#I get confused when there is so much info

[ghostwhippet]

From Scratch

Nutrition Info: Johnny/Reader; 4k; a meetcute launched by Reader's inability to cook reasonable portions, and Johnny's... well, just Johnny

No matter how long you live alone, you can’t get the hang of cooking for one person. Even when you try to make a single-serving meal instead of batch cooking, somehow it balloons out of control. Wasting food makes you feel awful, but you can only freeze so much.

One evening, desperate and utterly fed up, you go kick gently at a neighbor’s door, both hands full, trying to mimic a knock with your shoe. Jason, you think his name was? Striking blue eyes, big frame, a cute cropped mohawk, amazing brogue, and he’s always been cordial when you’ve run into him around the building. Friendly, but not too friendly.

He’s understandably confused by your request at first, but seems happy enough for the food, and takes it around your repeated apologies–for bothering him, for existing, for anything you can find, really.

Unfortunately, not even forcing yourself to go and do all of that manages to pierce your shite sense of volume. Your trips to his door do get less awkward over time, though. And Johnny, his name is, always has sparklingly clean dishes and containers to return in exchange for the full ones. 

Eventually he just starts showing up at your place instead and eats with you at your bar counter. He didn’t really ask, and you definitely didn’t, but there he is all the same, and… if you're honest? He’s just so easy to be around, it quickly feels natural having him there. He puts you off your guard, puts you at ease and makes you smile, like those are somehow the most natural things in the world.

From that first night, Johnny has insisted on helping with dishes. Starting the second, he’s always got groceries with him. Even manages to talk you out of your discomfort over accepting them, so well that on his fourth night, you’ve got a small shopping list ready. He’s cheeky, you don’t think he’ll mind. And he is right, after all: you're probably feeding him at least three or four nights out of the week, what with all the leftovers.

You start eating better, and trying new things you'd always planned on “getting around to,” now that you've got a reason to cook beyond not starving. Everything comes out fine the first time you make it, when you’re closely following a recipe, and Johnny has no qualms about trying anything you put in front of him. You’ve never met someone so genuinely un-fussy when it comes to food.

A couple months after he’s started eating at your place, he disappears for a while. “Work trip,” is all he'll say, and you don’t pry, even though you really want to. 

Once he’s back, he starts coming over weekend afternoons sometimes. You do brunch with beer or fancy drinks in champagne flutes, or occasional breakfast on the roof before other people are awake, him in a big hoodie or jumper, and you wearing a thick blanket like it's trying to digest you, looking like a half-drowned cat because no living being is meant to be awake at such an hour. 

You cut fruit into mangled flowers and vague geometric shapes for the brunches, usually while just spending time with him. He tries his hand at it once, with you pulling up videos, laughing the whole time you’re explaining how it’s supposed to work, and the utter bastard is better at it on his first go than you were after weeks. His hands are confoundingly steady, and his hand-eye coordination borders on the unnatural.

That’s probably the official start of his sous chef arc. And that’s what has him spending a night judging your knives and marveling, repeatedly and loudly, that you still have all your fingers.

You might put a piece of eggshell into his omelet that night in retaliation, and he might not even have the decency to react to it.

“...Johnny I can hear it crunching, oh my God would you spit it out!” You manage between laughter that’s got your face hurting.

That happens a lot around him. Smiling so much it hurts.

“Nah, i’s nice texture,” he says around the mouthful, then starts enunciating the longer words. “Very advanced technique. Shows a great awareness of the culinary experience–”

“You’re being such a prat. Why are you being such a prat!”

He talks over you as if he can’t hear you, as if he’s doing some mockingly posh review. “And honestly, the crunching–” he pauses and chomps down on the shell for effect, and how is it still intact, “it really engages the senses. Keeps me immersed in my dining experience.”

You regret loaning him your cooking books. Never again.

After that, though, he steals your knives, takes them home, and they come back so sharp you can cut windowpane slices of potato. He offers to teach you how to do it yourself–after stipulating with heart-clenching thoroughness that he’s happy to come over and do it for you any time.

Johnny gets weirdly into shopping farmer’s markets, walking around discovering new produce and varieties of things he’s never seen before. “Fuck would I know tomatoes come in this color? Look at this thing, it’s like a feckin’... it’s a wee lumpy sunset, isn’t it? And this! Like someone took the heart of a dragon,” his voice had gone terribly dramatic, and you definitely hadn’t covered your face, “and stuck it on a bush somewhere.”

“Baby how are you so huge, but so adorable?” You don't know when the pet names started, but you know he started them; sometimes it feels like you two grew up together. 

You like the challenge of the new and unexpected ingredients that come from his trips, and by this point, he’s keeping your kitchen pretty stocked with whatever oddball pantry items you ask for, so you're set up to deal with almost anything. But on rare occasions he’ll call you with a question, too. You’ve had each other’s numbers for a while, it just made coordinating easier. 

“Oi can you make sommat with uh… fiddlehead ferns?”

You always can, whatever he asks about. It just takes a quick internet search to find out if you can tackle it that same night, or if it needs to wait for another day. Sometimes it ends up disastrous, but like a shot, Johnny has you laughing or throwing something at him (usually-but-not-always also while laughing) before guilt or shame can get a proper foothold.

There was a night when he was too excited about something to wait for you to answer the door when he knocked, and since then, he just sort of comes in on his own after he announces himself—at least when you know to expect him. That feels right, too, just like having him at your counter had.

You’re feeding the both of you almost every night of the week by now, even if you’re still not cooking often. You like being around him so much, you can’t imagine doing it less, not even when cooking is the last thing you want to be doing. It’s like there’s a bubbly little sun in your chest when he’s around.

Johnny makes you so happy, in fact, and you’re so afraid of losing your time with him, it’s nearly six months before the first time you have to tap out of a dinner, too knackered to make yourself even casually presentable, nevermind cook so much as instant noodles.

He reacts like it’s no problem at all, which of course he’d do, because he’s wonderful, but you don’t manage to keep your heart from dropping that he’s not at least a little sad. That he doesn’t, maybe, look forward to the nights like you do. You know your arrangement is practical, and he’s never been over unless there was food involved, but… well… seeing him seems to have become rather… vital to you.

Which means it’s better to put it away, anyhow, right?

So when, an hour after you’d texted him and basically all he’d said was No problem, thinking takeout, any votes?, he’s coming through your front door with delivery bags and talking a mile a minute like it’s just another night, you're left with your mouth open and your hand on the knob, because… because he's here.

You're not cooking, but he's still here.

You just stand there gobsmacked as he sits on the couch, nattering away, half the food out before he even realizes you’re still playing doorstop. He asks if you’re having the time of your life or if you’re going to come sit down, those horrible (wonderful) crinkles at the sides of his eyes, brows pulled up in the middle.

He looks confused when you say you want to freshen up, like he can’t see that your hair might’ve lost a row with a feral rodent, or that you’re wearing clothes that shouldn’t even be outside of a bin, nevermind on a person. He just tells you the food will get cold, and that it’ll be no good that way.

So you run your hands through your hair and sit, subdued and uncertain like you haven’t been around him in ages, as he amiably fills the silence. You know he can tell you’re not right, but he’s just… acting like it’s ok that you aren’t.

Midway through the meal, he reaches forward to grab a container and put it in front of you, and it makes his knee come up against yours. 

It doesn’t move away when he sits back.

Then, as the night wears on and the very most jagged edges of your weariness have eased, he makes a joke and you bump your shoulder into him in retaliation. It pushes your legs flush… and neither of you do anything to separate them. He just keeps on being Johnny like nothing is different, like nothing strange is happening, like he can’t see how bloody flushed you must be, like the room hasn't turned to glass and burst, leaving the both of you toppling through the air.

You're not stupid, so you have to tell yourself repeatedly that he’s just trying to comfort you. He’s acting completely normal otherwise—for Johnny—and you look like a person in need of a friend tonight. And same as him, you’re at all your meal nights instead of off with friends or dates. At least for him, it’s because of his career. You haven’t even seen him bringing up a new fling in ages.

…You’re not stupid. Right?

After the food is finished, Johnny putters about cleaning up, working his way around your kitchen like he knows it exactly as well as he does. He puts all but one container of leftovers in your fridge. 

You hug your knees comfortably, just sort of watching him, too full of static to be paranoid about it, and he either doesn’t realize or isn’t bothered by it. Not being a complete creep, you don’t keep it up for too long, anyhow. You’ve got plenty to occupy your thoughts.

He surprises you on his way out by casually setting a mug in front of you. He’d made you something hot to drink while he was cleaning up, and you were so spaced you hadn’t realized. He just gives you a little smile, a gentle squeeze on the shoulder with a stroke of his thumb, says, “Wednesday, yeah?” (the night of your next normal get-together), and moves on toward the door. All normal. But there’s some metal in your chest painfully bending itself into unaccustomed shapes, jabbing places that aren’t used to the pressure, pushing into your windpipe until it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t stop yourself from telling him that you made up a new seasoning blend for popcorn, if he’d maybe like to watch a movie before he goes.

He stands there by the door looking at you just for a split second too long, opens his mouth, closes it, then settles right back onto the couch up next to you. He reaches out an arm and pulls you gently into his side, moving in a way that makes it an invitation and not a demand, while he’s talking about what to watch.

You fall asleep there. So does he.

Things turn a bit funny after that in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. At the surface, everything is the same. But nothing feels the same. Every time there’s a tease, casual touches, close quarters, you have to chant not stupid not stupid not stupid on repeat in your head. He’s just Johnny, that’s all. The guy you could have grown up with.

You keep up the dinners and the weekends, and eventually, finally realize that with him around to take all your extras, you can bake. It’s something you’ve wanted to try forever, but recipes don’t really make single servings, and you never had anyone to pawn off the other 22 muffins or ¾ of the cake onto, or the sheet of croissants, because you absolutely want to try the most fussy, difficult things. And it turns out, when at last he tells you what he does, that Johnny works at the local military base–which at least explains his size–so if he can’t polish something off, well, he knows some blokes.

You’re so excited after that, things almost seem to return to normal. He even comes over and hangs out while you’re baking sometimes. Just knocking about, licking the beaters and the spoons and the bowls, doing dishes as you go, fidgeting with this or that, all while knowing you’re equally as likely to produce something inedible as you are a treat.

Johnny tells you a little about his career one evening. He says that it means he’s in real danger often, there’s a lot of secrecy with people in his personal life, long absences and surprise ones, shit pay, and likely a brief expiration date. (You don’t really let that last one in). He’s got a bit of a funny look in his eyes when he shares about all of it. Quite focused on you, in a way? It makes your cheeks heat. It isn’t as if it’s on you to approve of his life.

But at least now you understand why he’s on his own. And you suppose you’re a bit small, because while you’re incredibly sad for him, part of you is thrilled that it means he’s not likely to be swept away by someone else too soon.

You just gather yourself up, smile, and tell him that at least he’s spending the time he has as best he can, which is a hell of a lot more than a lot of people do–although you personally hope there’s a lot more of it. And that… at the end, you're glad for all the times you're involved.

Johnny’s leaning against the counter while you fold nuts and rum-soaked fruit into a thick batter, his normally busy hands jammed into his pockets, posture a bit off, and so close you almost keep elbowing him on accident, the two of you just bantering back and forth. 

You turn your head toward him to fire back, and–

–his mouth is just there, on yours.

He lingers, but doesn’t move otherwise. It’s… testing, you think. You feel his lips shake against yours, in fact, just once. 

Your shock dies fast and your eyes slip closed, and while it’s a brief kiss, when he pulls away, you don’t open them. You can’t. Because if you’re honest, you’ve probably been gone for him since the first time you gave him a friendly hug goodnight, and it’s only ever gotten worse. If you open your eyes, this won’t be real, or it won’t have happened, or it will shatter somehow.

After a pause, he runs the back of a finger down your temple, trailing the side of your face to your jaw. You still won’t open your eyes, so he just toys with your face until you do.

He’s got a soul-crushing smile at the corners of his eyes.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admits into the quiet.

“...Oh?” Your voice is embarrassingly, unhelpfully breathy. It’d probably be mortifying, if you had the mental capacity to fully register embarrassment at the moment.

He pauses, smile making its way to his lips, and curling them up at the corners, bit by bit. He cants his head, just a little, like he wants to see you from another angle. “Aye. …Might’ve been since the first time I saw you at the mailboxes.”

“Oh?” 

That had been one of the first times you remember ever seeing him. He never said a word to you other than, “Mornin’” or “Evenin’,” if he said anything at all.

His smile blooms until you can see his teeth. “You were wearing this little shirt. Green, thin. Bit worn, like it was a favorite. Showed a wee spot of skin at your back.” His fingers brush the spot, soft and testing, near the base of your spine, and it jolts you from scalp to toes. “Might’ve… lost some time, thinking about what it’d feel like if I slid my hand up there.” He toys with the hem of your shirt and steps in, voice going deeper and rougher around the edges. “Might’ve imagined pushing it up, getting a bit closer. Really might’ve imagined putting your back up to the slots, mo–”

You kiss him this time, before he can go on, and it’s anything but testing.

And just like everything else about him, this fits. 

His mouth fits against yours. His body fits against yours. And as if some band of control snaps, so abruptly you swear you feel it jolt through his skin, he's got you up on the counter, his thighs between yours, both of you already breathing hard.

His hands on you are perfect, calloused, slipping up under the back of your shirt, smoothing and gripping, making your chest and your thighs feel molten. It's ravenous, like he just has to touch your skin, has to get you closer. You arch toward him, fingers running up through his hair, legs curling around his and pulling him nearer.

His hips are carefully, stubbornly, infuriatingly back from you, but the kiss is so full of need, so close, that some of his breaths sound hollow against your mouth. It's like he can't decide whether inhaling or devouring you is more important, so he just doesn't choose.

When you're at the point of moaning unintentionally, of hungry little sounds forcing their way out of your chest, of your hips moving against the counter in desperation, when you're moments from outright begging, Johnny pulls back, and goes further when you try to chase his mouth.

His lips are red and full, his face dark--much worse when he catches sight of how completely drunk you must look--and he's panting. His fingers dig into your hips like he's trying to keep one or both of you from drowning. He squeezes his eyes shut.

You don't mean to, you really don't, but you look down, and lord help you but–

“That looks painful,” you tell him. Your voice sounds like it's been run over a washboard. He's tented against his denim, and his size is… proportional.

…You can't seem to remember how to make yourself look up.

“Really rather not talk about my cock just now, love,” he gravels, fingers clenching briefly against you. His head tips forward onto your shoulder, breaths panting out against your collar bone, leaving you to pick up every bit of heat he's trying to get out of himself.

You hum, teasing. “Shame, because I can't think of anything I'd rather talk ab—”

His big paw covers your mouth. “For the love of every Saint, I’m beggi—”

You cut him off right back. By licking his palm.

He recoils in horror, but the moment your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter, made worse every time he tries to tell you how disgusting that is, something about his sisters as kids, you don't know what else.

You're the first to sober, breathing almost back to normal, thoughts already whirring on fast-forward. You look down, pulling your knees together, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Are we…. Will we be ok, after this?”

You peek up to see him looking at you like you're daft.

“‘S been the better part of a year,” he says softly, moving forward and running his thumbs over your knees. Asking your legs to make room again, to let him get close again. “Have you really not figured it out, all this time?” 

Your legs open hesitantly, and he steps in and, when you look up at him, kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, slow and warm and so tender it feels like your chest is cracking right down the center.

Eyes closed, brows a little pinched, you murmur, “We can't all be SAS savants, Johnny.” Maybe you know. Maybe. But it has been all this time, so maybe you need to hear it, too.

He's still kissing, pace unhurried and savouring, making his way to your jaw and just beneath it. But it's calming now, somewhere between reverential and still trying to bring the both of you down. Himself especially, you think.

“Then let me spell it out for you. Gladly.” He noses up against the bottom of your ear and roughs, “You are fucking stuck with me. Glued. Bloody welded.” He huffs a laugh and leans back upright—but not all the way, not too far back. “This isnae a new thing for me. You know that, right? I just….” He shakes his head and abandons the thought, “Hell, my mates have already been asking when they can come over for dinner, the dobbers.”

Your brows shoot up. “You've talked about me at work?”

He looks down, and while his face is in half a scowl, you'd swear he does it to hide a slight flush, too. “Haven't shut up about you, more like. Should hear what my Lieutenant– Ach, nevermind that.”

You hurry to say that they're welcome any time, but it makes him scowl fully.

“Not exactly keen on the idea just yet.” He puts his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and just stands there, breathing you in. He mutters into the crook of your shoulder, “Mind if I stay like this for a bit? Just while I, uh… calm down.”

His hips are still well back from you. You’re not sure you’ve ever adored and hated him so much at once.

“I’d really like that,” you tell him softly, arms going around his ribs, hands on his shoulders, chest to chest.

It's warm and resounding like this, so after a spell, without thinking, you bite his shoulder. Just sink your teeth in and leave them there. It’s not even entirely conscious, it's just so comfortable and comforting.

“All good, there, wee piranha?” he eventually asks, a smile in his voice.

You detach instantly. “Ah, sorry! I, uh, might have a tiny bit of an oral fixation.”

He groans. “Are ye trying to do me in?”

“I’m not the one who said we had to stop, Mr. Military Discipline.”

His eyes darken in a flash, but he tamps down on it just as quickly and gets that godawful cocky look on his face, instead. “Pardon me for not wanting to rush something that really matters.” His tone goes so soft at the end that you can’t even be mad at him--exactly as you know he intended, the great bastard.

“How did I not know what a sadist you are?”

And that look means he’s about to make you eat your words.

“Johnny I will happily kill you in your sleep.”

“I could handle that. Means you'd be in my bed, aye?”

He pulls your hands up from the death grip they've found on the edge of the counter and laces your fingers together. “I dinnae….” He clears his throat, frowns. “Just being away on deployment is shite now, and I love what I do. But I miss you while I'm gone, think about you back here all the bloody time, and we havnae even….”

When he doesn’t finish, you whisper, heart clenching with the realization, “You don't want to rush this.”

He laughs quietly like he wants to argue. But what he says is, “No. I don't. But while that's true….” He steps in, chin ducking, eyes darkening even as they shine, voice lowering. “What do you say we turn the oven off? I've a funny feeling you willnae be getting around to that bake today.”

Masterlist

[petitelepus]

So, I've been seeing these kny match ups and naturally in curious about mine cough um4. So I guess, I just put up the type of paring I want and go from there.

Here's all about spife for a yandere/romantic match up (my gender preference for a partner is men):

I'm a rather positive person, who has no time to spare for those who wish to put me down. Although, at first it may seem like I'm revealing too much (which I sometimes do) I have my fair share of secrets and allow myself to be vulnerable with only those I trust– I tend to shrink back into my little shy hole if I think I'm too much. I like complimenting people, like to remind them to not put themselves down and be kind to themselves even if they make mistakes. I also like helping people because it makes me happy to see people happy (especially those who need to vent, I'm willing to listen and be the shoulder to cry on, even if I'm a complete stranger). However, I am also very emotionally sensitive (I get the urge to cry if someone I really like yells at me or lectures me about something I find funny even if they're trying to help as they make me realise I'm embarrassing or have embarrassed myself). I am assertive when I need to be, although in a calm and composed manner (I lose my temper when I'm frustrated though I think I do well under some pressure). I possess a strong sense of justice and FIRMLY believe in fairness for all and (usually) when I engage in deep conversations with my friends, I tend to pity those who suffer of the cruelty in the world and criticise those in power who choose to do nothing aka corruption. I am a FIRM believer that strength must be used to protect and help others and that people must have an open ear for the broken and hurt (I cry when people cry or for those who are misfortune and end up praying for them at times though very rarely). I am also quite lighthearted, though. I can laugh at myself if I make a mistake and will bring up the memory for fun times. And useless fact, I am a sweet tooth. In general, I'm a sensitive, introverted ray of sunshine who also will uphold their beliefs no matter what anyone says and despite the fact that I tend to be too lenient, I will almost always end up confronting someone. In general, I have been taught by my mother to always be kind to others because you don't know what they could be going though.

That was long. I'm curious to see who I get! Have a nice day (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ

Hantengu is Yandere for you!

Hantengu was scared of you when you first met, but despite being a Demon, you showed him the benefit of the doubt because of how frail and pathetic he was to even look at.

He could deduce that you didn't see him as a threat, not yet anyway, no, you seemed to pity him. The moment Hantengu realized this, he knew he could manipulate you as much as he desired.

He makes you believe that nothing is his fault, that it wasn't his fault he was a Demon, or that he had to kill and eat people to live… And you believe him, because of what your mother said about not knowing what others have gone through.

Oh, you're such a Saint, surely you would pity poor innocent Hantengu! He hasn't done anything wrong, he swears, but people still bully and torment him!

Hearing him wail and cry and seeing him tremble so hard his teeth are clattering, they make you cry for his sake and they activate that protective nature of yours and that is exactly what the Demon aims for.

But Hantengu didn't expect to grow so fond of you. Normally he would eat anyone in your position, but you are strong, not some normal human, and he could use another bodyguard.

…But he falls for you and your chivalrousness, only when Hantengu falls for someone, he will become obsessed with them.

He has to know where you are and what you are doing every single second of the day. If you are gone too long or he doesn't know where you are, he starts to cry so hard and call out for you.

You think you must protect him when it might just be you who actually needs protection.

You're so sweet, he fears that other people might take advantage of that kindness of yours. Just like he does, but he is different! He loves you! What's their excuse!?

You're stunned when you first time meet his clones, and you can tell they are strong. That's when you start to realize that maybe there was more to Hantengu than you thought yet you still stay because they won't let you leave.

Sekido has to be careful around you because he has a tendency to snap at things, but he is obsessed with you just like Hantengu, and doesn't want to scare you off. He will tell you that you trust too easily, but when you ask what he means by that, he goes silent.

Karaku loves seeing and spending time with you. He is the most laid-back clone, but he loves having a good time and highly enjoys teasing you. You're just so cute when you get flustered, he could eat you up!

Aizetsu is probably the only one who feels awful about tricking you into becoming their own personal human, but he doesn't do anything to fix or make things better for you. In the end, he loves you also and doesn't want to let you go.

Urogi thinks it's hilarious how you actually believe Hantengu's innocence, but even Hantengu believes so also; so in the end you are both way too gullible. That works for him though.

The point is, Hantengu won't let you go and if it's a fight someone may want, his clones are there to protect him and his special bond with you.

I match you with Gyomei Himejima!

The Stone Hashira could sense you before he could "see" you. You radiated this brilliant, genuine, kind, and courageous aura, it nearly left him speechless.

He is happy to meet you and is crying in a matter of seconds, stating that he can "see" your "strength", whatever he meant by that. The two of you hit it off immediately and grow a strong bond of kindness and respect for each other.

You take an immediate liking to Gyomei, and you may feel like you need to take care of or help him because of his blindness, but he assures you that he can "see" fine on his own and how things had been that way since his childhood.

That doesn't help and it makes you cry, knowing how hard life must have been for him. The Hashira chooses not to tell you about the actual sadness and hardships he had to endure because he doesn't want you to cry anymore. If you cry, he might start crying too. This does happen daily.

You don't hold secrets from Gyomei and he feels honored that you trust him so much that you are willing to share so much about yourself with him. He makes small mental notes here and there to remember later, like your favorite book or what sweets you like most so he knows to get you some while he is out there hunting Demons.

Gyomei admires your strong sense of justice and how you want to see the best in everyone and everything... But this can make you gullible and he warns you about it.

You may get a little upset by his remark, but he just wants you to look out for yourself also and think of yourself sometimes first. You are still a human and not a Demon so you can get hurt badly or die even and he wouldn't know what to do if something like that happened to you. He doubts that he could ever heal from that.

He wants you to stay safe, but you want to protect people like he does and he knows he can't change your mind about it... So he makes a humble request to Master to let him accompany you on your missions when he doesn't have any.

This means Gyomei doesn't have much free time, but every moment spent with you is even better than those moments alone in his manor. He loves to hear how you describe things to him and how you laugh at the silliest things.

A day doesn't pass when Gyomei doesn't thank God for lowering you on Earth. He loves you that much and wants to spend as much time with you as possible.

[silusvesuius]

baby👶 drawings. these are very dear to me rn.. 2nd pic is my Nelavis with @barvin0k's Varonur 🩵 last one is a baby bosmer and snow elf, hairiest of them all. although the bosmer was meant to be my girl Barletta too lols

[worstloki]

brodinsons absolutely would mess with earth in the funniest ways idk what to tell you Thor will go on live news and relay a sob story about how Loki is his beloved wife who has been lost to a mind madness and he wants him to return but alas he is a villain on Midgard now and so Thor stays as well hoping that some part of her will recognise him and they will reunite. And then Loki goes on another channel and says yes that's all true I will castrate him promptly for wronging our vows.

[enden-k]

btw i now understand the achievement by, you know. getting it myself and reading the description instead of having someone in my inbox blabber abt it and confuse me to no end so please dont do that again, thanku

[emelinstriker]

mmmnnother idea too

[p5x-theories]

Hey this guy is a native speaker and you can hear him say the names of the new thieves. Yui, Hina Nishimori, Toshiya Sugai, and Miyu Sahara. Idk if he’s speaking 8n Chinese or Japanese but the names sound clear. https://www.youtube.com/live/6fQz402kUg4?si=RId-nY6Gk7ju9RL2 at 40:43

Oh, haha, I was just about to post a link to his stream of the preview livestream, for anyone else who was curious to see it!

He's speaking Japanese, which means his readings of the names (which are written in Japanese) are probably a more accurate guess than what I'm doing with my dictionary, yeah. The kanji characters that Japanese names are usually written with often have multiple ways they can be read, though, and my understanding is that even if you're a native speaker, the first reading of the name that comes to mind may not always be the correct one, in the same way you could misread a name in English because you've heard it pronounced one way, but the person whose name it is pronounces it another way.

Which isn't to say I think he's wrong necessarily! Just that (at least as I understand it as someone learning Japanese) it's still not 100% confirmation those are their canon names, so I'll hold off on calling anything "confirmed" until I hear the names in-game, just to be safe.

(Though, to be clear, I do consider Yui confirmed, since they write that name in English in some cases as well, haha. The above explanation applies to the three names written in Japanese.)

But thanks for sending this in, all the same!

[lollitree]

I need to talk about Celosia more. Look at her. 0 confidence. She's such a mood. In a position of power in a villainous team and looks like this when facing a child. Was trying to intimidate the president of a company into complying right before this as well

[henriiiii-1001]

There's a big difference between a missing person and a kidnapped person in this au

When a bird of any species goes missing, it means they flied or were dragged by the wind too far away from the main lands. Whenever there's particularly nasty weather, especially during winter, investigations always start the day the wind calms down enough, but on different cases, investigations only start two days after the person has failed to return back home, and the background information that their family and friends provide help to determine the situation, and they usually come down to two main categories: runaways or a possible sudden health issue while flying (like a heart attack or stroke) Birds of prey don't have a police system so it's usually the person's family who goes looking for them.

On the other hand, kidnapped people are always either songbirds or game birds, and the kidnappers are always birds of prey. Kidnappings are actually quite rare, since whenever raptors do hunt smaller birds they leave their cadavers behind after they've eaten or collected enough to feed their young. Much like murders, kidnappings also involve blood because of raptors' brutality, but it's just that, just evidence that a struggle occured that the smaller bird obviously lost.

The smaller birds have no idea of the reasons that could lead to a kidnapping, but even if they knew they'd still not bargain or anything similar to get the person back, they're too scared of angering the raptors for just one person. All the few songbirds and game birds who have lost a friend or family member because they were kidnapped think that this system of not trying is extremely unfair, but unfortunately there's nothing they can do.

Mark is pretty much miserable. He's stuck with someone who is incapable of moving on from a loss, and he can't leave them either, because his bird instincts have been forced into depending on this person, so the couple of times he did try to escape he got very sick physically. He's stuck on an unhealthy "friendship" and is too scared to try to reason with them.

Ruth is doing a bit better, kind of. She lost one of her wings to her kidnapper, but did and still does try to talk to them, and overtime their dynamic evolved from kidnapper and victim to a companionship. This person still hasn't gotten over their loss, even after all these years, but Ruth still tries to in some way give them a bit of therapy, not just for her own sake anymore but for theirs now too. She even got them to stop hunting smaller birds at some point! (They joke sometimes that they're gonna break their new diet when Ruth tell them of her past and all the people who were assholes to her)

damn what's the weather got against them man xddddd

also p interesting overall! also didn't think you'd make mark and ruth live! p cool idea :D i do have ideas on who mark and ruth's kidnappers are, but i wont say bc i could be completely wrong LOL

[fauna-and-floraa]

So is the JP release of Airful the comeback they're having at the end of november or ?

[kicksnscribs]

...

[airenyah]

no you don't understand!!!! for this bad buddy run i'm gonna be watching the episodes without subtitles the first time around!!!!!

[zenathezee]

Me responding to an email at work: "Blah blah blah, yes, no, here's a line for filler that probably doesn't need to be mentioned at all but it's weird if the email is too short."

Response I get back: "Thank you for saying [line I threw in as filler], I didn't know that and it was very helpful!!"

[bloodyarson]

visit my new tag #ellis's adventures in late capitalism customer service and predatory business practices for highly entertaining accounts of my experiences dealing with any kind of company's or government's wonderful treatment of their obviously very strongly valued customers and their very astronomically high quality offered services

[itsalwaysdark]

having a midlife crisis atm i think i might start reading [redacted] this is rly scary for me keep me in your thoughts

[thetangibleghost]

I gotta confess it is so much more fun talking to Sal as if he is a separate person like he wants and not a member of the system. He's super creative like. Its just fun.