#cant remember if i posted about this the first time i played but i think i ended up reading exactly the same reddit post

[queseraphita]

gonna rewatch romeo + juliet for the first time since highschool and see how it holds up

[holytrickster]

honestly i get embarrassed i don't have like. a single other interest I'm as into because i just know everyone around me is probably sick of it

[danielnelsen]

every time i go to check what i need to do for specific dai achievements i end up reading comment thread of people getting so mad that some achievements depend on story choices (like 'on burning wings', which im still not getting on this playthrough..but i think all my current plans for future playthroughs will have me get it).

like.........if you only care about getting achievements then you're gonna be playing the game a few times anyway, or you're gonna be optimising your single playthrough so well that you'll know what choices to make.

personally i always feel kinda meh about getting achievements for basic story progression. getting one for finishing the game is nice but for other major plot points? feels kinda unnecessary. it's not much of an achievement if everyone gets it, yknow? there no harm in it, but id rather they be interesting or difficult.

i understand why it might be frustrating if it's a story choice you dont want to make (especially if there's not also an achievement for the choice you DO want to make), but people get SO mad.....not to pull out "it's just a game" but it's just a game!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you cant be a completionist without multiple playthroughs (for all the story options) or excessive planning (for every trophy); usually both!!!!

i just really dont get some of the things people get mad about. talking about "it's a long game and you get this trophy near the end, so you have to redo 100+ hours to get it if you make the wrong choice".... are you playing for fun, or just for the achievements?? because the latter will always require planning!?!?!?

[whoa-where-did-the-pancakes-go]

Tried to find the house my grandparents lived in when i was little for reasons (The Memories) and i got it on the first try???

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[entirelytoooobsessed]

needy!drunk!gojo satoru x gn reader-based off this post

synopsis: gojo is a lightweight, vowed to sobriety to keep whatever bit of shame he has left to his name. but he really can't help but take a few shots when he sees you doing the same.

warnings: sub gojo, gn dom reader, both reader and gojo are drunk, gojo's a lightweight, handjob, semi-public sex, he cries-like a lot, he also had nipple piercings bc i couldn't help myself, reader's kinda a hoe, feelings, think that's it

The warm press of hands against your hips is what makes you gasp. The soft touch of lips traced over your throat is what makes your head spin.

What a delightful feeling. 

What a human desire. 

“Touch me.” 

The room spins around you, the warm feeling of being held making you sigh, leaning into it. The scent of him, the greedy claiming of his presence in your mind. So selfish. Of him not to think of the effect that this has on you. To not care about the war going on in your mind. 

“Touch me, please?” A whine this time. A meek sound, spilling from his lips, making your body light up in return. 

“Satoru,” He practically purrs at his name on your lips. Pathetic. How easily riled up he is. How easily you’re able to make his knees feel weak. How much he loves the sound of your lips forming his name.

“Mmmm, say it again.”His nose sweeps delicately over your neck, working over a heavy sigh as he tries not to get drunk on the smell of your shampoo. Or more drunk than he already is, that is. 

“Your name?” You mutter slowly. 

“Yeah….” His words have been gradually slurring over the span of the night, with the amount of shots he’s taken, with the amount of drinks he’s had. With the inches of space between you closing until there’s nothing between you but the thin layer of clothing that does nothing to hide the bulge he shamelessly presses against you.

Even so, you know that he's always been far beyond measures of shame, but this is a whole new level, the way he continues to press his body impossibly closer to yours, his broad chest against your shoulders, his hips canting against you. 

You’ve always hated how he’s been taller than you, his incessant teasing when he throws you over his shoulder as you yell and pound on his back. He takes advantage of it all too often.

You don’t mind now.

“Why, Satoru?” Maybe you’re cruel for the teasing, for liking your friend’s reactions all too much. Shivering, nearly violently, throbbing against your lower back. 

He whines, “Sounds so…-so much better when you say it. Makes me wanna just…”

His breath is heavy with the scent of alcohol and you’re still not entirely sure how Shoko and Suguru managed to get him to break his vow of sobriety. Not when you’d seen him turning them down for the first bit of the night.

The next time you saw him he was getting dragged along by you, gulping down whatever liquids you shoved into his hands. 

With his feverish hands tracing up your body and his sinful hips pressing against yours. Muttering about how he wanted you and needed you, whispering about things he'd never have said in the harsh reality of day, but was that not the beauty of getting intoxicated beyond belief?

“Hmm? Just what?” 

He simpers, “Wan’ you to touch me, play with me, like I’m just a toy for you~” He grinds slowly and you wish you could kiss him. Kiss him until he’s breathless and red and can’t remember his own name. Dazed and dizzy and muttering gibberish while loosely gripping onto you. 

You don’t think if you’d even have to kiss him to do that right now, but the taste of his perfectly pink lips would just be an added pleasure to this delectable mix.

But you shouldn’t. And you won’t.

Not because he’s your friend and this will surely be crossing some unspoken line.

Or because it’ll throw off the axis of your entire friend group. You'd never let that stop you before. And you wouldn’t let something like that stop you now. Not when you've clumsily pressed your lips to Shoko’s, high out of your mind and hidden under the blanket of dark nights. Or when you let your hands wander along the lengths of Suguru’s skin, promising to make him feel things he’d never felt before. 

Not because Satoru Gojo is one of your best friends.

But because Satoru Gojo is currently drunk and so are you. And despite the fact that you’re practically drowning in the warmth of alcohol and all that is Satoru Gojo, you want whatever you do with him to mean something-be something. Not just a clumsy night of drunken mistakes and hazy flashes, not something you’ll forget in the morning and agree to never speak of again.

He’s too…important for you to treat him like that. And you’re too selfish to let anything you do to him to mean anything but the fact that he would be yours. But he’s not yours. And you’re not his. And all this thinking is only making a steady ache build behind your temples.

You sigh, twisting around in his arms. Blue eyes blinking back at you, slowly searching over yours and fuck, his lips are so kissable. Pink and plump, trapped between his too white teeth.

“Let’s get you back to Shoko and Suguru, they’ll take you home and make sure you don’t kill yourself.” You’re not entirely sure where they went or why they’ve left the two of you behind, all alone where they'd know neither of you were in the right mind to make good choices.

 “No,” He shakes his head, white hair tossing, ruffled and mussed from a night of clinging to you like this. Far too close for comfort though you still couldn’t bring yourself to pry him off.  “No, n-no, don’t wan’you  to leave…” 

You begin to tug him off either way. He’s not sane enough to make decisions for himself and you don’t think you are either. “C’mon baby, let’s go find your friends.”

He shudders and grips your hand, refusing to move an inch. Tears pool in his eyes and your jaw hardens.

You sigh. You didn’t know why you thought this was a fight you’d win either way. It was a losing game trying to argue with Satoru. His lips wobble and you can feel your resolve withering away by the second. Tearing down every single defence you put up around, being ripped away by him and his stupid tears as if they were paper. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispers and he looks pathetic but you know you’ll give in to him if he asks you to. “Don’t leave me…please.”

You cup his cheek and he purrs, melting into the touch as if he were a cat, pushing into you for more attention. Basking in your attention as you sweep his tears away with your thumb, letting him close his eyes and pull you into the soft cushioning of a booth. 

You feel heady or maybe it’s the alcohol talking. More tears roll down his cheeks, tracking along the slopes of his flushed face. Crystalline and sacred and you realize with a twist in the pit of your stomach that it’s arousing.

The sight of him. His sweat-soaked skin and his eyes big and glassy. And the fragile mask he’s worked so hard to keep up deteriorating beneath your very eyes, each tear breaking and cracking apart the image of the powerful man he claims to be.

A crumpled facade of a God into a something more, something divine and corrupt, something vulnerable and weak and so very human in your arms, falling apart by a mere touch.

Maybe you’re more fucked up than you realized. Maybe you’re just horny. Maybe because it’s him. And he’s Satoru Gojo and everything about him is perfect. Powerful. Transcendent. A God against humans, finally falling apart like this, before you, ready to fall to his knees. Perhaps he was always meant to.

“Don’t wanna be alone…don’t wanna…ngh~” 

His hips thrust up, a whiny gasp working past his lips. He pants as if he’s run a marathon and you want to do such delectably sinful things to him and you’re sure you could do them all and more and he’d only beg and plead for more.

Perhaps…

“Kiss me.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, you wonder if he can hear with how loud it is. “Satoru,”

He whines and grinds and you moan. And it’s a losing battle.

“Shut up,” he insists, hand cupping the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair, almost obsessively. “Shut up and just kiss me.”

“You know we can’t. You-“

“I, am perfectly fine.” His words are a pant, a plea, whispered with a kind of reverence of a worshipper to a god. “Just kiss me, fuck me. Use me,” white eyelashes flutter, blue looking all the bluer rimmed with red and filled with tears. “Use me until you’re bored of me, until there’s nothing left-i don’t care.” He breathes, desperate and pleading and looking like he’s ready to get down on his damn knees on the dirty sticky floor. “Just-please.”

A losing fucking battle. 

Maybe it always was. Trying to keep your hands off him, now, you realized it was like setting a treat on a dogs nose and telling them to wait. A crazy amount self control with the eventual prize just in sight. 

All you can think as you cup his cheeks, flushed and wet from tears, warm against your hands is how fucking pretty he is. How you want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Fuck, Satoru,” you mutter and he moans deep and appreciatively and then you’re pulling him in to slide your lips against his.

 And now all you can think about is how much of a dumbass you are for not doing this sooner.

He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes-when he had one you don’t know but you do know that it’s the most intoxicating mix you’ve ever encountered. You feel like you’re floating, high off his taste and his moans; like he’s a drug and you’re the addict, injecting him straight into the vein. 

It's far from elegant and he’s not perfect at it in the way you’d expect from a man as beautiful as him-godhood hasn’t blessed him in every aspect. But he’s desperate and he's eager to take everything you give, mewling against your lips. 

He’s so needy and it's crazy the way it sends you into a sort of reverie. His hands gripping your hips hard, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go, like he’s hoping you’re real and not a apparition of drunken hysteria. He pulls you closer, as if you could get close enough that no one could find where you ended and he started, that you might be able to meld into one.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same sentiment. If you didn’t try your hardest to do the exact same; nails pressing into his skin, making him whine as you tilted his head back and slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring, feeling, taking, using. 

Just like he told you to do.

He vibrates against you, nearly shaking with choked noises. He mutters soundless words, each and every one swallowed by you as soon as they’re spoken. Pleas and prayers, worships and praises. 

You’d show him what real ascension felt like.

You probably should be embarrassed, or at the very least shameful to be putting on such a show in front of what you know are watching eyes. But you know that Gojo is far past shame at this point and you're too enamoured by the beauty that is Satoru Gojo clinging to you like he’s about to break.

To be honest, you can't find it in yourself to give a shit about any of them. About anything but him, focusing your attention on devouring him whole as he shatters, ready to catch every piece as they fall into your waiting hands. No matter if the shards rip apart your skin and leave you a bloody mangled mess.

You break away first, fighting a smile at his whine as you pull away from him, panting. 

He looks unravelled, messy. His usual flirty facade lost to pleasure. His watery eyes and heartbroken whines gone as well. Overwhelmed by swollen lips and gasps to make up for lost air. A blush like he’s just realized where he is, burying his face into your neck to hide from the probing eyes. To whisper, "You're too good at that, you know?.”

You bark a laugh and he nuzzles into your skin. 

And then you’re redirecting him to your lips again.

In a flurry of hands and lips, messy steps and you’re clumsily stumbling into the bathroom. Quickly, Satoru is shoved against the door, fingers fumbling for the lock.

Your lips find his neck, fluttering a barrage of open-mouthed kisses over the heated skin, dragging your tongue along his thrumming heartbeat. 

He whines and he begs, muttering nonsense that makes it to your ears but not to your head as you hum against him. Slender fingers knit through your hair, holding you close to him, pleading for you to never leave him.

“Touch me, touch me, touch me.” He repeats, slurred and slow, his eyes drooped shut, his voice husky with want, with lust and everything he’s been just barely repressing all this time.

But you've only ever been a slave to his desires.

So you respond in tenfold, nipping and sucking, leaving evidence that you've been here, staking a claim that doesn't exist and maybe never will but for tonight maybe you can play pretend.

Because he keens when your teeth sink into his skin and his back arches, pressing evidence of his wanton yearnings against you like you might devour him whole.

Like he wants you to.

He quieter when he whispers something that could change everything. “Love me?”

Your heart pounds in your chest but you’d never turn him down. 

Fingers deftly undo the buttons on his tight-fitting button up, revealing porcelain-like skin underneath. His nipples are hard and pink and fucking pierced. 

He gasps when you touch them, pinching them between your thumb and forefinger.

And you've never been particularly mean but you can make an exception for the God in front of you, leaving him to tortuous touches all while he throbs and thrusts into nothing but the fabric of his too-tight pants, whining from the stimulation that's all too little.

He's been begging for this all night. Whispering dirty words like a little tease, like a shameless slut.

He got you all riled up and for that you think that he should take his own share of teasing.

For retribution, for your own piece of mind and the pleasure it is to watch him squirm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and tearstained and begging in small breathless whimpers barely over a whisper.

But you've never been able to resist him long, not then, not now and not ever.

Your hand finally reaches for his waistband, his body shivering with the feeling of your fingers dipping onto hot, untouched skin.

But he stops you.

His hand, large and pale landing over your own in a quick moment of lucidity.

His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"

You met his vulnerability with a promise because you could never leave him with any less. "Yes," your words a whispered caress, a undying oath in itself, a vow that you'd take beyond this in whatever may happen.

Your lips brush over his ear, his eyes squeezing shut as your hand wraps around him, dragging a ruinous moan from deep in his throat.

"I promise, I will."

And your hand is wrapping around him, hot and wet and hard, all for you. Just for you. And his head is turned off, just sensations and feeling and you.

Just you.

"F-fuck, yes, please," so broken, fragile almost as ironic as it is. "Yes, pl-please, feels so go-good."

He doesn't last long and you don't know if it's from all the teasing you've administered or from how long he's been worked up for.

But you rather like the thought of him being sensitive enough that your voice and a few strokes is enough to bring him to the edge.

To have him pulsing in your hand while his arms wrap around your shoulders, blunt nails scraping into you skin as his hips thrust with reckless abandon.

His body quivering with pleasure as your hand forms a loose hole for him to fuck into, your thumb playing with the sensitive head of his dick.

"Please, please I need it, need it so bad," And he has no right sounding this good, looking this good while fucking into your hand like a goddamn dog. "Need it more than anything."

He always has been one for dramatics.

His head falls back against the wall, throat bobbing with the moan deep in his throat, fuck how the marks of your teeth stand out on the pale skin of his neck. Your lips permanent on his body for now, forever maybe if he'll let you keep replacing them.

"Fuck, Satoru," You free hand threads through his head, pushing his lips to meet yours, messy and slopping as he arches against you, hips thrusting erratically to match your pace. Keening when you nip at him, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, nails scratching at his scalp sending tingles down every part of his body.

He breaks away with a gasp and a cry when and only when he absolutely has to, eyes shining and chest heaving with breaths to fill his burning lungs.

And he's crying. And he's beautiful.

More beautiful than anyone or anything you've ever seen in your life.

"Shit, I'm close, m' so fuckin' close-!"

You’re half out of your mind and you couldn’t feel more sane. Like this was meant to happen-like he was meant to be yours. 

"Don' stop, please don't stop," he gasps, like you'd ever think about it, like you'd could even if you wanted to.

“Satoru,” And he shakes.

“Satoru,” And he sobs.

“Satoru,” And he breaks, head falling back as if in prayer, a finger pushing his chin up, clashing against a higher power he didn't think possible.

“My one and only Satoru.” Soft and sweet and just for him and only him. And he’s gone.

Ropes of cum spurt out, rope after rope, covering your hand and the floor. Covering his thighs and his stomach in a mess.

Everything feels fuzzy and his cheeks are pink. A stupid grin crossing his face as he melts, boneless in your arms. "I love you." He mutters, distantly, foggily.

Perhaps somewhere beneath the haze he thinks that maybe you've said the same back. But he isn't quite sure anymore. He needs to be sure.

Slowly, he's lowered onto the floor into a sitting position. The tile is cold against his bare skin but it's okay because you're still caressing him, holding his face in your hand, thumb wiping at his tears.

"You love me right?"

You leave for moment and a whines at the loss of you pressed against him. Even if it's only for a few seconds he feels lonely and empty without your touch.

But then you're back and you're wiping him down with a wet towel, cleaning off his skin so gently, as if he's made of glass of porcelain, like he something to be cherished and taken care of.

"Hey pretty boy, you good?" He recognizes your voice even throughout the cloud in his mind. He nods and you smile and he's melting all over again.

"Do you love me?"

You roll your eyes and for an awful second he thinks that maybe you're going to say no. But then you're pushing the hair off his forehead and kissing him so fucking gently he thinks he'll cry.

"I do love you Satoru."

And his heart is bursting-he swears it is, it's beating so fast and so hard he's absolutely sure that you can hear it and that the quiet laughs escaping your pretty lips is because you can tell how dumbly in love with you he is.

But that doesn't matter.

Because right now he's normal person and you're a normal person and nothing else will matter but the fact that he's your's now.

"I love you too, y'know?" He mumbles.

You kiss him again, and again, and again. On his forehead and his temples, his cheeks and the tip of his nose and each of his eyelids. You kiss everywhere on his face until his lips are pouted out and he lets out a little whine of frustration.

And then you kiss his lips. Barely a peck, too fast and short for his taste but he doesn't have time to complain as you pull him off the floor.

“C’mon pretty boy, let me bring you home.”

“Mmm,” He doesn’t move, boneless against you. “Will you fuck me again?”

You laugh, soft. “Like I’d be able to resist you.”

[still-searching-for-something]

It’s so funny seeing the gentiles gradually distance themselves from the pro-Palestine movement and acting like they’ve been fighting antisemitism all this time. Because, like—

Where did the people who attended “long live the intifada!” rallies go? By any metric, pro Palestinian protests have been becoming less and less attended (see the DNC) and less well received. But the people who used to attend them haven’t vanished. They’re still out there, living their lives. Do you think they’re embarrassed? Ashamed? I doubt it.

The pro Palestine movement has, as it was always going to, alienated potential allies and out purity-politicked their members into radicalism and terrorism. And while I am glad the world seems to be leaning away from them now, I will never trust the goyim again. Their first instinct upon seeing the deadliest pogrom of Jews since the Holocaust was to cheer and celebrate it.

The news uniformly decided the word of a genocidal terrorist organization was more credible than the official press releases of the rules of engagement abiding armed forces of a liberal democracy. Why? Because said liberal democracy was Jewish. The academics decided human rights, feminism, antiracism, and historiographic honesty were useful, until it would have applied to the Jews.

And the world swallowed it up. Eagerly. Like it was cathartic to return to the status quo of the Jews being responsible for the ills of humanity.

And now, the news cycle has moved on to other topics (Biden steps down! Deadpool and Wolverine! Trump Trading Cards!). The pro Palestine movement has attacked everyone who doesn’t traumatize themselves with gore or set themselves ablaze to protest a nonexistent genocide. And shockingly, that doesn’t make people particularly sympathetic to your movement. So, the world’s decided yeah, okay, maybe there was some antisemitism in that pro Palestine movement.

No fucking shit.

We’ve been telling gentiles for the last 10 goddamn months that! I don’t know about you, but I saw that antisemitism on October 8th! And for pointing it out, we were accused of “playing the antisemitism card!” and “defending genocide!” and called “Zionazi scum!” But now, it’s so loud it cant be ignored and they’re deciding to disavow it.

Well, thanks. Thanks for stating the obvious after spending a year attacking Jews in every quarter. Thanks for making us fear for our lives and livelihoods. Thanks for reminding us why we need a Jewish state. And thanks for correcting those of us who were naive enough to think maybe the world wasn’t so antisemitic anymore, that maybe we were accepted and valued members of our countries, universities, companies, and communities.

We won’t forget this. Even when you do, when you deny your role in this, when you delete the celebrations you posted on October 7th, we will remember. Always.

[ma1dita]

buddy system

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he comes with you to rescue your twin brothers, Pollux and Castor. A weekend 'quest' teaches you a lot about Luke, and about yourself too. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: um i cant apologize for this word count and ive been looking at this for too long so fuck. Anyways do yall think Luke felt bad when he found out Castor died in battle because of his army in this universe? just me?? okay :) also trouble gets a cool magic item that makes an appearance here, kinda works like polyjuice but with smoke

(posted 2/7/24 betad by lovely ellie @lixzey might edit again when i get some sleep)

—

“No. You might be my father, but you’re crazy, man!”

You’re standing in D’s office at the Big House, and what was supposed to be a short talk before the counselors’ meeting has turned into a full-blown argument. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the words leaving your godrent’s mouth.

You’re going to pick up your little brothers.

“Those two statements are both true, kid. You’re old enough to understand that!”

They need your help.

“You’re really letting your 16-year-old daughter drive down to Florida by herself to pick up some kids she’s never met? Won’t even send me with any quest companions, or like, Grover?” you say exasperatedly, before slumping down into a seat.

“Think of it as family bonding! They’re great from what I remember. You all need to get along anyway.”

Whether it was jealousy or the sudden urge to be petty, you impulsively grab your dad’s Diet Coke and chug it, crushing the can with your fist as a tiny act of rebellion. 

Another one appears on the desk and you chuck it over your shoulder. Mr. D sighs as he conjures another one, to which you do the same thing.

“I can do this all day, kid.”

“So can I, and you know if I do, we’ll be sitting here until I’m 40,” you say expectantly, tapping your fingers on the hardwood surface of his desk.

“What do you want?”

The keys to his car are a start, as well as extra pocket money—but there was something, or rather, someone missing to make sure this weekend goes as smoothly as possible.

Your smirk widens at your father, and he wonders when you’ve gotten good at playing his own game.

It’s like looking into a mirror but his worst nightmare manifested as a teenage girl.

—

There are only two things Luke can think about when he hears the sound of your laughter.

The first is that, unlike your angelic singing that could rival the Muses, your laughter takes after the sound of a maniac, an incredulous crescendo that only something curated by Hades in the deepest pits of Tartarus could produce. It was almost madness-inducing, and it went off in his brain like you were a siren (although he means the kind used for weather advisory, he too gets lured in by your laughter each time he hears it like a sailor lost at sea).

Second, as he watches you storm down the lawn of the Big House, your anger brewing something comparable to a Category 5, he raises an eyebrow and thinks, well this ought to be good. Or entertaining at the very least.

“You,” you growl at him, guttural and sharp like the finger you jab into his chest, “we’re going on a quest!”

“Me?” Luke blurts, eyebrows furrowing at you.

A loud groan echoes through the grassy space between the house and the counselors as everyone looks up to see Mr. D dragging his hands down his face at the sheer thought of his daughter causing him more gray hairs. 

“That’s not what we agreed on, kid!” “If you want any of your children to come back to this hellhole in one piece I need backup!” “There’s more of you?”

Both you and your dad glare at Luke now, like he’s interrupting a private conversation.

“Since when do you like asking for help, princess?” 

Mr. D’s arms are crossed over his chest as he speaks to you. Though your height severely differs due to the wooden steps of the Big House, the air is palpable with fear only an Olympian could invoke, reminding the counselors that the man wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt known to humankind, is in fact inhuman. You, however, are standing tall in the freshly-cut grass in your combat boots with wrath that could rival Ares’ as you stare your father down like the rest of them wouldn’t get struck into the next lifetime due to your impertinence, as Annabeth loves to call it. She looks up at Luke, with her eyes conveying that she thinks you must be clinically insane, but he knows that already, so he shrugs.

“I’m not asking for it, I’m demanding it. Besides, he’s like my ESA,” you say, then taking Luke by surprise as you grab him by the wrist and drag him off the front lawn. You think you can hear Beckendorf and Clarisse bite back chuckles.

“Someone tell Rodriguez he’s in charge of 11!” you yell into the air, and words of affirmation and good luck are muttered in response.

“Don’t I get a say in this, Trouble?” Luke says playfully, tugging at your arm lightly but unresisting as you sigh and pull him along. Who in their right mind says no to a long weekend away from this place? Monsters and demigods be damned.

“No. Besides, they’re gonna need more luck than we do.”

“Liam, I don’t know why she trusts you, but if my daughter dies, I’ll make sure you’re next!” Mr. D yells out to your retreating figures, and all of the counselors turn to face him realizing that without you, well… that means he actually has to be in charge.

“So what’s the meeting supposed to be about, Annabelle?” Mr. D says, looking at Annabeth only knowing that she’s supposed to be the smart one—and the small girl sighs.

This is gonna be the longest weekend yet.

—

You’re speeding down I-95 with the windows down and the wind brushing through both of your hair. While Luke watches you from the passenger seat with road signs blurring past his periphery, he also notices that it’s the first time in a while that he’s seen you this carefree. Both of you took up counselor positions a few months ago, and your dad appointed you to be in charge of all of them (because why have a counselor for a population of one), so there’s a lot about you that’s grown up in the two years you two have known each other. But what type of demigod gets to enjoy their childhood anyway, right? Luke can only remember bits and pieces of his.

“How do you even know where we’re going? I can barely read the signs,” he asks.

“Cool blessing from my stepmom. Ariadne’s chill. We talk sometimes and she likes that I keep D in check, so now I can never get lost,” you grin toothily, violet eyes flickering to meet his.

“Was it true what your dad said? That you trust me?”

His voice is a bit louder than it should be over the wind tunnel that blocks out the sound of the radio as the air whips in and out of the car.

“Well, I wouldn't say trust,” you drag out, leaning back against your seat with your eyes still on the road, “More like if I got abducted by a harpy, I think you could cut its wings off and give me a fighting chance at living.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite Mason to come,” he mumbles, and you smirk, pretending not to hear.

“Who?”

His hands are clenched in his lap as a blush brushes his cheeks, windswept in the rays of the late summer sun.

“Your boyfriend. Wouldn’t he be a better companion?” 

Something about the older son of Apollo always ground his gears. It was even worse that you both would sing Broadway musicals together during his sparring sessions. Your harmonious voices echoing from the amphitheater aside, the repetitive grating feeling in his stomach reminds him not to go see Hamilton if he ever makes it out to the city.

“He’s not…” you huff, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you think hard on what to say next, “He’s nothing serious.” You pull the sun visor down as you squint, tilting your head in case he says something else, but you hear nothing. Luke’s staring at your side profile, unable to hide his grin at the new information, biting his cheek.

“Besides, he’s a fucking terrible shot. And you’re supposed to be the best, so I’ve heard. Who else would I want on this trip with me?”

He chuckles at this lightly, your words bolstering his ego.

“So you’ve heard.”

And for a second, the sight of his smile distracts you enough that the car swerves a tiny bit closer to the median. You both ignore it and keep driving.

—

Hypnos increases his hold on your senses as you finally take a break somewhere in North Carolina, taking refuge in a dimly lit corner of a gas station parking lot. The old car reeks of greasy fast food and all the sugar Luke could get his hands on at rest stops (it was really cute to see him indulge in more normal things like sweets instead of swordsmanship), and both of your seats are leaned back, but it’s hard to get comfortable after having your butt in the same seat for several hours.

You readjust yourself again, making the car shake a bit as you turn over to face Luke. 

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles through closed eyes. His head’s banged against the window one too many times, and it was starting to get annoying.

“Sorry. Just can’t sleep. Thinking too hard.”

He sighs, reaching over to toss your pillow into the backseat, and as you sit up, he rips your blanket off of you too.

“Hey!”

You go silent when you watch him make a makeshift bed for you, turning back with tired eyes as he gestures, “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“I feel bad, Luke. You’re taller than me and your knees almost hit the dashboard.”

He rubs at his eyes, looking at you impatiently, and you know his body is calling for comfort too.

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, you gotta remember that, Trouble.” The stories Annie used to tell you about the both of them sleeping on the streets pull at your heart, and as you crawl towards the back, you move before you think rationally–tugging on his arm.

“Come on over here.”

“You sure?” “Before I change my mind, yeah.”

You both move around trying to find a place both of you can be comfortable in, first starting with your heads at opposite windows, legs tangling in the middle before he laughs a little too hard at your fumbling and you launch your pillow at his face. Awkwardly, you climb over his legs into his outstretched arms, slotting yourself against his side as he pulls your hair up from getting trapped between his shoulder and your back.

It’s deadly quiet, and Luke thinks if you could move any closer to him, you might hear his heart thundering in his chest.

“You smell like french fries,” you grumble into his sweater, and his laughter shakes you like an earthquake, uprooting the faint traces of sleep in your mind. 

“At least the monsters won’t find us. Gonna be harder when the twins get here. A lot of demigod smell to ward off.”

You don’t answer, and he thinks you may have fallen asleep until he notices your hand playing with the frays of his sweater.

“Trouble?”

“They’re really little,” you mumble, so low that he barely hears the hesitance in your voice.

“The monsters? Yeah, I fucking ho–” “Pollux and Castor. My…half-siblings, with really Greek names, and a mom that depends on me getting them to camp safely…” you trail off before your head jerks up to meet his eyes. It’s colder at night now, your bodies and the tiny throw blanket from your trunk providing ample heat even if his socked feet fight their way out from underneath.

“How old are they, nine?” He feels you nod against his chest before he continues, “I was nine when I left home.”

Your eyes get glassy at the thought of a smaller version of Luke, one who’s not all gangly legs and lean muscle—one much softer and innocent than the boy you lean your weight upon, running away from home to find a place he can belong. 

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, the arm propped against the headrest wrapping around you and resting on your hip, tapping you to continue your previous thought.

“I don’t know how to do this, I guess. I’m ripping them from their home and I—” “You’re not some kind of monster y’know? You put yourself down too much sometimes,” he sighs, and he watches the windows slowly start to fog up, “What don’t you know how to do?”

Ignoring his question, you change the subject hoping to talk about something lighter, and far less revealing to the thoughts inside your head.

“Do you remember all of that? Going to school and chalking up the sidewalks on the way home, hopscotch and ice cream trucks… I don’t want to take them away from that.”

Luke ponders, digging through his brain for anything happy from his childhood, but through the years his memories started to collect dust in the back of his mind.

“I don’t remember much.”

“Gods, I’m sorry…” 

Mason had told you of your habit of putting your foot in your mouth. You dealt in extremes, giving too much or too little, always saying the wrong thing—and it was the reason why things didn’t go further with the son of Apollo. As well as with the daughter of Aphrodite you saw briefly that told you you didn’t know how to love, not if you didn’t know how to share yourself with others (yeah that one hurt a lot).

Sharing. 

That’s what you’re hesitant about.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago now,” Luke mumbles, a beat of silence passing before he redirects the conversation like you did, “What don’t you know how to do, Trouble?”

“How to share. Be a sibling. Someone likeable, I guess.”

Luke doesn’t mean to laugh at your expense, but he does, and you punch his stomach hard enough he gasps for air.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone likes you.”

“Everyone’s usually scared of me because of D, or hates me because I take dessert privileges and write them up,” you say matter-of-factly, staring out the window above his head at the gentle shine of the moon on his features. It’s a crime for him to look so soft under the low light, and you realize you’re staring when he calls your name.

“No, you don’t get it—you’re the most selfless person I know. You give up sleep to sing to kids before bed, conjure juice boxes so they don’t pass out during training—I’ve seen you carry a kid almost as tall as you across camp because they broke their ankle. You’ve got a lot of love in that twisted heart of yours. I’d know… I mean—I have to share a lot… so I’m basically an expert.”

You blink at him as if seeing him in a new light, and you realize then why you picked him to go on this weekend quest with you. Your heartbeat slows despite the show of vulnerability in front of him, and you understand now that Luke makes you feel safe. Biting your lip to hold back a sigh, you decide to just unload the rest of your thoughts, knowing that you’re in the hands of someone who wants to hold the weight. “I’m just used to being alone, I think. I mean who knows what we're like when we're alone but us, right? What a terrifying thought,” you deflect, and Luke closely watches the slope of your nose, down to the smoothness of your lips, unable to put the right words to how he’s feeling.

 I know you, he thinks, and it's not as all bad as you make it seem.

“We’re never truly alone, y’know. Besides, even if you are, you still have me,” he says nonchalantly, and the warmth on your cheeks could generate enough heat to run the car for miles. Chuckling lightly as your eyes flutter closed, you know you need to rest before morning comes since you’re the only one between the two of you that can drive.

You reckon you’ll teach Luke by the end of the year if he wants to.

“We’re getting pretty terrible at this enemies thing, Castellan,” you jest with nothing hard to back it, and a smile falls onto both of your lips.

“We were never really enemies, Trouble. I just like getting on your nerves.”

Your laughs fall silent, settling into a comfortable silence, until his next words send you off into slumber as you listen.

“I remember my mom singing in the kitchen as she put peanut butter on my sandwiches. She'd act like she left the dishes out for me to wash, but let me lick the knife clean every time and I’d put too much soap and the sink would be filled with bubbles. I don't remember much else but that. Her kitchen. She smelled like…chamomile.”

A wandering hand pulls his free one into yours, holding it until sunrise.

—

You push Pollux and Castor out the door before the sun rises after a short stay at their mother’s house, and as the engine heats up, you and Luke watch them say goodbye to her with the both of you thinking of last words with your own. You ward off the hellhounds biting off at your heels for a few hours like how you deceived the police the day previous, with a purple Zippo lighter in hand (the smoke grants temporary illusions through any space you blow it into, and it smells like grapes---thanks D!). The kids sleep most of the way, none the wiser and heavy with sleep and their emotions of leaving everything they’ve ever known. Your eyes flicker to their sleeping heads in the rearview mirror every so often, ready to take them home.

Hours later, Luke decides to make you stop at a diner to get you a bit of rest, get actual food, and let the twins pee, and your head is bobbing slightly in front of your plate of food once he brings them back from the bathroom.

“You wash your hands?” you say tiredly, both Pollux and Castor shaking wet hands in your face in response, making you giggle before sipping at your coffee. Luke cut you off from Redbull yesterday, saying he was scared for your liver and saying you needed to drink something else for a bit. He bristles at the sight of you drinking more caffeine, and you smile as the mug touches your lips.

“You’re gonna kill yourself one day. At least your dad drinks Diet Coke.”

“Not by choice, though what a way to go!” you joke, and the twins giggle as the both of them gulp down root beer like it’s essential to their being. Luke sighs at the idea of you having two minions under your belt, who you’ll most definitely train to raise hell on Camp Half-Blood now that you’ve taken more of the administrative side of things.

“Is he your boyfriend, sissy?” Pollux, or maybe it’s Castor pipes up, swinging his legs under the table and you smile at the sound of the nickname, noticing the dimple in his cheek. Luke chokes on his burger, coughing until you elbow him.

“He’s more of my ESA,” you remark, and he still doesn’t know what that is, so he raises an eyebrow like your brothers do as they peer up at you from across the table.

“What’s an ESA?” Castor, you realize, who has no dimples, spits out behind munches of a pickle.

“Luke’s my emotional support animal.”

He eats the rest of your fries despite your confidence in that response, grumbling exactly how a resistant dog would.

As you’re paying the bill, a large shadow looms over the sunny disposition of everyone at your table—and then Luke shouts for everyone to cover their eyes. Glass shatters over you, revealing a hellhound the size of a minivan, and it pounces toward the twins, large teeth bared at their throats. Before Luke can pull his sword out, you whistle sharply and the sound whizzes through the air like a bullet as you toss the Zippo lighter at him as he’s pushing the kids to the car. Though he’s reluctant to lose sight of you, he covers them with an illusion, locking the doors despite their cries running headfirst back into battle and towards to you, with your thyrsus and him with his sword, back to back.

“They okay?” you heave, jabbing at the red-eyed canine between the eyes as Luke pulls around to slash it across the neck, coming out of the tussle unscathed as you both watch it keel over at your feet into golden dust minutes later.

“Yeah. Are you?”

Though you originally found it funny, Luke does perform his job well, getting you to calm down as he holds you to his chest until you can breathe normally again.

“Mhm. Just scared me.”

The two of you run out of the destroyed diner and into the warded-off car before the police show up, hand in hand as you escape without detection. As he falls asleep, Castor dreams that you two are Bonnie and Clyde like in an old Western movie he was definitely not old enough to watch.

—

You’re finally back on the Island now, only an hour away from Montauk and Luke is getting restless in the passenger seat. He pulls apples out of his backpack, wiping them off with his shirt as you sing along to a Taylor Swift song playing on the radio.

And maybe someday when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about…. Foolish one… you hum, tapping the wheel to fight off your exhaustion.

Pollux and Castor are using their fingers to pretend to hop over obstacles in the smudged windows, babbling about something they did in class last week. The son of Hermes pulls out a pocketknife he nicked from a gas station this morning as he starts to cut the apples into pieces, putting some into a ziploc bag for the boys to share, and you smile at him, wistful at your trip nearing its finish line. If you weren’t enemies before this like he said, it’s crazy to consider him your closest friend.

But he is, isn’t he?

His knuckles nudge yours over the console, pressing an apple slice into your palm.

“You know, Castellan, you’re sweet when you want to be. Shame you and that sister of Annie’s didn’t work out.”

Luke scoffs at the reminder of his ex, slicing another piece off for you to eat. She did say he had wandering eyes…always looking for you. He’s not going to admit that though.

“I just know you like your apples cut. Saw you battling it out with a butter knife last week. Couldn’t help but notice,” he says lowly like it’s normal for people to be that considerate about others, normal for him to care about you like that, a constant push and pull between you two. 

“Hurts my teeth,” you mutter, and Luke chortles like you’ve told him something life-changing. Your hand bumps into his again, feeling nothing but his calloused fingers, and when you look up his cheek protrudes with the last slice.

“Tax,” he winks, and you’re delirious with this feeling that only he can bring you, almost comparable to being high.

The popstar’s voice continues to trill in the background, with my head in my hands, saying “How could I not see the signs?”

You both don’t realize you’ve stopped singing until Pollux pipes up asking for you to play Fireball by Mr. 305 himself.

—

The car finally pulls into the driveway of the forest path and you’re all greeted by the campers holding blazing lanterns. Chiron, your father, and the nymphs are waving as the twins marvel at the fairy lights strung up along the way for a warm welcome.

“You’re alive,” your dad remarks, and this time he doesn’t say it in jest, sounding more relieved.

“I was in good hands,” you affirm, looking up at Luke amongst the noise of your cheering friends and the feeling that comes with calling this place home.

The boys are tucked in at your side, shyly looking at the crowd, Pollux holding your hand while Castor holds onto Luke’s, and Chiron calls your attention.

“I know you didn’t get your official announcement,” he starts, and you laugh at that, remembering the bubbles in the lake.

“Because I pulled a fast one on D.”

“Nonetheless, I would love for you to get recognized for your efforts. Dionysus. Storyteller, Herald of Chaos,” he continues by announcing your name, and then,” Pollux, and Castor– children of the grapevine, the God of Wine!”

The campers are kneeling and you look at Luke, who’s smiling from the ground beside you.

“Take a picture, Trouble, it’ll last longer.”

“My children are home safe. And thank you, Castellan, for being a formidable companion. My deepest appreciation.” Mr. D sounds serious for once, pulling Luke up as he nods in respect.

It’s a crazy feeling to finally feel at home though you’ve been here for two years now. But you remind yourself quickly of why that is when you see Luke carrying Pollux on his shoulders as Castor latches onto his legs.

“You know, your family is a nightmare. You two hellions will fit right in,” he grins.

You can’t help but agree.

—

“I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes. I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed.” -Nizar Qabbani

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[flwrkisses]

bf! jungwon.

first post of 2024! and this just so happens to be the end of my boyfriend enhypen series! thank you for showing it so much love! hope you all enjoy!

genre: fluff. established relationship. idol x reader!

warnings: mentions of arguments and skinship such as kissing and etc.

heeseung. jay. jake. sunghoon. sunoo. jungwon. ni-ki.

- jungwon is so best friends to lovers coded. it's written all over his being. i see it happening so perfectly.

- at first every thing is soooo platonic. going out to lunch, studying together, going bike riding, everything as friends until one day you get tired of him not understanding the multitude of hints you're throwing at him. so, you end up confessing.

- to be honest he's a little confused at first, because how could he miss the fact that you liked him ?? especially all this time?? luckily, he didn't have to think about it much and told you he'd be your boyfriend right then and there. he didn't see too much of a difference from what you guys were doing before. but now he had kissing privileges.

- you guys are almost always on facetime with eachother, like almost everyday talking for hours. sometimes you both fall asleep while in the phone and other times he ends the call with a loud kissy noise to let you know he loves you.

- jungwon is someone who likes to take interest in things you like or enjoy. if it's a show he'd watch it, book, he'd read it, or game he'd play it just so he's able to relate to you and spend time with you doing something you enjoy doing.

- his love languages are so clear, he cant help but express them. they cone to him naturally like, acts of service, quality time, and physical touch.

- when he's away on tour you guys are almost always on facetime. before bed he needs to hear your voice regardless of the timezone. most times you guys both fall asleep on the phone and have facetime calls that last anywhere from 5 minutes to 16 hours.

- without thinking he shares his food with you. most times he's mindlessly talking or scrolling through his phone as he offers you a bite of his food from his chopsticks.

- jungwon listens to any and all issues and concerns you may have in that pretty little brain of yours. sometimes he asks you if you want advice, solutions, or just someone to listen regardless of what he thinks.

- sometimes when he's in a playful mood he'd hide your things, that he knows you need. like a straw to a reuseable cup, your computer mouse, your favorite mug, maybe even a shoe. he does it just to see how long it would take you to notice he had it. plus watching you freak out and look for your lost item made him laugh.

- he likes to pretend to trip you. he purposely sticks his foot out only to move it away at the last second. sometimes he does actually trip youto which he laughs and helps you up.

- jealousy is his middle name. regardless of who you're attracted to he's always tentative and reading body language around you. he's not worried about you, he's worried about others getting too friendly with you, but he'd never tell you that.

- if you get sick he'd playfully scold you and make sure you have what you need to get better. like meds, soup, water. he's not exactly sure how to take care of you but, the best he can do is make sure you're taking your meds on time and drinking water.

- he remembers ever little detail you've shared about yourself with him. he plays coy most of the time, but when you have specific orders for foods or drinks he some how always brings you things exactly as you ask for it.

- if you dig deep into his phone you'll find the note he made on his notes app when you guys first started dating with all the things you like and all the things you dont and maybe even your usual fast food orders.

- jungwon's your biggest fan. number 1 supporter. he would cheer for you even if no one else is. he loves you so much everything you do is golden in his eyes.

- with that, jungwon loves seeing you supporting him. you guys are so supportive of eachother. he feels like seeing you the audience energizes him because he wants you to be proud and have something to brag about.

- saying "i love you" came so natural to him. he probably said it one night about 3 months into your relationship. it was kinda shocking and honestly even took him by suprise. but it was just so easy.

- your phone is always being blown up with his texts. he sends you everything and anything. he loves texting you. good morning texts, good night texts,bored daily selfies. you get it all.

- his phone is full of pictures of you, most of them off guard or blurry. and everytime you see them you tell him to delete it because you think you look bad. but he thinks theres no bad pictures of you.

- jungwon's the type to look over at your over your shoulder at your phone. not because he doesn't trust you, but usually because his eyes just happen to land there if you guys are together. to be annoying he sometimes taps the screen to mess what ever you're doing up and get your attention.

- without you having to ask, jungwon brings you your favorite snacks everytime you both hang out. he just always brings things, and they all happen to be your favorites.

- if you're looking for something under a table or cabinet he puts a hand over the edge so you don't hit your head against the hard surface while getting up.

- he loves nights where you both can just chill out and watch movies. you guys obligatory monthly movie marathon nights with popcorn and candy.

- jungwon is always planning dates. he loves coming up with fun and creative ways to spend time together so its not all repetitive and expected.

- to make sure he has time with you, he designates a day in the week for it to be date night. something like every thursday. if he's on tour on your date night we would take time out of his day to have a virtual date playing video games or watching a movie together online while still on facetime.

- arguments with jungwon are very rare. he's usually so understanding and tends to see your side in conversations. he also articulates and expresses his feelings really well when he feels like he must.

- obviously he would never admit it, but jungwon lives to see you in his clothes. infact, you both trade and share clothes often and he lives for it.

- he rests his head on yours all the time. it's always iust you and him. cheek to cheek. its a simple act of affection.

- you always try to poke his dimple everytime it pops out and he has successfully turned his head fast enough to bite your finger before you could.

- skinship is something you get a lot of with him. especially in private. sometimes it's usual sweet things like kisses and cuddles and other times it's him playfully tackling you onto the couch. its almost like he's glued to you.

- sometimes he shows you tiktok trends couples are doing all over his fyp and begs you to make a tiktok with him because it would be cute. he can't help but post it and make everyone jealous about your relationship.

- you guys have a shared playlist on a music app that allows you both to just dump songs into it. you guys listen to the playlist when you hang out all the time. some songs are ones he likes, others you like, and some you both love. at this point the playlist has over 200 songs you both just love listening to.

- he tries to be crafty and cute for you. key word is tries. he wants to make you sweet handmade cards or a mug in a pottery class. they're not terrible and you obviously keep each thing he hand makes you. he knows you love him if you're keeping the lopsided hello kitty mug he painted for you.

- you hardly ever need to verbally tell him you need something because he observes and knows when you run low of things you use daily and just buys you things like that. your favorite perfume is low? he got you a new one. your fabric softener is out? he got you more. he ate the last bowl of clyour favorite cereal? he's replacing it with a whole new box.

- expect him to keep every little thing you give or gift him. you see the little stickers you give him on the back of his phone or on his laptop, the scrunchies you leave at his house are around his wrist incase either of you needs them, and the weird little blind bag figures you get him are neatly placed on his desk for him to see everyday.

- he usually calls you by your name because part of him thinks pet names are cringe. if he's feeling funny he'll probably call you something like "booger" or "bun head" out of love.

- for some reason valentine's day means a lot to him, so he goes full on out every year and thinks on ways to out do himself in the next year.

- loves stay at home dates where you both just enjoy eachother's company. maybe do a facemask, maybe cook some ramen, and maybe you sleep over. it's just perfect.

- overall, jungwon is such a sweet, caring and orotective boyfriend. i think he's the most boyfriend material out of the whole group!

©flwrkisses ; please do not copy, translate, repost and/or reuse my work without my permission. (2023)

masterlist. — requests are open!

[patnpran]

It's so funny to see people try to process Zac Oyama's whole vibe and style.

On one hand, you have the people who thinks Zac is so underrated and underappreciated. His whole silent and chill energy certainly adds to that perception. He always seems in tune to what the scene needs and elevates every scene he's in without needing to be flashy or center of attention but also constantly figures out where the plot is going. He tends to hide in the background until he has something hilarious and relevant to say.

I think that's what people are picking up on because every so often, he does his stuff as usual, and people remember how amazing he is and then you see another reddit post of Zac appreciation and how underrated he is and hey, I agree and i think everyone should be singing him praises more so im not complaining.

On the other hand, i feel like he is, and was, always one of the fan favorites. I remember them saying the compilation of Gorgug asking if people are his dad is the first viral dimension 20 thing. I wonder if there are even people here who doesnt love Zac Oyama. There is never a lack of love for him and his characters in the comments. Even in the College Humor skit era, people are always on the comments saying how funny and attractive they think he is.

I also feel like even the people on the table with him also love him and even mention in the early stuff that he's also a crew favorite. Even Matt, Aabria and Anjhali seem to be enjoying him a lot this season and I think it's the first time they play with him.

Anyway the bottomline here is that Zac is just a charismatic mf who has his way of stealthily stealing your heart and staying in your mind and I love him and yeah everyone should be appreciating and talking about him more because i cant be normal about him either.

[lighthouseshepard]

felt inspired by this insanely gorgeous piece of art that i cant get out of my head by @mikonez and my hand slipped (posting it here with their permission! ❤️)

"John?" Arthur murmurs, cracking one eye slowly open. "Is that you?"

Among the haze of his vision, a blend of shifting shadows and points of flickering light like radio static made tangible, he barely makes out the figure standing at the edge of the bed. If he had half a mind more than what he currently possessed, the sight might have set his nerves on edge. As it stood, fighting against the dredges of sleep which sought to keep him under, the familiar silhouette was nothing but a cause for another kind of concern.

"John?" he asks a second time. With a mumbled groan he picks his head up off the pillow, straining to see. "Are you alright?"

The figure shifts. John steps up to the side of the bed, walking through the wide beam of moonlight piercing soft and silver through the windowpane. In its gentle illumination the long, silken strands of black hair falling across his shoulders and down his back seemed to hold a faint glow.

"Hi, Arthur," he says quietly, uncharacteristically subdued. "Did I wake you?"

Even after a week of hearing that voice aloud he couldn't get used to it. The distinct and velvety rumble of John's words was stronger outside of his own head. Kinder somehow, too. Though they no longer carried the undercurrent of an echo, something of the god remained when he spoke.

"Hmm? No, no, you didn't." Arthur holds back a yawn. "I think I was dreaming."

"Oh?" 

John drifts closer. The pajama pants and shirt they'd bought for him fit loosely on his new frame, creating the image of a man slouching uncertainly. Arthur couldn't tell if he truly was hunched or not, all six feet and more of him trying to appear as small as possible.

"What were you dreaming about?"

"Honestly? I don't remember. A field of flowers, maybe. Something golden." Lifting his head further, he squints. "John, are you okay?"

Expressions on his face were surprisingly easy to read. Before they separated John theorized that he'd need to learn how to show emotion, that it wouldn't come naturally after getting his own body. His worry eventually fizzled into frustration when the opposite became true - every feeling, every fleeting thought, any inkling of desire was visible on his face from day one. He couldn't hide anything no matter how hard he tried. A lack of poker face, Arthur told him, but he failed to see how a card game came into play.

"I'm fine." He shrugs. "Couldn't sleep."

"Again?" At this Arthur props himself up on one elbow, both eyes focusing fully. "This is the third night you’ve woken up. You're not too cold, are you?"

"I don't... think so?" John replies, frowning. "I don't feel cold, anyway. If anything I'm itchy."

A flash of amusement shines in Arthur's tired smile. "I imagine clothes are going to take some getting used to, yes."

"That’s an understatement," John grumbles. He picks absently at the hem of his shirt. "I don't see why these are necessary."

"Because it's freezing outside and in, and you'll likely catch a cold without them. Plus-"

He waves him off. "I know. Societal conventions. Whatever. You're not wearing a shirt, I might add," he points out stubbornly.

"That's because I'm never cold."

"Do you even have a blanket?"

Arthur gazes up at him pointedly. "John, what's on your mind?"

Rubbing one arm with his hand, he glances down at his bare feet. Ten new fingers, ten toes. Entirely too many to deal with on top of everything else. "Like I said. I couldn't sleep."

"Right," Arthur says empathetically. His smile begins to dwindle, lips pulling downward. "I can't imagine it's an easy task, John. You are learning how to for the first time, essentially."

"Yeah, well," he huffs. "Instead of getting easier it's slipping further away from me."

"Are you still having those dreams?"

"I wouldn't call them dreams, Arthur." More along the lines of nightmares.”

"Right," Arthur repeats, mumbling. "No, of course not."

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, studying what he could of John in the moonlight. Although his sight had yet to return fully, the slow progress was enough of a lifeline to keep him at ease, for now. Neither could have predicted how the ritual would turn out, and for them to both emerge alive, first and foremost, was an odd little cosmic blessing in itself.

After a week John was still adjusting. Arthur didn't blame him in the slightest, but the empathy he felt for his situation wasn't always well received. John, so far at least, tended to misconstrue it as pity regardless of how many assurances he was given. 

As Arthur gazes up at him, he notes two things: among the frustration worrying a crease into his brow, another more poignant emotion lingered underneath, so far removed from what shape he knew longing to take that it swung all the way back around into desperation; and John, arms now crossed along his torso, was shivering.

"John, you're - come here," Arthur says without a second thought. "Take my blanket, take something. Where's yours?"

"In the other room." Hesitantly he sits on the edge of the bed. A body still so weak from all it had endured made for difficult navigation. Muscles and limbs he was figuring out how to control never seemed to want to bend easily to his will.

"Why didn't you bring it with you? You’re clearly freezing."

"I don't know, I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to be near you."

"Oh."

In the silver tinted darkness, he reaches out a hand. At the touch on his arm John startles, glancing down. He doesn’t pull away.

"Listen, John," Arthur says quietly, "why don't you just stay here tonight?"

"What?"

"Stay here with me. There's plenty of room. You're tall, yes, but you aren't going to fall off the end. It might... help, that's all. And-"

He swallows. "Truthfully, I miss you over there."

The offer doesn't sit so much as float between them, a gauzy, gentle thing. John studies Arthur's face, all his various scars, the hint of gold in his gaze now subtler for his absence. How peculiar for those features he knew better than the ones he had now to be reversed, no longer viewed from behind a mirror’s reflection.

"Okay," he says simply.

John leans forward, stretching out over him. Wide eyes follow his movements, lips parted slightly in a question Arthur couldn't quite get out, but he doesn't dare move. Long legs straddle just below his waist, forcing his head back down onto the pillow. Sections of silken hair slip forward off John's shoulders as he comes into view, hovering over Arthur with a kind of familiarity and trust that leaves them both a little breathless. One hand cradles his cheek, and Arthur feels his own slip unthinkingly beneath the fabric of John's shirt to splay steadily along the warmth of his stomach.

"Hey," Arthur whispers, smiling. "When I said stay here, I didn't mean on top of me."

"You didn't tell me not to, though," John hums. A thumb brushes across Arthur's jaw. "You're warm."

"And suffocating.” 

“Mm. Do you want me to move?’

 Breath not his own whispers against his mouth. Their faces were only inches apart. It would be so easy to kiss him now, he thinks, repeat the way they’d all but crashed against each other upon coming out from that ritual weak and coughing but alive, not thinking anything save for the gratitude they couldn't figure out how else to express.

They hadn't talked about it afterwards, too focused on the everything which came after. Arthur wonders if he would taste any differently fresh out of a bad dream, settled somewhat into new limbs. He stares up in abstract wonder, hoping one day soon he would be able to see the person above him with enough clarity to fully appreciate what hard won circumstance gave them both. 

“Arthur?” John asks. His voice drops to a low rumble, expression searching and hopeful. Though he looked just as exhausted as Arthur felt, a quiet fire was beginning to brim behind his eyes.

“What?” he stutters out. “Sorry, John.”

“I asked if you wanted me to move.” That caressing hand drifts upwards, brushing through auburn hair mussed from sleep. “Is this okay? I don't want to go back to the other room.”

“No, John, it's - no, wait, don't go!” He grips John’s hip with a force that startles them both when he begins to pull away. “I meant no, you don't have to go back. You can stay here. It's okay,” he adds, pulse a flutter caught in his throat. “It's alright.” 

John exhales in relief. “Thanks. I, um… I fucking hate it, Arthur,” he admits softly. “Not having you next to me, I mean. It doesn't feel right, sleeping alone. Not that sleeping overall feels right, but…”

“Yeah, John,” Arthur sighs, “it doesn't feel the same to me, either.”

“Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you kiss me again?” 

“I - what?”

A body starved for connection from the first moment of its tangible conception lays out along him, chest flush to his own scarred torso. Parts of John felt only in passing were suddenly closer than they ever had been previously: knees on either side of his thighs, a waist he grasped with both hands, arms and elbows and a brief glimpse of collarbone from beneath the shirt slipping off one shoulder. All the indelicate human pieces which comprised someone distinctly inhuman pressed against him, imbued with a fervency reminiscent of an ocean trying to return to the droplet from where it first originated - and it aches.

Arthur answers his question.

It’s nothing like the first, yet still an inkling of similar desperation colors the way their lips meet. They don’t collide so much as come together solidly in the middle, both tilting their heads forward to close the few inches that remained. John’s mouth is warm and firm, his hesitation lasting for only a second, and Arthur kisses him with as much conviction as he can muster without losing himself in the process. His arms move from John’s hips to wrap around his back, pulling him closer still. When they part by necessity for breath alone, each gasping quietly into the dim, Arthur struggles to speak.

“Yeah,” he rasps out. “You can stay, John. I don’t - I don’t want you sleeping anywhere else from now on.”

John grins down at him. “Good,” he says, and leans in anew. 

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Training Part 2

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers type. You and Gibbs never got along, and luckily you never really had to work with each other…until now.

Part 1

It was entirely too early in the morning when you walked through the NCIS squad room with Fornell in front of you.

"Woah. Rough night Agent L/N?" DiNozzo jabbed, instantly pressing all the wrong buttons. You decided to bite your tongue this time and ignore him before seeing an opportunity to get back at him. As he handed some papers to McGee, you swiftly stole his seat and leaned back in it exaggeratively, while sipping on your fresh cup of coffee.

"Ha ha Agent L/N. Now get out of my seat."

"Make me Agent DiNozzo." You stared him down as his colleagues and Fornell watched, wondering what was going to happen next. He chuckled to himself and turned around as Gibbs walked in.

"Gibbs. Tell her to get out of my seat," he practically whined, making you snicker.

"Daddy Gibbs isn't going to help you DiNozzo," you ridiculed, catching the eye of said Agent as he took a seat at his desk. Choosing to give up, DiNozzo went to sit on the edge of Agent Bishop's desk. She didn't look too thrilled about it but didn't say anything.

"So you two interrogated Ramos and got a name, right?" Fornell asked, bringing the conversation to work.

"He's not talking. As soon as we brought up our Petty Officer, he closed up tighter than a clam," McGee answered.

"Let me at him. I'll get him talking," you offered, causing DiNozzo to snort.

"Well if we need you to shoot him, you'll be the first to know," he quipped.

You were about to snap on him but Gibbs saved his ass again by inturrupting.

"Fine. Agent L/N, you're with me. Tobias, Abby will fill you in on evidence findings we collected from the crime scene."

You left DiNozzo's chair and waited as Gibbs grabbed his gun and badge from the desk drawer.

"What about us, boss?" DiNozzo bellyached.

"You keep doing what you were doing DiNozzo. We'll be back."

As you passed the tall Agent, you made sure to give him a small shoulder check, silently laughing to yourself as he made a face. Maybe working with NCIS wasn't so bad. It was definitely entertaining.

- - - -

The drive to the bar you knew Ramos to frequent was quiet as neither one of you had anything to say. You turned the radio on to a pop station but it was shut off by Gibbs, making you huff and send him a glare.

Both you and Gibbs walked into the musty smelling bar and you immediately spotted Ramos sitting at a booth, back to you, drinking a pint of beer.

"What is your plan?" Gibbs asked, stopping you.

"Too do the job that your agents failed to do."

He sighed in annoyance as you led the way, sliding in to take a seat right next to Ramos as Gibbs sat across from him. Before he had a chance to leave, you pulled out your badge and showed him discreetly.

"Hey Ramos. I'm with the FBI and I believe you already know Agent Gibbs."

"I don't know what you plan on asking me that you haven't already. I don't know anything, remember?" he spoke confidently while taking a sip of his drink.

You looked over at Gibbs who just sat there, stoic expression on his face. Scooting in closer to Ramos, you leaned in by his ear as he visibly became uncomfortable.

"Oh I haven't interrogated you yet Ramos. See, Gibbs and his lackeys do it all by the book. Bring you in, sit you down in a room and ask a bunch of questions, then let you go. I prefer the simpler way. You come to this bar every Friday around 5pm, after working at the gas station. You play in their little pool tournament every month, and even have your picture posted up on the wall as champion. No, I'm not going to interrogate you. I'm gonna ask one question and if you cant answer said question, I'm gonna let everyone in this bar know that you're an official informant for the FBI. I could probably bet that there are a few questionable individuals here that would hate to hear that information, don't you think?"

A couple second went by as you waited for him to break. He licked his lips nervously, confidence now completely gone and his eyes looked to Gibbs who just shrugged.

"She doesn't work for me. I can't tell her what to do."

Another few seconds went by and you moved to stand up, but Ramos' hand shot out to stop you.

"Alright, alright. What do you want to know?"

You smirked and gave Agent Gibbs an arrogant wink.

"Tell me everything you know about the death of Petty Officer Killbourne. And please, the more details the better."

- - - -

Once you left the bar and got into the car, Gibbs laid into you.

"That's not the way you should've handled it in there."

"Oh yeah? Because your way was getting us soo far."

"We don't threaten people for answers Agent L/N. You can't be so negligent."

If he thought that was being negligent, he was delusional. You didn't do anything wrong and you actually got a lead on your case, something Gibbs couldn't say the same for himself.

"Negligent?! First of all Gibbs, it wasn't a threat. Second of all, my "negligence" got us a very important lead that will now help us continue our investigation and bring down this asshole. You might not like the way I do things but you're just gonna have to suck it up because I'm here until this is done."

He didn't reply back, but just started the car and drove back to the Navy Yard, you practically jumping out of the car once he parked. In the squad room, you didn't bother waiting for him before debriefing the team on your findings and talking with Fornell about arranging a sting operation. The rest of the day, you stayed as far from the silver haired agent as you could, only giving him one worded answers, if any, when he asked you a question.

He seemed to have the same mindset, acting as if you weren't there, never looking you in the eye, just in your direction. The entire team, including Fornell were uneasy but you weren't backing down.

It wasn't until you found out that Gibbs had his team follow a lead without looping you in that you lost it. The next time you saw him, he was getting into the elevator and you made damn sure to get there before it closed.

He visibly made a face of annoyance once you joined him and the doors shut behind you.

"Why wasn't I or Fornell informed about your team finding another lead?"

"I told Fornell," he answered presumptuously, not looking at you.

"Yeah, after you had McGee and Torres meet with our suspects dealers. Listen, if this is some pissing match to you-

He leaned over, flicking the emergency stop switch, causing the elevator to abruptly stop and closed in on you.

"This is about a dead Marine, Agent L/N. I'm not here to impress anyone, especially the FBI. If you want in on our investigation and leads, than start acting like a Federal Agent and less like an immature probie."

As he had you cornered, you finally saw the look that everyone talked about. The stare that could get even the hardest of criminals spilling the beans. But in that moment, you weren't scared. No, you were turned on.

You glanced away from his burning blue eyes to his lips and back to his eyes.

"And stop doing that," he warned.

"Doing what?"

He took a step closer, successfully trapping you against the wall and leaned in to growl in your ear.

"You know what you're doing Agent. I could feel how needy you were for me in the training room just like how I can feel it now. Do you do this with every agency you work with?"

Your breath got caught in your throat at his words and couldn't help but egg it on. You looked up at him as you let your fingers trail along his beltline, dangerously close to where you really wanted to touch.

"No, just you, funny enough," you whispered.

He reached up and gently grabbed your chin, brushing his thumb across your slightly open bottom lip. Your heart was racing as the tension continued to build.

"This is completely unprofessional," he stated, making you smirk.

"Than do something about it, Agent Gibbs."

He leaned in closer as if to kiss you but stopped and dropped his hand, backing off and flipping the emergency switch back on. You stood up straighter and took a breath, trying not to look like you weren't about to just get fucked in the elevator as Gibbs shifted his stance.

It did nothing to hide the obvious bulge in his pants and you smiled to yourself. Once the elevator doors opened to the Lab floor, you watched as he made a hard left turn for the bathroom as you continued on to Abby.

"Hey Gibbs- Oh, you're not Gibbs," she said, surprised.

"No, but he's right behind me. A little too much coffee I think," you hinted, making her smile.

"Yeah, that makes sense. Well, until he joins us, I'll just go over the new information I gathered about the murder weapon."

You listened to Abby talk and Gibbs joined a few minutes later, standing a bit closer to you than usual.

[factual-fantasy]

31 asks! Thank you! :}} ☯️

Now I'm gonna be totally honest, I DO have a favorite twin and its Ingo <XDD But I also fully understand and support your point!

What makes Ingo and Emmet so fun and interesting to me is their bond! How they mirror each other, how they interact, their strength as a team! Sure separating them for the angst is great an all- but truly showing them together and more importantly as equals is where the good stuffs at!

This is also why I usually try to wrap up their separation arcs in my AUs, and also don't really enjoy reading any Legends Arceus content.. seeing Ingo alone is not only heartbreaking,, but its also just not as fin. Ingo and Emmet are stronger together :)

@sallychaosaura (In response to this post)

Miiiight be a bit too late for that <XDD

@orangesideirrational

Thank you! :D I'm glad :))

Sorry, no can do! <:( Also thank you! :))

(Post in question)

(It was very intentional! :}) He's stressed. 😔

Ugh.. well, thanks for letting me know.. and at least the commenters know I don't consent to reposts..

😔

@thatweirdocryptid

TORPEDO??

@soulful-rodent (Post in question)

Well in-game we was traded to a friend and back so he'd evolve..

Buuuut lore wise, without a trainer..? <:D No idea-

Probably somewhere around 100 <XD

@xtra-collab

Absolutely terrifying! Next question XD

@lost-brain-privileges

No, no, aaaaand poorly, XD I'm doing fiiiiine won't worry! :)

@beeboboingo

AAATHANK YTOU SOMNUCH!!!! :DDDDDDD

I can imagine when he first gained the ability to hide in peoples shadows, he probably gave many people quite a scare without meaning to <XDDD

@cat7890

Thank you! :DD And Their stories are kind'a vague when I take out my trainer..

I'm thinking that somehow, Midori met Gloria in their first evolutions and became friends. Then they found Grim..

later on Midori found Anastasia after she had run away from a battle. She tried to hide but her shiny gold color made that impossible.. Midori took her to Gloria and they took care of her.

Afterwards they met Sylvester..

Beyond that, I don't have any details in mind.. 😅 Sorry!

Typically I prefer horror games/movies, but ONLY when they're being played by or watched by someone else in a YouTube video XDD

Some of those YouTubers being Elvis The Alien and Markiplier! :}}}

@fragmented-ghost (Pokémon Violet team master post)

AAAA I'm so glad you like them! :DD I plan to draw them more at some point, but atm I kind'a got sucked back into the Violet grind XDD I'm just about to beat the main game! :0000

@justanintrovertedweirdo

I have! :DD I like it quite a lot an have drawn some things for it here and there! Though I never got around to completing the game..

Someday I'd like to go back and beat the game. I can imagine I'd jump right into the fandom afterwards if I did XDD

XD Probably!

I don't remember talking about that.. if you had a link to the original post maybe I could remember with context..? <:0

@tallchest13-blog (Post in question)

XDDD I'm glad you like them! :))

XDD All of those titles made me laugh! And I see your point, but I have a few counter points to this ask..

For 1, to keep with the theme, I would want to/have to make this cape IRL in order to add it to my sona. Now if the last 4 quilts have shown me anything? Its that I'm not super great at making quilts <XDD

If it was that challenging to make it on a smaller scale? I cant imagine how much trouble I'd have trying to make a full size one! <XDD Plus buying the materials... having to physically get up, go buy the stuff I need and make it. With these health issues I've been battling, that's not something I wanna do atm.. 😅Not to mention with how hot its been lately, I don't think I need a quilt anyways-

And then lastly- I'd have to draw myself with it every time! I like my sona being a simplistic blob that has minimal colors and not much of a model to keep too. I worry a quilt might take that away.. :(((

XDD I'm glad I'm not the only one who sees the potential! :))

I have a few times here an there. Just to hang out with some friends :)

I mean, I don't know the history between you two... But my advice is to leave them be. If they ghosted you, they probably want space..

@iloveseriess

I altered the story of Welcome Home to make my version of Sally a teenager. So I was thinking she could be bluish-white to look like a young star..? But looking back I don't like the blue.. For story purposes she might stay a teen, but I think I'll keep her yellow <XDD

@anikakitty11

Yoo! :DD She's so colorful! And that black shadowy arm is so spooky.. Does she have a story? 👀👀

(Pixel art tutorial in question)

I'm glad it helped! Happy pixeling!! :}} 👋👋

@minnesotamedic186

XD Don't worry its fiiiiiine!

I've wanted to draw evil Grim and Sylvester again in general, but I don't really have any ideas for them yet.. 😅

[glitterinmyveinss]

Hey er ive never done requests before and I don’t really know how to work tumblr at all so I hope I’m doing this right but anyways I saw your post about wanting someone to request Reese Wilkerson stuff and I just wanted to ask if you could make a post just for headcannons about him? I haven’t seen too many on here and I need them so bad 😭

ofc i can! tysm for requesting and ik a lot of other people sent requests for reese too n i'll get to them soon it's just i have an irl crush rn so the delusions aren't really delusioning apologies <3

Reese Wilkerson Hc's

ok i noticed that in the halloween episode in season 7 i believe he's wearing a misfits shirt !! so i think he would like punk, grunge, pop punk, and nu metal. like misfits, descendants, nirvana, limp bizkit, blink 182, sum 41, sublime, beastie boys, really anything punk related

definitely watches wwe and if you're over you're watching it too

he loves watching his favorite scary movies w you and he loves how you like them too!

if you don't like scary movies he dosent mind either bc that just means you'll be hiding in his arms the whole time so he wins either way

i feel like when he first met you he definitely played a prank on you to get your attention or just annoyed you but once you sorted that all out, you join him on his pranks and he swears he's never liked a girl more

if you're smarter than him and you offer to tutor him he'll only do it under one condition: he gets a kiss everytime he gets something right

might be self projecting but he's def a boob guy.

everyone has this image of him as some psycho tough guy but play with his hair and he'll just melt. especially if you have acrylic nails! his head will be in your lap while you guys are watching tv n you'll be playing with his hair and he'll be as quiet as a mouse and malcolm will just be like "how did you do that."

loves it when you borrow his clothes. especially his hoodies. it just does something to him

tbh i feel like he could go for someone with either a more edgier look ( think avril lavigne or bill kaulitz) or someone with the girly 2000s look ( think britney spears or any of the playboy bunny girls )

once you guys have an established relationship he'll spend all his time with you! at first he wasn't sure if it was ok but now that he knows you really like him he's so happy!

i don't think he's big on pda i think hand holding is as far as hell go but i don't think he minds if you kiss him on the cheek

but once you guys are alone omg

cant keep his hands off you!

he's either super horny or super cuddly no in between

you and him always get stuck babysitting jamie and he'll be doing the most normal thing like putting jamie's shoe on or feeding him and youre just stuck staring at him bc he looks so cute!

dates usually consist of movie marathons, him cooking something for you guys, concerts, theater trips, or something really spontaneous like taking a trip to another city just bc you guys were bored.

walks you to all of your classes <3

malcom n dewey really like you and think you keep reese sane

ties your shoes

if you guys have a class together he's always doodling in your notebook whether it's something cute or raunchy

i think he struggles with self image so he needs a lot of reassurance

if you have pets he somehow has an immediate bond with them. they just love him!

he try's really hard to remember things you like for future gifts/dates

i feel like he gives oddly specific compliments, but he has good intentions

"you smell like a slutty fairy"

"is that supposed to be a good thing?"

"duh."

the same way he secretly loves watching soap operas with his mom, is the same way he loves watching all of your shows. like the oc, dawsons creek, whatever you're into!

he would give the best and most thoughtful homemade gifts. tb to when he gave lois little jars of jam! he'd probally do something similar but according to your taste <3

gets jealous easily

it's hot/ cute tho

memorized all your favorite pastries/baked goods n makes them for you when he's feeling nice/ as an apology if he messes up

[dewffin]

soo... I think I accidentally began to make a Silmarillion Fangame...

For some unknown reason i was like "I wanna make textures :D" but i didn't want to model shit, so i just used VROID studio as a painting book... but then i was like "ummm, i never tried to draw a character an then tried to make it 3D in vroid" so uh-

yeah...

and then i was like "let´s drop this bad boy in Unreal to see how he looks" and because, well, i don't know why i decided to try to make him look a bit 2D? like he was drawn? like doing the complete opposite of what i just did?

so this is what he looked when i began to play with post process stuff

and because i wanted to look around and stuff i added a little guy i had, and it turns out that he was really little and i had to make him a box to take pics of Fëanor's face

Then i did more stuff and i ended up with these cute flowers :D

And then I said fuck it, i think I'm making a game...

So the thing is that doing a game doing a game while being a one person studio is a biiiiiit difficult.

By that i mean i had to try to keep my head leveled in what i could do, so I ended up with this...

Tecilwë's Adventures in Arda

(yeah, i don't have a name for this)

So, you play as Tecilwë, a noldorin journalist that travels around trying to document the best stories of Arda. You can find out what is happening around by talking with people, sneaking around or finding clues. Then, you can write your take on what happens, and depending on what you say, how you say it and what secrets do you keep your reputation as a journalist and your relationship with the different character you find can change for better or worse.

A little bit about Tecilwë...

Q Tecilwë Autanna -  S Tegilu

Tecilwë - The one who writes [tecil “pen”, wë “person”] or as i like to call them "El pibe birome"

Autanna - the lost sign, the fool sign [au “away, lost”, aut “fool”, tanna “sign, token”]

A young lore master from Tirion. Studied under Rumil, and is excited to document all that happens in the course of the story. 

Curious and eager to learn. More often than not ends up in trouble for documenting what was not supposed to be seen.

Tecilwë believes in the power of the word, and on how truth is composed by those who write it.

Not often remembered, wants to be remembered as one of the great lore masters. But the curse of the Noldor runs deep…

Basically a player insert

Y alto chismoso

What i have for now in gameplay is that you can run around a location (and you'll be able to travel to different places, but time passes so, for example, if you leave Aman you cannot go back, or if Gondolin fell then you cant go there). There as i wrote you can talk to people and find out stuff, and all what you find you write in your journal, which you can check to remember what you have seen. With all of that you can unlock new dialogues, and when you get enough information you can end the day and write like a newspaper or magazine. If, for example, you found that gasp Maedhros and Fingon are being two love birds behind a tree, you can write about that in different ways. A- You just say thing as they are. B- You say that is great to see the unity in the House of Finwë. C- Accuse Fingon of corrupting the innocent eldest of Fëanor. D- say nothing about this. With A you get lower relationship points with Russingon for exposing them. B gets you a good realtionship with them, but lower with Fëanor. C gets you a good amount of points with Fëanor, but the other two will hate your guts. And with D, nothing changes, but you can confront them about their relationship and tell them to be more careful if they want to keep it a secret.

Also if you write a lot about gossip stuff you will lose credibility and that is kinda a way to not being remember as the great Lore Master you want to be...

Also i love how FIngon's hair is coming out. This is like a first draft but it was fun to make.

Also this motherfucker is so fucking tall

And this is one of my favourite screenshots from when i had Fëanor as the playable character

(also here is really noticeable that i added lights to their eyes, and it switches form golden to silver light)

In short, a gossip simulator

Also i cannot wait to make the "Who is Gil-Galad's dad" level

Version 0.1.0

Other updates

[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

My Outsiders experience last night!!!

hey y'all sorry for how late i'm posting this 😭😭 i didn't think id be so tired but going to school and then all of that traveling to and from the show last night wore me outtt (slept until almost noon oopsies). i really wanted to post this right after the show when everything was all fresh in my mind but i just could not muster up the energy. that being said if you send any asks about certain things it'll probably revive my memory a little bit so i can give more details about it

anywho here it goes!!

Act 1

have to start off by saying this was suchhh a surreal moment when i sat down in the theater for the first time since ive been obsessed with the outsiders for years and years

one general thing that i will say is that for some reason i expected the stage to be like huge but when i saw how much smaller it was than i imagined it actually made me feel so much closer to the actors and more in the moment which i ended up loving!!!

another general note THERE WAS SO MUCH SPITTING IT CAUGHT ME SO OFF GUARD

when i opened the pamphlet and saw that the only understudy was andre in place of renni for steve and i knew for certain that brody was there,,,,y'all i was freaking out

i was watching the left side of the theater for bordy for like a solid twenty minutes and i almot SCREAMED when i saw him walking down the aisle

the show started almost immediately after that which i didn't expect so it kind of threw me off guard but as soon as it started me and my friend were squeezing ech others hands so hard for like 30 minutes straight (side note my wrist is bruised thats how hard we were doing it)

brodys. vocals. OH MY GOD. i wasnt all that big on brody when i first found out about the musical but m mutuals have in fact swayed me and hearing him live. wow.

him sitting in the audience was so so SO cool

maybe i'm just delusional BUT me and my friend both swore that we saw brent looking right at our section at us during tulsa 67 and my heart started RACING brent i love you

the way the cars come on stage??? is so fucking cool????

did NOT know they dropped his notebook in the water my jaw dropped and the high-pitched ringing when he goes unconscious oh my goddddd

ace's "you wish" while holding her ass was so fucking funny

jason was being so playful with brent!! for the first like ten minutes of the show he was like smacking him with his towel nonstop; also during ggah you could see darry and soda arguing off to the side and darry looked sooo done (i could make a whole post dedicated to brents performance...maybe i will actually) and the way he flipped the bat in his hand was cool as hell; also do one dropped anything during the song!!!

soda and two-bit's little moment during ggah when soda sings "keeping the prettiest one on your arm" had me laughing so hard

runs in the family was so sad :(( but brents vocals were FANTASTIC live. and soda FOLD THE DAMN LAUNDRY!!!! HE GAVE YOU THE LAUNDRY BASKET FOR REASON DONT JUST DROP IT ON THE FLOOR you're making the poor boy upset >:(

jason was being sooo funny when he's on the bed with pony. he kept doing little voices and he was being super sweet too, he was playing with pony's hair and rubbing his shoulders the whole time. "544 FUCKING PAGES?!"

the flashlights in great expectations were such an amazing touch

POOR JOHNNY he looked so scared when his parents were fighting. also i will never shut up about how amazingly they use the sets, keeping the door open with the distant sound of his parents fighting was such a smart move

friday at the drive in was phenomenal live; cherry kept trying to get bob to follow her and he kept pulling away, bob looked so done with it when cherry and chet started dancing, marcia was like alll over tripp on the hood of the car and then chet and (i think?) paul were just laying all cute on the car together; plus THE DANCE BATTLE OH MY GOD???? i cant remember if it was steve or two-bit (my brain wants to say two-bit tho) but one of them started thrusting into the ground and my jaw was on the floor

i could talk to you all night...the vocals...so beyond honored to hear emma and brody get to harmonize like that right in front of me

kwp your acting HOLY HELL!!! he genuinely made me jump when he started yelling at cherry. "is there a problem here, robert?" "EAT SHIT MARCIA!"

"cherry valance" "NO SHIT!!!"

brent's anger during ritfr was sooo beyond palpable, he made me jump when he threw the bills at soda. also jason was so good at looking dejected, picking up everything and putting it back ont he table than trying to hold darry back from pony

far away from tulsa made me cry for the first time during the show!!

THE CARS AGAIN OH MY GOD!!! and the drowning scene?? the sound of pony screaming under the water??? the lights going out as bob dies and flashing before it cuts to him bloody in the fountain???? beyond phenomenal

run run brother you will always be famous to me. the boards acting as trains??? oh my god

Act 2

jft was one of the songs i was most excited to see live and it was BRILLIANT i loved the flashlights. also marcia holding back from cherry...oughhhh my heart. TWO-BITS SCREAM BROKE MY HEARTTT. and emma's opt-up!!! beautiful

general note since i don't know where to add this DAN BERRY I LOVE YOU!!!

death's at my door had me SOBBING

once again brent's anger in his fight with dally was amazing, and then the direct lead in into titt oughhhh

titt also had me sobbing by the end oh my god

the poem scene was beautiful, i was taken back to being ten years old and rewinding that scene of the movie a million times and to see it live in front of me? an honor

"ITS GOLD LOCKS AND HER UGLY SISTER!" dally was hilarious this whole scene

soda's letter...brent finishing the last line...just kill me why don't you

dally was IN johnny's face during their argument he was sooo angry i was not expecting that

when i saw pony throw the cigarette i was just kind of like "oh he threw the cigarette" and then a few seconds later i was like WAIT WAIT NOOO

THE FIREEEEEE. IT WAS SO SO SO SO SO SO SO COOL OH MY GODDDDDDD

hoods turned heros vocals were AMAZING. also darry looked so happy and proud of pony and it made me all teary

hey so. so who was going to tell me that dally carries in johnny's body like that. also he was right, johnny looked so small :(

hopeless war was DEVASTATING. that's the end.

i will forever love the lead in to trouble, the song is short but so underrated. "once a greaser always a greaser" darry marry me now

loved watching kwp and sky sneak onto the stage during the rumble

SPEAKING OF THE RUMBLE. THE FUCKING RUMBLE???? I WILL N E V E R SEE SOMETHING AS COOL AS THAT RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME EVER AGAIN. THE LIGHTING?? THE RAIN?? THE SOUNDS??? THEIR FACES BEING TERRIFIED COVERED IN BLOOD??? PONY ALMOST HITTING JOHNNY THEN STOPPING????? KILL ME NOW OH MY GOD

"pony...pony...come closer" y'all i am not exaggerating that when he's in the bed, johnny sounds like a scared little boy it broke my heart. also soda calling johnny buddy hurttt me :(

when johnny died my fucking heart BROKE. ace was in the background clutching her hair and full on SOBBING. pony on the ground??? and i saw other people say that jason goes to hold pony but at least for this show he liked sat behind pony and pulled in down so that they were both like laying on the ground with pony on top of him. pony pulling away too......:(

joshua boone the fucking MAN THAT YOU ARE. little brother only made me keep crying twice as hard as before. and guys. GUYS. JOSHUA BOONE, A FULL GROWN MAN, WAS SOBBING LIKE A LITTLE BOY THE WHOLE SOG. WHENEVER HE WASN'T SINGING YOU COULD HEAR HIM AUDIBLY SOB AND HIS WHOLE FACE CRUMBLED. HE CAME AND STOOF IN FRONT OF MY AREA DURING THE BREAK IN THE SONG AND JUST CURLED IN ON HIMSELF AND STARTED SOBBING. MY HEART.

his death scene....when pony starts talking about his death and he stands in the lights of the train, pony isn't talking super loud and you could hear josh whimper and his face crumble again and he just kept doing it over and over again like he was STILL crying from the song while he was dying

the dinner scene hurt like a BITCH. one of my favorite moments int he whole show was when brent walked over to the tv to shut it off and the whole stage was just silent. it really amplified the tension

pony beating on darry's chest :( and then brent was crying so fucking hard and then JASON was crying so fucking hard. and then cherry walking in and them both tryign to act normal. speaking of cherry the voice she uses to talk to pony HURT. ME. WHEN SHE'S ABOUT TO LEAVE AND HE DOESN'T ANSWER AND SHE JUST GOES "okay." I WAS CRYINGGGG. and then another fav moment was when she leaves and her, darry and soda all say bye, they were all so quiet about it and it felt so natural

PONY. CLUTCHING THE CLOTHES. BURYING HIS FACE IN THEM??? SODA STARTING TO READ THE LETTER TO PONY???????????

stay gold. i have no words. it was fucking beautiful and i sobbed like a baby.

also like i said i could make a wholeee post just on brent, but i need to say this now. BRENT. WAS SITTING AT THAT TABLE FOR A SOLID LIKE TEN MINUTES. JUST SOBBING. he kept looking like he was trying to compose himself like sucking in big breaths, but then his lip would quiver and his face would just crumble and the tear would start up again and and AUGHHHHHHHH it hurt so so so bad

pony saying his writing probably wasn't any good. "can I read it?" DARREL CURTIS YOU ARE BREAKING MY HEART!! and also soda's "am i in it :)?" and when pony says darry's in it too and darry goes "oh great." the whole crowd was laughing and then him telling pony to make sure he has great hair in the book so so funny

not enough people laughed at the green beans scene and it made me sad >:(

when pony looks at johnny during the finale...and then johnny looks at dally and they smile at each other....ohhhh my god

also when pony started singing about dally it broke my heart ESPECIALLY since i didn't know dally sings that part too

side note when it was a little ways into the finale song and darry and soda are still eating at the table, brent winked at jason and when jason turned i could see im smiling a little bit. i think it was brent's way of checking in wih jason and making sure he was okay, it was super cute tho

overall the finale song was fantasticccc

Stagedoor!!

andre came out first, he was super super sweet!!

then victor came out, he was also awesome!!!

y'all....when rj walked out i almost SCREAMED. he's the only one that i got a good pic with (its fine tho cuz my friend got pics of everyone else) but when he was signing my book he went "what's uppppp :)" and i was ready to fucking EXPLODE my heart was racing. and then my friend's mom manage to get a pic of him smiling at me with this big ass grin and i'm not even goign to lie i keep going back and looking at the picture every few hours my heart is full omg

next up was kwp and let me tell you guys...if i was fangirling over rj i dont even know what to say about me with kwp i was on another LEVEL. he is very very pretty and his voice is insanely charming when he's talking and he looked me in my eyes and i just.....yeah i'll never be normal about this

last up was josh boone and i was also geeking out so hard. he was like "what's going on :)?" and he was super nice, he made sure to get a pic with me after signing everyone's stuff around me and reassured me that he didn't forget about me like halfway through the signings he was just super super nice

okay guys this post is LONGGG but i had sooo much to say (and i still have more to say sooo...spam the inbox if you want more details bc i am MORE than happy to yap about it!!) overall i just feel so beyond honored to watch this happen live in front of me after spending years and years of my life in love with the outsiders. me and my friend are trying to go back soon and sit front row :)