#ME AND MY BF REAL?

[em0puppy]

@hate4buzi us....................

[decarabias]

forever thinking about royal’s bad ending. my thing with it is that maruki doesn’t necessarily give anyone what they want most, he gives them what’s most appropriate for them to want within a maruki-approved framework. iirc there’s a really interesting text sequence in the game where he just straight up changes someone’s career because they’re not “good” at it, regardless of whether that’s what they actually want. why struggle at all? ever? right?

and so ultimately i don’t think goro akechi’s greatest wish is necessarily ren. i think it’s a wish for sure, but his greatest wish is his own agency. despite any regrets he has and the fact that shido and yaldabaoth treated him like a pawn, he's generally pretty adamant about owning his choices and their consequences. he doesn't want that erased. and instead, you end up with pleasant boy™ if you take maruki’s deal. maybe maruki (incorrectly) thinks sanding off all of akechi’s rough edges will make him easier for ren to love. but the crux of it is really that maruki has to essentially lobotomize him to preserve the illusion of his perfect reality, because their ideologies are so diametrically opposed that akechi would spend every waking moment fighting back.

this isn’t to undermine ren’s importance to akechi btw — he explicitly acknowledges that he wishes they had met earlier, and there are countless moments throughout their confidant that underscore how much it means to him that they mirror each other so well. he absolutely does want more time with ren, just not under these circumstances.

and that’s also what makes ren’s choice on 2/2 doubly devastating. he knows that either way he loses akechi. and if he takes maruki’s deal, he loses him knowing that his last moments with the real akechi involved the two of them being unforgivably out of sync.

[shouyuus]

sfw; in which popstar!reader buys vi some jackets

─── Ⅵ THE STORE IS CHIC, sharp collection of white-cut marble and black leather, the clothing racks all uniformly hung from the ceilings with industrial metal piping, the hangers themselves cast in thick, transparent acrylic.

"hello! welcome to our -- oh --"

you give the wide-eyed store clerk a camera-ready smile, tugging vi along behind you, fingers laced, even as she stares at the pristine store front with a mute incomprehension, as if she can't quite wrap her head around where the hell this is and what exactly you're doing there.

"hi! we're here to look at some jackets," you say loftily, casting vi a glance before nudging her forward. her head swivels towards you, an expression of incredulity eclipsing her shock as she registers your words.

"o-of course! and i just have to say -- i'm a huge fan --" the store clerk adjusts her sleek black-rimmed glasses, her hands clasped in front of her chest as you giggle, pursing your lips with an almost demure smile.

"aww... thanks!" but you leave it at that, turning back towards vi, giving her hand a squeeze, "you said you wanted a new jacket, right?"

"yeah..." vi answers slowly, still looking around as if she's not sure what that has to do with anything. a moment later, she turns back to you.

"so... let's look at some jackets!" you smile brightly before turning the full force of your charm back towards the store clerk, who nearly trips over herself trying to show the pair of you the season's latest designs.

vi follows behind you as if in a daze, barely registering the words the clerk is saying before she asks a question and you turn, waiting for vi to answer.

"uh... sorry, what?"

the clerk smiles and repeats, "was there any particular style you were interested in seeing today?"

vi blinks, her gaze flickering to you for a second before slingshotting back to the clerk, "no?"

"alright then..." the clerk licks her lips, "then shall i pull some pieces for you to try? and then maybe we'll see what you like from there?"

you nod, swinging yours and vi's hands between you, "anything cropped is good -- but a good quality leather. oh! and these studs are nice too --" you run a hand along a jacket with a row of silver studs along the collar.

"oh yes! and we have a few sample pieces from the next collection upstairs -- i can grab them for you --" the clerk scurries off, pulling a few things from the racks, disappearing into a room in the back, leaving you and vi alone in the cavernous shop.

vi bites her lips.

"you -- you don't have to do this for me."

you cock your head, "sure. but i want to. like i said, someone's gotta spoil you rotten."

vi's lips twitch before she breaks into a lopsided grin, her expression softening as she tugs you in to press a kiss to your cheek.

"i put a few in the fitting room for you," the clerk comes back, her cheeks flushed as she looks between you and vi, motioning towards the back. you give vi a tiny nudge before following along, running your fingers lightly over the silken sleeves of a white shirt.

but when vi slips on the first jacket, you can see the change it wrights in her almost immediately -- the way her shoulders pull back, her eyebrows shooting up as she looks herself over in the mirror, her toned stomach flexing as she grins at you from her reflection.

"whoa. this is nice."

you settle into a large chaise lounge tucked against the wall of the changing room, nodding as you drink in the view. and what a view it is. you'll never quite get over how startlingly attractive vi is -- her body a shrine to her strength, the delicacy of her features off-set by the sturdiness of her form.

and really, leather looks good on her. you lick your lips, clearing your throat as you tear your gaze away from the way the jacket hugs her biceps and cuts just above the bend of her waist, showing off her figure.

"yep! and they source only the highest quality leather, so it'll only get softer over time."

vi rubs her thumbs over the buttery material of the sleeves, looking over the silver detailing at the cuffs, the weight of the zipper that runs up the front.

"yeah... it feels... really good."

she frowns down at the price tag, and a second later, lets out a choked noise as she scrambles to take the jacket off.

"holy shit -- that's -- that's more zero's than i've ever seen in my entire life!"

you sigh, pushing up out of the chair and coming up behind vi to tug the jacket back onto her shoulders, turning her back towards the mirror. she frowns at you from the reflected image, her shoulders hunched up, her jaw locked tight.

"vi. don't think about the price, just... tell me if you like it."

vi sighs, crinkling her nose as she looks herself over.

"yeah, i do but --"

you shake your head, "then that's all i need to know!"

she chews on her bottom lip, her cheeks darkening beneath her scatter of freckles. she puffs out a helpless breath.

"it's just... it'll be the nicest thing anyone's ever given to me and --"

"then i'll get you something nicer, and then something nicer after that," you smile at her, tugging her around so you can push up to kiss her. she melts into your touch, a soft groan vibrating against your lips as your fingers dig into the soft leather lapel of the jacket.

you pull back, grinning cheshire-wide as you lilt your head, catching the fractured, wanting look in her eyes as she smiles down at you.

a soft knock comes at the door.

"how're things going in there? we have other sizes as well if things aren't fitting correctly."

you bite back a laugh as vi shrugs, mouthing a soft oops as the pair of you turn back to the suit of jackets hung up still for vi to try.

"we're good!" you sing-song, even as vi crinkles her nose and tugs off the first jacket to try on the next.

after a good thirty minutes of trying on all the jackets, of posing and vi pulling steadily more ridiculous poses just to make you laugh, she's caught between two -- one in plain black, and the other with a flurry of red-velvet patches, the sleeves and collar silver-studded.

you push open the door of the changing room and point at the two jackets.

"we'll take both."

"amazing!" the clerk claps, reaching out to take the hangers but vi jerks them back.

"wait -- what? i thought we were just getting one?"

you shrug, "you like them both. so we'll get both."

"b-but --" she sputters, fingers going slack as you tug the jackets from her and press them firmly into the store clerk's hands. she looks between the pair of you for a second longer before turning to ring both items up at the cash register.

"i don't need both jackets --"

you sigh, shaking your head, "and i don't need 37 pairs of heels either, but that's not the point here, is it?"

vi pauses, "you have 37 pairs of heels?"

"mm. just the pink ones." she flash her cheeky grin, turning back to the clerk and tugging a tiny cheque-book from your bag. you scribble something on a slip of pink parchment before tearing it out and pushing it towards her.

"send a pneuma-tube to the vault-keeper there. he'll settle up the payment for you."

"just the pink -- where'dyou even keep them? i've never seen --"

you cut her off with a daring look, "one of these days, i'll show you my closet floor. and it will be an adventure indeed, i promise." you turn back to the clerk with a gracious grin as she hands over a large bag with vi's new jackets.

"wait, how much --"

but you cut vi off by pressing the large bag into her chest.

"not nearly as much as i'd like to spend on you in the next place."

"the next place?" vi sputters, letting you shepherd her from the store, you tossing a quick wave over your should at the store clerk, who seems to be furiously texting on her phone.

you let out a dramatic grown, "come on vi, did you really think we'd stop after hitting just one shop? it's called a shopping spree for a reason. now -- lets get you some new pants -- there's a store down here that does custom fittings --"

"wait, princess."

you allow yourself to be tugged back, pausing to stare at her, the way she seems caught between two opposing urges. you sigh, placing your palms flat on her chest; her hand (the one not holding the shopping bag) settles at the bend of your waist like it's second nature.

"what?"

"it's just --" she chews over her words, and you can see the doubt flickering behind her eyes, hear the uncertainty laced like stitches between the spaces of all her words, "i -- i'm not used to this -- it's -- don't get me wrong, princess, i'm flattered you want to spoil me but... it's all just... so much. and i don't... i don't know if i deserve it."

her voice trails off into softer and softer words until she's almost mumbling. and it takes you a second to parse them out. but when you do, you're the one that cups her cheeks between your palms, giving them a tiny squeeze.

"violet, look at me."

she lifts her gaze to meet yours and not for the first time, she feels her breath still inside her chest at the way you're looking at her. like she's someone you've waited for for lifetimes. like a sailor might look at lost treasure -- something to be searched for across the breadth of entire oceans.

"you deserve all this and more. and i know you're not used to it... so we can take it slow if you want. maybe we can cap the shopping trip here and go get something to eat -- or just go window-shopping or something like that. but... i've always thought... that people like us -- people who grew up without the nice, expensive things can appreciate them more, right? you don't know how truly luxurious silk sheets feel on your skin if you hadn't slept in a mix-match quilt made from old window curtains. and champagne tastes that much better when you grew up on shitty beer --"

"hey, i happen to love shitty beer."

but vi's smiling, and so are you, mirroring her grin back up at her as she takes a breath and you feel her shoulders loosen.

"i know. i'm not saying that you have to let go of shitty beer," you say, rolling your eyes, giggling as vi leans down to bump your nose with hers, "i'm just asking you to let yourself be pampered occasionally."

"with insanely expensive clothes and champagne?"

"yes," you nod, laughing as she grazes her lips over yours, tugging you closer as you try to squirm away, "you don't have to toss out all your old clothes. we're just adding some nicer, new ones."

"fine, fine," she lets out an exaggerated breath before planting a soft kiss on your forehead, "thanks for the jackets, princess. they're really... really nice."

you tug playfully on a longer strand of her hair, twisting the end around one of your fingers.

"and you look really, really nice in them. so, it's a win for us both."

vi's grin goes crooked as she hikes an eyebrow.

"oh yeah? wanna tell me more about how good i looked in them?"

you lick your lips, "maybe later. after dinner tonight. i made reservations at my favorite place."

vi blinks, and for a second, you think she's going to protest again. then, she softens, her voice low and sweet as she reaches down to lace your fingers once more.

"yeah? and is there champagne at this favorite place of yours?"

"yep," you say, letting your lips pop over the 'p', turning down the street towards your next destination. you shoot her a glance and a cheeky smile over your shoulder.

"but don't worry. i'm sure they'll source you shitty beer if you ask very, very nicely."

[krowbby]

Vlad looked imploringly at Agnes, and reached out to her.

'You wouldn't let them kill me, would you? You wouldn't let them do this to me? We could have... we might... you wouldn't, would you?'

The crowd hesitated. This sounded like an important plea. A hundred pairs of eyes stared at Agnes.

She took his hand. I suppose we could work on him, said Perdita. But Agnes thought about Escrow, and the queues, and the children playing while they waited, and how evil might come animal sharp in the night, or greyly by day on a list...

'Vlad,' she said gently, looking deep into his eyes, 'I'd even hold their coats.'

granny weatherwax was such a buzzkill for not letting her tear him apart <\3

[heavenbarnes]

“He’s here again.”

You could swear the girl from reception says it like she knows something. Like there’s some swirling inside joke that everyone was in on,

except you.

Instead, you were left with that swirling feeling in your stomach as the elevator traveled to reception. A swirling that should’ve been laced with fear, but wasn’t.

One that was gripping tight in your stomach as the doors opened and you were eclipsed by a sun wearing blue tradesman’s clothes.

Ugly bastard.

Mean face with a shorn head, snarled lip and cauliflower ears. Tattooed arms like battering rams and tree trunk legs leading to steel cap boots like anvils.

And he was here for you.

“Um- I’m not actually in facilities.”

You could’ve cursed yourself for sounding so small. You’ve lead meetings, addressed crowds, argued points with a voice like cracked thunder.

But he takes one step towards you and,

“B-but that’s okay, I’ll take you.”

And he doesn’t say a word, just grunts as he steps into the lift with you and you feel the tension spring.

He never says a word.

He met you for the first time three years ago, the girl from facilities was on maternity leave and you happened to be the lucky duck who sat beside the reception door.

Three years later you’d changed floors and you hadn’t even seen him for at least six months. But he still asks for you.

“He always asks for you.”

You’d shushed your colleague, boasting about being helpful and having a tendency to be in office more often than not.

“Probably doesn’t want to remember another name.”

“Then how do you explain the time he refused the job when you were off sick?”

You don’t explain it, you actually try not to think about it.

When the doors open on the floor with the broken toilet, he follows you along the hall like a dog.

Like a hound.

The floor shakes every time he puts his boot on it and he actually manages to make you feel very small against picture windows.

Your colleagues look away when he walks past.

The sign for the ladies toilet at the end of the hall is like a beacon of hope, you can let him in and leave him be and then pretend to be on a phone call when it’s time for him to leave.

Until you get inside.

The sound of running water from the broken cistern echoes off the walls as you show him to the cubicle.

“It’s that one.”

He gives you a look that says “no shit” before he lowers his head to step through the stall door. He must hear your shoes scuff against the floor as you break for your exit.

“Stay put.”

You tell yourself you’re just shocked it’s the first time you’ve heard his voice. He’s British, Mancunian you reckon. Caught you by surprise.

That’s why you obediently spin on your heel and press your back to the wall.

No other reason.

You listen to the sound of grating porcelain as he removes the cistern lid and messes about with the flushing mechanism.

Your eyes catch him in the mirror, watching the way his back flexes under his work shirt as he reaches a bloody great paw into the water.

“Piece of shit.”

Second thing you’ve ever heard him say. Granted, it’s under his breath but he definitely said it. You try not to show any expression lest he have eyes in the back of his head.

Wouldn’t put it past him.

The sound of running water stops but you can tell by the huffing and puffing that he’s not fixed it, you can tell by his next outburst he’s not even close.

“Cunt of a thing.”

You almost let a smile slip onto your face before you’re blanching at the sound of your name.

“In ‘ere.”

He’s the mutt, he’s the hound with sharp teeth and clipped ears. He’s mean and he’s nasty and he’s not good with others, definitely not house trained.

But it’s you whose ears prick up at his call and immediately walk to join him in the small space. Show dog.

A retriever, running towards the sound of a gun.

The cubicle is small enough as is but with Simon (the embroidered patch on his shirt tells you, he’s never actually given you his name) in here it feels like a coffin.

You end up with your back to the wall again, this time with his elbow all but digging into your stomach. He’s got pieces of the flusher in his hand and he’s sending them your way.

Obedience in spades, you’re letting him place the dirty parts right in the flat of your hand.

Getting you as dirty as the rest of him.

“Oh, okay.”

You catch him look at you out the corner of his eye before he huffs, again, and reaches right back into the cistern.

He almost looks disappointed, dissatisfied- like he’d hope you’d put up more of a fight with him. Like you’d shove the metal right into his chest and really give him something to huff about.

But you leave your hand out stretched and let him pick from it at his leisure. Take from you as he pleases.

(He wonders if that’s a transferable skill)

To your delight (and his dismay) the toilet is back in perfect order and after three test flushes you can both leave the tiny fluorescent cave you’d been inhabiting for the last fifteen minutes.

“Um, do you need to go back upstairs or are you good to go?”

He dries his hands on the thighs of his trousers before he stares at you blankly. He snarls his lip in a way the makes the scar above it stretch and you wonder if it hurts him.

(If it does, you wonder if that’s why he does it)

He turns without warning and suddenly it’s you following him back down the hall. Struggling to keep up, pretty pampered little dog following this great big mutt around on his heels.

“Need t’go down to my van- I’ll show you.”

You could probably stop walking here. It would’ve been very easy for you to break to your desk and honestly? He probably would’ve let you.

“Oh, you don’t need me to access the garage.”

But you’re following him to the elevator anyway and you think you see that same air of disappointment drift across his features as he realises how easy you’ve made yourself.

“Don’t tell me what I don’t need.”

[obsob]

making and weaving and loving! like we have done for millennia!!

[sturniolossss]

[teatitty]

It's way funnier to me to imagine that Geralt is the one who desperately wants Dandelion to winter at Kaer Morhen with him but Dandelion keeps saying no on the simple grounds that it's too fucking cold and do you want me to die Geralt? Do you want me to get hypothermia and fucking die?

And Geralt's like "please I am begging on my knees I will cuddle you every night to keep you warm I just need to prove you actually exist"

[kor0kke]

👠🔫🎤 RGB Christmas !! (Unfinished WIP)

A small Christmas animation I was doing, Im not finishing this but I still like how this looks so, here lol RIP QUALITY WTFF

[mimikyuno]

had to recreate the rollercoaster of emotions i felt during this scene like. 🤨🏳️‍⚧️⁉️… 😲‼️🏳️‍🌈‼️🎈🌟🤝🏻🎀🎨

[c0nnecti0n-l0st]

guess whos back

[naamahdarling]

You know what? You know what I think?

I think that if we lived as we were meant to, in larger intimate ("extended family") groups and with more shared labor and time to do it (UBI NOW) people like me would not feel so useless and burdensome because there would be people around to help and to do what neurodivergent people can't while making valuable space for the neurodivergent to do what they ARE good at.

The way we live right now, all right, the way we live right now forces units of two adults to be able to do EVERYTHING or PAY to have someone come do it for them. I have to do the housework. I have to do it! But I am having to do a million different things and most of them I am not good at. I suck at them.

I wouldn't feel like shit, okay, if I had more than one other person around who was not a child and who could do the things I can't, like do the yard and cook and do repairs and basic maintenance; and someone else to split everything else that I like but is too much for me. It would free me to do what I am good at and enjoy. Cleaning, as in the sink and toilet, the windows, the blinds. Taking out trash. Folding, hanging, and sorting laundry.

But because all the shit I can do often relies on other shit being done first, and I can't do or have trouble doing those things, the shit I can do often can't be done. And even the shit I can do, I can't do ALL of it. So I can't keep up, and things get very bad.

We aren't meant to live like this. We are not meant to live like this.

That thought hurts so much because being able to flee the birth family is integral to survival for so many people. I'm so afraid that living in larger family groups would create more opportunities for, say, queer kids to be isolated, rejected, bullied, and abused. But if we gave people enough money to survive, and stopped considering children the property of their parents with no system in place to help them escape bad situations except a system that is often just as bad, just different.

I'm aware that communes and collectives aren't all that successful and are kind of a joke. I don't mean that. I mean a fundamental shift to multigenerational families where taking in "strays" (which my family did) is also normalized so people escaping abuse into existing households was accepted, with these families centered in maybe a couple of different larger residences so not everyone has to buy and maintain their own fucking washing machine and vacuum cleaner, and so people can benefit from large group meals that yield leftovers, and so child and elder care can also be centralized.

Then disabled people and the neurodivergent and sick and injured people, and pregnant people, and grieving people, would not have to either labor through all those stressors or consign themselves to living off an unlivable pittance or being put under legal guardianship.

I'm not saying anything new. People live like this in other parts of the world and maybe it sucks and I am wrong. But I'm just really mad right now because I can either do laundry or clean the sink but not both, and I really think we could improve society somewhat by making it so I did not have to choose one without sacrificing the other.

[spoopdeedoop]

that twitter meme thing but make it them

[edd33bld]

this is ass but I made it so me and my bf have matching pfps on discord

[toxycodone]

anytime I think of modern laios I jump with joy, like thinking of this man just casually living with you and being boyfriends is so cute ☹️💭

HE IS SUCH. A GOOD BOYFRIEND.

like don’t get me wrong he comes with his flaws. I’m pretty sure his lack of communication skills can be a big issue. He probably fails to accurately explain how he’s feeling. People will flirt with him and he never really puts them in their place or shuts them down (he doesn’t pick up on it). And like. With his “creative pallete” I’m sure the toilet has PTSD from him but…

he’s genuinely such a sweet guy and never fails to make you feel loved. He gives you creative compliments that aren’t based on looks or whatever but like. Just niche things he notices about you? Like the way you always feed your pet before you or how you scrunch your nose when you’re popping a pimple or how your pitchy, loud laughter has a cute little noise at the end.

and he notices good traits about you that you don’t? how you inspire others/dutifully do your work/etc. when he compliments you or kinda doubles as reassurance because he compliments you on a job well done pm.

he also actually cooks and does the dishes too. He likes meal planning and surprising you with food he thinks you’ll like 🥺💞

He likes to go grocery shopping with you and try new things..he’s a partner that makes mundane things a stress relieving experience. he’s just like? therapeutic to be around tbh

I think Laios also talks about you a lot LOL I don’t think he can help it. It’s just like. He connects the most random dots sometimes and people are like “uhm okay anyways”

[surreal-duck]

live drama adaptations part 2 (prev)

cast reveal and girls movie night 🔥