#actually kinda sad now that I think abt it

[youngyoo-apologist]

I’m never letting go of the Lock and Basen friends HC I don’t care that they’ve never interacted in canon I think they would be best friends

[beatcroc]

there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

[moralcandy]

fifteen things that don't come back, by charlie slimecicle:

number one. the paper airplane you and your daughter throw at your husband while his back is turned in the kitchen, the two of you hiding behind the counter as you snicker quietly when he stops humming and yelps a curse as he turns around with a faux angry expression and a poorly-hidden smile.

number two. the glass your daughter broke trying to grab it from the cabinet on her tippy-toes. you didn't look over until you heard the glass shatter against the kitchen floor, too preoccupied with grabbing the jug of cold orange juice from the fridge to notice until it was too late. golden, afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the both of you from the open window as you swept it up while she stood to the side with a sheepish expression.

number three. your husband's soft shirt he let you borrow when you said you couldn't find your own but really you just quickly shoved yours under the bed when he wasn't looking. you absently noted that it smelled like him. your lips curved into a slight smile without input. your foot shoved your shirt under the bed a little bit farther.

number four. the pictures you took of your daughter and niece, hugging eachother as they posed for the camera, the photo incinerated into ash when you blew up your house. you frantically dug through your daughter's chest afterwards, soot covering your hands as you searched for the photograph. you did not find it.

number five. your niece.

number six. the feeling of a cold glass of wine held tipsily in your hand, the waterdrop of condensation slipping down the glass at the same pace your tears did down your cheeks. you downed the alcohol until there was nothing left except a burning feeling and a lump in your throat. the bartender did not give you another drink.

number seven. your friend, the one who used to laugh hysterically with you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders before he began to scream at you while he wrapped his hands around your neck. he pushed you into the dirt, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and the feeling of wet dirt on your skin as you absently question whether the water dripping on your face was the rain or the tears slipping down your friend's face. you know that was the funeral of your children, but you think both of the real 'you's died that day, too.

number eight. the warm, rumbling feeling of laughter in your chest as a smile hurts your cheeks, the sensation long gone. your mouth, for a moment, twitches into a small smile at the memory of the feeling.

number nine. the feeling of hands on your own, your husband's warm hands intertwined with yours as your cold, golden rings clink against eachother. your daughter's tiny hand clasped around yours as she leads you to a butterfly she found, grass brushing your ankles as you walk.

ten. the sound of your daughter's amused laughter, snorts interrupting occasionally. her head leans back as she giggles, her eyes scrunched up in happiness.

eleven. the sound of your husband's soothing voice, lilting with fondness as he looks at you. a smile absently crosses his face as he speaks, audible in his voice. you always remember smiling back.

twelve. your golden wedding band your husband lovingly slipped onto your ring finger so long ago, the one you furiously tossed into a dusty corner with particularily bad aim. you blame the poor aim on the tears blurring your vision, but it could've been the alcohol, really.

thirteen. your husband. you try to go to sleep in the center of your bed now, knowing that he won't be there. when you wake up, you always find yourself on the left side of the bed, as if you've moved in your sleep to accommodate someone. you scowl and think that your asleep self should stop being so stupid. ..you make the bed just in case he really does decide to come back.

fourteen. your daughter. whenever you make yourself breakfast now, you keep accidentally making two bowls, the muscle memory automatic, familiar, and no longer needed. you sit down at the table and set the bowls and begin to eat, but you always end up just stirring the cereal with your spoon as you stare at the untouched bowl across from you. you always end up throwing them both away. without your input, a frown tugs slightly at your lips as your pour out the second bowl but you know that nobody else was even here to eat it anyway. your eyes burn.

fifteen. your daughter, the one you know isn't the real one. sometimes you walk down those train tracks where you found her, hoping she'll be here this time. she never is. ..you still keep checking, just in case.

[radioroxx]

hmmmm mal du pays thoughts tonight

[forgottenarthur]

50. Writer's preference - "And what if it is not you?"

The barb stung and Arthur turned away as quickly as if she had struck him.

These walks had become something of a tradition between the Prince and former Princess over the rolling weeks. With the out of doors near unpassable, Arthur's mornings had shifted to a shorter indoor practice before dawn, followed by a brief repast and then a stroll through the Orangery with the Lady Aria. Though they still argued as often as they didn't, there was something free and flowing in these conversations -- a strange sense that no subject was off limits...And that every single one was somehow taboo. It was perhaps true that they had each been raised as royalty, but it seemed their worlds could not have been more different.

Today, the subject had fallen to that all-encompassing theme of his life, the most pressing topic in the empire, and the one least likely ever to be openly addressed: Roderick's line of succession. It was an ache in his gut, this, a hill he had run up all his childhood only to find a sheer rockface confronting him. Now, scrambling for footholds in the brutal cliffside, it was a race to the top against those he loved most -- a climb now far too high to risk the drop. It was success or the death of all meaning. But what was he to do? Throw his siblings from the sides? They too held on by meager fingertips and he could not bear to think of them dashed against the teeth of the unforgiving stone so far below.

Arthur's jaw clenched. He kept her pace, but he no longer looked at her as she spoke; heard her only as if from a great distance. What was there to say? Yet, her last words burned, searing like vinegar in his cuts, and he turned sharply towards her, a rush sounding in his head.

"What? You favor someone else?" he demanded, all effort at bluster or calm stripped away. Surprise seemed to register in his face and, pressing his eyes shut, he shook his head, realizing she meant this only as rhetoric and, with a look of defeat, he sighed; shook his head. "How should I know? It would be the end for me."

He didn't look at her, now, gaze straying upwards towards the gently nodding trees, branches heavy and sagging with fruit. He thought of the tart-sweet of them, tawny and opening with a kind of crack. Fibrous chambers of juice attended the tiny seeds at the center and this, then, was life. Even trees limned their children with sweet cushions against the harsh reality of the world around them. When he laughed, it was a bitter sound.

Sighing, Arthur shook his head. "Aria, I--" but he stopped. He'd not said her name so baldly before and he gestured, helpless, voice trapped within his throat.

Her eyes were dark: not mere chocolate, but something else as if the sea had leaked into them and tossed against stormy shores within her mind. Her face was set, but he could not read it. He searched for something written there, something designed for him to read: he wanted it. He knew the message he wished to read. A very simple message. He wanted to read it again and again, see it roiling within the storm of her eyes. But there was nothing. She was no harbor. She was, perhaps, another deathly drop.

Aria lifted her chin. "Go on."

"I don't know what will happen if my father chooses someone else any more than you do. But I do know I will be a threat to whoever is chosen, simply for having been in the running, and..."

And if it were Edmund who were selected, whom Arthur regarded as the most likely alternative, he would not expect to long outlive his father -- or even his father's choice. Enemies of the House of Calainon had a way of disappearing. Arthur was not altogether certain they even lifted a finger: they were witches, after all. Likely, all they needed do was wish for a thing, and their dark magic did the rest. Edmund might not wish him gone, perhaps...but Amira would not hesitate. He could not help but think that would make for a horrible ending, all the demons of hell rising at her command. His would be a silent end, he had no doubt, yet he knew, too, that if it were by Amira's hand, he would die howling.

If Aria had said something else, Arthur had not heard it. At last, she said: "And what if the Emperor doesn't choose? What happens to us all, then?"

Arthur stopped short, and Aria beside him. "Then it'd be war."

He walked out without another word.

[bunnyboy-juice]

im ngl i think my favorite headspace to be in is "want to be annoying"

[mars-ipan]

god i cannot wait to be off these steroids…

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

i'm kind of amazed how most of the stardew marriage candidates just want you to be their manic pixie dream whatever by agreeing with everything they like and plying them with compliments or praise or whatever (which is fine but a bit. Much) but for shane his romance is just you being there for him while he figures his own shit out... dunno why i never wanted to romance him before he's so good

[sketchyorsomething]

Is it just me or is the reason little girls want to do horseback riding the wish to go on a ride at sunset through the woods and at the sea with no one else around you but your horse?

Basically the wish to be independent with no one telling you what to do and to be free?

[lixbf]

i was so productive in bg3 today fjsvcjdhd

[wildevenusian]

i just don’t understand. why say ur ready to talk if you aren’t?

can u believe this post is what got me to reach tag limit

[bunnihearted]

📓🕯️🐇🖤pt.2

[nerosdayinanime]

Please post more about giyu just dating everyone

i should...... gonna start right now cuz ive actually thought about mitsugiyu for the GiyuusFuckingSad au- when hes still moping around in the cafeteria corner she pops over because she saw shinobu, shinobu stops her excited rambling and explains that its Quiet Time and shes like 'oh! okay! i can be quiet!' and she just hangs around to doodle in her sketchbook across from them. giyuu once again baffled by another random girl deciding she wants to hang out near(with?) him when hes literally never said a word in response.

she sees him in the halls and tries to talk with him, he responds minimally but shes encouraged by any response at all and talks to him outside the cafeteria any chance she gets- giyuu's incredibly confused as to why she likes talking to him so much, but one time when he realizes he missed the turn to his class about three halls ago finally notices how much he enjoys listening to her stories (he ended up just walking her to class to hear the end of the story, he was a few minutes late when he got back to his own)

when shinobu starts inviting him to little outings with her friends mitsuri's the first to welcome him, kyojuro and suma quickly follow and hes. very overwhelmed. why did he get introduced to the loudest ones of the friend group first?? contrary to what he thought would happen though, they actually love him and despite how hype the three of them get (and how not hype he usually is) he doesn't ever feel left out or pushed to the side (physically speaking too- suma frequently hangs off him since hes the most stable one around now and mitsuri & kyojuro aren't hesitant to pull him in to make him focus on whatever they're talking about. he likes how free they are with affection towards him like that)

months later he's acquainted with and knows the whole group and they're all out at a restaurant chatting and having fun- giyuu notices how entranced everyone else is at kyojuro's retelling of a story and he can't help but think how much sabito would like them all... mitsuri stops paying attention to kyo and turns to him, "Giyuu? Are you okay?" "Yeah, why?" "You're crying"

the grief finally hits, the tears get heavier despite his attempts at drying them before he starts to panic and excuses himself- he practically runs out and mitsuri worriedly glances back at everyone before excusing herself and running after him. she follows him to the side of the restaurant in the little alley where hes having his breakdown and hugs him- he buries his face in her shoulder and holds back shaking like a leaf for a while before the worst of it passes. she asks what happened, "I-i just- he'd like you all.. he would've loved to meet you.." she knows who hes talking about- well.. she knows he was extremely important to giyuu, and that something happened and he's not around anymore, and that its extremely painful for giyuu to talk about so he just doesn't. she says shes honored by his thought and goes on to try to calm him down/cheer him up, his face looks a mess from the splotchy flush and eye liner- it got smudged to hell and back and hes a little embarrassed by it. only for a moment tho because mitsuri immediately offers to fix it for him. when they're finally ready to go back in they notice obanai standing at the entrance of the alleyway, blocking the view from outsiders. "aw! you're so thoughtful obanai!" "You two good to head back inside now?" "how long were you standing there?" "long enough, you worried everyone running off like that" "sorry.." "don't apologize, idiot. c'mon, lets go eat" and they followed an excited mitsuri back to the rest of the group.

after that mitsuri started inviting him to her apartment to practice makeup art on him since she knew he was okay with it. he was good at sitting still and he liked how gently she touched and moved his face however while she worked, quiet and serene with her music playing from the room over- the first thing she tried out was a simple little water-esque mark on his left cheek. when he was finally allowed to look at it he remembered the time when they were kids and sabito backhanded him there for saying he wished he had died with his sister. remembered how badly he wished he could have gone with sabito too. remembered his final words, 'promise me you'll love again'

he looks back up at mitsuri with a little smile, maybe that promise isn't as impossible for me to keep as i thought. "i like it" "oooh! i just had another idea! what if i made it look like a stream of water coming out the corners of your mouth!?"

[astrxealis]

sorry to ffxivlovepost always anyway Man the way the devs & game did so good in making an mc that is Basically a blank-slate for the players, and there's so many opportunities to make your oc However you like but. the game itself adds so much story and character to that blank-slate guy. amazing

[swaggy-transfag]

Thought of making a post abt my struggles with communicating and getting my thoughts out in words. But then i was struggling too much abt how to word it so it made sense, so i gave up

[marsbotz]

i had a dream i had a beautiful loving friendship with gus fring to match the one where i was besties with mike. im so broken take me BACK!!!!!