck, and you recalled him once telling you that you always smelled good.

"Hmm..." Link sighed, squeezing your hip. You continued to stroke his hair.

Even though he became more daring when he was drunk, he'd still never touch you in a sexual way in even a semi-public context. You knew he just wanted to be closer to you. (Sometimes you wondered in amusement, if Link would attach himself to you, given the opportunity.)

Link looked sleepier than anything, and you brushed gently along his ears, coming to a decision.

"Everyone, it's been amazing to meet with you all and catch up, but I think it's about time we turn in for the night." You smiled, helping Link up, who neglected to let go of you. Whether due to trouble keeping upright or simply a desire to touch you, you didn't know.

Not that it really mattered. All you were worried about now was getting your boy to bed. 

[ultravioletbrit]

“gone” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 518 words

Part 4/5 (part 1, part 2, part 3 /part 5)

For a moment, Regulus still considers making a break for it but instead he takes a deep breath and turns to face his brother. They stare at each other for several moments, a myriad of emotions flicking across Sirius’ face as he opens and closes his mouth without saying anything. Regulus is struggling to find the right words also, but he’s saved when James breaks the silence.

“Did you really just try to sneak out the front door?” He asks.

Regulus’ stare slowly shifts from Sirius to James.

“And I was almost gone, if you didn’t notice.” Regulus defends himself.

“But we’re standing right here.” James gestures to emphasize that they are in fact standing very close to the front door.     

“Your point?” Regulus defiantly crosses his arm.   

“Hey guys?” Regulus faintly hears Sirius in the background.

“My point is that this is apparently your brother, which I’d still like a bit of an explanation about.” James starts.

“I can—” Sirius tries to interrupt.

“But regardless, there’s obviously something going on between you two.” James continues, ignoring Sirius.

“Yeah, but that’s—” Sirius tries again.

“So clearly, he’s not letting you leave without talking to him. And I’m definitely not letting you leave without getting your number.” Again, James talks over Sirius.

“You’re what?!” Regulus and Sirius ask at the same time.

“What makes you think I’d give you my number?” Regulus asks.

“Hey Reggie, good to see you, what are you doing here?” Sirius turns to the side—not facing Regulus—and dramatically asks no one.

“Do you not want to give me your number.” James smirks.

Sirius turns the other way, still talking to no one, “Hey Sirius, long time, no see. Funny story actually.” Sirius says in a mocking voice.

“I… …” Regulus tries to answer James.

Sirius turns around again. “Oh yeah? I’d love to hear it.” Sirius continues talking to no one.

“So, you do want to give me your number.” James’ smirk grows.

Sirius turns again and continues in a very dramatic mocking voice. “Well, Sirius, I just love you sooo much, I couldn’t be without you.”

“I never said that.” Regulus fires back at James—but also inadvertently answered Sirius’ statement.

Sirius turns to respond to Regulus until he realizes that Regulus wasn’t talking to him, then drops his shoulders. “I might as well be talking to a mirror.” He tosses his arms up.

“No… but you hesitated, love.” James’ smile softens and Regulus hates to admit that he has to fight to restrain his own smile. James opens his mouth, but Sirius cuts him off.

“OKAY, that’s enough!” Sirius stands between them and grabs Regulus by his ear and starts pulling him towards James’ couch.  

“OUCH!” Regulus yelps. “You are hurting me!”  

“Well, normally, I have a very sweet disposition, but you lost that right when you ignored me!” Sirius shouts and Regulus continues to yelp.

“Okay, wait a minute, Sirius.” James tries to jump in.

“I did my waiting! Twelve minutes of it, while you two were doing… whatever the hell that was.” Sirius throws Regulus on the couch. “Now sit. I want answers!”

[musouie]

── .✦ 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘

précis. levi washes your burdens away

contents: fluff, angst, non-sexual nudity, suggestive, reader and levi in a situationship, canon!au, comfort, afab!reader, 1.5kwc

When you return from a gruelling mission, bloodied and bruised, your knuckles bearing the scars of war, Levi does two things:

The first comes as if on instinct, a mere reflex, spewed from his lips without a thought and tumbling before he can stop it. “You smell like shit, soldier.” The comment is uttered evenly, void of any real bite, and closely followed by a sigh. A ragged, bone-weary, half-hearted thing that deflates his frame in a way being in the Underground never could.

And for some reason, it all makes you feel warm.

Perhaps it’s the way he says it, or perhaps it’s the way he chooses not to say anything else. Regardless, you take it and cradle it between your fingers, peel back the multitude of layers and recognise it for what it is: affection (dressed in barbed wire, one with spikes that have begun to wear.) 

The second, however, is something different altogether. This one feels like something that came from inside Levi, something that he had kept bottled up and sheltered, something that only you got a glimpse of. (It was often he gave you these glimpses of himself. None coherent or related to the last. You think you are finally beginning to put him together, to piece the enigmaticness of him —

— but then he turns and walks away.)

He glances at you over his shoulder, motioning with his chin for you to follow him, lips pulling into a line as yours tremble. 

(The puzzle pieces scatter, make a mess of themselves.) 

And with a part of you burning with curiosity and defeat, the other aflame with desperation, you find yourself following. You always do, ever the curious. “It’s in your blood,” he whispered to you one night, voice a muted wisp as you lay against his bare chest, damp and warm and clutching him close.

(He didn’t talk a lot — never talked a lot — when you were in his arms. It’s how you learnt to listen. Sometimes his admissions would come spilling, like those times where he’d drink just enough to get drunk. Or when he’d come back from a particularly hard mission, weary to his bones, his walls finally crumbling as he’d lie upon you —

— he would tell you everything. From his darkest desires, his brightest memories, his dreams, to his nightmares. All filled with you and you and you and you.)

When you make it to his quarters, sectioned off from the rest of the cadets’, you bite your lip and enter hesitantly, hands clenched into trembling fists by your sides, itching to reach out, itching to —

The door falls shut with a click that reverberates through you, bordering on deafening. You nearly miss what comes after. 

Nearly. 

“Strip.”

There is no teasing in his tone, no hint of endearment that, by now, you know only comes to the surface for you, and only if no one else is around to witness it. His back remains to you, and you are, momentarily, left blinking, stunned at the abruptness of the command.

You do not speak; neither does he.

Time presses you, moving relentlessly, budging when you don’t. It doesn’t stop at his request, nor does it hitch to indulge you. And his patience runs thin.

“Strip,” he repeats, turning to shoot you a withering glare. But his eyes are all wrong. Soft around the edges. 

A second of holding his gaze is all it takes for you to lower your own, bottom lip seeking comfort between your teeth. You swallow before peeling back a layer: gear. 

Then another, harder to remove than the first: your jacket; followed by your blouse (shredded around the edges, bearing holes in places it never used to, snarling rips running along the seams.)

They slip from your shoulders and pool behind you, the wood below creaking as you take a step forward, tugging your trousers by their cuffs, slipping a finger beneath the waistband before pushing them lower down your legs; boots discarded carelessly to the side.

He hisses at the mess.

When your eyes snap to his at the sound, he looks down between your legs pointedly, thin brow arching until you swallow around the lump in your throat. 

(Nothing has to be said; the silence is enough —

— it’s always enough.)

Bending at the knee and dragging air sharply through flared nostrils, you slip your underwear lower down your legs, working quickly with trembling fingers that could likely use a steadying hand (except you are alone, and his remain glued to the wooden railing behind him. Steady. Stable. As reliable as the rhythm with which he rises and falls on the swing of his blade.)

It trails down, following the movements of your hips, spreading open once they curve in the slightest, only to come together and tangle about your ankles.

“Everything,” he mutters, and you stare at the floorboards, toes curling within your socks, fidgeting nervously beneath his steady gaze.

Heat rises on the back of your neck, splotchy, uneven. Lingering until your body curls in an awkward shape — in an attempt to conceal your bits — and you pluck your socks off, followed by your cotton panties.

And —

— you’re bare before him. 

(You always are.)

“Come now,” he says gently.

(His eyes, however, burn.)

One small step becomes two, which transition into three, and suddenly, you are halfway there. Five strides until —

“To the tub,” he instructs, barely a whisper; barely anything at all, “before the water gets cold.”

You oblige until you slip into the porcelain of it, its temperature almost perfect as you melt into the water. Floating — drifting — lost to the tides. If the sight is enough to please him, however, Levi does not show it. His demeanour remains much the same: eerily calm, collected. Cautiously removed.

It persists as he strides, unhurried, towards you, grasping a washcloth from the tub’s rim and lathering it with soap. A fragrance so delicate wafts through the air — peony, lavender and a hint of vanilla — a fragrance so him, surrounding and enclosing on you until it threatens to seize your very lungs.

(The smell of death may cling to the backs of your teeth, or perhaps beneath your fingernails, buried too deep to dig out. But his tenderness washes it all away.

Now, you’ve made the water dirty. Filled it with grime.)

“Your arm, soldier.”

You robotically surrender it, offering the limb over the lip of the tub, palm facing up in supplication. In reverence.

His thin lips turn down as he inspects it, turns it over and clicks his tongue upon finding a bruise. Clicks again when he discovers a scratch.

The nudge comes as he soaps the inside of your wrist with soothing circular motions; spreading until it trickles up the valley of your forearm, leaving blossoms of white froth in its path. From the valley it divides into two, branching into streams that run parallel as they part ways around your bicep, clinging to the dips and curves of you.

“How do you feel?” He asks without meeting your gaze, focused, wholly, on massaging the inside of your elbow.

“Tired.”

It’s all you can give.

It’s as honest as it is ambiguous, laden with all the heaviness bearing down on your shoulders, dragging you down to the deepest depths of the waters, swallowing you.

But Levi nods, accepts it.

He brings the washcloth to your neck, following the swooping lines of your collarbones, the undersides of your jaw, its grooves. Your shoulders bear the marks of his touch, soon followed by the plains of your chest.

You’re so focused on watching his movements as he trails the cloth over you — from collarbone to shoulder, shoulder to the valley between your breasts — that you nearly miss what comes next.

“I...I’m glad you’re alright, soldier,” he mutters, a slip so sudden and small.

Like the flush tingeing his cheeks and the way it runs up his neck, or the furrow of his brow and the line between, ever prominent.

“I —” your voice, weak in its own right, nearly dies. Strangled in a web of muted hope. You shake yourself loose of its hold, “thank you, Captain.”

The expression he flashes you is one of pain, or perhaps disappointment.

He doesn’t acknowledge your gratitude, only nods and drops his gaze to the nape of your neck, tracing the lines there with his gaze. A touch so soft and wistful it could never leave an imprint, doesn’t even burn.

And yet it does. Your chest feels ablaze, your flesh singed.

And it sears more as he brings the cloth to your face, cleaning your chin carefully, swiping away the flakes of blood from the jut of your cheekbones, beneath the curvature of your nose, the expanse of your eyelids.

This too is something intimate, has your heart stuttering and your breath stalling, has your face flaring with the heat only shame can bear, but no less welcoming than the rest of his careful ministrations.

From forehead to the space behind your ear, an exuberance of bliss settles between your ribs. Latching on with pointed fingers that threaten to rip. It could hardly be called anything less.

You shudder out a long exhale as you relax back against the rim, the pads of his fingers trailing beneath your brows, brushing over your lids, again, and again, and again. Until your skin glides with ease, wet and soapy and clean.

The touch lingers. It lingers.

Until he goes still, and the cloth goes with him.

𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐞 © 2024 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. it is prohibited to reproduce, distribute, or transmit my works in any form or by any means! ﾉ masterlist

[hauntingjasper]

I was thinking about what costume I would draw for Fionna this Halloween and somehow I ended up landing on Gothic Princess Peach, it's gotta be one of the greatest things I've ever found so here she is

I made some tweeks on her dress ofc but these were my two main inspos

[deefighter2739]

It's still summer at Dedede's Resort... 😘❤️☀

[zecoritheweirdone]

hehehehehhooo,, decided to draw some hermits as the mystery skulls animated gang!! why? uhhh mostly just 'cause.

special thanks to the ibaaf server for helping me pick the roles! gem is vivi,, false is arthur,, pearl is lewis,, and etho is mystery!!

better pic of pearl under the cut, where you can how lazy i am,,ms ksmsksjs

[plutoenjoyer]

jooyeon — sleepyhead

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

genre: fluff 𓇬 wc: 1.7k tags: female reader, established relationship, making out, napping, playful banter, not proofread as usual warnings: none

summary: you stay late with jooyeon at the studio, and you can't help that he's so fun to mess with (lovingly). notes: this was meant to be a part of the "jooyeon randomly biting you" wip but it ended up getting too long and becoming its own thing. now with 100x more reader being cheeky and him being an absolute sucker for it!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

jooyeon invites you to the studio with him if he plans to do some solo practice. it's nice to have some company while he strums away at his instrument for hours, and of course, you don't mind one bit. it's already hard enough to find time to meet with both of your busy schedules, so you'll take any moment of comfortable, quality alone time with him. not only that, it really is a treat to get to see him practice. you think his voice is beautiful, and the gentle lull of his instrument (today, he felt like acoustic guitar) almost always put you to sleep while you're sitting in the corner of the room with his jacket over you like a blanket. it's like being gently guided into a deep sleep, and by god you needed it considering how overworked you were almost all the time. it's warm and safe. you're out in no time.

jooyeon's just about to wrap up when he checks the time. 11 pm. he did not mean to go this late. the other members had waved a goodbye to him what feels like just a moment ago, but in reality it was about two hours. and then he remembers, oh yeah my girlfriend is here, and he's about to ask you if you're ready to head out when he sees your eyes shut, slumped peacefully against the wall.

he feels bad that he made you sit and wait so long. truthfully, he was just so into an idea for a potential song that he lost track of time. he very gently puts the guitar back into the case and gets up, approaching your sleeping figure. he tries his best, for once in his life, to be quiet so he doesn't disturb you. he crouches down onto his knees, resting his cheek against his arms as he looks at you. if anyone were to walk by and see his face they could tell just how in love he was with you.

god, you're pretty. too pretty, the thinks to himself as he watches the way your soft lips are slightly parted as you breathe. he never thought in his twenty two years of life he'd ever care about such a thing but here he was, head over heels for a girl who can't stop biting him.

(and he wonders how you're even able to sleep in such an uncomfortable position. doesn't that hurt your neck?)

gently he taps your arm, and when you don't wake up he grabs your wrist and shakes it a little harder. you were tired, but not tired enough to be able to sleep through that. soon enough you were trying to blink the moisture back into your eyes after having such a good nap.

you slur your words with a small groan of displeasure, "mmn ... joo, are you done ... ?"

he hums in agreement, "mhm, yeah. i'm sorry it took so long." he smiles a bit at how your hair is messed up on one side as you squint at him, trying to readjust to the light.

it would be pretty easy to just stand up right now and grab your things so you both could go home. your bag is right there. but instead, the menace that you are, decide to wrap yourself up tighter in jooyeon's jacket and rest your head back against the wall. you catch the faint smell of his cologne on the jacket as you snuggle into it again.

he looks at you with an unamused pout. "hey."

"just ... mmmfive more minutes ..."

"god, and i'm the sleepyhead?" he scoffs at you, "we gotta go, y'know."

bantering with him was starting to wake you up but you were weirdly comfortable in a way, and taking the fact that you also liked to cause problems for him into consideration, still didn't get up. "you're just mad i napped without you." you don't hide your languid smile.

he decides to convince you with a cheeky remark, "i'll give you a reward if you get up."

"like what?"

"hmm ... how about a kiss?" he slightly sticks out his tongue, trying to give you a playfully flirty expression. his eyebrow raises at you suggestively.

silence. you open your eyes solely to give him a look of disinterest and slight disapproval.

"you could at least go along with it," he whines. but truthfully, he knew that wouldn't work. he's already onto his next mode of convincing. what's the next key to your heart if not for him?

"we can make instant noodles if we get back in time before bed."

by now you're fully awake and shoot him a scrutinizing squint from your unmoving position against the wall. "the buldak or the shin ramyun? choose wisely."

"hmmm ... buldak."

this sparks your interest. "good choice," your tone reflects your immediate approval, "okay, just help me up first," you make grabby hands at him to signal for him to come closer and pull you up. he rolls his eyes at your enthusiasm for the food rather than his affection, yet even if you act silly and intentionally stubborn he still does everything you ask him to just to make you happy.

and happy you are, because he falls right into your trap. before he can lift you up, you grab him by the arms with unexpected force and he almost falls on top of you if not for his quick reflexes. he has both hands on the arm rests of the chair that you're in, hovering above you just inches away from your face. he looks at you in surprise as the adrenaline from the reflexes kicks in.

you grin. "i lied, i want the kiss." you squeeze your eyes shut and purse your lips into a comedic duck-lipped, kissy face. it doesn't last long because after you feel nothing, your eyes flutter open, already giggling at how dumb and annoying you're acting. he looks like he cannot fathom how you're acting right now.

you think he's not going to do it and begin to shift your body up and out of the seat, but you're stopped half way.

"you are so frustrating, you know that," he reprimands you with a slight growl before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. it's clear he savors the feeling despite how he feigns annoyance. you can't ever let him know he caught you by surprise and how your stomach does a flip, because he would never let you live it down.

after a moment you regain your composure (the best you can mid kiss), exceedingly satisfied with how quickly he bends to your will. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him further into you, indulging in the feeling of his slightly chapped lips against yours. he has to steady himself by pressing his knee into the seat, right between your legs and he makes a little noise into your mouth out of surprise. you just can't help yourself if he's going to be that cute. you know that he knows this, and how that aggravates him as someone who claims to be the epitome of manliness.

what was supposed to be a quick peck turns into something more—suddenly he is hungrier for your taste after being provoked so much, turning it into an open mouthed kiss and then a slow, heated make-out session on the well worn armchair of the studio. it's hot. his breath mingles with yours. despite your consistent teasing you are more than willing to melt into his touch. your heart races at the feeling of him searching, wanting more from the heat of your mouth at such a slow and sleepy pace. you quickly feel your face heating up, following his move and willing to give him whatever he wanted from your lips. your hands roam around the expanse of his back and it feels like this moment could last forever.

as soon as you part you look at his love-stricken expression, eyes half-lidded and giving you a crooked smile as he presses his forehead into yours, breathing heavy. his lips are little swollen and pink in the aftermath. you can't help yourself from smiling too, gently running your hands through his hair and twirling bits into your fingers with a satisfied hum. your first thought was that he was so beautiful, and so, so sweet. being with him was thrilling, even if you were doing something as silly as making out like teenagers skipping class.

you're looking at his face like this is the last day you'll ever see it, just admiring how gorgeous he is. he giggles and you feel the faint breath on your cheek. "what?" he gives you a toothy grin, his voice low and raspy and delirious as if he was drunk on your taste alone.

your voice comes out small yet so in love, "'ts nothing. i just like you." which is just scratching the surface of how much you really felt about him.

he looks deep into your eyes, roaming throughout the specks of light that swim through your irises, gives you one last quick peck. "i like you too."

you smile. you know that no matter how silly or stubborn you are he would always be by your side. even when you refuse to get up and he has to coerce you to, even when you spontaneously can't get your hands off each other. you realize the mushy feelings that are bubbling in your throat and threaten to come out as happy tears. in order to break the tension, you joke, "can we still make instant noodles?"

and he laughs, and you feel the warm vibrations against your body, "yes. we can still make the noodles. promise no veggies though."

finally, the two of you get up from the armchair and he's cheesy about it. he grabs your hand, pulls you up into him and spins you. you're always ready to be silly and sappy with him, so you make sure to make a show out of it, all while snickering about how gross it all is. and finally, you make your way home. you think about how good the ramen is going to be. you think about how good it feels, right now, to walk home with him, hand in hand in the cold air of night.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

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thank you for reading! <3

[dirtytransmasc]

atwow hot take:

if jake had said his "son for a son" shit out loud and spider had heard him, he would have been so beyond pissed, he would be seeing red.

spider loved his little siblings so much, neteyam included, even after they grew apart. he loved them like they were his own blood and protected them like they were too (we see a lot more of them together in the comics, where spider is the big brother without a doubt). neteyam's death most certainly rocked him hard, even if he hasn't really been able to show it (how could he? he's already going through all the shit with his dad and the RDA and their nonsense, he can't grieve around neytiri, he's just so tired after it all. he doesn't have the room or the energy to grieve yet)

so if jake had the audacity to say that to/around spider not even a few hours after he watched his little brother get shot after coming to save him, after he stared at the bullet hole in his back, after he watched him take his last breaths, after he watched the light leave his eyes, after he watched his little brother die for him; if he said that while his little brother's body lay in a pool of his own blood not even ten feet away, not even cold yet, blood still clinging to his chest, the scent of it still filling the air: he would have lost his shit.

because the disrespect for his brother is wild.

jake was an active player in spider's neglect and abuse for the last 16 years, he let it happen, he helped it happen. he tried to send spider with the humans, tried to take him away from his siblings, from the forests, from eywa to live with his foster family that didn't love him (not to mention Nash was an asswipe of epic proportions) and the RDA of all people. he had referred to spider as a stray animal since he was little. he was the reason spiders life was hell.

and after all that, years and years of putting him in shit positions and allowing him to suffer the fate of being forever unloved and uncared for (by an adult authority figure, cause I love the kids, but they don't make up for the gap left by a parent), this is what it took for jake to care about him? his little brother had to die in front of him first? he had to be traded out to fill the space of a corpse, to fill in the gap left by his little brother's death?

in canon, spider was in deep in shock with nothing to break him from it, he wasn't in the place to really think about any of it, and I'm sure we're gonna see this anger in the coming movies, but if jake had said it out loud, that would have been enough to snap spider right out of it, and he would have given jake a piece of his mind, I just know it.

[spacebubblehomebase]

I just noticed, in your HHStargazers AU no one has pupils - except for Alastor and, if she's canon, Carmilla. Does that mean slit pupils are a sign of a demon in disguise?

Good eye! 👈👈👀 (Pun unintended.) Though I don't really plan for this trait to be repeatedly shared amongst the disguised demons. Mostly to not limit my designs to an obvious tell. But the slit pupils were indeed intentional flaws I added in for those two in particular. Because according to MY headcanon, both angels and demons are beings beyond human comprehension. Thus, it's only to be expected that even when they TRY to fit in, they'll be unable to keep EVERY aspect of their uncanny nature concealed. At best, they're imperfect imitations of what "normal" should be. It just so happens that in my AU, angels have a much easier time concealing most of their little quirks and oddities away than the sinners for my own reasons and as for WHY no one ever grew suspicious of the eye thing, it's because Charlie's curiosity could be easily curved. While for Lucius to point this out, he'll have to admit that he's been staring at Alastor's eyes a lot whenever he gets close enough to drown in the depths of his gaze and- EHEM!!! Which he's NEVER done, mind you! AhahaHAH- What slit pupils??? Never noticed those before. Nuh-uh. NO siree. NOPE! Lucius is normally so, SO normal about Alastors VERY much normal eyes in a TOTALLY normal amount of normal. A-ANYWAAAYS!!! Lucius would also be a hypocrite if he was bothered by them considering his own occupation and the people he's usually surrounded by (yet to be revealed). As for the other humans, Alastor doesn't care enough about their opinions for it to be a threat to him and people often just avoid the guy unnerving them with his creepy ass stare. So it's all good! Hope you like these bonus fun facts! 'Cause I have a feeling I left you with just as much questions as answers, but that's the fun of an ongoing story, yeah? Stay tuned~! 😉✨️ -Bubbly💙

[egophiliac]

This isn't really an ask but I thought you'd like to know that the "it was a joke" thing also happens in reverese, I saw a discord conversation once where someone asked for the name of the vignette where Azul makes a mushroom-based gacha game based on illustrations by Jade and people had to explain that that never actually happened in canon and it was one of your comics

oh no

oh nooooooooooooo

[rosie-tyler]

Moulin Rouge AU

The story follows Moulin Rouge star performer, Daniel LaRusso, and an American writer, Johnny Lawrence, as they navigate through a tumultuous love affair. Little do they know about John Kreese's plan: set LaRusso up with a wealthy man, Terry Silver, to take revenge on Mr. Miyagi, Daniel's father.