#and so on and so on and that's just stuff I remember off the top of my head

[ryoflix]

sukuna tries to be a better dad | f. reader, s/h prns., resolved angst and fluff, estb. rl, mentions of toxic masculinity and bullying ؛ ଓ

it’s late afternoon when she says it.

you’re sitting on the floor, your girl in front of you, legs crossed, hands in her lap, shoulders straight — because she likes it when you do her hair neat, “like a princess who also fights battles.” your fingers work through her thick strands, slow and patient, braiding from the crown down as the golden light spills in through the window.

she’s quiet today. not her usual humming self.

“mama,” she says softly, not looking up. “do you think daddy doesn’t like dancing?”

you pause mid-braid. “what makes you say that, baby?”

she shrugs like it’s practiced. like she’s been doing it all day. “it’s just… other daddies come up on stage and spin their kids around. and they clap and wave and stuff. daddy just crosses his arms and watches. he doesn’t even smile much.”

your heart sinks a little. she’s not pouting, not upset. she says it like a fact. a tiny, unpolished truth she’s been holding quietly in her chest.

“he always comes, though,” she adds, quickly, like she’s defending him. “he never misses anything. and he carries my costume bag. and he sits in the front. i know daddy likes me.”

your fingers still in her hair. you lean down and press a soft kiss to the top of her head. “he loves you more than anything in the world,” you whisper. “but i think sometimes, he forgets how to show it.”

what you don’t realize is that sukuna’s standing in the hallway just around the corner. he was passing by, only wanting a glass of water. but now he’s leaning against the wall, head bowed slightly, eyes half-lidded and tight. his daughter’s voice is soft, but it might as well be thunder in his chest.

he remembers the event she’s talking about. the dad-daughter social. balloons and tiaras and a tiny glittery stage. the other fathers with their daughters on their shoulders, giving big hugs and taking selfies. he remembers standing there, arms crossed, heart pounding with so much affection it ached, but feeling like a brick wall in the middle of a rainbow field.

he didn’t know what to do. didn’t want to embarrass her. didn’t want to get it wrong.

he hadn’t realized silence could hurt, too.

—

the next week, at her school band recital, it’s different.

the auditorium is full. folding chairs in neat rows, kids in matching little uniforms, some with scuffed shoes or crooked ties. you’re seated in the second row, camcorder balanced on your knee. and sukuna? sukuna’s standing.

in the aisle.

arms crossed at first, like always. until the curtains pull back and your daughter walks onto stage, gripping her clarinet, eyes scanning the crowd. she spots you first, then him.

and that’s when he moves.

sukuna throws his arms into the air like he’s in a coliseum. “there she is!”

a few heads turn. a teacher flinches. someone claps hesitantly.

“look at her! MY kid! kick their asses!”

“sukuna,” you hiss.

“with MUSIC,” he clarifies, before bellowing, “BLOW THAT CLARINET LIKE IT OWES YOU MONEY!”

your daughter’s face flushes crimson — but there’s a tiny smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

when the song begins, sukuna stays standing. arms crossed again, but this time it’s intentional. protective. loud in silence. and when the music ends, he claps louder than anyone. you catch your daughter glancing at him as she walks offstage, her expression unreadable for just a second.

and later that night, as you're tucking her in, she whispers, “daddy was really loud today.” you smile, brushing a curl off her forehead. “did you like it?”

she nods, a little bashful. “...yeah. i liked it.”

from the hallway, sukuna leans against the doorframe — quiet now. arms no longer crossed. but in his hand, he’s holding the program from the recital. and folded inside it is the little flower she wore on her lapel.

he doesn’t say a word. he just watches her fall asleep like she’s the only thing that ever mattered.

the drive back from practice is quiet, unusually so.

your boy’s sitting in the backseat, hunched forward with his little forearms braced on his knees, shin guards still on, cleats unlaced. he’s picking at a thread on his sock like it personally offended him. sukuna glances in the rearview mirror.

“you mad you didn’t score?”

no answer. just a shrug. not his usual one, either. this one’s limp. low.

sukuna keeps driving, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the window ledge. the silence itches. it’s not the kind he’s good at. this one crawls. he doesn’t push, not yet. he waits until they’re parked out front — engine still running, AC humming low — before he says, “talk to me.”

his son fiddles with the strap of his water bottle. his voice comes out small.

“the other boys… they said i was slow. and weak.”

sukuna turns in his seat. his son stares down at his shoes, frowning so hard his little brows knit in a mirror of his father’s own scowl. “they say i don’t hit hard enough. or run fast enough. they call me babyface. they laugh when i mess up. and i wanna tell them to shut up but… i just…”

he shrinks, right there in the backseat, like he’s folding into himself.

“...i get scared.”

and there it is.

the one thing sukuna didn’t think he’d hear from his son. not because it’s wrong, not because he doesn’t know fear. but because he’s sukuna, and his boy wants nothing more than to be just like him.

he knows that.

he’s seen the way the kid walks after him — chin up, chest puffed out, copying his strut. the way he tries to talk tough. the way he tries not to cry when he scrapes his knee, like showing pain would disappoint him.

and that realization stings.

sukuna exhales, slow and long, and twists around in his seat, arm slung over the headrest now, voice dropping low — not rough, not barking, not what the world hears from him.

“look at me.”

the boy lifts his eyes. sukuna stares back, steady.

“being scared,” he says, “means you care. means something matters to you. your body gets small so you can protect what’s big inside.”

his son blinks, frowning in confusion. sukuna smirks, just a little. leans closer.

“you think i’m not scared sometimes?”

“...you?”

“hell yeah. i was scared the day you were born. scared when your sister got sick. scared when i almost dropped your mom’s glass bowl.”

the boy huffs a tiny laugh at that.

“but i don’t let that fear decide for me. and neither should you.”

his son stares, quiet.

“you don’t need to punch back to be strong,” sukuna continues, voice firmer now. “you don’t need to yell to be heard. and you don’t need to stop feeling things just to be a man.”

a pause.

“you wanna make me proud?” sukuna leans in further, eyes sharp but kind. “then be honest with yourself. with how you feel. that takes guts. more than throwing a football ever will.”

and then, reaching out, sukuna ruffles his son’s hair — the kind of thing he doesn’t do often, but means more than it shows. your son’s eyes glisten, but he nods.

“...can i still hit them if they don’t stop?”

“if they touch you,” sukuna mutters, straightening up and shifting gears, “you make them see god.”

his son snickers.

as they pull into the driveway, the boy glances at him, hesitates, and then says, “...you’re, like… a good dad.”

sukuna smirks, tight-lipped.

“yeah, well. don’t tell anyone.”

“i already told mom.”

“snitch.”

“dad.”

“…yeah?”

“...i’m not slow. i just got short legs.”

“damn right you do. now get in the house, babyface.”

and the laugh that erupts from the kid is the kind that makes sukuna grip the steering wheel just a little harder. so he doesn’t show too much.

but he’ll remember this one.

[mikkomacko]

need a blurb of mob nico coming home to reader teaching luke how to tame and style his curls

Omg ok so I’ve always tried to keep reader pretty vague that way everyone can have they’re own perception of what she looks like haha

But I mean my girl is Italian so her hair would most like be textured/wavy/curly ya know??

I can so see Luke coming up to her one night at the bar and just being like “your hair looks really nice.”

And she’s smiling, a little caught off guard but flattered by the compliment. “Thanks Luke, that’s so sweet.”

“Do you-I mean like what stuff do you put it your hair to make it look that nice?”

Reader is so eager to sharing her product line up because her and Johnny have perfected it. Like it’s immaculate. So she’s getting all excited and listing off stuff and Luke has no idea what any of it is. He just nods until she stops talking and then goes kinda shy.

“Do you think you could teach me? Some of the boys have been saying my hair looks bad and that I should comb it or something but it just gets bigger when I do that!”

And oh my goodness reader’s whole day is made. She’s so excited, making plans to take him to the store to pick stuff out and then he can come to the house and she’ll show him how to use everything.

He comes over early Saturday morning for his little beauty lesson and because this is such a big deal, he even gets access to the overly large bathroom attached to reader and Nico’s bedroom.

Which is where Nico finds them when he comes home from his run, shirt damp with sweat and plastered to his skin uncomfortably. He just wants to get in the shower, get dressed for the day, and then spend the day lounging around with his girl.

Unfortunately he’s stopped by the sight of Luke sat on a stool from the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his shoulders and wet hair dripping down his forehead.

“Uhhh what’s happening here?”

Her and Luke both freeze, turning to him with the same deer in headlights look. Reader smiles then, waving the bottle of leave in conditioner in her hand.

“Luke is learning,” is all she says and Nico just nods, moving into the bathroom and perching against the counter to watch them. His clothes are drying and feel odd and gross on his skin, but he doesn’t care.

Because it’s actually entertaining to watch her explain everything to Luke, to make him tip his head upside down while she scrunches mouse into it and then curl the shorter pieces by his face with her finger, and even when she puts two claw clips in the wet ringlets on top of his head.

“For volume,” she explains simply, that look of pure concentration on her face that makes her look so cute. And Luke is hanging on her every word, like a school child, obediently nodding his head and asking questions.

Nico remembers the first time he watched this exact same routine, listened to her tell him about everything and while Nico knew she sometimes hated doing it, he loves her hair when it’s naturally styled, just a bit frizzy and curling around her face and neck.

He always wished his hair wasn’t so pin straight, so flat all the time. So yeah he admires it, admires her, and if he pictures this same moment in the future with mini version of him and her instead of Luke sat in that chair, well then that’s his little secret for now.

Afterwards, when Luke’s hair is mostly dry and he’s given up on trying to figure out the diffuser, he’s looking to Nico with his mouth parted in shock. “Did you know so much work went into this?”

And Nico is laughing. “Yeah man. I watch her get ready almost everyday.”

[lemotmo]

😂😂😂😂 I desperately want to believe this is fake but I'm afraid they totally believe he's a pilot

Q. I'm sorry but the fact that he's an actual pilot is the sexiest thing ever. We deserved the entire scene, I wish they hadn't cut it. That was too difficult for him to pull off for them to not have aired the entire bit. The rest of the episode was trash. I will give you that.

A. Please, PLEASE tell me all of you are aware that he is not an actual pilot. Please tell me that you're at least capable of realizing that he didn't actually fly a helicopter through the air space over Los Angeles. Between the disgusting billboard stunt and the 14! asks all kind of insinuating lou was actually flying that helicopter, I feel like I'm going insane. I need this to be a bit because my belief in humanity is hanging by a thread. But just in case.... his part of the helicopter stuff was filmed on a soundstage in California. No part of what you 'saw' him do was real. It's called acting. He's very, very bad at it but it's all fake nonetheless. He's not a pilot. He's not a firefighter. He is not the Messiah (but the show is going to insinuate Bobby Nash could be). The episode was bad. It was a bad episode. The plot, such as it was, was flimsy and full of holes big enough to drive a truck through, which I'm assuming was the point, so Bobby not really being dead won't be that much of a stretch for the audience. It was a bad idea. It's been poorly executed. Angela's version of how she found out has changed 3 times now. The 'goodbye' posts all focused way more on Bobby leaving the 118 than Peter leaving 911. Oliver and Ryan aren't even trying to sell it. Aisha had to change her post twice. And Kenny overplayed the replying to upset viewers bit too much. It hasn't been done well at all, but we're here. The important thing is that Bobby won't really be dead. And Tim being a co writer for the episode ups the chances of a Buddie grief moment exponentially. I'm going to take the wins. Your character had his full circle moment, like the moron said, so take that and be happy as well. Because I'm pretty sure his part in the Buddie plot comes full circle in episode 16. He has served his purpose and in Tommy's own words the ride is over. But at no time was he ever really flying anything, other than up my nerves.

🤣 Thank you Nonny!!!

Why would anyone believe that L flew that helicopter for real? 🙄

I agree with most of this. It was a bad episode. There is nothing wrong with a character death on a TV-show, but the way they handled this? The random episode? The underwhelming death scene? The useless random helicopter scene that wasted time? The absolute lack of Eddie???

The whole follow-up that reeks of deception?

Yeah, it just wasn't a good idea and on top of that is was badly executed. 🤷‍♀️

But it is what it is. We are here now. So, we've got to move on from this. And we will... as soon as Bobby (and Eddie) returns to them and to us. 😋 I'm fully in the 'Bobby is alive' camp at this point.

As for Tommy? I also believe that his part in the 911, Buck and Buddie narrative will come to an end in season 8. It started with a helicopter rescue to save bathena and it ended with a helicopter rescue to save the 118. It started with him kissing Buck and it'll end with him walking away from Buck to make room for Eddie. His character's journey really has come full circle.

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[sugar4sam]

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ RAIN: IN THE QUIET HOURS─── SAM WINCHESTER

──── 𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ sleepy rain!sam winchester x gn!reader

summary.ᐟ.ᐟ ── A late-night storm stirs you awake in the bunker. Wrapped in warmth and sleepy affection, you and Sam find quiet comfort in each other’s arms—sharing tea, old memories, and the kind of softness you both forgot you deserved. Wrapped in blankets and rainlight, you settle into a peaceful rhythm that feels like something close to forever.

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ ── no smut

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ word count: 1.3k

notes.ᐟ.ᐟ ── There’s just something so Sam about rainy nights and soft love. I wanted to write something quiet and tender, where love doesn’t have to be loud—it’s just there, steady, like the rain itself. This one’s for anyone who’s ever wanted to stay wrapped in someone’s arms while the world hushes outside. Cuddle up and enjoy.

The storm had crept in like a secret.

Outside, the sky had slipped into a sleepy navy blue, and fat raindrops were already rolling in steady rhythms down the windows. You’d half-woken from a dream you couldn’t quite remember, lulled instead by the hush of the rain and the soft, warm pressure of Sam’s arm looped protectively around your middle.

You didn’t move. Not at first. Just lay there, listening.

The sound of the rain tapping the bunker roof. The gentle rise and fall of Sam’s chest. The quiet, safe cocoon of the room that belonged to the two of you.

When you finally shifted, pressing your back closer into his chest, Sam made a low sound—somewhere between a hum and a sigh—and his arm tightened just slightly.

“Mm,” he mumbled. “You okay?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you whispered.

He kissed your shoulder without opening his eyes. “Too much tea?”

“Maybe. Or maybe the rain wanted a cuddle.”

That made him huff a sleepy laugh. He nuzzled into your neck, lips brushing skin as he spoke.

“Then it came to the right place.”

Eventually, you both wandered out of bed, wrapped in blankets and half-sleepy smiles. The war room felt cooler than your bedroom, the stone walls chilled from the rain, but the low lamplight made it feel softer. Safer.

Sam made you both a fresh mug of tea—chamomile with honey—and draped the giant blanket over your shoulders before sitting down beside you on the couch, pulling you into his lap like it was second nature.

It kind of was.

You sat there in silence for a while, his arms looped around your waist, your fingers tracing little lines along the seam of his shirt. The rain hadn’t stopped—it danced across the heavy iron of the bunker doors like a lullaby. Steady and kind.

“I love this,” you said softly. “Nights like this.”

“Me too,” he murmured against your shoulder. “It’s like… the world slows down for a minute. Lets us breathe.”

You turned your head to look at him. His face was softer here, in this quiet light—like all the sharp edges of the world had dulled. Hair falling into his eyes. Lips parted slightly. His thumb was rubbing slow circles into your hip.

You leaned up and kissed him.

Slow. Unhurried. Like the rain outside. Like time didn’t matter.

He kissed you back the same way.

“Tell me a memory,” you said after a while, curled deeper into his chest.

“Hmm?”

“From when you were little. Something rainy.”

He smiled against your hair. “Okay. Uh… One time, Dean and I were stuck in a motel off the interstate in Missouri. Dad was off hunting. It rained for two whole days. No cable, no food except for peanut butter packets and saltines.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed.

“We made boats out of paper and raced them in the parking lot puddles.”

You blinked. “That’s actually adorable.”

“We were soaked. Mud everywhere. Dean lost a boot in the drainage ditch. We got in so much trouble.” He paused, then added, “But it was the first time in a long time it felt like we were just kids. No monsters. Just rain.”

You leaned your forehead against his collarbone. “Thank you for telling me.”

He kissed the top of your head. “You make it easy to remember the good stuff.”

By the time you both drifted back to bed, the storm had softened into a misty drizzle.

You laid back down, this time with Sam’s chest pressed to your back, his hand resting gently over your heart. His voice was low and warm in your ear.

“I hope we get a thousand nights like this,” he said. “A thousand mornings too.”

You smiled in the dark. “We will.”

And for once, Sam believed it.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆Thank you for reading𓂃 !

If this made your heart soft or your soul ache (in the best way), let me know in the tags or send an ask. Your feedback means the world—and yes, Dean knows he’s pretty. You don’t have to tell him again… but you totally can.

˖ ⸝⸝ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! 𖦁ׅ ࣪ ׂ library

requests!: open ! ۪ ୧

[davekat-sucks]

Daaaamn that last ask I made did numbers! I think I’m gonna do a part 2, the alpha version.

1st, some addendums:

1. I saw that reblog saying people were flanderizing Gamzee as being a religious healer and spiritual person when he’s a juggalo and I just wanna say, okay I did lean in hard on his spiritualism but you gotta remember Alternian juggalos are part of an obscure clown cult and Gamzee was heavily invested in Miracles so I still think he’d make a Yourube channel for spreading his gospel, but doubles as also a music review channel. He 100% is invested on who’s part of the rap game and wants to teach people how to spit bars. His rap game is just so ass people would rather watch his miracle videos instead. Also when he livestreams he does it on his unicycle to keep him “physically and mentally balanced” as he says

2: my headcanon is that everyone is alive and living on Earth C as adults because I can do anything when Lord English is dead.

3: I could not say enough how many combos everyone would interact each other. There’s some underrated dynamics here like Eridan being Rose’s #1 hater and claiming all her evidence and recordings of the horrorterrors summoning black magic can be scientifically proven to be fabricated, and when John steps in and says he knows when to spot a fake and this is 100% real Eridan just calls John a simp.

Now that that’s off of my chest, what is everyone else up to?

Alpha trolls/

Damara: she’s not a Youtuber, her aggression and comments usually get her banned from interacting with her other friends, she more uses Instagram and Pinterest to upload her story. It’s a lot of photos of landscapes, anime girls, and for some reason the interiors of mansions color shifted to be green. Her captions are all in japanese (or East Alternian) and usually vaguepost towards how she’s lost and abandoned, she wants to be alive and someone to be with her and understand what she’s actually saying and that everyone who has wronged her is going to inevitably suffer. Her posts usually get 1-2 likes and they’re from Rufioh and Aranea.

Rufioh: he is an anime news and fandom channel. He is quite the reputable journalist and consistently finds leaks and obscure interviews from creators to share what is coming soon for the anime industry. When he’s not making news he does speculation and powerscaling videos, a lot of “what if” ideas and top 10 lists for hottest anime baddies. How does Rufioh stay so much on top of anime news? You’d have to ask his ex-girlfriend.

Mituna: Guy Who Annoys You On Purpose. Mituna is someone who since has been left by his friends for his declined mental cognition decides to have fun by trying to make new friendships his way, unfortunately that way is his erratic and vulgar way. He likes to go on GTA V servers and Omegle chat rooms and annoy people. He likes to quip jokes, distract or overwhelm people with his rambling and his body language. He most especially likes when it gets quiet and he jumpscares everyone with a loud scream. It makes him laugh his full body suit off.

Kankri: Video Essay Breadtuber. He makes those 2-4 hour long videos stitched together and scripted about different pieces of pop-culture or the current thing on social media through a lens of social justice, but his version of social justice happens to be morally condescending and judgmental. The average title of his essays would be stuff like “Michael Bay’s Transformers, the uncritical advocate for the patriarchy.” And you know these get dislike bombed into hell and back. A surprising theme of many of his video essays is the themes of sex and family dynamics. These essays commonly conclude that the only liberating relationship is lesbian polyamory and men should be celibate to save their sperm for the next generation of people to be raised.

Meulin: 100% a drama channel that covers recent topics, like Penguin0 but Charlie is a cat lady and the video focus is much more on people than online trends. Meulin loves to speculate and draw diagrams on the personalities and types each person has and what other e-celebs are the most compatible with. This discussion goes off topic from the actual events happening and usually becomes a nuisance. The neat thing is all her videos have working subtitles, since she wants deaf people like her to enjoy her content as well!

Porrim: Lifestyle Blogger. Porrim wants to show the world there’s a different way for women to love by and their own way to go, so she bought a farm and raised herself in the homestead. She likes to do many things around the house, like home improvement, cattle handling, cooking and cleaning, and decoration. Her audience is such a mix because her subscriber base is both lesbians that want a pretty lady like her and misogynistic guys who view her as a “tradwife” who is missing a worthy husband. She has the most subscribers out of any channel, reaching 750k subscribers and getting her own Youtube awards.

Latula: She’s quite the gamer. She reviews video games and loves to livestream her playing various Esports titles like League of Legends or Street Fighter. She encourages her subscribers to stay physically fit and active, and her Youtube shorts consist entirely of a Go-Pro recording her doing sick skateboarding tricks. When she’s not recording anything she’s miserable and uses Mituna as an emotional crutch to keep her happy. Kankri also tries to call and text her, but Latula never replies.

Aranea: She loves to talk about things that happened and her opinion on them. She is the Sarah Z of the Homestuck cast. Her focus, similar to Sarah Z is also on fanfiction and fandom culture. Her Youtube channel has about 225k subscribers but her Tumblr blog only has 20k. Such is the rot of this hellsite.

Horuss: Men’s Advice Channel. The twist for Horuss that deviates himself from the likes of fitness YouTubers or pickup artists is he actually strives to be a Beta Male. He makes videos with titles like “don’t let the others get in your head, Beta is Better” or “Smile and keep quiet, you will be rewarded” and goes on and on about being submissive, obedient, and empathetic are actually the good things men should do and Alpha Males get it all wrong and push women away with their misguided masculinity.

Kurloz: he’s the silent type. His videos probably would be more akin to artistic performances or interpretative dancing. Kurloz’s way of dancing, however, is more akin to doing mime things and charades than bodily rhythmic motion and expressionism. In a way, doing mine shit is one of the greatest ways to express one’s self through silent theatre.

Cronus: He’s the nerd. To try and connect with humankind as much as oossible and be humankin he has tried to buy as much content and toys from human media as possible to connect and act like a human. He 100% has a wall of Funko Pops, and he wants to show you them.

Meenah: She’s a Sims Youtuber, but instead of making silly guys from cartoons and TV shows interact with each other, all her episodes involve her ex-friend group and the Alpha kids. She likes to play God, randomly rewarding and punishing her sims in ways she sees fit. She finally has the control she always wanted, and amazingly she has 400k people subscribed to her antics.

Wow the alpha trolls were quite a group, now onto more familiar faces!

Alpha kids/

Jane: baking and food palette channel! Her cooking skills are unrivaled, and she’s even sold a few books on how to cook like her. While her cookbooks are good for generally feeding yourself with delicious recipes, her Youtube channel is more focused on fun and entertaining an audience. Her spin is every plate she makes is treated like a detective story. The ingredients for the recipe are used as clues for a crime scene, and she even uses tape, chalk outlines, and utensils in plastic bags as props for her investigation. Every crime is solved when the culprit is revealed to be the completed dish and the crimes they commit vary from wanting to not be eaten, or first degree homicide against multiple minors (don’t worry the minors in this case are chicken eggs)

Roxy: Genetics and Cat videos. Roxy is a cat breeder Youtuber that wants to show you how to make a cat even without a mate, and she does this through the wonders of ectobiology! She has tips and tricks for how to set up your ectobiology machine, how to track your cat through space and time. How paradox clones are made and when you can retrieve your cat at the right time, and most importantly, how to store freak clones of your favorite pet. Dave has gone on her channel to explain and show how animals are preserved in resin (yeah remember that’s a thing Dave liked to do? Reread his introduction pages back on Act 2)

Dirk: Animation and Story channel. Trying to pick up off of Dave Strider’s work on Sweet Bri and Hella Jeff, Dirk has took it on his own to create the next generation of incredible irony. He has made a 134 episode comic series about Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff coming across a portal to a parallel universe where they meet their bizarro twins, Sweet Jeff and Hella Bro. The webseries has it all, a simple start full of lighthearted shitposting and comedy evolving into a metanarrative about the nature of humanity, the struggles between stoicism and the desire to be loved and vulnerable to others, a Geromy redemption arc and a plot thread involving the Mane Six from My Little Pony becoming REAL. It’s considered the greatest work of Internet culture since Problem Sleuth 2: The case of the Midnight Crew.

Jake: Reaction Channel. Jake does not have a creative bone in his body, and rarely an original thought, but what he absolutely loves to do is support his friends, so he made a reaction channel where he reacts to the videos other people have made. He’s reacted to a lot of content, like all of the Alpha and Beta kids content, Karkat’s rant videos, Equius’s electrical engineering work and even some aloha trolls like Latula and Mituna. It’s the lowest bar for Youtuber content but tbh Jake is a page and it’ll be a while until he reaches his full potential and starts making his true calling: videos of himself shooting things from very far away. He’s a Marksman still getting used to his aim.

Yeeeeah! I did it woooooo all alpha trolls and kids done!

These are so goddamn good!

[anylady-fics]

Wicked game | Ch.2 - Super bowl

⚠️ warnings: smut

It was Sunday morning, so of course, you didn’t want to get out of bed… but it was already late, so you had to. As you were doing your laundry, you noticed the panties you gave Jeongin last night were mixed in with the dirty clothes. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d used them to jerk off…

You didn’t see him anywhere in the apartment, so you had your coffee and started thinking about what to cook for the week. Still feeling lazy, you flopped onto the couch with your phone, not bothering to change your clothes. Your pajamas were definitely too short – indecent even –, but you didn’t care. Jeongin had seen enough last night, and he’d just have to get used to it—if he still wanted to live with you, that is.

A few minutes later, you heard the front door open and some bags rustling. You got up to see what he’d brought, only to be hit with a lot all at once. First off, his hair was different—the awful blonde was mostly gone, replaced with black, except for a blonde streak in the front. And then there was the fact that he’d just come back from the gym, which you weren’t prepared for. His arms and chest were pumped from his workout, his skin glistening with sweat. He was wearing a tight tank top and loose shorts, and fuck, he looked good. Too good. You stared at him, thinking about how ridiculously hot he was. And he’d gone grocery shopping—without you even asking.

“What’d you buy?”

“The usual stuff for my diet. Got some for you too, since I know you eat the same. You’re gonna cook?”

He knew way more about you than you expected. That was a bit surprising. 

“Yeah. Look at you, being such a good boy.”

“You just woke up?” He eyed your outfit, taking his sweet time to check you out, especially since your strap had slipped a bit, showing off more than you intended. “Lazy day?”

“My eyes are up here.”

“You’re the one dressed like that.”

“And you’ll just have to get used to it.”

“Fine by me.” He suddenly just pulled off his tank top and handed it to you. You could take it, sure… but you took a second too long to react, eyes glued to his chest. His muscles were bigger than you remembered, and you felt an overwhelming urge to touch him. Your mind was gone, you weren't even sorry for staring at him like that.

“Uh, my eyes are up here, you know?” He gestured playfully at his face, but you were still too busy staring.

You hated it when people turned your own words against you. You blinked, trying to figure out why he was giving you his shirt.

“You’re giving me this for…?”

“I heard the washer going. Can you toss it in for me? Oh, wait!” He slipped off his shorts too, handing them over with the tank top. “These, too.”

“Not the boxers?”

“You want me naked in the living room?” He pushed the clothes against your chest until you finally took them. Standing there in nothing but his blue boxers, he grabbed the grocery bags and headed to the kitchen, giving you the perfect view of his tight muscles and cute ass.

“Well, I showed you mine, so you gonna show me yours? Never played this game before?”

“Yeah, but in a different setting. Don’t worry, I’ll wash my boxers later.”

He went to the bathroom, and you headed to the laundry room, tossing his clothes in with yours, which were just starting to wash. You were acting calm, like it was no big deal, but seeing him like that had messed with you way more than you wanted to admit. Maybe it was time to speed up your plans with your new little “friends with benefits” situation.

You grabbed your phone and shot a text to Changbin, asking if he’d be free later in the week. You made sure to let him know it needed to be something quick since you had a busy day ahead, and he replied that he’d be more than happy to help with that.

Alright, that was one thing taken care of.

You figured you should get started on cooking since you’d need to make double the usual amount. You prepped everything and set a timer. Jeongin had finished showering by then, so it was your turn. The bathroom was still foggy, and his scent lingered from the products he used. It was annoying how nice he smelled. 

It was still a little surreal that you were living with him now. You’d grown up together, but you were never close, and somehow, it felt easier to build some kind of relationship now, even if it was forced by circumstance. You didn’t really see him as family, despite all the jokes about him being your “little brother,” so no, you didn’t feel bad about what had happened the night before. Not even a little.

After your shower, you purposely picked out a short dress—and of course, you ditched the panties. It was hot, and you usually walked around the apartment like that anyway. Why should you change just because he was there?

Not that your intentions were entirely innocent. You were definitely up to something, you just didn't know what yet.

When you got back to the kitchen, there he was, messing with the food you’d already set up.

“Hey, hands off! I’m the one cooking here.”

“It was about to burn. You’re welcome.” 

“It was not! Now, move.” You shoved him out of the way and took over. You hated when people messed with your stuff once you’d already started.

He didn’t move far, though—just stood there next to you, watching you stir the food. You could feel his eyes on you, specifically down your dress. Typical. You rolled your eyes, too on edge to really tease him back. Looked like you’d need to get used to him hovering around and butting into your business.

Once the cooking was done, he helped you portion everything into meal preps, so it went faster than expected. Not bad, actually.

“So, what do you usually do on Sundays?” he asked, putting some dirty dishes in the sink.

“Cook and watch TV. And just so you know, you’re on dish duty.”

“No places to go out tonight?”

“Well, there are some bars, but they close early. Why?”

“I’ve got a date.”

You blinked, that little comment hitting harder than you’d like to admit, but you kept it cool, pretending like you didn’t care. You watched him wash the dishes—way too slow for your taste—before you got the urge to just do it yourself and had to walk away. Sitting at the table, you scrolled through your phone like his words didn’t just annoy the hell out of you.

“Date? On a Sunday? And she said yes?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t she?”

“If a guy asked me out on a Sunday, I’d assume he had nothing better to do.”

“Well, I set it up before I even moved here. I’ve got my ways.”

“Smart, huh?”

“Now that I can actually bring a girl back to my room, I’m making the most of it.”

“If you couldn’t do that at home, where were you doing it?”

“In my car, in public, or at their place. You know how it is.”

Oh, you definitely knew.

You started laughing, because your brain immediately pictured him awkwardly fumbling around during a hookup. For as good-looking as he was, you couldn’t help but wonder how clueless he might be.

“What’s so funny?” He frowned.

“I just imagined you… you know, doing it. Sorry.”

He dried his hands and came to sit across from you, narrowing his eyes in mock offense.

“And? Still not seeing the joke here.”

“The joke is… in my head, you’re still kind of a kid, and I can’t imagine you know what you’re doing.”

“Hm. When I think about you having sex, it’s the complete opposite.” He rested his elbow on the table and propped his chin in his hand. “And I like older women, they teach me a lot. I'm not that clueless.”

You ignored the first part of that sentence for the sake of your own sanity, but your body didn’t let you forget that you were, in fact, not wearing any panties—and you were already getting wet.

“How much older?”

“Up to about 35, give or take.”

“But that’s almost twice your age. That’s practically a crime.”

“I don’t care. Most of them are casual, and I never see them again.” He grinned, still leaning on his hand. “Are you worried?”

“Of course not. Just hope you don’t make too much noise if you bring some woman back here. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow, and I need to sleep.”

“Probably won’t bring anyone. I’ll have to settle for the car again. By the way, it smelled like condoms this morning.”

“Oops.”

“You’re way too laid-back about this. You owe me a proper car wash.”

“Maybe I’ll pay you back someday.”

“You can pay me however you like.” That suggestive remark caught you off guard, and you shot him a look, trying to figure out what he meant.

“I’ll pay you back by letting you bring your dates to the apartment.”

He didn’t break eye contact, licking his lips and smiling in a way that, unfortunately, made you press your thighs together. He noticed. Of course he did.

You both stayed silent for a few seconds, still staring at each other. You thought about saying something to change the subject, but he beat you to it.

“I bet you’re not wearing any panties under that dress.”

How did he know?

“Not that I’d ever make a bet with you, but now I’m curious. What’s on the line?”

“If you were willing to bet, and you’re wearing panties, I’d have to do something you want. And if you’re not, you’d have to do something I want.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“So, are you in?”

It was stupid to even consider agreeing to a bet you were bound to lose—since, yes, you weren’t wearing panties—but your curiosity was getting the better of you. You were dying to see where this would lead, and besides, your body was already responding to him, to the way he looked at you, the way he talked to you. Your rationality was slipping away and you couldn’t fight against that. You had to know how this would play out.

“Alright, I’m in. What do you want?”

“If you’re not wearing panties, you’re gonna sit on this table, hike up that dress, and show me everything. Legs wide open.”

“That’s it? Didn’t you see enough last night?”

“It was dark.”

“You’re shameless.”

“Not as much as you.”

He probably wasn’t wrong, and once again, you were caught off guard by the way he was seeing you. Maybe you hadn’t expected him to act this way, but you were clearly enjoying playing with him.

“Fine. I’ll play.” You stood up from your chair and sat on the table in front of him, forcing him to move back a little to give you space. “You can never say I’m not nice.”

Slowly, you spread your legs, still covered by your dress, and you noticed how mesmerized he already was. You made eye contact as you gradually lifted the fabric, and he couldn’t decide where to look. His eyes settled on your thighs as more skin was revealed with every inch you pulled up.

This was going to be so fun…

You bared yourself completely, leaning back on the table with one hand while holding your dress up with the other, spreading your legs so he could see your pussy just the way he wanted. Jeongin went still, and you could see him breathing deeply, trying to keep his cool. Were his heartbeats as out of control as yours? You couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“You’re wet.”

“Yeah…” You let your fingers glide down, brushing over your folds before slipping them to your entrance, coating them in your arousal, then spreading them in a V to give him a full view. “You like that, huh?”

You could see he was already hard—his shorts doing nothing to hide the bulge between his legs—and that was definitely not helping to keep your head in place.

You touched yourself a bit more, completely soaking your fingers in your wetness and you stopped so you didn’t lose it. Slowly, you closed your legs and leaned toward him, purposely giving him a nice view of your cleavage, but not enough to show everything.

“Nothing to say? Then maybe you can use your mouth for something else.”

You pressed your wet fingers against his lips, and he grabbed your wrist roughly, forcing your fingers into his mouth as he sucked them clean, tasting your juices, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt your body heat up, your pussy becoming even wetter, to the point where you thought you might drip onto the table.

You weren’t sure what stopped you from jumping on him right then and there, but you froze, just feeling how badly your body ached, how desperately you needed something inside you. It was driving you insane.

You pulled your fingers from his mouth, standing up and leaning close enough to pinch his cheeks in that way he hated.

“Next time you see it, you’re gonna have to lick it.”

With that, you turned and headed for your room, legs trembling, thighs slick with arousal, and your whole body burning. As soon as you locked the door, you immediately searched for something, anything, to relieve the ridiculous amount of tension you were feeling. But after looking through your options, you ended up just using your hands.

You lay back on your bed, legs spread, both hands sliding down to touch yourself, thinking about the way he sucked your fingers before you so easily slipped them inside. You’re wet, sensitive, trembling... like you hadn’t had sex not that long ago.

What’s he doing right now? Was he as worked up as you?

You think about the way he smiled at you, the way he looked at your pussy like he wanted to eat you out right there, and you start moaning on the bed while trying to satisfy yourself with your fingers. He could probably hear you, if he had gone to his room. You’re hoping he can hear you, hoping he’s doing the same thing, thinking about you. You don’t think you’ve ever come so fast in your life. You’d probably have kept going, chasing another orgasm, but then you suddenly remembered… he has a date. And that annoys you way more than it should. The moment’s gone, and you roll over in bed, pissed off at yourself.

Why the hell were you so bothered by this?

You’ve known for a while that you find him attractive, since forever, really. Something you took way too long to admit. But this? Jealousy over him taking all your mom’s attention made sense, but jealousy over him going out with other girls? That’s just crazy, right?

With nothing to do and way too frustrated, you end up sleeping the whole afternoon. By the time you wake up, it is dark outside, and you head out of your room to find something to eat, realizing you’re alone in the apartment. It’s almost 9pm, so he’s probably already out on his date, maybe even on his way back.

You take a quick shower and throw on an even shorter pajama set than what you had on last night, and then settle down on the couch. You were watching TV, but not really paying attention.

When the front door finally opens, you stretch your neck to check him out, and right away, you notice his hair is a mess, drenched in sweat.

“Well, looks like it went well.”

It came out way more bitter than you meant it to. Oh well.

“Not as well as I’d hoped.”

“Your appearance says otherwise.”

He heads to the living room and sits down in the chair next to the couch, crossing his legs and staring off, thinking about something before he speaks again.

“Isn’t it weird? We spent our whole lives barely talking, and now we’re like... this?”

“Like what?”

“We’re close now. I even know what you taste like.”

“If we’re close like this , it’s your fault for insisting on moving in with me. And when you look at it like that, it’s not really fair. I barely know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What are you studying? Why’d you come here? Why didn’t you react when I used to pull all those stupid pranks when we were kids? Basic stuff.”

“I’m studying business. I came here because you’re a free person, and I’ve always wanted to be like that. And I never reacted because I was afraid of you. Anything else?”

The only thing that surprises you is that he admired you in some way. The rest? You kind of knew. You’d never asked, but you knew. Even the degree—obviously, he was going to study something that would help him manage his dad’s business.

“Why do you try so hard to put up a front for them?”

“Because I saw how much they hassle you, and I didn’t want to go through the same thing. I’m not as patient as you.”

“Smart. Congrats, Jeongin.”

“And you?”

You sit up and cross your legs, trying to figure out what exactly he’s asking. You wait for him to continue.

“Why did you see me as a rival? I was just as lost as you were. We could’ve been closer.”

“That’s a tough question. I'm not answering that.”

You saw him as a rival because your mom made you see him that way, and you two weren’t closer because you never saw him as a brother. And you didn’t want him as a brother. Besides, if you had been closer back then, none of what’s happening now would’ve ever happened.

“Do you still hate me?”

“Of course not. I stopped hating you when we were teenagers. It was childish, and I realized that.”

“Are you going to keep torturing me while I live with you?”

“It’s in the plans, yeah. Does that bother you?”

“No, I just think that, at some point, we might take things too far. And I don’t want you to regret it if it happens.”

“You’re talking like you’re all responsible. I almost forgot you’re just an 18-year-old brat. And my conscience is clean. We’re not siblings, we’re not friends. We’re just two people forced to live together.”

“We could be friends.”

“Sure. But I still know too little about you to consider you a friend.”

He smiles at you, the same way he did earlier, licking his lips suggestively, uncrossing his legs and spreading them wide as he leans back into the chair.

“So, what else do you want to know?”

What you really want to know is what you’re too afraid to ask yourself. Why is he affecting you so much? You’re not about to dive into that, though, so you change the subject.

“Do you have any kinks?”

“Is that what you talk about with your friends?”

“Of course, along with other stuff. Don’t you?”

“Not really.”

“What a sad life. So, do you?”

“Anal, I think.”

Thank God you're still wearing panties because otherwise, your pajama shorts would be soaked in no time, and you’re just talking. It isn’t fair that you feel this attracted to him. No matter how much you try to figure out what’s happening to you, you can’t. Honestly, you’re kind of scared to understand.

"That’s it?"

"That’s all I can think of right now. Do you have any?"

"Hmm... I like a lot of things. Can’t really think of anything right now."

"You’re so slippery. Got me answering everything, and you’re not giving me anything."

You laugh and stand up from the couch, stretching in front of him, fully aware that his eyes are taking in every bit of skin available.

"You’ll figure it out. Goodnight, Jeongin."

You head into your room and check if you still have your anal plug in your stash of toys. That little detail would take the teasing to a whole new level. And once again, you have no idea what’s really holding you back, but whatever it is, it’s probably coming to an end soon.

[reesereadsalot]

ꜱᴜɴꜱᴇᴛ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ

Pairings: Peeta x reader

Warnings: FLUFF, mentions of drinking, hickeys, making out

Desc: You wake up with a hangover and discover that you had slept in Peeta’s bed last night.

｡𖦹°‧masterlist

You wake up to the smell of cinnamon and bread. Weird..you don’t remember lighting a candle last night. Well you don’t really remember anything. Your head is pounding as you open your eyes with a groan. Wait , this isn’t my house. You thought looking around the room. It 5 very similar though. Oh no.

You look to your side and saw Peeta sleeping peacefully beside you. You groan again sitting up. You look down and realize you’re wearing his clothes. Oh my god. You thought feeling around your chest to make sure you were wearing a bra. Thankfully, you were.

So if he put you in these clothes, he at least didn’t see you naked. You stand up—looking around the room for your clothes. You find them hung up on a rack, freshly cleaned. Ugh. Did you throw up on them or something?

You grab your clothes and start to take off Peeta’s shirt. You slip into your pajama shirt from the night before. You start to slip off Peeta’s pajama shorts that are tied to fit you when you notice something. You bend down to get a closer look. Oh no. You’re wearing a thong. Oh my god. He saw you in your thong. You’re mid way into getting your pajama pants on—bent down—when Peeta speaks up.

“I didn’t know you liked me that much.” He chuckled. You jumped and turned around, Cheeks flushing of embarrassment.

He looks down at your thong and you follow his gaze. You quickly pull up your pajama pants and head into his bathroom.

“What happened last night?” You ask examining your features in the mirror. Your face was puffy and you had a hickey on your neck. You exited the bathroom to look at him. “And how did I get this?” You ask.

“I don’t want to embarrass you.” He says as he looks down. Ugh. Nows not the time to be a gentleman.

“I don’t care. Tell me. I’ll be pissed if you dont.” You say heading back into the bathroom to grab a cold cloth and put it to your head. You go to sit on the edge of his bed and face him. “Go on. What happened?” You ask.

“Well,” he hesitates for a moment then continues “you came to my house drunk and you were crying about stuff.” Peeta says warily.

“What stuff?” Normally you would have a good guess but the way he said it made you confused.

“Okay, I’ll just say it all.” He says “you came to my house—crying—because we don’t cuddle anymore like we used to on the victory tour so I cuddled with you on my couch. You kissed me and then I kissed you.” “He pauses then continues rambling “I knew you were drunk but I wasn’t thinking and we made out. And, that’s how you got the hickey.” You blinked at him so he continued “Then, you threw up on your clothes—which I washed—so I put you in my clothes. You wanted to go to bed so I laid you down in mine and I was going to sleep on the couch but you wanted me to stay.” He says, cringing from his own embarrassment.

“Did we..” You don’t finish your sentence but Peeta knows what you mean.

“No.” He says. You lay down on the bed—cloth still on your forehead—and huff.

“I’m sorry Peeta. I’m a mess. I’ve been a mess since the Quarter Quell announcement.” You say looking at him apologetically. So embarrassing. You thought.

“You don’t need to apologize.” He mumbles before getting up and heading down stairs. You follow.

Peeta is making breakfast while you sit at the counter perched on a high chair. Whatever he is making smells so good. When he finishes cooking, he turns off the stove. He makes two servings onto a plate with beautiful blue drawing on top. You scan over it and Peeta makes a chuckling sound. Peeta made a neat omelette with tomatoes and kale and cheese. Your favorite. He remembered.

“I like the plates too. There pretty nice.” He says sitting down next to you. For a moment theres quiet. Not a bad quiet, a peaceful one. Then Peeta opens his big fat mouth. “You know Gale likes you.” He says scooping another bite of omelette into his mouth.

“Why?” You ask confused. Gale didn’t show it.

“I don’t know. Maybe ‘cause he thinks you’re pretty.” He says after finishing chewing his bite. You snort.

“He needs glasses.” You say taking a bite of the food.

“Don’t do that.” He says looking at you. His bright blue eyes staring at your face.

“Hm?”

“You are pretty Y/N. Don’t put yourself down.” He says with a smile and continues eating. Your cheeks flush and your ears get pink. You guys finish eating in silence.

When you’re done eating, before putting your dirty plate in the sink, you pass by Peeta and give him a little kiss on the cheek. He perks up, surprised by that random kiss. You only kissed him when you were drunk or tired. You reach the sink and put your plate down.

“Thank you for calling me pretty,” You say “and thank you for comforting me last night, even if I don’t remember.” You smile at him.

“Anytime.” He says grinning ear to ear like a little boy. He wants to tell you that you’re more than pretty, you’re beautiful. Not average beautiful. No, not average at all. He thinks you’re sunset beautiful. Maybe even prettier than a sunset. He paints you all the time. You always light up the canvas. When you go home, he gets sad. He wants to spend every waking moment with you. He spends every waking moment before your next kiss thinking about that peck.

[thequasarwinds]

I’m like pretty certain this was just a basic continuity error

similar to how Adam is described as being an infant when he was actually 4 Years old (a toddler)- which is totally fine and happens all the time in Indie stuff

it’s important to point out that that photo was brought up to show Mark’s connection to the church- Sarah was never really confirmed nor denied to be the other kid. She was never really mentioned there at all

but what we do know (at least that I’m pretty sure of) is that the photo was an old photo of Kister’s of which the other child was likely a younger sibling- and ofc reality doesn’t line up with what ever story the individual may come up with later in life- it’s important to remember how these types of things work: Kister wouldn’t have access to some random ass photo of children in front of a very specific church with it perfectly matching the story- he’d use the resources available to him.

the kid in the photo (in the canon of TMC) could very well be just some cousin or smth- or maybe even a family friend

in the canon of TMC- of which we KNOW it directly proteins to her- we know that:

The end of her email says “89”

she was in Highschool in 2007 (of which if matches up- as she’d be around 18- It seems as if Adam was also still in high school despite being 19 at the time? But there’s many plausible explanations for that)

On top of that when Adam was referring to her in Presto he said “a girl from another school”- not something like “a women I found off the internet” if she was significantly older he would’ve referred to her differently

She acts, and sounds rather young- I know there isn’t much basis behind this as there’s many things you can say to wave this away but I still feel it’s important to note. Kister deliberately chose her actor for a reason- and additionally her being any older would just be really really odd- not only are the majority of the characters that time are like young adults (19-21) but their relationships and dynamics never seem to reflect a high age gap

I do not recall Sarah ever mentioning anywhere a wish that she should’ve protected Mark- her voice message on the MCPD website only mentions that it would’ve been Mark’s 30th birthday (of which Sarah would’ve been about 15-16) and her expressing her anger and bitterness about the police

but perhaps a missed something so if I did- please provide it

regardless if she ever DID mention something like that- you’ll have to remember grief and loss doesn’t always leave one acting “logical”- and it’s actually very very common for victims

of things such as this to express a need to have done something even if at the time the individual was completely powerless to do anything. It’s very likely that she’s left with feelings of guilt- a “why me- why am I alive and he’s not” sort of deal; which can ofc lead to feelings of responsibility on the event.

I have seen some people argue “why would she care about someone she lost at three- she probably barely remembers him” so JUST in case anyone does say that- that is…kind of ludicrous- losing someone at a young age doesn’t make the impact any less. Someone still died and it still left a certain absence in the persons life. And a LOT of the grief from individuals of deaths like that can come from the fact that they DID experience the loss at a young and the pain of barely remembering them.

Additionally, we have reasons to believe Sarah and Mark’s parents were rather negligent. It’s possible that Mark was held responsible for Sarah (especially considering the large age gap), perhaps being more involved than even the parents were- which would’ve meant the loss of Mark was a little more like losing a primary caregiver for Sarah. But this is more of a vague theory- however at a certain point an alternate DOES say smth that sounds a lil like “your little sister is still asleep” to Mark- so that’s uh something I guess

I REFUSE to believe Sarah is only 20 years old because that does NOT fit the timeline at all. I've literally calculated it and she should be AT LEAST 30 years old.

PROOF:

she appears in exhibition in a photo which is from 1982 (how can she be born in 1989 when she looks at least 4 years old in 1982?)

from the proof above, that means she should be born in 1978 which makes her 31 in 2009

on the Sarah Heathcliff audio she says she should've protected Mark but if we follow the ORIGINAL birthday for Sarah then she would've been 3 years old when the incident happened so why would she say that?

ALSO in canon, the age gap is 14 years old but in the exhibition photo she looks 3-4 younger than mark

[hinamie]

I'll give them shelter like you've done for me

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[wardensantoineandevka]

I will admit I'm a little salty that people, in an effort to prove that there is no good dialogue in Veilguard at all, keep comparing mission exposition to the high point narrative set pieces of prior games. I agree that some of the writing related to plot mechanics and mission exposition in Veilguard is a little too utilitarian, but that doesn't mean none of the dialogue is good or that prior games didn't also sometimes have this issue here and there.

I also generally dislike when people put the bar for good writing — and all writing too, not even just dialogue writing, ALL writing — at mic-drop sentences that still sound good completely divorced from context, because that really just reduces "good writing" down to like fake-deep philosophizing or witty quips exclusively. sometimes, a really good bit of dialogue sounds like a completely normal sentence out of context.

[sonknuxadow]

collection

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.

Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.

In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]

If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)

Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]

The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]

> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!

Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.

Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.

Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.

Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.

Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.

Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!

Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.

Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).

(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)

Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).

Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]

[rainc0at]

brassic questions im haunted by: what the fuck was the wanking contest? why the FUCK do these "professional thieves" never silence their phones when they're robbing? why does dylan continue to take class a's?

[cattysapien]

immediately having such a weird day

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

re: the last post i reblogged bc i am realizing just how much i yapped in the tags and i do not wish to subject the wider tumblr public to that rant LMAO