#-__- thank youuu thank you so much

[shandzii]

Explosion

[feketeribizli]

marci masterpost 🫡 my beloved formula one guy

[wishfulsketching]

LOVEEEEEEE YOUR ZAUNDADS ART SM AAAAAAA ❤️💞❤️💞❤️💞💞❤️💞💞 saw the scene of them in ep 7 and first thought was “oh that one silco artist is going to go insane ab this” ajsbdhsbhsbs. love how u draw them sm. you get them. I officially bestow upon you the #1 zaundads truther award. you win.

The fact that two people have said that they thought of me when they saw AU zaundads gives me life. This is the reputation I want to have! To be the feral Silco simp and zaundads enjoyer. Hell to the fucking yeah

But tbh, I am merely mining in the zaundads mines, trying to find nuggets of gold to share with others, all the while a small crowd is booing me.

I wouldn't make this much art and have this much fun if people weren't people interacting with my art. I read the tags like they're my morning newspaper.

(Legit, when I saw Silco the first time I instantly had the "oh no. He's going to be my favorite" moment. And I was not wrong. Just look at himmmm)

[nerd-artist]

A soft Aloy/Nil for @kittleskittle

Truly an honor to draw for an amazing artist like you!! Thank you so much for purchasing this, friend 🫂

Your contribution was destined to the NGO Open Arms that’s helping in the field since the beginning and also to schools in need.

[tatakaeeren]

⏯ Jujutsu Kaisen men "sexy" playlist

[evidenceof]

i have just said something ridiculous to you

Joe Toye has a nice face, George thinks. Strong nose, strong brows, and a scowl that George realized he liked to earn. Miles deep into 2nd Battalion's march to Atlanta, George Luz hears an Irish song from across their frozen campground.

happiest holidays, @blood-mocha-latte, my hbo war 2025 secret santa baby!! ♡ crossing my fingers and hoping i did their voices/headspaces justice. this present is brought to you by equal parts mary oliver's 'i have just said,' that you love, and toye's atlanta march predicament™. i very humbly give to you my very first luztoye fic.

I have just said something ridiculous to you and in response, your glorious laughter. - 'I Have Just Said' by Mary Oliver

-----------------------------------

December 1, 1942 | 2330 hours Campgrounds, 38 miles from Fort Benning

The butter tastes like nothing on his frozen tongue. George winces at the thin oily film it leaves behind in his mouth after he swallows. Too fucking cold, everything was too fucking cold. A ragged chuckle saws its way through his throat while he watches Perco fight a losing battle against his hard slice of bread. Eventually, he rips it in half, elbow colliding with the tent wall and almost costing them their flimsy shelter. A hundred and fifteen miles and they had to survive off of stale bread and pats of butter.

“The way we live you’d think we’re already at the front of the fucking lines.” Perco’s voice was muffled under a thick scarf. “I don’t know what’s worse. This or shit on a shingle.”

“Come on, we got it made.” George lights a cigarette, and flicks off his lighter in an attempt to sweep away any talk of war. “Sightseeing the backcountry, free food, free clothes. These fuckin’ boots? Babies are the best in General Patton's Third Army, so I’ve heard.” His boot lands back on the cold ground with a pathetic thump from where he lifted it. 

“Aw, shut up, Luz.” Perco shoves him backwards, hard, half a slice of bread still in his hand, but with a grin already plastered on his face.

Just barely missing the tent wall, George regains his balance. “All right, all right. Jeez,” he laughs. He presses his hand on Perco’s head to push himself up, earning him a scowl. “Gonna go find a fire before this thing collapses on us.”

The flap of the tent all but snaps in half when he throws it open. Ice crackles down the drab green canvas like peanut brittle. Outside, cold air smacks against George’s face as he takes in the columns of tents around him that stand frosted and gleaming in the moonlight. The temperature had dropped earlier in the afternoon, but tomorrow promised worse terrain because, as far as George was concerned, God had abandoned 2nd Battalion specifically. Why else would they be the only ones walking all the way to fucking Atlanta? There's thirty eight more miles and not nearly enough bad Sobel impressions in George’s back pocket to last them that far.

With a single drag, he polishes off the remainder of his cigarette. Squinting, he spots Lip and Guarnere in the middle of what looks like an attempt at walking without having to bend their knees. Their frosty puffs of breath mirror the smoke he exhales. He sees Lip’s hand raise to greet him at the same time a bad tune cuts across the field, louder than the muffled grousing from inside the pup tents. Only George whips his head towards the direction of the sound.

“Luz, what’re you up to?” Lip’s voice is firm. George doesn’t see, but he hears the smile in it.

“Better not be doin’ anything fuckin’ stupid. I’m goddamn tired of that pansy chicken-shit officer breathing down my neck all fuckin’ day,” spits Guarnere, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. “Sobel, I mean. Winters ain’t no chicken-shit at least.”

George doesn't expect the polite chuckle from Lip who's quick to follow it up with a stern, “Bill.” At that, Guarnere raises an eyebrow like a demanding child, a look that George knows he never let his ma see. “But he’s right, keep your head outta trouble, Luz. Got enough to deal with while Toye’s relegated to K.P,” continues Lip with a grimace.

George tips his head in the direction of the broken Irish song still flitting in the air. “That him?” The scowl on Guarnere’s face is confirmation enough. “What’d he do?”

“Go ask him if you’re so fuckin’ curious,” Guarnere sneers. “Hey, I’m serious Luz. Give Sobel an excuse to take away passes and I’ll shove a trench knife up your ass.”

George knuckles his forehead to mock-salute Guarnere and gives Lip a wink. “I’ll behave for you, Bill,” he sing-songs. It only takes him a second to quash his finished cigarette under his boot before his feet start moving towards the sound almost involuntarily. He finds Toye hunched over a fire, chin resting on his legs that are folded in front of him. Even tucked into himself, there was something intimidating about his angles. It’s those goddamn broad shoulders of his, wide like no one’s business. Certainly not George’s. He doesn’t recognize the words Joe is singing but the tune’s familiar enough. Once or twice, he found himself straining to hear it in the Toccoa showers. It almost feels like a shame to put an end to it. Almost.

“Thought someone was dying. Your bad singing why they’re making you do this?” chides George, nudging Toye with his boot before he takes a seat on the ground. 

Toye clenches his jaw in acknowledgment, any lingering mirth vanishing from his face. “Luz,” says Toye, already exasperated. George watches him jab the weak fire with a stick. The orange glow casts shadows on his irritated face. Nothing quite like pissing off Joe Toye. He has a nice face, George thinks. Strong nose, strong brows, a scowl that George realized he liked to earn. Even with the darkness under his eyes, Toye looks sturdy.

“Aw, c’mon Toye. Not happy to see me?” His teeth chatter and Toye’s lip twitches into the beginnings of a smile. “Lighten up will ya?”

A gust of wind makes them both adjust their scarves. From under his own, Toye shakes his head before glaring at the stick in his hand. George can see him weighing out the pros and cons of throwing it into the pit. “I did. Look where that got me,” says Toye, eventually.

“Hey, least you’re warm right?” George smiles at him while dislodging a clump of dirt from the sole of his boot to throw in Toye’s direction. When it hits the side of his leg, Toye barely flinches. So it was like that, huh? George digs his heel into the hardened ground, dragging himself closer to Joe. “So what’d you do? You can trust me. Who the fuck am I gonna tell?”

Toye continues staring at the flames like they’d done something to offend him. When he doesn’t answer, George inches forward, tracking cold moisture and mud on his trousers. For a moment he’s convinced Toye isn’t paying attention, but George sees how his eye twitches in time with the sound of his ODs scritching against the ground.

“Toye. Toye. Toye. Joe Toye. C’mon, buddy. Tell good ol’ George,” he says, slightly out of breath as he continues to drag himself closer. 

Bright dots of orange float up into the inky blue night when Toye jostles the firewood with his stick. “Not sure you wanna know, Luz,” he says gravely. “What, you need new source material or something? Running out of punchlines?”

“Me? Nah. Been practicing my Strayer,” says George, grinning. He’s not sure if he imagines the little nod from Toye. “When I get that pitch perfect, it'll last us ’til we ship out at least. You’ll fuckin’ see.” There’s caked mud on the ass of his ODs, he feels it. But now Toye was in perfect prodding distance and that made the journey worth it. With his fist, George nudges him once, twice, but he still looks like a goddamn statue staring at the fire, unmoving. “C’mon Toye. What’d you do?”

Nothing prepares him for how quickly Toye swivels his body towards his. He’s so close that George feels his breath on his cheek when Toye says, “You really wanna know? How about you ask me nice, Luz? Throw in a little favor?”

“Like what…?” says George, schooling his face into seriousness. Were Toye’s lashes always this long? George swears he feels the phantom brush of them against his goddamn forehead. He isn’t proud of the way it makes him miss a beat or causes that slight tremble in his voice. Nothing he couldn’t chalk up to the cold, he thinks. And he fucking would, if anyone asks.

“Like take over with these fires for me, you fuckin’ idiot,” growls Toye in his usual low gravelly voice. The white of his teeth catches the corner of George’s eye, then the pink of his lower lip. Damn. It feels almost too late when Toye thwacks the long stick against George’s chest and he nearly falls backwards. “My arm’s falling asleep.”

Clearing his throat to pull himself together is a decision George regrets immediately. It’s raw and cold like the rest of him. But he can deal with the shards of glass lodged into his windpipe better than the fucking knots that just erupted in his stomach. What was with that? He swipes the stick and turns to face the fire so that Joe is just a smudge in his periphery. From a few feet away, he hears Lieb and Alley laughing mercilessly. The thought of them witnessing all that makes his face burn, but he reminds himself everyone’s huddled in their own pup tents.

Toye's voice, resigned now, floats from beside George suddenly. It’s soft from fatigue. “Kid wanted to know what it felt like,” he says but doesn't continue. 

“What what felt like?” George pokes the fire. There’s a hiss and crackle of wood before Toye replies.

“What it’s like to pick up a skirt,” mumbles Toye, sounding embarrassed, forgiving maybe. “Says he gets nervous easy. He’s a buddy of mine from Dog Company, knew him from Pennsylvania, worked the coal mines together. He’s… you know? All stiff-like. Kinda like—”

“Like Winters?” George answers. “The fuck is wrong with you people from Pennsylvania. You born with a complimentary stick up your ass or what?” George wonders if that was too much, but he hears a huff from beside him—a sound that, from his limited knowledge, is the closest thing Toye gets to laughing. There’s a giddiness in his chest that tells him he’s been wanting to hear that for a while.

“Yeah. Yeah, like Lieutenant Winters,” replies Toye, less grave now. George turns to find him smiling down at the ground almost sleepily. It triggers a fresh set of knots right below George’s belly. It makes sense that the guy would ask Toye, George decides. With a face like that, eyes like that, he could bring home just about anyone he wanted. “Tells me he gets jittery, that friend of mine. Loses his fucking words. Needs practice. Needs advice,” says Toye. 

“Just need a face like yours.” It tumbles out of George’s mouth automatically. God, he wanted to shove one of the burning logs down his throat. But if Toye heard, he didn’t show it. Recovering, George continues, “What’d you tell him?”

Calm as anything, Toye lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t. Gave him a little practical exercise and pushed the guy against a wall,” he says with an even voice. From where he’s turned, the fire illuminates only a portion of his face. Even from a partial view, George could tell he wasn’t joking. Unsurprising; Toye rarely did. “Evans saw.”

“So he served you K.P. duty for jostling a guy? Sounds about right.” George laughs, imagining Evans’ prissy frown. “Your broads usually slam you against walls?”

As an answer, Toye smiles, all teeth, and George stops laughing. 

“It was nothing serious. Wanted to see how well he could come up with one of those lines of his in that position. Said he’s been practicing,” insists Toye. A tiny smirk tugs at the corner of his lip at the sudden shift in George’s face. “I was gentle though, but I think that was the problem. I, uh… I think he liked it.”

There was something about the image George couldn’t quite put together in his mind. He frowns. I think he liked it. 

“You shoulda seen Evans’ face. Kinda looks like yours right now actually, but less red,” Toye grins and George fights the urge to hide his head under his scarf. “Ripped my friend away from me and doled out the punishment. But really, the fucking kicker was him telling me to go see the chaplain. Fucking self-righteous asshole.”

“The chaplain? Since when the fuck do you need to—” Suddenly, it clicks in his mind, and he imagines the scene Evans must have walked into that night. Toye resting a hand against the wall beside the private’s face, the incline of his broad shoulders pointing inward, caging him. Gentle . Those big eyes and lashes too fucking close: Toye looking like the very picture of ease. Only in his head, George erases the face of the nameless PFC from Dog Company and replaces it with his own. Toye’s angles leaning towards him, lips inches away from his face, the feeling of his gravelly voice trailing from the tip of George’s nose all the way down under his shirt. He chokes a bit when he says, disbelieving, “No. Fuck, Toye. Nah, that ain’t right. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” says Toye tightly and looks up to glare at him. George can’t quite meet his eyes. “I was lightening up, remember?”

This close to the fire, George’s hands still feel like ice. “You’re insane, Joe. Fucking insane,” he says, trying to shake off the thought of Toye being close, peering up at a guy through his lashes like a dame. Suddenly, George’s trousers feel tight and his head was spinning in all possible directions.

“Didn’t hurt him. Was only trying to help. I was gentle, like I said,” Toye says lightly, voice already edged with sleep and without a trace of guilt. “Want a demonstration, Luz?”

“What, so you can get caught again? You plan on being K.P. until we’re shipped out?” George hears the higher register in his voice, and feels the way his heart rams against his sternum. He can’t look at Toye so he pokes the fire instead. A hot splinter flies onto his hand and he lets it sting, steering his full attention to the tiny patch of burning flesh.

Toye’s voice is thick with the lack of sleep, but more importantly is suddenly right behind George’s ear, brushing against the tiny hairs he didn’t know existed there. “I won’t tell if you don’t. I can keep a secret,” whispers Toye. George almost moans, but catches himself. It comes out a fumbling huff instead. The tightness of his trousers stop him from moving away.

“Well,” George tries to say. His zipper brushes against his skivvies and he almost jumps. If not for the jacket, the tented crotch area of his trousers would be on full display. Christ, he hopes Toye’s sleep-deprived enough to forget all this by the end of the march. “I can’t.” 

Toye laughs, fully now. George feels it on his nape, the hahas hitting his skin like long-burning coals. God, it felt good. 

“I’ll try it on you one day, Luz,” says Toye. George isn’t sure if he imagines Toye’s palm resting on his hip. It's too much and he feels like passing out. All the blood from his brain seems pool to right down into his crotch. It was getting harder to think, let alone respond. 

“You’re funny,” manages George eventually. Toye’s breath smells like Juicy Fruit, sweet.

“Yeah? I like surprising people like that,” says Toye, like a purr. When he moves away, Toye keeps the smile fixed on his face. The missing pressure of his hand leaves a cold mark on George’s side. So that was real. The affirmation only intensifies the heat below his stomach.

“You make a habit of shoving enlisted men against walls?” breathes George. It feels too good to keep this line of conversation going, everything in his body says so. But George couldn’t trust himself or his faculties. He was still thinking of Juicy Fruit in his mouth.

“Among other things.” Toye smirks lazily at him, and tilts his head up at the sky. George tells himself it’s the fatigue and the proximity to smoke that makes every word Toye says sound flirtatious. This fucking march had everyone acting strange, especially him.

“You are insane,” he says again, voice trembling. No way in hell was this guy a fairy. Didn’t fucking look like one anyway, all broad shouldered and angular. Nothing about him swished: not his fucking voice, or his fucking hips. Shit just don’t add up like that. But neither did the tightness in his OD trousers that didn't feel like it would disappear fast enough.

“A compliment coming from you, George.” Toye buries his face in his palms. “Fuck, I’m tired,” he says, the words drawn out of him like an exhale.

George watches his body sway slightly, tipping almost imperceptibly in and out of consciousness. “You sleep at all Joe?” Toye yawns as an answer; it shudders through him. He was just tired and spread thin, George thinks, they all were. And that got you acting different, that got you acting abnormal.

“No. But Evans still has it out for me. He’s lurking somewhere,” Toye says, not looking up from where George thinks he’s already fallen half asleep. The sharp angles of Toye’s shoulders droop, sagging under the weight of a second day without sleep. George lights another cigarette, finally, to keep his hands from doing something really fucking stupid like throwing a blanket over Toye and shoving his head onto his lap. Shit that guy from Dog Company can’t do, he thinks, feeling an odd barb of possessiveness while looking at Toye’s drooping head.

“Hey, I got this, all right?” argues George, gesturing at the growing fire.

“Shut up, Luz. I’m not looking for handouts.” But Toye’s voice dips in volume, belying the stubbornness in it.

“C’mon, Joe. You can’t be the only one handing out favors from the goodness of your heart,” George offers something like understanding. From his palms, Toye glances up at him, questioning. He’d look almost offended if he didn’t look so soft.

“Twenty minutes. Sleep. We got thirty-eight miles left in the morning and you look like shit,” continues George. Toye’s gaze doesn’t move away from him. So he stares back, feeling a little selfish, tracing Toye’s dark lashes and pink lips with his eyes. He wonders if they’ll ever get to sit this close again. “I’m saying if Evans comes around, I’ll charm him for ya.”

“Yeah?” says Toye, still looking at George, a small smile hooked on his lips. The sounds of the camp feel like they’ve all but disappeared. “Yeah. You’re good at that.”

His cigarette burns down to the filter but George continues to suck on it, unable to fish it out with his shaking hands that he’s hidden in his jacket pockets. They’re warm now, so it couldn’t have been the cold causing the trembling. He can still feel Toye’s laugh ricocheting on his neck.

Toye breaks their little staring contest and faces the fire. “Fine, twenty minutes.” 

“Sure buddy.” George watches Toye’s chin droop down onto his chest and his eyes flutter shut, lashes twitching. He’s asleep immediately. When he’s sure Toye was out cold, George fishes out a blanket from his pack and drapes the whole thing across Toye’s shoulders with a gentleness he didn’t know he had. “Take as long as you like.”

[teddybeartoji]

saw this and immediately thought about snow leopard satoru and i am on my knees imagining how whiny and needy and clingy he would be.. flicking the little bell just to tease him .. oughh i feel sick .....

PERCE?!?!?w!??"?!??!?!?1+?="?!??!?!!??!="!"=!?""?!?? THE MOAN I JUST LET OUT OOOOH MY FUCKING GODDDD HE'D BE SOOOO FUCKING WHINY AREYOU KIDDING ME MMMMMMMMMMMMM HE'S MY BABYYY:(((( he's sitting on the bed with you, his tail tucked between his legs bc he's feeling very overwhelmed and that helps him keep his composure a little but it's soo so hard bc you're right there.. staring at him with a teasing smile on your face. the little cock cage is the only thing he has on but he still feels soo so warm that's he's just flushed a dark pink shade all the way from his chest to the tips of his ears he's soooo fucking cutee:(((( his ears are pointed downwards as his body keeps twitching and there's no stopping to the little gasps that spill from his lips every time you flick the little bell mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm he's whining so so much and he just wants to touch you, oh god he just wants to feel you in any way he can - he wants to hold your hand, he wants to kiss, he wants to get a taste but every time he reaches his hand out, he's rewarded with a faint slap against his sensitive thighs:((((((

he loves it though. pre-cum leaks from his tip and he's making such a big fucking mess even though you're not even really doing anything and it's just making you wanna tease him even more. but he really does love it. he loves the fucked up, pretty little smile you're wearing. he thinks you look so beautiful like this... so his tears are worth it, the tingling sensation in his thighs is worth it, the painfully good pleasure is all worth it<33333333333333333

[sweeneydino]

Hey, I just wanted to let you know I wrote a fic based on your TMNT AU where Usagi finds and decides to raise the RISE tots cause I was really inspired. I hope you enjoy it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/52182760/chapters/131990338

GASSSSPPPP

I love you

AHHHHHHHG 💕💕💙🩵💙💞💞❤️❤️💖🥰🥰🥰 I LOVE IT SO MUCH YOU CANT EVEN

ITS AMAZIBG I LOVE HOW YOU WROTE THEM AND THE WAY YOU DRSCRIBED THE SCENES AND THE DIALOG I STG MSJWNWKWJSNJS

You're AMAZING 💕💕💕💕💕

LEO AND USAGIS RELATIONSHIP 😩😩😩

🫵 YOU. YOU TAKE THIS YOU BEAUTIFUL SOUL

I have been bouncing in place for so long I'm so happy I CANT WAIT TO SEE MORE :DDD

PLEASE CHECK OUT @shyadri 's works 😭😭

[stardynamite]

LMAO THANK YOU GUYS FOR YOUR SWEET COMMENTS GDKDHDK I WISH I COULD ANSWER YOU ALL AHHH💖💖💖

ALSO PROPS TO THIS GUY @potatoeofwisdom FOR NOTICING THIS LMAO:

I thought this detail would only be funny to me lmao 😭

[sharkaroni]

Chapter 10 of The Plum Calendar is up!

In this chapter, Reigen and Serizawa finally have a talk. In the end, they’re wet, cold, covered in mud, one of them’s bleeding and they’re both halfway deaf. But to find out how that happened, you’re just gonna have to read the very final chapter of The Plum Calendar.

” Like I said, aside from the constant overhanging threat of being eaten, it was one of my better vacations to date.” The fact being, it was one of exactly two vacations Reigen had taken in his entire adult life, and the other one had been pretty severely dampened by a very predictable bout of salmonella. ”Besides, you, uh, definitely did your part,” he said, looking the other way. ”You’re a pretty smooth talker, when you wanna be. And you’re not a bad kisser, either.” Reigen didn’t have time to reflect on what a stupid, idiotic thing that had been to say, because he, along with all the woodsy debris on the ground, was being launched a good few meters up into the air by some unseen psychic force.

The Plum Calendar has been a fic about pretending to be engaged to the secret love of your life so a 200-year old ghost won’t marry him and keep him in the ghost dimension forever. But it has also been about not being good enough, about the concept of deserving, about what it means to be a liar, and whether or not that sort of thing is innate.

For those of you who have been reading along, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. I can write 30 000 words of someone else’s sappy feelings, but I can never express how much I’ve loved having you read my story. And for the rest of you,  maybe check it out? I don’t know, you might like it.

[gojoest]

thank you for being so supportive of me and my ill obsession with gojo satoru 🤍

[wonjuii]

　　　⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅₊ 𝄞　⁺ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅₊　　Thank you!　　⢷𓈒⣀⣠⠞⠳⣄⣀𓈒⣠⠞

　　　　⢷𓈒⣀⣠⠞ My comments about hitting 403 followers 　Thank you so much for 400 followers! (3+ so 403 when I found out) I appreciate how much you all supported me and my hard work on every each of moodboards I have posted! I love you all sm!!

　The moodboard I made a while ago has grew alot of notes which I was shock with 99+ notification in my activities so thank you so much for liking, reblogging and commenting on my post! This is my big thank you..

　　⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅₊ 𝄞　⁺ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅₊　　My tags / My favs　　⢷𓈒⣀⣠⠞⠳⣄⣀𓈒⣠⠞

@y-unrei @y2jiz @yeritos @yrminji @gigittamic @ourdadai @fuckici @f-loqweres @fctgot @wonbuni @khyeins @koosuvi @khaer @i-kyujin @itgirlied @j-eongs @h9erin @ojiito @obrigados @yourporcelaindoll @i04rei @iluvrei @hyetori @p-oisn @plutism @muruffin n more! (BRO THEY WONT LET ME ADD MOREE) --------------------------------------- ⢷𓈒⣀⣠⠞⠳⣄⣀𓈒⣠⠞

[cielsiesta]

song about an angel 🥀🐇

alt version:

[mistmarigold]

What if Sunjae didn’t die that night Part 4 (lovely runner au)

[Read Part 1, 2, and 3 here.]

When you are in the spotlight, things have a way of getting out of control. So it came as no surprise to Sunjae when the rumour about his retirement was already out before his work meeting.

“It’s just a rumour, right? You don’t intend on actually quitting?”

Sunjae was asked by the director. Strangely enough, he was no longer sure about the retirement. And so, he remained silent. However, at his apathy, Inhyuk had stormed off.

Unbeknownst to Inhyuk, Sunjae’s fingers had been strumming against the table on an invisible tune and it didn’t go unnoticed. Thankfully, he was neither asked nor pressured about it but it gave him the leeway for the meeting to end without a resolution (once again).

Putting away his phone and the article that he was skimming through, he shuffled through his apartment looking for a pen and paper. It had been a long while since he wanted to write so he no longer kept these things in sight.

At last, he finally found a scrap of paper - a bill, no less - and grabbed a marker to quickly jot down words and phrases. Soon enough, the entire white of the paper was a mess of black scribbles that only made sense to him. He sighed and kept it away - neatly - to get back to it later and was about to head to the kitchen for some water when he realised his phone had been constantly buzzing.

He picked it up on Sol’s fourth message.

“It’s not true, right? Sunjae isn’t retiring, right?”

“I’m so sorry for texting you, I promised I wouldn’t, can you please just give me a hint?”

“This is the last message, I won’t bother you again. Is Sunjae doing okay?”

A small smile took over his face. Of course, she’d be concerned about him. At this point, he should stop being surprised - even if everything she does comes as a surprise to him.

It isn’t just that she cares for him, but more that it feels like an overdue acknowledgment that he never expected to receive. That the person who he has felt so unbelievably guilty towards, the person he has yearned for more than 15 years, is physically jn his orbit and that she cares for him enough to give him her sunflowers.

“He is doing okay, right?” Another message came through.

Sunjae wanted to respond properly but at the same time he didn’t want to be more involved in her life, lest he causes more harm to her. As much as Sol stirs up his soul, he didn’t want to impose on her life in any other capacity other than neighbour-turned-celebrity she knows him for. It was safer that way.

A pang of hurt went through him at the thought of never being able to meet Sol again but he felt at peace that she will be safe from him. After all, nothing would’ve happened to her if he had just woken her up at their stop that night.

Sunjae opened her message and sent a quick thumbs up reaction - nothing more, nothing less.

He didn’t want to be in her life, but he wished she’d remain in his. That she would text him again, and again, and again. He wanted to see all of her smiles - when she’s shy, when she’s truly happy, when she’s excited. But at the same time, he knew that with every instance between them, it would get harder and harder to let go of her. Staying away from Sol, it felt as if he was going against his nature. Almost as if the entire world had colluded to push him towards her and he was wasting his time trying to resist.

His gaze goes back to the scrap of paper he had been writing on, so he kept his phone aside and went back to it.

If he couldn’t say all the things he wanted to say to Sol as Sunjae, he would do it as Ryu Sunjae. Either way, she will know his words and he hoped that would be enough for him.

*

Later that night, Sunjae held up his end of the deal. He texted Sol a picture of her sunflowers - now preserved in a resin cover for a small notebook.

What he didn’t send was the small resin pendant with preserved sunflowers that had become part of his daily wardrobe, hidden to the world but he knew it was there, embodying Sol’s presence in his life for all the years that had gone by and yet to come.

—

Part 5 here.

[aimervee]

Woo, hi Aimer! Thought I’d send an ask to hand you imaginary choccy milk, because you’re epic!

For real though, I just wanted to say that you’re a really talented artist like so many other people on here, and seeing your art always never forgets to make me smile a lot whenever it pops into my feed when I open Tumblr. :]

(I’m suffering over the extreme adorableness of Piper & Clementine, HHHHEEEEELLLLPPPP)

Keep being awesome and good luck with anything you have going on at the moment, wishing you the best! :D

WAAUAUGHGH THANK YOU SO MUCH 💖💖💖💖💖

[angeart]

Hiii I would like to participate in the ask game! 🍄?? :))

hi hiiii! <3 love u for participating!

there's actually one version of answer for that question already >>here<< but dw u get one too!! :3

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

i think this became obvious in wild life but i noticed that both scar and grian are providers in their own ways when given the right space and a chance for it. but if we take them as a pair and put them somewhere safe like hermitcraft, i think it shows a bit differently than when they're deep in a life game.

grian loves to give and take freely, without boundaries. he loves sharing and feeling involved and a part of things, and he wants to give that feeling back. he gives gifts and goes out of his way to organise little or big ways to connect; he leaves cryptic presents and silly pranks; he swarms with attention both direct and indirect. that's his love language.

but consider. he does get tired. and he has nightmares sometimes, and he sleeps badly. and when he wears himself out, he sleeps in a lot; a near-nocturnal birb, useless in the mornings.

somehow, he sleeps better in scar's bed. in ways he can't quite grasp (it's the warmth and sense of familiarity and safety), it somehow feels more restful.

and scar happily lets him! he's soo happy whenever grian sleeps over. he'd love for it to be the normal, minus grian's fatigue. there's that edge of domesticity they both crave but dance around admitting to wanting it.

so in turn, scar's love language is to make sure not to wake grian up when scar gets up early. and it's to make sure that grian wakes up to the smell of fresh warm coffee and pancakes. it's companionship of pointless rambles far from heavy topics, and quiet laughter and warmth of a home and hearth, and borrowed swreaters and cat cuddles. it's indulging grian's anticts as well as his sulky moods, and offering him homebaked treats and distractions to lift the mood.

so just think of that morning scene. an exhausted grian sleeping in until noon, light streaming through the window, sunrays dancing across his wings, and— scar's leaning against the doorframe, eyes soft and so, so fond, with zero intention of interrupting or waking grian up. he knows the man needs the sleep, and he's so happy grian feels safe enough to get it here.

and the coffee is warm, and the pancakes are fluffy and ready.

>> question from Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game