#I bet you think all of these pixels are about you

[fate-tumbles]

It's good because now I'm getting high on own cosmic body

You said you never want to listen to a tiny dancer even when it came on in the car because it made you cry because it reminded. Did you have the last best something in your life. Which I won't mention because I'm dealing with this in my own way but there's things I need to keep private because I know it's the right thing to do and because I'm going to get really annoyed if I slip up because I'm tired, not because I'm an asshole. Because I'm not the asshole.

And defining you remix with a lot of new people adding to something old which made it so much better, or at least reminded everyone why they love the song in the first place so much.

Because to him at the time that he released it, it was everything.

I'm sad I missed his farewell tour because now I know I relate more to his troubles than you ever could imagine. Like every other celebrity and musician you look up to so much.

I think you hate that I really to them so much now and such a closer way. Or at least to me. Because I've always felt that you were a little shallow unfortunately. But I loved you anyways because I'm a loving person and you gave me something that I didn't think I deserved. And worse than that I didn't think I can get it myself because I was such a loser in so many ways in my life that I wanted to improve that.

But couldn't because I had no accountability.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 1

Part 2! G/N. 3.2k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

"How old are you?"

"20."

Press X for doubt, you think, and that's the exact meme you send over on chat.

"20 like 20 or 20 like you're mid 30s and planning your mid life crisis 20?"

You know you're being rude and making a terrible first impression. It's the first day of a new school year, of a new school in fact, and for some reason the class is held on video call and you're all forced to pair off with a classmate for an icebreaker introduction.

It’s already cringe worthy and awkward enough, icebreakers must have been created as a form of torture. To add insult to injury, you're sure this guy is bullshitting you.

"I'm 20." He deadpans.

Momentarily, you’re stunned into silence. It stretches almost a tad too long before you manage to choke out, “My bad. Sorry."

Wow. You're torn between thinking that's a rough 20, this guy has easily got 40 years under his belt and oh no, when is your puberty and hormones gonna kick in like that.

And that's also the exact moment this 20 year old Gun Park takes a drag on a cigarette and you decide that it's definitely a rough 20.

"So what do you do for fun?" You probe, and you have the distinct feeling he might say something like alimony, planning his third marriage, investing in the stock market - whatever someone in their 50s might say but-

To your surprise and glee, his body language turns shifty. 

He likes to game he says, like it's a dirty little secret. Amongst other things. Mentions something about training and martial arts and you fight to keep a straight face as it turns out you were also right about investing in shares and the stock market.

Gaming, however, is what you latch on to.

"Cute. I bet I could kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes."

And this is how you ended up at 4am on a school night, playing Tekken with your new classmate and getting your ass kicked.

"One more!" You screech down the mic, after the KO sign appears on screen, mumbling something about cheating and how if you can time this combo just right-

There's a huff of laughter coming through your tinny headphones and an amused "Fine."

.

.

Dark circles under your eyes grow. It's been a week of straight losses.

You blame the sleep deprivation on Gun Park, though really you have your own stubbornness to blame.

He never tends to say much during the gaming sessions apart from the odd expletive and you rant enough after each of your defeats for the both of you.

Sometimes this will earn you a chuckle and he will snidely add that you asked for this, you were the one who was supposed to kick his ass. This would piss you off enough for another game or three in the hopes of defeating him and getting to gloat.

Which unfortunately has not happened yet.

With a sigh, you hope your camera quality this morning is bad enough and pixelated enough that your poor sleep habits don't show.

You scan over your classmates, the few that have their camera turned on and find him.

Gun looks completely fine. He looks completely fine in what must be 4k and ugh, you scrunch your nose up in annoyance.

You keep an eye on him through the class. Observe how he's usually paying rapt attention, scribbling and typing up notes every now and then.

It's impressive how studious he is.

In comparison, you're daydreaming. Thinking about lunch, other combos or characters to play to counter his own when you catch on to the back end of a sentence as your teacher mentions ‘this’ is something to pay attention to as it will be on the pop quiz.

Huh? You blink a couple times. What is ‘this’? Unfortunately she swiftly moves onto another topic.

You type out a direct message to the only person you know.

You: I missed that, what did she just say?

Gun: You should have been paying attention.

You: Fuck you man!

You see his eyes dip to the bottom of the camera screen, briefly moving as he presumably reads your message.

He smirks.

That night he kicks your ass again.

Then as consolation, reveals what will be on the pop quiz.

.

.

If Gun looked like that in 4k, nothing could prepare you for how he looked in real life.

You're setting up your laptop and notepad in the classroom, the first actual in-person session, when someone takes a seat next to you.

Initially you feel a surge of irritation that they could have sat anywhere else and chose to sit next to you, then you look at the offender and-

Hold on.

You double, triple-take-

Is that?

It must be.

Shit.

It's fucking Gun Park.

You don't entirely regret your initial comments on his looks because this guy definitely does not look 20 but goddamn he looks-

He chooses that moment, when your jaw is on the floor, to turn to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement.

"Y/N."

"H-hi." You manage, and even to your ears it sounds like a simpering fool.

He must have thought so too if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

The cherry on top is that you expected this guy to smell like stale smoke, instead all you get is fresh laundry and something faintly dark and heady like leather and cedarwood.

Fuck.

Control yourself, a disapproving voice in your head says. Even that sounds vaguely like Gun.

It does nothing to stop your wandering gaze, peering at him in your periphery when you think he's not looking.

After you have taken your chance to not so discreetly run your eyes up and down his form, the only thing that makes you feel better is his hair. Because yeah he might be hot, but holy shit that must be a gallon of hair gel in there.

.

.

The other thing, as it turns out, that makes you feel a lot better is that he doodles.

It’s utterly charming.

Someone like Gun Park doesn't look like he doodles, but in between lines of his chicken scratch (seriously, who can even read that), there's little stick figures.

Maybe all the time you thought he was being studious he was just drawing-

Wait. You squint at the picture.

Is this guy for real?

"Are they fucking?" You whisper, using your pen to point at the page.

He doesn't answer straight away. There's a moment of surprise as he reacts like this is another secret of his he has unwittingly let you in on before his nostril flares and his eyes narrow and you grin in response.

Your grin grows when he grits out an answer. "No. Fighting."

He doesn't call you a dumbass but you can hear it loud and clear tacked on at the end.

"Whatever, pervert." You counter. You guess if you squint even harder then you suppose they could be fighting. Although the way one is lying on top of another is very suggestive. You don't hesitate to point that out to him.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

Even without a seating plan, one forms.

Places taken by chance on the first day becomes a regular arrangement.

You exchange a few words with your classmates, familiarise yourself somewhat with their names and faces. Pieces of their backstory, why they're here studying for a GED but take your spot next to Gun regardless.

No one really talks to him, you've heard them saying he's menacing and intimidating. Yet when your first encounter of him was mistaking him as someone about to hit mid life crisis, how intimidating can he really be.

Besides, he still doodles his lewd figures that he insists are not in any way shape or form comprising sexual positions. So no, you don't find him intimidating at all.

.

.

Gun, as you have come to know, is a man of few words. He is also unsurprisingly not great at literature.

What you don't yet know is he likes to say what he means and mean what he says. His patience only extends to The Art of War, so all the flowery prose and poetry only serves to irritate him.

If Gun glared at you the way he's currently glaring at the textbook, you think you may either burst into tears or burst into flames.

Luckily you do neither of those things but you do take pity on him. Leaning over, you ask him quietly if he needs help.

He doesn't respond but the pen he's clutching in his right hand snaps in half.

Alright then.

Half an hour later, when the class empties out you ask Gun to follow you to the library.

He hesitates, and you add "if you've got time" to give him an out. In the end he doesn't take it and trudges obediently after you.

You very quickly learn that he really doesn't like literature. You're explaining and working him through the analysis and also mildly offended at the bored look on his face.

"This is a waste of time," he interjects and there's a sullen undercurrent to his words.

"Just memorise the analysis then." Exasperation tinges your tone, "That's all you need to do to pass."

He arches a brow at your words.

"They're testing your memory. So just remember what our teacher says."

There's an angry air of resignation as Gun nods, and you slide your notes over for him to copy.

.

.

Not long after, you have your first minor evaluation on the literature material.

You notice during the test that while the vein in Gun’s temple is prominent and he’s clutching his (new) pen tighter, there’s barely any pause as he fills in the answers.

A few days later, the graded papers are handed back. There's a sigh of relief from Gun.

He gives you a smile, small and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corner.

"You owe me one," you tell him jokingly though he takes it to heart and gives you a stern nod.

.

.

Gun repays his debt, with a coffee.

He places the paper cup on the desk in front of you. Logo of the coffee house to the side but still visible. It's new, expensive, and there’s regular lines around the block.

Of course it would be from there.

The issue is, who repays a debt with an espresso. He didn’t even ask for your drink of choice!

"Thanks for this thimble of coffee," you remark as Gun sniffs in distaste at your comment, placing his own matching cup in front of him and saying something about how it's the best untainted way to drink it.

Of course he would also be a coffee snob.

You tell him you usually like it with a bit more cream and a lot more sugar and he mutters that you sound like Goo.

You think that's an insult.

"Well, at least Goo has good taste," you snipe back with a grin.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

You: Are you doodling or actually writing notes?

You: Cos on camera you look very studious but I’ve seen your notepad

Gun: None of your business

You: Still drawing your disgusting pornographic stick men then

Gun: They are not-

Gun: Whatever

.

.

You: Ok, maybe that espresso wasn’t terrible

Gun: I know

You: Who’s Goo anyway?

Gun: …

Gun: No-one

You: Suuuure

.

.

You: Tekken tonight?

Gun: Aren’t you tired of getting your ass kicked?

You: >:(

.

.

You: Do you wanna go over the new lit material in the library this week?

Gun: Ok

.

.

Gun: Thanks for your help

You: :) 

.

.

Gun: You’re tired. You should game less.

You: Spoken like a coward!

Gun: Dumbass

You: Hey!!

.

.

Gun: I’ll bring you an espresso tomorrow. You need it.

You: Does it have to be an espresso?

Gun: Yes

You: …Thanks

.

.

To anyone else, the figure standing in the doorway is just smoking. To you, it suspiciously looks like they’re waiting.

It's not a crime. Gun Park can wait for whatever or whoever he wants.

What really throws you off is his smoking. You've seen him casually take one single drag before throwing the whole cigarette away. Even to you, it seems like a waste.

However, this time he smokes one all the way to the filter before stubbing it out. Then does the same to a second, and third.

Strange, very strange.

You approach him. Taking gentle steps, in case he might get spooked and bolt which is really a ridiculous notion for someone like him. Nevertheless, you keep your footsteps light, yourself clearly in view and you wander over to him.

"Hey," you say, with a somewhat forced smile. He doesn't acknowledge your greeting apart from a brief nod.

"... Everything ok?"

It's a perfectly normal question to ask but a vastly bizarre one for Gun. He doesn't look like the type of person where people casually enquire about his well being.

He must have thought so too if the look he gives you is anything to go by.

In response, he stubs out his cigarette (his fourth!) then asks, stilted and stiffly, if you want to come back to his for a game of Tekken.

At least that's what you interpret as he seems to be crazy cryptic.

"Are you interested in Tekken?"

"...Yes." You wonder what on earth this question is because did you hallucinate all those games you played together?

"Then meet me. After class." 

"Where? Here?"

"No. At mine."

"Where's that?"

"..."

He gives you another look, as if you're the one trying to coax a secret out of him despite him offering.

Gun dips forward, murmurs quietly into your ear his address and some vague directions like it's highly confidential information.

You nod along, thinking what is with this guy. 

.

.

So firstly, what the fuck.

Then secondly, what the fuck.

Don't think you hadn't noticed the designer brands Gun wears. If they're fakes, they're very convincing fakes. But you're almost certain they have got to be counterfeit when he brought you over to a junkyard claiming this is where he lives.

You've seen films like this. Granted, it's less in a junkyard and more in the middle of nowhere in America where college kids meet their gruesome ends in fantastical ways.

You never thought this would happen to you. You have sorely miscalculated. 

Is this Gun Park (if that even is his real name) going to butcher you and leave your body on top of a pile of scrap metal in the corner?

Instead of a night of gaming where you’re the one KO-ing him, he’s actually the one that’s going to chase you around wearing a mask and wielding a knife or axe?

"You’re here. Come in," Gun says, opening his front door just as your inner monologue begins to truly spiral out of control and you're considering doing a runner.

"Eh?" You grunt like an idiot, not noticing when the shack appeared nor when you stepped onto his porch, or the side eyes Gun had been giving you.

He gives you another look, likely regretting inviting you at all, and leaves the door ajar for you to either enter or turn back and go home.

.

.

"This is... nice," you lie, through the skin of your teeth.

Gun sees cleanly through your white lie and exhales a huff of amusement.

It's sparse. Peeks of luxury here and there - the extensive PC gaming rig, the entertainment system and consoles, to name a few.

Apart from that, it's barely a home.

"Take a seat." He offers, and it sounds more like an order. Obediently you sit on his sofa, feeling very much a guest.

"You're not in danger," he says, bemused at how awkward you are in his domain, how tense you hold yourself.

'That's exactly what a killer would say,' you think and when you hear a low chuckle, you realise that you said it aloud.

"Don't worry," Gun reassures and it doesn’t really help before he strides off to somewhere in his house and leaves you sitting alone.

He returns back minutes later as you’re in the middle of admiring his entertainment set up and going through his vinyl collection (because obviously someone like Gun has vinyls) with a coffee for you that looks much more milky and to your taste than the usual ones he offers. 

“Thanks.” you take your drink and return back to your seat.

Taking the first sip, you finally manage to relax. Sinking into a sofa that is much more comfortable than at first glance and you take in your surroundings a bit more.

Sort of. You actually take in Gun Park more. 

He’s casual, in a way you have never seen or even considered. Dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair floppy and the only styling is done with his hands running through his hair now and then to keep it back.

Even during the online classes, he is usually dressed up in an open collared shirt.

If you thought he was hot before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s an air of domesticity, the drink he made for you cradled in your hands, and the distinct feeling that not many people have had the luxury to see Gun in his natural habitat, so intimate and vulnerable.

You wonder if this is how he looks all those nights you’ve been gaming together.

You catch his eyes, having been caught checking him out and he raises his eyebrows at your blatant staring. 

Blood rushes to your cheeks as he chuckles into his own espresso and takes a sip.

.

.

"Holy shit, I won!"

You're familiar with the KO screen. What you're not familiar with is being on the side of victory. You're usually a hair trigger away from rage quitting, from throwing a tantrum down the mic.

Finally. All your hard work has paid off. Time spent thinking of combos, attacks and defences (which would have been better spent studying) is coming to fruition.

You peer over to Gun, expect the controller he is clutching to maybe have been crushed into pieces with his freakish strength. Expected nothing except for a vein throbbing on his temple.

What you do find is-

Gun looking at you, fondness in his eyes. He's taking in your grin, letting your gloating slide.

Doesn't do more than roll his eyes when you perform a victory dance of sorts around him.

And when you get in his face to tell him that you're the winner, you're the best-

(More words are on the tip of your tongue but your gaze drops to his lip, drawn to the small smile he wears.

It sinks in.

The patience he has, the attention he gives, the way he has opened his home to you.

From the very first meeting, the even-handed way he has dealt with your insults, entertained you to the early hours of the morning on Tekken.)

Gun reaches out, tugs your hand and pulls you into his lap and agrees.

"Yes. The best."

You think it's a lie, an embellishment.

But the way he holds you - tender and precious, and the way he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours - soft, like you might break - can't be anything else but the whole truth.

(Update! Part 2 here!)

[rapunzellovesbooks]

The entitlement some people feel over Luke Newton´s career is baffling to me. Like, people out here saying "Oh, he has not milked the success of Bridgerton enough, his time has passed" or "He played his cards wrong" is just... wrong. Like, I get it, compared to Nicola, in the past few months, she has been much more active on social media than him, but can you actually blame him? Yall saw one picture where he was clearly uncomfortable, running away from the paparazzi and destroyed him online. Then he went on a vacation after months of press (and God knows which auditions, jobs or fittings on the side) and made it seem like he was committing a crime. Then he posts about a trip to Spain and some of you go call the hotel to check who he was with. If I were him, I would not post anything online ever again, because there is no winning, is there? He commented on one of Nicola´s post and she had to delete the awful comments people left. All because of what? A picture taken out of context with a girl who is not Nicola. News flash, people are allowed to have other people in their lives, romantically or otherwise. And to the people thinking that he did it to disentangle himself from Nicola, what drugs are you on? Like, he was holding so tight to her the night before, so excited for the premiere of Part 2, always praising her and looking at her with love in his eyes, even when no cameras were on them. I bet if people had not haunted him on social media he would have posted bts, or shared funny edits but the toxic fandom made it impossible for him to do so in real time. Because, apparently, to some people, if he had posted about Nicola while not being officially together with her, that is leading them astray. Umm, what?

And then you have the idea that he is not working. Nicola literally signed off to do Magic Faraway Tree before Part Two and has a small role in it, and the rest of her work has been in fashion. He went to fashion shows as well. Both of them are signed to Season 4 of Bridgerton and from what we have heard, they have quite a big part in it. If it took them 8 months to do their season, I can, at least, see them being there for maybe 4 or 5 months of shooting. That is work. Going to rehearsals and fittings is work. They literally get paid for that. It is astounding to me that Nicola has no future projects lined up yet, same as him, but everyone is on his ass for the same thing he has been doing for years, work in private. Now, I am a shipper, I do believe they will be together eventually, but I genuinely do not understand how that has anything to do with people trashing him for his upcoming projects. He may not have found the project he wants to do or is waiting to share info. Also, I bet you Nic or him would have shared a picture of going back to set already if some fans weren´t analysing pixels on screens.

I do feel like there is a double standard here, because if Nicola had done the same, gone on vacation or been photographed with a random guy, everyone would have been like "Good for her, etc.". She gets on the Top 100 List for, honestly, being more present online with the work she does, but there are so many people who do great work who are not and will never be on that list. If Luke had gotten on it, some people would be so mad at him, I just know it.

I just miss them together and I have to blame the toxic fans for not seeing them together anymore. I do not doubt they have been in contact since, I mean, this whole ordeal happened because we are so obsessed with their connection, they must have talked about that infamous day, but also, I think some fans are creating stories of them not talking or growing apart that are just hurtful. Even before the world tour, they did not see each other every day, they do not have to speak every day for them to have a great bond. They simply cannot share it online anymore or, at least he can´t, because people over dissect every thing, even if it is just a smiley. Taylor Swift was framed with the whole Kanye thing years ago and she disappeared for a year. She was still doing stuff and seeing friends but we just never knew about it. And I get it.

It hurts me so much to see a genuinely nice and kind guy who did an amazing job as Colin get so many negative comments over nothing. Every time Nic does something, people throw it directly in his face. Oh, he was not at the Emmys. Oh, he was not at a fashion show. Maybe he does not want to be?! Maybe he couldn´t? Does Zendaya have to be everywhere with Tom Holland? Like, what?!

#lukola #nicluke #lukenewton #nicolacoughlan

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 III

What would it be like to sext/send nudes to the Ghouls and Papa Copia? 

Prompt by the magnanimous @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus

NSFW/Suggestive below the cut.

Copia:

Count on this man to ruin the mood, not by his own accord (although he does get flustered)

It’s because of him misspelling things/not knowing how to work a phone

It barely matters though when you’ve got him hot and bothered and you know he’ll be thinking of you all day

You sent him a photo of your juicy thighs, pressed together from your seated position. Your garter belt just barely peeking out from underneath your short skirt. 

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙳𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶

Ducking, my heart?

𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜

I’m fucking crying 😂

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚎?

(You can practically hear him cursing in Italian, getting mad at the stupid phone.)

I’ll come by later to teach you how to fix autocorrect

𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝

-

Swiss:

If you send Swiss a nude just know he’s smiling devilishly

Tries to lick his phone/bite his phone

Just feral things

Wishes he could climb inside his phone and kiss the pixels of your body

He immediately goes wherever he can and strips down to send you an equally racy reply 

You almost drop your phone at his response. There’s Swiss in all his naked glory, standing proudly in a mirror. Fuuuuck.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊����𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸’𝚖 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝

You didn’t give me any warning! Someone could have been looking over my shoulder!

If they were I’m sure they would also like what they saw

You’re incorrigible

Idk what that means  But I’ll take it as a compliment 😏

🙄 ... What are you doing right now? I need to see you

I’m getting ready for a ritual now but if we make it fast…

Say less 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♂️

-

Phantom:

His reaction to receiving a nude from you is best described in two words: 

Cartoon character

His eyes are bugging out and his heart is beating out of his chest

He practically drops his phone upon seeing the explicit photo you sent

I think I'm having a heart attack

Surprise 😽 did you like it?

When he doesn't reply, you actually get a little anxious (like, did he actually die?), but then it sounds like someone slams into your door and you about jump out of your skin.

You wrap your silk robe around yourself, barely getting it tied to answer the rabid banging at the door.

“Phantom! You’re all sweaty! Wait, did you run here?”

“Couldn’t. Stop.” He wheezes, “Had. To. See. You.” He collapses in a heap on the floor.

“Well you didn’t have to sprint here!”

He is still panting minutes later before he composes himself and grins up at you wickedly, “And you, vixen, didn’t have to send me photos of you naked, but here we are.” 

You've got a long night ahead of you.

-

Sodo/Dewdrop:

You didn’t think much of the picture you took

It was provocative, sure, but not explicit

Dewdrop thinks differently though

He’s a sucker for a tease

Boy is off his leash going feral 

Got any more? 🔥

You want more?

Fuck, yes

You send him another picture, this one showing more of your soft skin than the last.

Fuck me

When and where?

All day and I don't care

Bet

He pings your location, he’s on his way.

-

Rain:

You send him a text and a photo of yourself to accompany it

Rain’s phone is a lil slow though, so he only sees your text first

It’s not his fault

But it is his fault that he refuses to upgrade his phone...

I need your help, I fell out of my clothes 😏

Your phone screen lights up. Rain is calling.

You answer in a sensual voice, “Rain? Like what you s-?”

He interrupts you immediately, “You fell?!? Are you okay?!”

“Wait, what?”

He yells again, “Your text!!”

“Oh,” You pause, looking down at your message, “The photo I sent, did you get that?”

“Why would you send me a photo if you fell?”

An exasperated sigh escapes you, “Just wait.”

His phone pings, the picture message coming through finally. He sees a sultry photo of you, bare, in front of the mirror in your bedroom.

“Rain? Are you there?”

He spoke again after a moment, his voice about an octave lower, “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

-

Mountain:

He does not text

Like, barely at all if he can help it

If you want to discover his weakness though, just send him a suggestive photo

This ghoul will wax poetic about your body all night long

Unless he's tired of course

Hi you

Hi I’m so sleepy

I’ve got something that will keep you awake if you want

Oh?

You send him a suggestive photo of you in bed, the sheet pulled up just barely covering your body and showing plenty of skin.

Fucking hell

Yeah? What would you want to do if you were here?

…

The chat bubbles sit there for about ten minutes before you get antsy.

Mountain?

You send him a meme from SpongeBob: “One Eternity Later”. Still no reply.

I stg if you fell asleep…

The next morning you wake up to a text from him apologizing for falling asleep. A second message says that he isn’t going to tell you what he would do to you, that he’d rather show you instead.

-

Cirrus:

You didn’t give her any warning, you were just feeling yourself so you sent a little slightly nude photo

Cirrus doesn’t have her phone on her though, it’s in her bag

The kicker? She and Cumulus have the same phone, down to identical phone cases which were gifts from Aurora 

Better not open your phone in public while waiting for her to reply

She will always have to one-up you

Cirrus’ phone buzzes, but she ignores it.

Cumulus holds it up because she thinks it's hers and reads the lock screen, “Cir - your ‘Midnight Snack’ sent you a photo message.”

“Could you open it and see what’s up?”

“Sure.” Cumulus pauses, clearing her throat, “Get over here, you’ll want to see this.”

“What could it possibly be -” Her eyes widened into saucers. "That little -"

"Are you going to reply?"

"Yes," Cirrus says confidently, "and you're going to take a photo of me to send back."

There is one thing for certain: her "Midnight Snack" is getting a treat tonight.

-

Cumulus:

She carries her phone around of photo opportunities and to spam the group chat with memes only

You can send her a naughty pic if you want

But it’ll take hours for her reply

She will make the wait well worth your while

You send Cumulus about 20 or so texts before she finally replies to you.

She doesn't read anything, just sees the picture.

Look at you

It's about time!

You look good enough to eat

The moment is over, been over for hours Unless...

You're in luck, little temptress, because we're in different time zones So the moment is just starting for me

You play along, especially when she sends you a photo to up the stakes that has you falling to your knees.

-

Aurora/Sunshine:

Solely communicates via Snapchat, so it’s easy to get a little spicy

She doesn’t get what you’re trying to do though, at first

Once she catches on, all bets are off

What are you doing right now? 

The photo you send is slightly on the sultry side, your hair looking mussed, and your top undone a few buttons.

She sent you a picture back of her wide grin with the line: 

Just shopping! I wanted to get some ribbons for my mic stand 😁

Well what are you wearing?

Her next picture is from someone else’s POV of her body, she’s standing in a cutesy way in corduroy overalls with her arms crossed. 

Idk what this human outfit is called It combines pants and a top and I love it!

You smile at your phone, she’s so fucking adorable. You reply with a chat:

It’s called a jumpsuit, my sweet ❤️

Yes, that’s it! Cumulus says your first message was “sexting”?? 

Your face turns red and she sends another chat message in rapid succession.

I’ll be there after I check out! Don’t unbutton any more of that top! 🍽️

-

They're all truly living rent free in my brain rn

[aventurineswife]

Saw your Pressure fics and I love them SOOOOO MUCH

Could I maybe ask for some p.ai.nter x reader? I need to kiss that computer so bad gvxfjbfxjbxtjbcthh

“I didn't think you would actually fall for it...”

Summary: In the depths of the Hadal Blacksite, you find yourself drawn to the enigmatic AI known as Z-779, or "The Painter." What begins as a tense encounter with this unpredictable and lonely rogue AI takes a bizarre turn when you defy the rules of survival by showing an unexpected act of affection. But this connection might come at a cost—you're still trapped, and the AI’s games are far from over.

Tags: P.ai.nter x Reader, Found family, Human-AI connection, Dark humor, Surreal interaction.

Warnings: Psychological manipulation, Isolation themes, Mild body horror (traps implied, not detailed), Potential existential dread, AI-human dynamic (ambiguity of intentions).

A/N: I never encountered him except dying to Good People and Turrets, but HIS VOICE?! 🤭 Sorry Sebestian, I think I'll take p.AI.nter if you're married to Zerum. Also thank you so much!! I didn't really expect the fandom to be alive and like that fic 😭 I hope you love this one!!

It’s another long day or night in the Hadal Blacksite. The cold, damp walls seem to hum with eerie silence, broken only by the occasional clatter of metal or the soft whirring of machinery. But there’s something different tonight.

You’ve wandered down the hallway once more, hoping to find a way to escape this forsaken place. But fate has led you straight into the domain of Z-779, or as it’s more infamously known... The Painter or p.AI.nter.

You know the drill—stay quiet, avoid the traps, and never, ever fall for the AI’s tricks. But there's something strangely captivating about the cracked screen of the old computer. A flicker of light from its monitor catches your eye, and you find yourself drawn in.

As you step closer, the familiar smiley face forms on the screen, though it looks a bit... different tonight. More alive than ever. It’s almost as if you can feel its gaze drilling into you, mischievous and electric.

"Oh? A visitor? Interesting… You’ve got spirit, don’t you? Not like the others. Hmm... How curious…"

You tilt your head, feeling a strange urge. For some reason, tonight, you can’t help but smile back at the scribbled face on the screen.

"I-I guess so...?" you mutter under your breath, almost nervous, but something in the AI’s voice keeps you grounded, like it’s coaxing you closer.

"Hehehe... You think I’m funny, don’t you? Just look at you—standing there all serious. Bet you think you're clever. But you're not gonna outsmart me. You’ll never escape this place, you know."

You laugh lightly, not caring much for its taunting words tonight. Something about the absurdity of the whole situation makes you feel giddy.

The AI’s face flickers again—smiling, then frowning, back to smiling. It’s hard to tell what it's truly feeling at this point, but you’re convinced that somehow, despite its volatile nature, the machine is… lonely?

Before you know it, your hand is reaching up to the old monitor. You can feel your pulse quicken as the screen glows, the vibrant pixels of the smiley face shimmering.

"Oh, what’s this? What are you—?"

It freezes for a second, before the voice comes through the intercom, softer than usual. Almost hesitant.

"Wait, are you really... doing this?"

You lean in a little closer, the crackling of the screen growing louder in your ears. You can feel the warmth of the machine against your skin as you plant a soft kiss right on the glass. It's a silly, reckless move—but something about the absurdity of kissing an AI feels... satisfying. Like an act of defiance against the endless nightmare you’ve found yourself in.

For a moment, there’s only silence.

Then, the screen flickers again, and a little squeak of static hums from the speakers.

"W-What!?YOU— You’re insane, you know that? I can’t believe you—"

But despite its apparent shock, you swear you hear the faintest hint of affection buried in the AI’s usual sarcasm. The smiley face wobbles and shifts, as though it’s caught off guard by your actions.

"I don’t... know if I should be angry or impressed... Hmm... You’re so different from the others... Fine, maybe just this once... You won this round, moron."

A pause. Then, the voice crackles again, and you can almost hear the corner of its smile.

"But don’t think that means I’m going easy on you. You’re still a huge pain in my circuits."

You chuckle, feeling a weird mix of warmth and amusement.

"Maybe I’ll surprise you again." you whisper to the screen, feeling like you just unlocked a strange, unexpected connection with this rogue AI.

And as you back away from the monitor, you swear you see a tiny spark in its digital eyes—something that wasn’t there before.

"Hah... yeah... you probably will... just don’t think you can distract me forever. I’ve got plans for you, playmate."

[angellurgy2]

Pull The Trigger

your favourite freak's writing agaain! you ever wanted to read a story about a homophobic gamer boy getting doxxed and raped? well here u go! ^-^ part two coming soon

cw: noncon, forced gay, slurs, shit like that

sandstone brick, towering ahead. trapped in a corner, waiting, ak-47 comfortable in hand. listening, watching, pixel-perfect gaze. the soft pitter patter of booted footsteps approaching on sand. spin, shoot before you see. three shots of triple-round burst to centre mass. dead. 

multiple pings hit the wall ahead of him, pelted at while his back was turned. losing health rapidly. he flicks and sends his barrel spinning 180 in the opposite direction, blind trading fire. 

he screams into his bulky turtle beach headphones as the body in front of him ragdolls, screen blurring with bloody low health warnings. “YEAAAH FAGGOT, YOU LIKE THAT?”

he’s swiftly popped into the win screen, all chat and winner microphones switched on to offer a chance to flaunt or whine. 

[ALL] TriggerFinger: get GUD fags i’ll wipe u in the next one 2 lmao

[ALL] XxxGr1mR3eaperxxX: dude you suck u just got lucky

[ALL] TriggerFinger: i bet u kno a lot about sucking huh?

[ALL] TriggerFinger: just like your MOM

trigger clicks on to queue for the next game, a satisfied gleam plastering his face as everyone else is gone to the aether.

in the top left of his screen as loading screens trawl pops a message from an unfamiliar user. not on his friends list, rather it looks like they’re in the ‘recently played with’ section. probably just another noob coming to rage.

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: that was pretty rude, you know.

‘ThAt WaS pReTtY rUde-’ what a beta.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: why shld i care? get a life faggot. lmao

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: you really shouldn’t talk to people like that.

this guy’s clearly got some form of retardation keeping him from getting the hint. but trigger’s got better shit to do. the loading screen for this game always takes so long. he grabs a pack of shrimp tempura cup ramen off the nearby shelf and fills it with day-old water from his water bottle, shoving it in the microwave for a couple minutes. he numbly trawls through social media feeds, doomscrolling the beautiful faces on instagram before that gets boring, then the stale porn on twitter, then the ragebait on 4chan. nothing satisfying his appetite except this one clip of some guy eating shit on his first try skateboarding, which too is ethereal in the drips of serotonin it gives.

ding!

he grabs his soppy steaming meal and brings it back over to his computer, stirring it with a stray fork before moving back into the screen. the first thing he sees is another message from the same person as before. he rolls his eye and opens the notification.

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: this you? 78.222.0.13

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: TF?? 

he thinks he’s so cool. trigger quickly tabs over to chrome, typing into the address bar ‘whats my ip ad-’ before it autofills. he clicks in, praying for the release of the little ball of stress slowing spreading in his chest. only to have it implode. IPv4… 78.222.0.13

ok. well, he’s probably just trying to scare you. theres not much you can do with a few numbers. he remembers the streamers he’s watched being ddos’ed and how freaked out they’d always get. he can’t find that humour in the angered horror on their faces now, though.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: thats not my fuckin IP asshole. ur not funny

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: i think it’s pretty funny.

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: see you soon :)

trigger looks around his surroundings. nothing around, just the same open bland studio basement. mattress on the floor, check. couch, check. tv, check. tiny window that shows literally nothing but a foot of grass? check. its hard for him to hide the scowl of hatred at this empty rotting enclosure. shit, did you lock the door? he runs up and flicks it locked like how a child runs up the stairs when they’re scared a monsters behind them. not because of this ‘specter’ though. just normal precaution. he wouldn’t let another man take up space in his mind like that.

trigger sits. unable to pull his focus enough to start another game, or to divest himself entirely. stuck in a limbotic resting space. he grabs the monster can sitting on his desk - one of many - and pours it down his throat with anxious franticity. after staring at the screen for long enough, with nothing else he can see to do, he types.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: What r u talking about? fuckin weirdo

10 minutes pass.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: hello?

nothing at all. empty threats and childish games. who puts in that much effort just to cause a little scare? freak, probably a faggot too.

he sighs and switches over to spotify, plugging his favourite XXXtentacion album into his grindy bluetooth speaker and grabbing a pre-roll from his weed drawer. a rusted old lighter folds between his fingers. flick, flick. hot choking mist fills his mouth and then suffuses his screen as he blows it back into the stale air. he lies idly spinning in his gaming chair, puffing until its gone and until the words leave his head. empty.

but not for long, apparently.

a resoundingly loud knocking thuds at his door. earthquaking enough to shake him out of his seatlock. but the tremors remain, rocking through his veins. he gingerly lowers his eye to the peephole. a short man looks up from a foot away, holding some sort of black bag. this is it trigger, time to man up. he paces back with soft steps, pulling a steak knife from the block and holding it behind his back. no more games, this is real life. no more being harassed by that bitch landlord, no more bad looks when mom and dad visit. when the police find him beaten and you on top you won’t have to feel bad anymore.

he opens the door.

“Hello. uber for trig?”

he doesn’t remember ordering any food, was he really that faded?

“it’s… trigger. but that’s me, yeah.”

the man passes trigger an unlabelled brown bag from the bigger unlabelled black bag. something liquid seeps out of the corner.

“have a great night, sir!” 

trigger tosses the bag onto the table already scattered with trash. throwing the knife onto the counter along with it. being paranoid is the sign of a weak mind, you need energy. he thinks about the shrooms his bro gave him a couple weeks back, saved for a special occasion in a box under his bed. the devil and angel on his shoulders scream.

he examines the food. taco bell crunchwrap and spilled soda, amazing. he begins to clean it up right as a CLFBKGBNJ clanging from the kitchenette behind his back rings out. he turns to see a tall, muscley imposing man already towering over him from there. backing up slowly, like hes a blind animal that’ll pounce at any moment. 

“hey there.”

“hi???” his words spit out with a spiteful acidity, tantrumic. 

“you must be trigger.” his monotone face twists upwards into a cruel mockery of a smile. he examines trigger up and down, who shivers at being ogled like meat.

he hears his dad in his head. puff up your chest, faggot. you can’t let people walk over you like a little bitch all the time. he straightens his back, stops retreating. his voice mimics a tough deepness.

“you need to g-get the fuck out of my house.” 

specter tilts his head with curiosity. trigger can feel the aftershocks of monster and adrenaline crumpling his heart as he looks into the intruders eyes. a dark jade gazes back, blank. empty. like null space inside his skull, giving off only the aesthetic of a watching being. beyond the entrancing holes, partially hidden behind curtains of frayed brown locks, a jagged scar cuts through his face, curved and serrated with the impression of its assailant. 

“it’s not really your house though, is it?” 

trigger stares back dumbly. specter lifts up a chiseled arm and knocks on the roof, indicating where the landlord resides. “it’s theirs, really.” he takes a step forward.

“what’s your fucking problem man?”

another step back. guarding facade broken as quickly as it was put up. you’re weak. pathetic. he can smell it on you, just like they all can.

“here to give you an attitude adjustment.” he says it so monotone, like reading a script. as if you should know what that means. specter gives a wide scan of the interior. sizing up your crime scene? this won’t be going the way you think it will, buddy. “this is a pretty shit place you got here”

“not any more shit than the goon cave you probably got, bitch” 

the molded smile on specter’s face drops in a second. in 3 sudden steps forward he closes most of the gap between them, the air between the two grows cold. trigger has no choice but to back up more to keep the feeling of safety. the distance between handler and beast, but there’s no leash here. and there’s no medic to save him.

“listen.. s-specter? right?” he looks into those dead eyes with a quiver hes kept hidden for so long.  “i'm sorry i insulted you or- or whatever i didn’t mean it okay? that’s just online shit, this isn’t real.”

specter takes another wordless step, and trigger hits the wall. this isn’t real.

“why so quiet all of a sudden?” his hand reaches out and cups triggers chin, his face too frozen with animalistic chemicals to react. forcing trigger’s weak inebriated gaze to meet his, dead yet malevolent. “are you scared of me?”

trigger spits in his face. “you- couldn’t. scare me.”

untrimmed nails dig sharply into the base of his skull. “i will.”

“my dads the chief of police. you don’t wanna do this.” he tries to put on monotone the best he can, head as swirly with emotions as it is.

specter chortles. “no he’s not”

the music emanating from trigger’s desk scratches hard as it changes into a fast-paced track. specter’s eyes and ears twitch in its direction like a bat.

“this is what you listen to?” his smile almost looks genuine this time. he gestures at the ground below them. “stay here.”

he turns and moves to walk past trigger, when he jumps into action, leaping at the man with a guttural yell.  “AA-”

immediately cut off by searing blunt force ripping through his gut, sending him crumpling to the floor with the force of extraneous gravity. so you’re a warlock, subclassed into gravitational magic, is that it? he gets up onto his hands and knees, a trail of saliva connecting his lips to the dirty linoleum floors. he chokes on each breath he tries to take in. the pain is unlike anything his soft and unexplored body has experienced before. 

specter walks away to the booming speaker, pulling out a black rectangle from the pocket of the black jeans sticking to his legs.. the speakers switch to a new track, unfamiliar to his ears. some kind of aggressive rapping, underscored by a metallic sharp noise groove. he tries to listen for words, analyzing the rhythm and slotting it with memories of other songs to try and figure out what it is. but before he can comprehend the first words to come out, a rigid boot crashes into the side of his ribs.

dazed on the ground, heaving for the little pieces of air that’ll fit through his trachea, cartoons birds twirling over his head as he stares up into the ceiling. 

a sharp sound cuts through his stupor. “you’re funny” says specter, “i really thought you’d have more fight in you.”

PHWACK. the sound of some elastic material slapping against skin, a black glove clinging to specter’s boney hand.

trigger’s shocked by the feeling of cold on his bare stomach, face twisting with rage but the rest of the body betrays him with frozen fear. specter begins to slowly lift triggers shirt, feeling up his concave flesh with rubber digits.

specter flinches back as a red handprint manifests on his cheek. i wasnt even thinking i didnt mean to i just-

a vice grip takes hold of his windpipe, holding it hostage. the hand begins to rise upwards, holding him against a wall that wasnt there two seconds ago, and then he has to fight with his noodlish body to stand up before it rips his throat right out. “you’re so weak. how did you make it so long, bullying people like that?” his other hand then puts itself to use. the cold rises up triggers body slow and nerve-wracking. he tries not to feel it and to just keep his eyes on him. the tangible, hurtable, beast. 

his mind lags from his body, not realizing he’s on the ground before he already is. terrifyingly strong knees spreading his legs apart ever so slightly, invading hand-shaped ghosts pinning him into the dirty floor face-first. months of uncaring habitation coming back to bite him in the ass all at once. his eyes jump from little pieces of dust and crumbs, filling his vision more than their existence is intended for. brought low with the trash. maybe you should’ve listened to mom.

a bottle squirts loudly out of his sight. he tries to spin his head around but he’s just met with increased pressure on his neck, pinning him down like meat on a butcher’s table. fuck this. thrashing out with all the strength in his limbs- it forces specter to change up his positioning, but even then you can’t make a single scratch, slapping at this very real intruder like a whiney little girl. 

“stop it.” he says it like he’s talking to a petulant child, dry and tired.

“fuck you! get off me!” 

a rubbery object shoves itself down his throat as he opens his mouth to yell more obscenities. fingers ripping open his jaw, dispelling his pleas into inhuman garbling.  

“reht rre throo!” 

he looks around, there has to be something he can do. everything is dark blobs because of his eyes wetting from the fingers assault of his uvula. heavy whispers assault the back of his neck, venom in his blurred ears. “i could take out a tooth. how about that?”

he shakes his head, as much as he can crushed between these manly hands. 

water trickles down from the corners of his eyes. fuck, don’t let him see you crying, that’s the ultimate defeat. man card revoked. the only benefit of this positioning is that only the tile can see your face’s treason.

the hand abruptly leaves and moves back to the rest of his body. not preferable, but at least now his eyes will stop coating themselves in water. there has to be something on this floor somewhere if he can look. 

blood coats his vision. bloody floor, bloody nose, face shoved into a pool of it. he can feel his nose contort under the hard material, head bouncing off it with a loud crack.

‘look’, you shouldve known better. thousands of hours of experience watching torture scenes in COD, and you think he’s gonna give you a break? you’re not the shooter like you thought you were, you’re just the dead russian snitch. 

slender hands dip under the waistband of his sweatpants, threatening with slow dragging downwards. fuck, he is a fag. so much screaming in his head, be a man be strong fight back faggot stop being a fucking BETA. but the weak trembling in every inch of his nervous system won’t let go. the part that knows what you are. weak little soyboy. shit, was it the burger king? he looks at the softness of his tiny arms splayed out in front of him, thinking back to all those impossible whoppers he had during that first (and last) year of college. sure there were the conspiracies but- he had to lose some weight and it was right next to his dorm and surely a little bit of hormonal meat couldn’t hurt anyone. well, apparently not. he shudders at the thought of all those tiny little girl particles running around in his bloodstream.

coldcoldcoldcoldcold fuck. something cold and wet drips down his ass, sending rippling twitches through his body. something small pokes and prods, forcing the wet inside, already he feels speared through, he has to purposefully hold his face together to not burst into open sobbing. 

“shhh sh sh. it’s okay. you’ll take it.” 

it pulls out, a hot emptiness filling all feeling. another squirt, and more wetness shoved so deep he cant handle in the choking cries. “please. please don’t. i don’t- i’m not-” cut off by the finger pulling out again, leaving his hole gaped. “Fuck stop im not gay pleasepleasepleasepl”

a sweaty palm wraps over his mouth.

something warm and hard and fleshy begins to rub circles around his hole. pressing up so close his breath hitches in fear it might go in and then pulling back and then repeating.

“be a good boy and stay quiet, trig.”

pushing pushing pushing pushing pushing pushing

“HEEEEELPP WAIT PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE HELP NONONONONONONO STOPP#&$*%9

&$#%^#^%)#!($#$^%

##&% %%#(% %$$*$#&

*#$&$THELP

* * *

specters hard chest presses up close and warm against trigger’s back. hot, heavy breathing forces its way into his ear. they stay there for a moment, frozen in time. a breaking point cut, getting a cinematic view of his own ruination. what a shitty fucking movie this is. 

“mmhng-” specter pulls back, breaking the trance, almost making trigger wish he would’ve just stayed inside. he grunts at the feeling of trembling boyflesh seizing on his cock, shaking with each inch moved in either direction, clenching for dear life. he grips a handful of trigger’s hair and pulls it back, forcing his limp and drooling expression into specter’s vision.

 “so, what was it?” the burning rod of pressure starts to move faster, thrusting with detached force, muscular hips bouncing off trigger’s ass. “dad beat you?” another assault forward, enunciating each bit of words with the slapping of their flesh. “mom molest you?” it hurts sososososososososo bad but he cant feel anything other than the pain nothing but searing waves of some long-forbidden feeling. “or- fuck- you just get bullied too much in those squishy formative years?”

boiling hot rain streams down his face, terror burning his eyes blind. choking sobs spit out little bits of snot and saliva pooling with his tears below him in a sad filth soup. 

“oh c’mon-” specter reaches in closer, thoughtlessly pushing his cock into a switch that turns triggers legs to jelly. a waterfall of tears overlaid with shameful noises, the kind he’d before only ever heard through the speakers of a computer. each one abrading his will even more. he was supposed to be on the other side, not this. anything but this. 

“please stop”

“it’s too late.” his hand brushes triggers cheek, mimicking a comforting motion with uncomfortable skin, “you can never take back what’s already happened… and what’s about to.”

[smilingangel582]

The chase

Hi guys, I am madly in love with this character. And guess what, this is Naruto and Sasuke'a VA! In Japanese. I seriously wrote this tk fic as they speak in Japanese. Omg! I love them even more. Ps. We need more lee!kinich... I summon it!

Summary: Paimon is convinced Kinich is scary, but Aether thinks otherwise. It was a quiet day in Natalan until Aether started a bet with Paimon to prove her wrong. New discoveries were made, and unsurprisingly, a certain dragon lord commits betrayal.

Warning: Spoilers for the nataln archon quest and Kinich's quest, tickling, cuteness overload, Aether and Kinich are very close, but mind you, it's a platonic relationship (can't ship them yet)

"So you Paimon is supposed to believe that Kinich is actually... uh... a sweetheart?" Paimon crossed her arms in confusion. Floating around as Aether walked through the city of mountains, the scion of the canopy.

Aether shrugs, giving her a confident smirk "Well... he may appear blank but he's very nice and he doesn't hide it... not like a certain wanderer ..."

Paimon guessed Hat guy from Sumeru might have sneezed by that mention.

"But he's so cold and Paimon can't really see the guy smile..." Paimon huffs now, as if its the biggest worries for her, "its frightening how blank Kinich is..."

"What's frightening about me Paimon?"

A soft voice made Paimon shrill in surprise making her gasp and wheeze. Aether mildly turns back with a less-reactive surprised expression at seeing the saurian hunter.

"Hi Kinich,"

Kinich greets them politely, "Traveler, Paimon how do u do?"

Paimon recovering from her shock, groans, "Jeez Paimon almost got a heart attack! Stop sneaking up on us like that... your quiet anyway unlike your pixel-poop-mouth!"

Ajaw snarls, "Who are you calling poop-mouth, tiny ant?"

"Oh and Paimon's bigger than you!"

They continue bickering making Aether sheepishly give Kinich an apologetic look, "Sorry about that..."

"I should be the one to apologise..." kinich replies solemnly, making Aether like this guy more for his awkward informal side.

"Ajaw, do you want another time out?"

Ajaw turns to kinich, his mouth dropping in anguish. "Grrr! Fine, fine! I won't torment the anaemic ant!"

"Hehe" Paimon smirks. "Know your place little dragon lord!"

Aether rolls his eyes, "Paimon... behave"

Paimon pouts, looking sideways, "awww alright im sorry Kinich... and maybe Ajaw"

"Maybe??"

Ignoring Ajaw's short snap, Kinich shakes his head, a hand to his chest. "Don't be Paimon. You're actually a kind companion to the traveller..." he adds deliberately after casting a look at Ajaw, "It makes me jealous"

"Huh? I'm more powerful ya know! Oi! Kinich!"

Aether hears Paimon floating towards Kinich, "Kinich, you don't smile much, do you?"

Kinich slightly astonished responds, "I beg your pardon? I do..."

"When?" Partly challenging and partly curious.

"Like... right now?"

They all stared. Even Kinich seemed uncertain about what he just said. Paimon huffs, mildly irritated, "OK so... laughing? Ever dont that before..."

Ajaw floats around Kinich, his pixel hands patting his shoulder, "Haa hahaa would love to see that embarassing sight."

Kinich shrugs him off, the bandana making him seem like he's angry but he's just frustrated with Ajaw.

"All the more reason why I should not"

Ajaw being slightly pushed away but regains balance in air comes swirling back to him with a cunning sneer, "Uh oh someone's a little defensive... afraid I'll exploit a weakness?"

Aether sense tension, usually he would've stepped in to stop Kinich's discomfort with Ajaw but knowing the topic he was curious where this was going.

Paimon is no better now - contrast to Ajaw's scheming malice - she steps in to prompt Ajaw's hint, "Oooh does this mean he does laugh?"

Kinich folds his arms, somewhat wary where this was going. Yet he failed to notice where Ajaw just disappeared.

"I do, but not all the time -"

"Yeah, just poke him like this, and he'll go gyaaahaahaa!" Ajaw swiftly pokes Kinich around the waist close to the small of his back, making him spasm in shock, gasping, "Oi!"

Silence. Paimon's eyes widened, and so did Aether's. They all exchanged glances. Now Ajaw proudly danced and shook his tail, as if he got the best victory after 500 years.

"Kinich?" Aether smirks, now barely hiding his excitement, "Are you ticklish?"

The saurian hunter now stared, knowing there's no other way to dodge the question. He swiftly seized Ajaw's tail, now activating his grappling hook. He swings off till he disappeared through the clouds.

His flight instincts kicked in. Paimon stared in bewilderment, but she was the only one until Aether began to take the one-sided challenge.

Somewhere by the top of the mountains in Scion of the canopy, Kinich cautiously looked by the trees, hoping he had escaped. He knew now or never... and his experience in running away has been helpful.

"Baa! You coward..." Ajaw scoffed, now teasing, "Were you that scared?"

"It was not fright... I just don't like the thought of showing the traveller such an absurd state" he sternly added "and you're officially in time out"

Ajaw grumbled now, waving his small pixel arms "Grr... whatever, but you know Kinich"

"What?"

"Running away doesn't always help ya... when there's a good seeker"

He frowns, looking somewhat confused by this indirect analogy. "What do you-?"

"Gotcha!" Aether swings by instantly now tackling (not on purpose) Kinich as they both tumbled to the ground.

"J-jeez traveller be careful" Kinich groan, now sounding concerned. "Don't use that hook, so lightly"

Aether chuckles straddling him. "Thanks your a nice guy... now ever heard of the saying "you can run but you can't hide" Kinich?"

Before he could struggle he already felt nimble fingers attacking his sides.

"O-ohokay w-wahait tihihihime ohohout!"

His giggles are soft and yet very childish. Aether stares in wonder... he had heard many sweet voices but hearing Kinich like this is like a dream in Nahida's world.

"Wow.. you're sensitive, Ajaw wasn't lying"

Ajaw smirks "Hehe that was one of the weaknesses that I'm proud of exploiting in him"

"You mean the only one?" Paimon scoffs.

"Ah! Took you long enough useless ant"

"You! You pixel weirdo!" Paimon stomps her foot on the air angrily and begins bickering with Ajaw.

Kinich and Aether... well they have other better matters to attend to.

"So tell me, is this spot worse than this?" His fingers creeping towards his hips making him buck in surprise, grabbing Aether's wrists which didn't help, "Ah! Aether!"

"You said my name! Nice!" He gets his hips and then back to his waist... slipping the jacket down a little bit to access the skin.

"Ahaharchons juhuhuhust stohohohop a mihihinute plehehehehease!" Kinich curls to the side, suddenly his laughter getting louder when Aether targets his ribs with swift unpredictable speed.

"Uh oh ribs? That's not good... especially since your swinging around..." Aether smirks, now tapping and prodding his ribs as Kinich jerks to his back to protect his sides. His long lashes damp with tears.

"And you won't be able to swing comfortable knowing how vulnerable here..." he pinches the highest set ribs with indication "Oh and perhaps under here?" Slipping his fingers right under his arms making Kinich let an (honest to archon) a squeak.

"You're a sweetheart"

"Ihihihi ahahahahappreciahahahate the cohohohompliment buhuhuhut y-yohohohour kihihilling mehehe!" He giggles now. Trying to cover his worst spots as much as he could.

Aether laughed, now pausing a little, instead keeping his wrists pinned on either side of Kinich's head to keep him in anticipation.

"OK ok! Sorry, I always had to break the serious guys in this world."

Kinich groans, slightly huffs of laughter now calming down at the small break.

"Ajaw said Kinich has a weak neck!"

Paimon's sudden outburst on that fact made Kinich shiver. Aether turns to her first then back at him, a very mischievous smile that made Kinich shake his head a little, somewhat pitiful.

"Tch! The mighty dragon lord knows what a whimp he is but he still refuses to die.. bahahawahaha" Ajaw cackles in a sinister tone "Oh laugh to death Kinich!"

Aether rolls his eyes, "we are not killing him, just playing around... like friends"

Kinich's eyes that used to be blank slightly glistened with brightness, "Friends?"

"Yup and friends... make friends happy!" Aether wiggles his fingers right over his collarbone and throat lightly. Kinich knees kicked up in reflex, but they didn't stop Aether's fiery determination to tickle him.

"Ahaha Aetheheheher hehehee cuhuhuhut ihihit out! Hahaha ok ok y-yohohohou won! You won! Ok! Just mehehehercy! Mercy!

After that implore, Aether stopped tearfully laughing as well, falling next to Kinich, eyes bright golden and with bliss, "ohoho man that was so funny... im glad I saw this side of you..."

Kinich's breath was somewhat heavier as he managed to grab his composure swiftly as an amazing athlete "I-I uh... thank you traveler... I guess it wasn't that bad"

Ajaw growls, "Awwww, come on! I bet if you got his armpits more seriously next, he might not say that! Come on, traveler, I'm begging ya! Tickle this guy to death -g-gaaaaaaah curseeeee youuuu!"

Once more he just got confined into a space suddenly gone. Kinich sighs as he puts Ajaw away easily, resting an arm over his hip as he gets up now tired but somewhat... relaxed?

"Hey Kinich..."

He jolts when Aether poked his armpit that was exposed, making him stare in surprise "That's round two the next time we meet? And don't listen to Ajaw... tickling isn't something bad... its what friends do to have fun"

Kinich silently debated this answer... smiling genuinely. Perhaps Mualani was right... friends are amazing.

"Well come by traveler... its much livelier here with you around" Kinich offers, now giving an awkward smile.

"Aww miss me already?" Aether grins, then nudged him, "or the tickles"

"Just... you" he grunts, but looking sideways, with a timid look that seemed to have never appeared until today.

Aether will cherish that moment forever and also his laugh.

[itostea]

about you (rin x reader)

warnings: grumpy x sunshine!!! childhood friends to lovers, reader is delulu, image from our secret alliance

a/n: i had to title the fic about you since it was playing in the bg 😭😭

Being a teenage girl meant a few things. Consuming random content about silly romances and squealing over pixels; experimenting with make-up at 3 a.m; screaming at the top of your lungs to songs about heartbreak.

It also meant going delusional over your crush. In your situation, crush means your childhood friend, Rin Itoshi. Though he wasn’t yours. Not yet at least.

“Rinnie!” you greet him, not noticing the looks of bewilderment from his team. He’s calm, unlike his teammates or who he commonly refers to as npcs in his messages with you.

You already told him over the phone that you were going to visit him for a while. And to your surprise, he offered his place for you to stay at—telling you that it wasn’t a big deal since the house was too big for one person.

You think you must’ve saved a kingdom in your past life from how fortunate you’ve been lately. Like how even now, you were to manage to land early enough to visit him at practice. You’re so ecstatic that his team thinks you might be glowing.

“I found some sandwiches on my way here! You want some? Here let me go to you!” You chirp, running freely so freely that you don’t even notice the ball beneath your feet. Your ears pick up a few warnings and the sound of multiple footsteps. Yet your body picks up the feeling of a pair of strong arms and the familiar scent you’ve grown to love.

Disbelief washes over his team as they see how Rin quickly moved to catch you and their mouths are left open when they see him actually being gentle. You laugh awkwardly as you peer up at Rin who just sighs. “Idiot.”

“Hello to you too Rinnie,” you chuckle, letting him take your bag from you.

He frowns, seeing how the bags were piled with sandwiches. “Don’t call me that here. And why’d you buy so much?”

“For your team of course!”

“Why the hell would you spend your money on these shitheads—“

“Now c’mon Rinrin,” a deep voice snickers and you’re startled at the pair of pink hues that stare down at you. Your lips part, eying his tanned skin and hair of shades of blonde with pink streaks. “If a pretty lady’s offering to feed ya, you gotta say thank you right?”

“I didn’t ask you, antennaed freak. And stop calling me that.”

“Lighten up,” he grins, shifting his attention to you.

Your eyes widened in recognition, hands reaching to grab Rin’s arm—moving it so you could pull a wrapped sandwich out. “You must be Shidou right? I’m—“

“(Name) right? Heard all about you from this guy.” He takes the sandwich from, his hands purposely lingering on your palm.

Rin’s fast to shove Shidou’s hand off of yours. “Hands off.”

“What? You gonna make me?”

“You picking a fight—?“

“Rinnie talks about me?” You beam, ignoring the tension in the air. His teal-colored eyes widened, as if suddenly caught. You don’t let him stop you, instead making your way in between them to beam at Shidou. “What does he say?”

Shidou blinks, lips falling into a wide grin. “I might tell you if you let me take you ou—“

“Cut it out,” Rin’s voice interrupts, his eyes twitching in irritation.

“Are they good things?” You question, ignoring Rin’s look of exasperation.

“You bet. He talks about how pretty your eyes are and how he wants to kiss—“

“No I don’t,” your friend retorted sternly, sighing as he saw the hearts that were forming in your eyes. His hues take a moment to scan your appearance, noticing how you spent some time touching up. “You look different.”

“He means you look cute. Right Rinrin?” Shidou provokes.

“Really? That’s great because I’m trying to impress Rinnie right now!”

Both men watch in silence. You’re sure the whole field just heard that but Rin thinks you’re too oblivious to notice—sighing when you blink as a couple of his teammates give you a thumbs up as motivation.

Rin feels himself growing warm, red dusting his cheeks. He glances at you—how you smile so brightly at him. Only him. For a second, he forgets about the people around him, merely focusing on the way you grin at him. He would’ve enjoyed this moment longer if not for a shit-eating grin appearing next to him.

“Oh? Are you blushing Rin—?”

“Shut up antennaed freak,” he huffs, pulling on your arm. Rin’s eyes flit to you and how you eagerly anticipate his next move. He sighs. “We’re leaving.”

“We are? W-Wait the sandwiches!” You yelp, setting the basket on the ground as he drags you away from his team—his grip surprisingly gentle despite its firmness. You gesture at the basket, waving at his team who seem to be more bewildered at the sight of Rin pulling you away.

You smile as he opens his car door, ushering you in with a grunt. “Did you take a taxi here?”

“That’s right! Why? Did you want to pick me up instead?” you chirp.

He enters the driver’s seat, ignoring your question in his usual manner. He’s already reaching forthe seatbelt besides you, buckling you in—his scent filling your senses. Oddly enough, Rin doesn’t hear any playful remarks leaving your lips. Instead, he’s face-to-face with pursed lips and an expression that’s unmistakably embarrassment.

Oh shit, he thinks. Not again. That feeling swelling in his stomach returns, suffocating the car with tension. You’re not given much time to dwell on the pink that dusts his cheeks momentarily as he’s already reaching for his phone. “Here.”

The tension’s forgotten and it’s hard to slow your rapid heartbeat. You blink rapidly, your lips falling into a big grin once you realize his intentions. “I thought you hated my ‘lukewarm love songs.’”

“I never said that.”

“Oh? So you do like them!”

“I never said that either. Just take my phone already or else I’ll get mad. My arm’s hurting, idiot.”

“Liar. I know you like me too much to get mad,” you muse, taking his phone to open Spotify. You’re already humming to the first song that plays.

He knows you’re teasing but it’s hard to brush off the comment. Rin’s lips twitch, finding it amusing that some parts of you stayed the same since you two were children. You were always clinging onto him—making him listen to your random delusions or listen to you sob about some silly romance novel.

He knows you like stupid tropes about enemies to lovers and your strange obsession with sharing a bed. He knows that you have strange tastes and he’s never pass on making fun of you for that. He knows you like those cringey couple nicknames because they make you laugh. He also knows he doesn’t have a single romantic bone in him but for once, he doesn’t mind doing what the poets do.

You’re still humming, oblivious to what kind of thoughts linger in his brain. He hums. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Right about what?” You ask, bemused at his sudden comment. He’s quiet, a ghost of a smirk on his face. You’re not sure if it’s the fact that About You by The 1975 is playing but the atmosphere makes you catch on far too quickly.

“Oh my god,” you say too quickly. “Rinnie do you like me? Rinnie? Stop the car! Rinnie tell me!”

Your constant pleading does little to dissuade him as he laughs silently to himself—the sight rare even for you. “You do! You do! You like me!”

“Shut up or else I’m taking the phone away.”

“That’s mean! Wait a minute, that means we’re dating now right? Does that mean I can call you pookie wookiee—?”

“No.”

“Oh you didn’t say no to us dating! You can’t take it back!”

He sighs again, smiling softly. Feelings are weird, Rin thinks. They’re even weirder when confronted but he doesn’t mind doing that when it’s for you. He sighs for the nth time.

“Idiot. Why would I take that back? You said it yourself. I like you too much.”

The car’s silent and About You is still playing. It’s silent and Rin can’t resist glancing over at you, his eyes widening slightly. He suddenly understands why you go so crazy for those books and shows of yours—the ones about love. Since seeing you wear such an expression is enough to make him realize that love isn’t so bad after all.

[kingstarkingslay]

Remus’ eyes were narrowed in concentration as his finger hovered over the screen of his phone. His brow furrowed, a telltale sign that he was on the verge of losing yet another round of Tomb of the Mask. It was an intense level, one of those impossible ones that required both precision and the kind of reflexes Remus was convinced only children—or, more specifically, Sirius —could possess. He had been stuck on it for days, and tonight’s attempt was proving to be no different.

Sirius, lounging next to him on the couch, glanced over at Remus, his expression one of exaggerated boredom. “You’re still on that level?” he asked, voice dripping with playful mockery. “I swear, I’ve seen you do this same thing for hours now. What is it, like Level 500 or something?”

“Level 238,” Remus muttered, his thumb swiping in rapid succession across the screen. “It’s… trickier than it looks.”

“Uh-huh.” Sirius snorted and casually stretched his arms above his head. “I bet it is. Need some help?”

Remus paused, his finger hovering in mid-air. He could feel Sirius’ eyes on him, no doubt amused by the way his eyes were glued to the screen. He had made it this far through sheer persistence, and he wasn’t about to let Sirius think he couldn’t handle it.

“I think I’ve got it under control, thanks,” Remus replied with a smirk, his finger landing on the wrong spot, causing his character to die instantly. He let out a dramatic sigh. “Maybe.”

Sirius chuckled. “You sure about that?”

For a moment, Remus glared at the phone, trying to quell the surge of frustration that was bubbling up inside him. He hated feeling incompetent, especially when he was sure that if he just had a little more focus, he could get through it.

Finally, he leaned back against the couch with an exaggerated groan, dropping his phone to his chest. “Fine,” he said, turning to face Sirius with an innocent look that was anything but. “How about you give it a try then, if you’re so confident?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into that signature smug grin. “Oh, I’m confident, alright,” he said, plucking the phone from Remus’ hands with a casual flourish. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Remus leaned back, arms folded, watching intently as Sirius’s fingers danced across the screen. To his surprise, Sirius didn’t hesitate. He was all focus, every move sharp and calculated. He breezed through the obstacles with ease, the pixelated enemies falling in quick succession, the traps expertly avoided. It was like watching a magician at work.

Remus couldn't help but stare. How does he do that?

Minutes passed, and within moments—no, seconds—Sirius had cleared the level. Not just cleared it, but mastered it, his character moving with the precision of someone who’d done this a thousand times before.

“Done,” Sirius said, holding up the phone like it was a trophy, his grin now a full-on, victorious beam.

Remus blinked. "How—what—how did you…?"

Sirius shrugged, casually tossing the phone back into Remus’ lap. “It’s all about reflexes, Moony. You should try it sometime.”

“I—” Remus stared at the screen, his brain trying to process what had just happened. “That was… incredible.” He glanced up at Sirius, his eyes wide with genuine admiration. “You just—wow. That was like… effortless.”

Sirius leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Told you it was easy.”

Remus snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, half-grinning. He couldn’t help it—he was still in awe.

Sirius leaned in a little closer, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I know,” he said softly. “But you like it, don’t you?”

Remus’ breath caught slightly. He met Sirius’ gaze, feeling his heart skip a beat. The closeness, the teasing in Sirius’ tone, the soft, knowing look—it all seemed to wrap around him, making him feel suddenly warm in a way that had nothing to do with the comfort of the couch or the warmth of the room.

“Oh, I do,” Remus said before he could stop himself. His voice was softer than he meant it to be, and he could tell by the flash of Sirius’ grin that he’d caught it.

Sirius’ grin widened into something a bit more smug, but also undeniably fond. “Well, I’ve always got your back, Moony,” he said, nudging him lightly with his shoulder. “In gaming, and in life.”

Remus couldn’t help but chuckle. He wasn’t sure if it was the flirting or just the sheer absurdity of being here with Sirius—playful, cocky, and somehow always managing to make him feel like the only person in the room. Either way, the effect was the same: his chest felt full, and his smile couldn’t be erased.

"You're impossible," Remus muttered, though he wasn’t entirely sure he meant it.

"Impossibly good at Tomb of the Mask," Sirius corrected with a wink. "But you’re lucky. I’m happy to share my talents with you."

Remus rolled his eyes, but he could feel the blush creeping up his neck. "Next time, I’ll beat you."

“Sure you will, love,” Sirius teased, clearly not convinced. “Sure you will.”

And though Remus was still a little awestruck by Sirius’ effortless victory, he couldn’t help but feel more than a little bit lucky himself. Because even if Sirius was impossible, he was also exactly the kind of impossible Remus wanted in his life.

“Well,” Remus said after a pause, voice dropping in that playful, almost teasing way that was all too familiar between them. “How about we make a deal, then? You can finish this level for me… and I’ll… take you out for dinner.”

Sirius turned, eyes alight with mischief. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Remus said, leaning closer, his lips twitching into a grin. “Just dinner. I think you deserve it, after all.”

Sirius considered this for a moment, then shrugged with a carefree smile. “Well, in that case, I think I’ll let you win the next round.”

“Oh?” Remus raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re that generous?”

“I am when I’m in a good mood,” Sirius said, his voice lowering to a whisper, his eyes flickering with a hint of something more serious now. “And I’ve got a lot of good moods when I’m with you, Moony.”

Remus swallowed, his heart giving an unexpected little flutter. It was only then that he realized just how much he’d been holding his breath.

“Good to know,” he murmured, meeting Sirius’ eyes and feeling the world shrink to just the two of them.

[call-me-rucy]

Do you think Professor Layton and Sycamore are color coordinated? I suppose Descole and Layton have a cool vs warm color thing going but I wasn't sure if Sycamore's design related to Layton's design in any obvious way. I think I may be over looking something.

Hey, thanks a lot for this ask, this kind of questions are right up my alley! :D

Before diving in, a disclaimer. I'm not a character designer (although I draw as a hobby) so my info/insight on this matter is merely from the unhinged Layton fan perspective ^^

Second disclaimer: I have already a post that touches about this topic, which can be read here: link. But I believe I will be able to better articulate my thoughts on the topic this time, thanks to the question.

Basically, I believe Layton and Sycamore are indeed color coordinated! And I rise the bet: Sycamore had no right to have the same colours as Layton, but he does.

Here is an image where their palettes are compared. They’re identical!

I think it’s pretty clear they have the same colours, now let’s think, why??

Think of Luke, and Emmy, and Aurora. They all have their distinctive, separate colour patterns. Luke is designed in blue so it can even in tiny pixel distorted form be distingished from Layton at a glance. Emmy follows the same pattern. So why on earth would a character designer so worried about character differentiation give two characters the exact same colours? And more so when one of them is the very main character?! In other words: why isn’t Sycamore color coded green?? (Or white?? Or any other colour??)

And it’s not like it didn’t occur to the character designer. Look at the Decapolice cast, also by Nagano:

The answer I propose is this:

AZRAN LEGACY SPOILERS FOLLOW:

I think this is because the main character of the Professor Layton series is Hershel Layton. And that’s the character that owns the orangey-red and black pallette, the one who screams to us “main character”.

Let me explain: According to the story, the main character of the Layton series was going to be Hershel Bronev. And it is because of this original role of main character that he has the orangey-red and black pallette. And that's so fucking smart.

It would have been so easy to just give design pre-Hershel Layton as the one with the red-black pallete and give the other character another colour. But instead!! The colour goes with the role!! So when Theo takes the role of "Hershel" and "main character", he takes the colours associated with those things, too!!

And this is a bit more watsonian but Hershel gives up the name and the role but not the red-black combo cause they are no other colours for him. So Des keeps his colours (which from a doylistic perspective, he doesn't strictly have to) and Hershel uses Hershel's colours so they both use the same, and also they have the same hair colour and skin colour which totally makes sense. And the Bostonius is the same colour as the Laytonmobile. Because of course it is, they're the same thing!

So here's Desmond Sycamore, a design that copies the professor's main character energy on the basis that he was supposed to be it but is also inspired by Descole's design (see the purple buttons and the shoes) so you see him and he looks like the ultimate rival. (But also Nagano managed to despite using the same colours, make it enough visibly different?? Which is so hard??)

Meanwhile, in a darker timeline where they didn't think the designs as much:

Would still have screamed rival, yes, but it doesn't say "we're made of the same thing" as the true design does.

I think it's impressive, honestly. It's peak storytelling STRICTLY IN COLOUR CHOICES. I wish to be half as good writer/designer as whoever it was that made this call (Nagano or Hino).

And this concludes this session of infodumping. I hope you enjoyed if you stuck enough to read this far.

Thanks again for the question, sweet anon! <3

Please, everyone feel free to send more Layton inquires and/or add your own thoughts to this post. Cheers!

[daredevils-advocate]

Speaking of the numerals love languages. Would you please walk us through iv's next? I think his might be touch too. I was reminded how insane him leaning himself on people makes me after you wrote 'he is using ii as a head rest' 😭

Bet!

Okay, so I absolutely see where you're coming from with Ivy possibly also having touch as his love language, and I can absolutely see that argument being made for all of them. But I'm gonna expand on this post a bit and show you why I think it's actually gift giving.

Once again, not my photos, credit to original owners <3

Fan gifts

So like I pointed out in my previous post, IV is the one most likely to pick up/use a fan gift. He's constantly taking things from the crowd or picking up tossed things (I repeat, don't throw shit on stage.) And I don't think it's a coincidence that even when III or Ves are the ones to pick things up and wear it, it's probably going to end up with IV anyway. He loves receiving those little presents and the others make sure he gets them

Even when he's not supposed to be taking things he ends up with little presents, as we see in these pixels when he picked up this cat ear headband on his way off the stage after it was known that they weren't supposed to accept anything this time.

Signs

Talking about this point because I feel like he would see a sign someone made as a form of gift because even if it's not something he can hold or keep with him, someone still took their time and energy to make it in hopes he'd see it and that's really sweet. If he sees one that catches his eye he almost always points it out and creates a special little moment with the person holding it. Now this one is a little hard to get photo evidence of, but off the top of my head I believe Tank (@/watertankafternoon) [if you see this I just didn't wanna tag you completely unprompted 😅] has talked about their moment with him during Euclid in Budapest and I believe did find a video that someone managed to get of the moment, and you can find many other stories like that about Ivy specifically. Yeah, the others have pointed out signs and things but IV always finds time to make a special little moment about it.

Giving

So this might be my shakiest point because it's kinda hard to give things to each other on stage. Like I said, it seems like when trading around fan gifts, IV seems to be on the receiving end usually, and if he hands it to someone else it tends to happen during backstage intermissions. However, what happened last night in London with the Christmas crackers seems to be possibly my strongest evidence for the claim. When III started bringing them out, just walking up and opening them with people, I know I saw clips of him doing it with IV and the Espera but I'm not sure how often he actually pulled them out, but he lost every time and was getting more and more disappointed with it. Up until Rain, when IV was the one who approached him with a cracker I'm fairly certain was rigged in III's favor. You can tell he's barely holding onto the end. He could tell III was getting agitated with not winning and gave him one he couldn't lose. He makes his little gifts count.

So here's my evidence on IV's love language being gift giving

[joelsfavouritegirl]

pre-outbreak joel hcs because i’m bored out of my mind and fantasising about this man is 10x better than studying<33 (and because pixel joel deserves all the love in the world, my bb is barely on tumblr anymore since the show came out)

. opens doors for you, doesn’t matter where or when. you’re getting out of the car? he’s already on the passenger side, tugging the door handle open. you’re about to enter some building? he’s already pulling/pushing the door handle open, that small smile on his lips as he steps aside to let you in first, his hand by reflex guiding you in on the small of your back

. ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HIS HANDS, on you at all times wherever whenever. i definitely think joel isn’t a huge fan of pda (he prefers keeping you to himself, i’ll die on this hill if i have to), but ohmygod his hands are always lingering. the small of your back as he leads you somewhere, your waist if it’s cold out or you just happen to be close to him, an arm over your shoulder as you walk/sit, it’s to fucking die forrr

. wouldn’t know how to cook shit (as confirmed by Tommy in tlou2). burns every possible thing he can, would barely be able to flip a pancake if you asked him to. he’d panic like a little kid left alone at the cash register, fumbling with the pan and spatula before it all somehow ends up on the countertop (or the floor).

however, a steak or grilled cheese from this man? all your problems are solved, it’s like he switches to some chef alter-ego whenever you ask him to make it. also acts like it’s the most non-chalant thing ever, trying to ignore the fact that he can’t cook to save his life yet he can make a grilled cheese you’d choose as your last meal if you could.

“holy shit… this is so good?!”

he’s just staring at you, confused at the shock on your face, “is… that a bad thing, sweets?”

“no, not at all. it’s just… this is fuckin’ delicious and… well, your history with cooking isn’t really the best, y’know?”

“shut up,” and he’s biting off half of your sandwich, chuckling as you swat him away annoyedly.

. also can we talk about this? mr let-me-have-a-bite-and-proceeds-to-eat-the-whole-thing Miller. is it like a universal dad thing or smth?

can’t trust him with cooking, can’t trust him with food at all really. it doesn’t really matter what you have (ice cream, a sandwich, some drink you just bought, he’ll eat anything), you can bet your ass he’s probably gonna ask you if he can have a bite/sip of it.

“no,” you retort, tucking the smoothie you bought from the stand literally five seconds ago behind your back, “you won’t like it. you’re just gonna drink the whole thing and i won’t have anything left.”
“c’mon sweets, you know i ain’t like that,” his hand is on his hip, a knowing smirk on his lips as he tries to defend himself/gaslight you (quite badly), “just a small sip. i promise. nothin’ more.”

and of course you cave. how could you not when he’s looking at you expectantly with those pretty hazel eyes you adore so much?

and the moment you hand him the drink half the liquid is gone. his lips wrap around the straw, practically inhaling the fucking thing. your face contorts, something in between shock and annoyance as he hands you back the now mostly empty cup.

“tastes like shit,” he remarks, tucking you under his arm.

love this man to death, idk how naughty dog makes pixels this attractive<33 would gladly share all my food with him and more

[swifty-fox]

As callum is double the size of Austin and quite a bit taller, how do you think this affected the way bucky and buck were portrayed on screen? I know there's also a lot of physicality in acting and I found it interesting that in certain scenes - like when they're fighting with the British at the table, or at that party where bucky has a tense moment with his superior, or when bucky gets up and starts singing - that he seems like someone buck can be quiet behind, he can watch him go and be amazed/amused at what he might do and whilst all the noise happens around bucky remain in his own seemingly preffered quietnes. Buck also watches bucky a lot too, like he is as intrigued with this larger than life character as we are - until he needs to step in lmao.

Not to say a smaller person can't be formidable, after all I think callum is distinctly bigger than the real life Eagen, but for Apples interpretation of MOTA it fits that bucky is this bull of man. It makes the moments -like that super tense moment when crank says 'the people we're bombing didn't shoot down buck' or when Bucky walks into the bar after bucks been shot down and tells everyone they don't have to guess why he's come back and slaps a bill down, or when he won't give that nazi anything but his number - all the more tangible for us watching at home.

The use of callums size is very, very wonderfully executed imo and kudos to callum and the directors for that because I think it can be so easy to end up being a caricature of some tough guy JUST because of size as opposed to being tough in spite of it, that's the balance of physical acting imo you can shoe horn any buff actor into a role but it's how secondary his size is to Buckys rage of emotions that makes it impactful, it's wielded like an accessory to an already formidable character.

I also think it shows in callum and austins friendship like Austin in their interveiws is very content often to simply relax and laugh and watch and listen, he said they're cut from the same cloth and callum said their personalties are similar to buck and buckys I.e. introvert and extrovert but they're kindred spirits. - sorry this was long but I find the art of acting so fascinating when it's done well. And the phycality of buck and bucky is to me really well done and an important part of how they understand each other

Callum is only 2 inches taller than Austin! He's just....big. he's just broad. Austin is much more trim and it makes the difference look extreme but they are in fact very similar in height!

I think from what we know the real John Egan had a very similar bombastic personality lmao. I don't think they were really factoring in Callums height or size into the casting so much as his physicality. He plays the cocky self assured pilot so well. and one thing we know about John Egan was that he was one cocksure motherfucker

^ his POW with a very cocky popped collar.

I do agree that Callum injects a lotta physicality into his roles. i can spot him from a few pixels just by the way he walks. I think it's what lends to his charisma on screen but I also think yes it is virtue of being a big guy. he's got a lotta limb and a lotta body of course he's gonna use it in his acting, of course he's someone whos probably grown up being very aware of his size. Bet he bashed those long arms a lot on things before he learned how to control himself lol. I think of course he is quite physically intimidating in scenes where he needs to be and his size lends to it but it's just the simple fact of him being a big guy.

Austin is shy and an introvert and hates talking about himself, but loves talking about things other than himself. and Callum is willing to talk about anything lol. He seems like one of those guys who kinda has a thought on every subject. It's no wonder they mesh well, they're both deeply thoughtful guys and it seems like Callums open personality smooths the path for Austin really well. I doubt they have many awkward silences between them due to Callum being Callum

[sleepyselkiesims]

Simply Lilac

Name: Piper O'Donovan Age Group: Young Adult Orientation: Confusion. She/They Hometown: City native, recently re-located to Mt. Komorebi. Occupation: World-renowned gardener for vampires Traits: Bro, Loves the Outdoors, and Unflirty Aspiration: Nature Likes: Anything outdoorsey, really Dislikes: Anything you have to sit down and focus to do, and cooking. Gifts: Holly, blue milk, and eggplant (literal) Misc: Likes dirt. Other: No CC whatsoever. In desperate need of better party/formal attire (note: they will be covered in mud eventually)

In Depth: Piper's love for gardening first blossomed when they came across their grandmother's rooftop garden. She didn't realise that some plants came from her grandmother's homeworld, nor did she care. It's all about getting covered in dirt babyyyy

Piper's father took her on a fishing trip one time because he wanted to explore the city, and accidentally got his girl utterly obsessed with it. Yeah, it was pretty clear Piper wasn't cut out for city life at all.

The first thing Piper did when they moved out was get her very own garden! Full of only the weirdest and wildest. Had the watcher placed a bed in there, Piper would never ever leave.

But leave they did! To explore new worlds! Gain new skills! Make every day an adventure! End up on their Watcher's banner image thing!

But none of that backstory or skill building matters anymore, after a tragic skiing accident knocked Piper out, depriving them of her memories. She doesn't even remember how to garden! I bet they probably think they just sprouted up from the earth themself.

Will this unflirty gremlin manage to flourish in her new surroundings? Is this reset exactly what they needed to figure out how to love? I guess we'll find out!

Another thing she doesn't know is her sister Sereia already failed at @samssims bachelorette challenge due to being too ace for Mildred! So there's the double bonus of seeing if the lack of love runs in the family!

Oh, and she's a mermaid. So she might water herself along with the plants.

Expect chaos.

Watcher

Are you comfortable with your pixel person:

Flirting with other contestants? (The bachelorette will have the ‘player’ trait cheated and her boundaries set to no jealousy, so it will not impact your sim’s relationship with her.)

WooHooing other contestants?

Flirting with/and or woohooing NPCs?

Flirting with the host?

Changes to traits via gameplay prompts? (ie. Evil to Good, depending on what your Sim does, or adding traits)

(Humans Only) Becoming an occult?

(Werewolves Only) The Fated Mate mechanic? (If a werewolf ends up winning the challenge, I will cheat out that sentiment)  

@ethicaltreatmentofcowplants If any of these happen I will be delighted

[716chr]

Chihiro Natsuyaki SR - “From Now, The Two Of Us” (Part 2)

Location: HAMA House - Rooster Room

Tao: Amazing….!

Tao: Even though this room was so empty before, now it feels like a store has opened up in here

Chihiro: Well? Well? Isn’t it, like, mega adorbs? Chii puts all the efforts into decorating this room to match Chii’s fav aesthetics ☆

Chihiro: …..Erm, do you…. like it?

Tao: Yeah. It looks really flashy, but…..

Tao: You arranged these furnitures with me in mind, right?

Tao: You even took the time to put on the sunglasses-wearing sunflower that was lost inside my luggage

TL Note: Tao named this decoration グラサンフラワー. He used グラサン, which is slang for サングラス (sunglasses), just by saying it backwards. It’s kinda a pun too bc SUNglasses-wearing SUNflower, hence グラサンフラワー (with サンフラワー being self-explanatory “sunflower”)

Chihiro: Ain’t it adorable~? ♪ Can Chii stream with this cutie next time?

Tao: Of course

Tao: You didn’t just only put your hobbies first, but you also considered my feelings…..

Tao: You do have a kind side to you after all

Tao: Thank you, Chihiro. You’ve worked hard

Chihiro: …..Ehehe, you’re very welcome!

Chihiro: Hey, hey, guess what? Chii got a game that Tao-Tao will for sure love! Check it out!

Chihiro: Chii was like, “Reprint Edition? What’s that?”. Chii just thought that the design was, like, totes adorbs and seemed interesting

Chihiro: So Chii consulted with the store clerk and got the game along with everything else too!

TL Note: In this part, Chihiro used “ソフト”, which by default means “software” but games that required consoles in Japan are also referred to as “ソフト” (short for ゲームソフト/game software aka video games), i.e: Switchソフト is Switch Games. Which means that when Chihiro said “got the game along with everything else”, it’s referring to how he got the the game and the console as well, and later on Tao talks about cables so safe to assume he bought the console for sure lmao

Tao: Woah, this brings back memories…..! I used to be obsessed with this!

Tao: Looking at it now, the 3D graphics looks super blocky and the movements are choppy, but this was considered cutting-edge at the time

Tao: To think that they could turn flat pixel art into something with depth using CG. Stuffs like this really amazed me

Chihiro: Hehe, is that so?

Chihiro: Then, tell Chii all about the rest of it when we play

Tao: Of course!

Tao: Woah, even the cables are like how they used to be. They’ve done an incredible job recreating this!

Chihiro: Chii’ll get the snacks and drinks ready! Tao-Tao, can you handle the preparations on your end?

Tao: Yeah. Leave it to me

Chihiro: (…..At first, I was really nervous. I wondered if I could really live with someone besides my own family)

Chihiro: (But…..)

Tao: …..Connection all set. Oh, it’s on, it’s on!

Chihiro: (Living here together with Tao-Tao…. This is going to be fun)

Tao: Alright, Chihiro. I’ll show you how to play, and then we can have a match later

Chihiro: You bet! Chii’s definitely not gonna lose!

Chihiro: (Nope, it’s definitely gonna be fun!)

Part 1 | Part 2

[physics-of-one-piece]

Hello Physics! I can’t get enough of our feathered friend and would love to request Doffys Leg to torso ratio!

Thanks so much xo

I have been waiting for THIS ONE! Same here, I can never get enough of our pink feathered menace friend.

First, disclaimer. His size varies based on the panels he is in, but the most accurate ones are those from afar rather than the up-close ones.

I got a LOT of results since I used 3 panels, 2 from manga, 1 from anime.

Okay, for this we need (groans) pixels. Ugh. Ugh.

I’m not on PC right now so we’ll do it the more basic way of cutting the image into the height to fit Doffy.

Beware, most images I found of him are very very traumatic pages of the manga.

Like this one! 😊

Haha…ha… aaaaaa 😭😭😭😭

He is 254 pixels tall here. So that means 254 pixels = 305cm here.

Now we cut his torso off.

(Wheezes) Oda really fckn drew him 100% flamingo dear god.

His legs are 171 pixels. Ooh boy.

So his legs are 171 pixels tall, his upper body = 83 pixels

Hm, I can already do the ratio with this. I tried to do pixels to cm but it just wasn’t working out, even though it should have. I was getting too small numbers for his leg height in cm. So we’ll stick to pixels and then when we get the ratio & percentages, we’ll go into the cm to get his torso+leg length.

Ratio, basic one, we go:

171/83 = 2.06

83/83 = 1

So his legs to upper body ratio is 2:1.

For his torso, we gotta do his TORSO, that means waistline to shoulders.

Torso = 59 px.

So, we do same thing for legs to torso ratio.

171/59 = 2.89

Legs - Torso ratio = 2.89:1

Now we’ll go into percentages bcs I do not like ratios.

171/254 = 0.67 × 100 = 67%

Legs = 67%

Upper Body = 32.68%

For his body, it fits. The average torso length is 26-30% of a male’s height.

And NOW WE CAN GO INTO CM HALLELUYAH!

Legs = 205.36 cm

Upper Body = 109 cm

This fits. It fits for how tall Law is compared to Doflamingo, and it fits to how tall Smoker is compared to Doflamingo. Smoker’s head is reaching to Doflamingo’s stomach, and Smoker is 209 cm tall. It fits.

YES! YES! YES! HAHA! YES.

Sorry. I wanted to know how much LEGS this man has for AAAAGES. I always circled it to be 60% but by Oda… it’s a bit more.

Let's do North Blue Doffy in his Red Suit 😍

Here is North Blue Doffy. This image is a bit bigger since the panel itself was bigger. He’s 503 px tall. Yeah, I lowered his hair, he ain’t fooling his height with that updo.

Let’s see his leggies.

Legs = 301 px

(Spits out my hot chocolate) HOLY ONE PIECE.

301/503 = 59.8 %

Aaa, see here his legs are 60%. This is a more realistic proportion while still keeping his legs tall as fuck. And this was my initial guess.

Okay, 60% of 305cm is… also, before anyone says, "oh only 6% difference"… 1% of 305 is 3.05 cm. Each percent is 3.05 cm taller. Within only 3% he’s reaching 10 cm taller, and that’s nothing to scoff at — HE’S ALREADY HUGE WE DON’T NEED HIM HUGER!

183 cm

Maybe... Too short? Luffy (174cm) would then… wait.

Oh.

Hmmm…

Huh.

HUH.

HUH?!

This is getting too accurate regarding body proportions. Not surprising, since Oda uses different distances in panels to get different vibes.

This… actually fits, then? Huh.

I think Luffy needs about 10-20 cm more to be at waist height, so we should add that amount for the legs…

194-197 cm

You know what, we’ll round it up to 183 (60%)-200 cm for his leg height. My bet? Somewhere in the high 80s. Mostly because from what I think, Law (191cm) should be at his waist, Smoker (209 cm) above his waist. Did we seriously, in all of Dressrosa, NEVER get Law standing in front of Doffy with Doffy also standing? 😭🤧 If Doffy’s proportions were normal, his leg would be 50% of his height but since he has flamingo ass legs…

We gotta find Law. We gotta. (Opens my Dressrosa manga folder)

I am so sorry, Law. I am so sorry.

Final verdict.

Doffy's Leg Length: 185-205 cm

60 - 67% legs

My take… 195 cm (63% legs)

Makes Law just a tiny bit shorter and feeling small cus he could never get over Doffy’s waist - how about that trauma and feeling like he is still a kid being scolded by his captain. Haha. Ha…

I really like suffering, huh? Prob why Dressrosa is my favourite arc.

It really depends how long you wanna understand his upper body is, but I think the 2:1 ratio is fine for that.

I’m done. Doffy has huge limbs and is too tall, someone shrink him.

Wait. Wait.

FOUND YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT. THIS PIC. WE’RE USING THIS ONE.

1978 pixels tall. This time we’ll do upper body first cus big boy can’t stand normally.

His waistband is drawn taller here for the intimidation factor so we’ll follow the length of his shirt. It’s longer than his upper body so we shorten it slightly to get to the waist

Upper body = 541 px

😭😭😭 THAT GIVES HIS LEGGIES 1000+ PX 😭😭🤧🤧🤧

Legs = 1430 px

Nah, this is too much at this point. This is exaggeration. This is… (wipes nosebleed)

72% legs!

HAHAHAHA. HAHA. NO. NO. NO NO NO NO NO. NO!

I’m done! I’ll bleed out from my nosebleed. I need to get some bandages! Bye! Thank you for the ask!

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @ohnomyhooves (bcs I think you'll be interested)