#but also the idea of celebrity

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

The punchline of it all is that your fave was, in fact, problematic--not least because we are all bumbling fools navigating being alive in an ever-new world we're experiencing for the first and only time.

And the thing is, Your Fave was given a giant megaphone for some reason, which means when Your Fave bumbles foolishly through the world, they do so VERY LOUDLY and their inevitable mistakes are EAR-SPLITTING.

[bluegiragi]

new handler.

early access + nsfw on patreon

[seph-ic]

Happy Holidays yall! have some seasonal doodles.

[brighteuphony]

Gonna bundle these two questions! (ALSO SPICY AT THE BOTTOM)

Sakura had one 'relationship' and that was/is with Aren Uzumaki.

Some backstory:

On their way back from Chiyo's, Saeko, Enji and Sakura were unable to port back in Tea Country- as the civil war came into full effect, and an embargo was placed on all the major ports in an attempt to cripple trade/starve out the big trading cities/ take control of the capital (which was on the coast).

For a few weeks, Sakura and Co. were prisoners on an enemy ship that captured the previous Daimyo's niece, Unami (now heir apparent, given that the rest of her family was murdered).

On their way towards the capital (for a nice public execution), they were boarded by famed Pirate Captain/Smuggler Aren Uzumaki of The Last Sparrow- who took them aboard along with the rest of the spoils.

As the enemy closed all the ports, Sakura realized they would never make it to land for the foreseeable future and offered her services as a healer for the duration of the war in exchange for Saeko, Enji's, and Unami's safety.

Furthermore, Enji helped Unami cut a deal with Aren, in which he was promised legitimacy and exclusive trading contracts with the South under her future rule. Thus, the Last Sparrow became the Command Center for the Civil War for the next eight months.

During that time, Sakura healed, fought, and hassled Aren into teaching her basic strategy, war, and bureaucracy - something the Captain (and Unami) realized she had a good head for. (Sakura would later serve as Unami's consul after the war).

As for Aren, he is extremely intelligent, shrewd, and a powerful fuinjutsu specialist. He's a respected captain and only chose the pirate/smuggler life after the decimation of the Uzumaki clan. When Konoha didn't come to their aid in time during the third war, Aren swore never to be beholden to a shinobi village and took to the seas, denouncing shinobi-hood.

Sakura approached Aren and asked to spend the night with him on the eve of the last battle, and had an on-again, off-again relationship after the war. Aren's first love was the sea, and Sakura never wanted to be second (or third) place in anyone's life ever again, so while they aren't in any official relationship, they do find themselves in each other's arms when they cross paths. (fun fact, Aren calls Sakura 'Wildflower')

When Kankuro was poisoned, The Last Sparrow (legal now!!!) had fortuitously docked at one of Fire Country's port cities. So they could take that to Suna and cut a week off their travel time.

Kakashi was surprised to see that Aren and Sakura knew each other.

He was very unpleasantly surprised to see HOW well they knew each other. He spent a full week seething- as he watched some sleazy Icha-icha knock-off pirate Lothario take advantage of Sakura.

Once again, thank you so much for the lovely words and all the support for this AU!

SPICY UNDER CUT.

[roxiusagi]

Sangcheng week Day 2 - Joy & Celebration

Celebrating the joy of life. A normal day where both of them are simply alive, well and happy together 🪷

[seokminfilm]

show me how | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: non-idol au, fluff, kissing, domestic relationship, physical intimacy, lovey-dovey flirty!seokmin, after shower shenanigans, reader is implied to be naked (covered by a towel), seokmin showers reader w compliments, he blow dries her hair for her, they're sweet and in love your honor, reader uses nicknames to refer to seokmin, seokmin uses angel and baby to refer to reader

now playing: show me how, men i trust | requested by: @realmofclouds

Your shower had just finished a few minutes ago, and you were now wrapping yourself up in your warm, dry towel, finishing your skincare as the pleasant smell of lavender and lilies filled the bathroom. The bath scrub Seokmin had bought you last week on your quick date night felt good on your skin, and it left little sparkles in its wake, making you feel like a magical fairy of some sort.

Seokmin had given you money for no particular reason today before he left for work, and you went to the store and browsed some new shampoos, finally deciding on this one with both of your favorite scents.

You had been eager to try the shampoo out ever since you left the store, and after a long day of workouts and cleaning up around you and Seokmin's shared apartment, you finally stepped in the shower, ready to lather up and feel like a brand new person.

As you set up your hair drying station, the creaking of the door goes unnoticed by you, and you're doing your own thing until the sly slip of someone's arms around your waist makes you gasp.

"You smell so pretty, angel. What's this?" Seokmin's voice is soft yet deep, scratching your insides as his breath lightly taps your ear. His fingers run through your wet hair as he inhales the scent of you, his body melting against yours as he presses against you.

"What's what, Seokmin?" You ask, voice light and airy—whether you're too distracted by Seokmin's warm body pressed up against yours, or the fact that your towel is about to fall off, you're not sure, but you're in heaven with the way Seokmin's lips feel on your neck.

He kisses every spot, lightly peppering your ear and shoulder with the same amount of love and affection. He's muttering the words 'pretty' and 'so good' over and over, and you'd think he was drunk with the way he looked up at you with his dark brown, glassy eyes.

"Your shampoo, angel. It smells like someone brushed your head with the rain of heaven." Seokmin sighs, and you laugh at his quite dramatic analogy, hands brushing over Seokmin's bigger ones now resting on your stomach. "It's lavender and lily scented."

"Good god, you smell so pretty. I wanna love you forever and ever," Seokmin hums, and you laugh again, breath tickling his ear as you moan weakly "Stop, Seokmin. You're gonna get wet too."

"I don't care if I'm soaking wet by the time we're done," Seokmin says and you stare at him in the mirror, seeing his sharp eyes look up from your shoulder as he smiles against your wet skin. "I still want to kiss you."

Finally letting him run his course, you maneuver your way to being in front of Seokmin, towel now secure around your drying body as your lips meet his. Sparks fly through your body when he caresses your hip softly, and you feel as if you'd start crackling if he touched you with his fingertips.

When you pull away, you pull away breathlessly, and Seokmin smiles, hands still going to your wet hair as you lean into his touch. "Can I blow dry it for you? I'll take good care of you and your pretty hair, I promise."

The thought of Seokmin brushing your hair after blow-drying it with care made your heart swell, and you nod without a second thought, letting him take over and pamper you.

He spends every second making sure the temperature is warm and that you're comfortable, and the soft music that plays in the echoing bathroom is sweet to your ears as he brushes your hair and hums the lyrics for you.

Seokmin's voice is a soft honey vibrato now, a contrast from his usual high tone—it's reserved for times like these; times when he's loving you and taking care of you so well you feel like you're on top of the world.

Once he finishes with your hair, he takes a dry towel, putting it over your head as he gently scratches at your scalp. You nearly fall out of the chair with how good he is at it, and laugh when he starts to tease you a bit, drying your hair like someone would a dog. The smile that decorates his face when he watches you can only be described as love-filled, and it makes you warm as he turns off the hair dryer.

"So, what do we think, angel?" Seokmin puts his hands on your slightly bare arms, head dropping to the corner between your head and shoulder. You smile, leaning your head on top of his as you pat his hand. "I love it, Min. You did a great job."

Seokmin smiles like a proud child, pressing a kiss to your temple as he studies your face and body. "You look and smell amazing, baby. You're sparkling—quite literally," Seokmin laughs, fingertips covered with the body scrub's glitter.

You laugh, taking your finger and poking Seokmin's nose with it as he laughs. "And now, we're matching."

[14dayswithyou]

Is rens favorite number 18? (I don't think I did this right, I sorry ╥﹏╥)

Does Ren have any thanksgiving traditions if he even celebrates it?? Like is he a Macy day parade type of guy or a turkey trot?

If you don't feel comfortable answering I understand! Thank you so much for creating this game, it's helped me through a lot =3!!!

⌞♥⌝ The only thing Ren celebrates is Angel's birthday, unfortunately jgsdjgdj ^^;

[fafameow]

Today marks the 12th anniversary of Kirby's Return to Dreamland in Japan and of course MAGOLOR'S BIRTHDAY :D Happy birthday you little egg 🎉🎂

I decided to do a small animation this year plus one more drawing as a bonus ;)

[rameiixo]

belied of bebop

doodled side characters while i waited for the new year ♡

[flovoid]

okokok i think im having wayyy too much fun re-making my old celebrity sims

[sesamenom]

Festival of the Trees in Rivendell (very much outdated) vs Festival of We Got Another Wine Shipment in Mirkwood (invented three hours ago)

somewhat inspired by this post by @elvinye

[iamnmbr3]

Amazing to me how many violence loving bigots are trying to act like their fetish for the brutalization of innocents is somehow progressive or in support of any cause.

Equating a brutal group of terrorists with all Palestinians is bigoted and untrue. Saying Hamas's tactics are acceptable since Palestinians just can't help committing war crimes because they are incapable of not brutalizing old women and children is bigoted and untrue. Saying it's ok to rape and torture people to death as long as they're Jews is bigoted and untrue.

Hamas stands for nothing. They are a hate group. Just like their supporters.

[jadecantcreate]

santa sarnax !

[weirdocat83]

Spoilers for arcane!!

I wonder if Ekko ended up getting curious abt the father/daughter relationship between silco and jinx. I mean, in episode 7 we see a whole alternate universe where silco and jinx are good. I call bullshit if you’re telling me they’re not close over there. So imagine Ekko seeing this and suddenly recontextualizing basically everything he knows abt jinx. Especially if Ekko ends up talking to Silco and realizing he’s not actually that bad of a guy when he’s just hanging out.

I mean, for one, the silly potential of alt!Silco being like “I was a giant dumbass and I needed some damn therapy or at least someone to talk to” and Ekko slowly realizing that maybe the reason Jinx is so fucked up is because her and her evil dad were equally fucked up at the time and just trying to achieve their goals whilst coping, but he can’t say that aloud so what he does say is “huh.” Meanwhile silco is looking at him strange because the dude has the look of someone who just solved the world’s greatest mysteries despite him having heard this info before (in his perspective, at least.)

For two, the angst potential of “hey so I went to another universe where you and your dad Weren’t Evil and he was actually lowkey chill so I wanna know what he was like for you” and for a moment jinx just looks at him in a “wtf” kinda way but then she just accepts it bc That Might As Well Happen (also the added evidence of his little machine and injuries that Were Not There Before) and starts telling him stories ranging from stupid to cute to sad and she’s breaking down halfway through them because lately she hasn’t had that much time to grieve him properly especially since a lot of people hated him so to reminisce with someone who she actually cares abt who is willing to listen and not write her off is therapeutic. Also I just think Jinx absoLUTELY has some hilarious silco stories. They probably bond over the course of the whole thing.

[cordyce]

BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: this is silly & overtly fluffy & all over the place if i am completely honest rn. neteyam is a little flustered & probably ooc. sorry :’)

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[trophywifemac]

HE'S JUST A BOY