#extra standard deviation

[tomorobo-illust]

See hi-res version here: patreon.com/posts/106351320

Not too deep of a story, but @extra-standard-deviation requested a comic of Letho and Eskel and I of course HAD to include Lil'Bleater lskdjfsd During a battle, Letho spotted the goat and spent the entire fight protecting the baby.

Thank you so much Kestrel for being so patient and for indulging me in the wonderful world of Witcher~ As I finished this up I was reminded of how much I missed these two (especially Letho <3) It felt so good to draw these two again!

[yukipri]

I just thought of this and couldn't stop laughing and wanted to share the joy.

Ok so you know the episode of ATLA where they use airbending to make it look like Katara is an earthbender but there's the split second of THE LEMUR IS AN EARTHBENDER?!?

Ok so that but it's TCW and the clones are trying to trick some clankers into thinking one of them is a jedi in order to infiltrate a force prison (why? IDK logic begone)

But then the droids are like IS THAT ASTROMECH A JEDI and it's fuckin. artoo. Imagine the mayhem. Please.

I only vaguely remember what episode you're talking about since it's been well over a decade since I watched ATLA, but could be an interesting situation! Artoo does like to cause mayhem!

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

[sunderwight]

SV fic where Shen Yuan rationally decides to be gay. For rational, strategic reasons. He has to do it.

Reason 1: every woman in the world has pretty much been reserved for the protagonist. trying to get with anyone would seal his fate as a rival, on top of a villain! he's basically either got to spend the rest of his life a bachelor or find another option.

Reason 2: obviously as a straight man Shen Yuan would prefer the bachelor option, but that's just leaving him wide open to attacks! Shen Qingqiu already did a poor job of cementing any alliances, having no family to speak of and pissing off the majority of his sect siblings. frankly he's left Shen Yuan in a bind that only some kind of concrete financial and social alliance could solve!

Reason 3: no man wants to die a virgin, right?

Reason 4: increasingly progressive standards in fiction have actually made it gauche to kill off openly gay characters. while a stallion novel might still go in that direction, it's not like he could make his fate much worse, so it's worth a shot, right?

anyway this all leads to Shen Yuan carefully reconstructing the image of Shen Qingqiu into the token complicated gay character. obviously he's not going to put the moves on any of his disciples (he doesn't want to fall into those gay stereotypes!), but to cement the image of himself as a gay man he's going to need to put the moves on someone.

it's a shame that the OG was so well-established in his enmity towards the sect leader. Yue Qingyuan seems like he might have at least entertained such interest, although he's also more of a brotherly type and probably not gay, so perhaps it's for the best in the long run.

luckily, another option falls right into Shen Qingqiu's lap (almost literally!) when he saves Liu Qingge from a qi deviation.

Liu Qingge is actually the perfect target for an unrequited crush. it recontextualizes some of his and the original's enmity, Liu Qingge was dead in the original story so it's not likely to mess up anything worse than him just being alive does, Liu Qingge is beautiful enough that it's believable anyone would be secretly in love with him, and a war god is almost certainly straight, which gives Shen Qingqiu time to adjust to the idea of living as a gay man for the rest of his (hopefully long) life. y'know, before he finds an actual gay to partner with!

the only downside is that coming on to Liu Qingge might discourage him from protecting Shen Qingqiu and repaying his debt in the long run. luckily, that doesn't seem to be the case! despite his face frequently turning red (from anger?) and him sometimes literally fleeing at Shen Qingqiu's awkward attempts at flirting, Liu Qingge never misses an appointment to cleanse his meridians, and seems to take his safety and well-being very seriously.

what an honorable man!

shame that Luo Binghe doesn't seem to like him, though. Shen Qingqiu's not sure what to make of all that. that's your future brother-in-law, Binghe! at least make an attempt to win him over! oh well. at least he's not ruining a relationship between in-laws that otherwise could have been good, as he makes extra sure to subtly bemoan, in front of Luo Binghe, the tragedy of his deep unrequited love for Liu Qingge. for like the third time that week.

[thydungeongal]

So okay, my harping on about D&D 5e actually being relatively complex isn't to say "and that's why D&D 5e is bad," it's to address the idea that D&D 5e is easy to learn (it's clearly not: despite its market dominance a lot of people actively resist learning it and also a lot of people are also teaching it wrong). But there is more to it than that: D&D 5e has implemented design decisions that make it harder to learn than some of its predecessors.

Part of this is down to the insistence on using natural language for what is, ultimately, still a heavily keyworded system, meaning to ambiguity arising from when it's unclear whether a given phrasing refers to a keyword.

Part of it is down to absolutely bizarre moon logic that has actually made the game harder to understand. During an early playtest the game had a relatively simple action economy: a character could move and do a single action. This was done to address the "difficulty" of the action economy of D&D 4e. Now, 4e actually has a pretty dang simple action economy of a standard, move, and minor action; the reason it tends to slow people down is because it leads to analysis paralysis, with players trying to optimize those three actions to the best of their ability. So the slowing down effect of the action economy of 4e was actually misidentified as it being too difficult.

Now the simplification of the action economy into action and move is actually something I can get behind. But once the designers realized that dang 4e was actually kind of cooking when it introduced an extra action characters could do in addition to a movement and an attack and they were forced to deviate from their action and move model. And they introduced the bonus action.

The bonus action is, in many ways, similar to D&D 4e's minor action, but worse in every possible way. Bonus actions come with a bunch of limitations, exceptions, special edge cases governing when they can take place during a round, some of them have special triggers that need to happen first before you can use them. And then there's the entirely artificial limitation on number of spells a character can cast per round which adds unnecessary complexity.

All of which is to say: arguably more complex games can be easier to teach than D&D 5e because they are actually better written and make use of design techniques that actually improve learning, such as templating and keywording, and don't have bizarro universe action economies that make Rolemaster 2e's action economy seem relatively straightforward.

[sungiescheotluv]

champagne supernova ⭑.ᐟ park jisung

pairing: park jisung x gender neutral reader

word count: 4.2k

tags/warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, emo(ish) jisung, non-idol au.

summary: making friends as an adult is difficult. luckily for you, the rock/alternative online community welcomes you with open arms, one person in particular catching your interest.

notes: hi thereee! 😁 back again with another jisung fic, one that i actually came up with myself lmao. since getting back into the dreamies, i've been a bit surprised by (but absolutely loving) jisung's taste in music. hence this silly fic, which i do hope you enjoy! thank you so much for all your recent support, it makes my heart smile whenever you like or comment on a post! anyways, happy reading! much loveeeee! <3

The concept of internet safety is lost on you. How else could you explain sharing a hotel room with someone you’d never met before in real life? 

Perhaps, you should retrace your steps. See how you’ve managed to find yourself in such a dangerous position, the front door locked and your body pinned to the bed.

Making friends as an adult is difficult. On par with counting every grain of rice in a field, you’d say.

You underestimated how easy maintaining friendship was when younger, third places like school, daycares, extra-curricular activities demanding your presence, inadvertently strengthening your social life. Not that you were the most social, you had a hard time approaching people actually, but maybe that was a part of your charm. Bringing you out of your shell, like all your friends did before your bond was cemented in tree trunks or sandy beaches. University is the last place you take this ease for granted, exposed to all different kinds of people and relationships, some platonic and not-so much. Either way, despite the barge of assignments and countless nights out, you’d make it into adulthood relatively unscathed.

Adulthood, however, doesn’t turn out as you expect. You’d been sold a dream, one eight-year old you envisioned dabbling with the stars accompanied by a lavish life and all the ice-cream you could get your hands on. Unfortunately, no star would be rubbing shoulders with you anytime soon and any that would, you’d have to pay a large sum of money to even see. A large sum you did not have. So, yeah. Just that, toxic work culture, endless bills and a whole host of other obligations linger above your head like a grey cloud.

What helps is finding the small joys in life. Slow mornings when the city is asleep, the scent of coffee at the crack of dawn, the sunshine against your skin, friends who despite their busy schedules carve out time to see you. All pieces of your life that make it worth living. Music is in there too, the art of melodies and lyrics strung together having the strange ability to carry you throughout even your worst days.

Your moods refuse to stick to a certain genre and in the midst of dark afternoons and frost covered roads, you find yourself gravitating towards alternative music. Slow, steady and aching. Like how your life moves with the severe lack of sun. It’s not a genre your circle of friends dabble in as much as you do. It’s to be expected, anyone who deviates from a standard of ‘normalcy’ was outcasted, one too many examples found in your high school days where kids got called weird and satanic for wearing a Green Day t-shirt to school. The thought makes you laugh now, but back then, when all that matters is fitting in, it was sad and suffocating. Seeing a part of yourself denied before your very eyes. Sometimes you’d hang out with those kids, bond over your collection of CDs and even go to a few gigs together. However, when Monday came around and they’d approach you and your friends, raving about the concert - you froze. Confronted into either owning yourself and being outcasted like the rest of the emo kids or ignoring them, deny yourself for the sake of social standing. 

You pretend like they’ve grown two heads, feigned confusion knitting your eyebrows together while your friends laugh and hurl insults at someone who you considered a friend - a better one than the ones at your side. And yet, you let the laughter continue, a coward with its tail between its legs as you depart, the taste of iron on your tongue.

Maybe this is payback for those poor decisions. A dead-end job, a successful but shitting ex and enough inner turmoil to make a therapist clutch their pearls. 

You abandon those friends when you get to university, getting better ones that wouldn’t make someone feel small due to their own insecurities. You make amends with the emo kids, your apology marking the true end of your friendship. You search online spaces for like-minded people, showing up as yourself and being embraced as. Everyone in the Reddit community is unbelievably sweet, sharing their music recommendations, concert wishlists and pictures of their cats. Some members, including yourself, form a closer bond, taking your conversation to a Discord server that becomes your escape in a way. A channel for heartfelt discussion that extends past your love for music. You’re not as active due to work obligations, but whenever you pop up, one member in particular always greets you with a warmth like no other. 

Linkin.parkjisung is his user, his icon the rock and roll hand sign over his face. Likes Blur, Green Day, Oasis and of course, Linkin Park. He’s like you, dips in and out, types a few responses before he’s gone again. It’s a scenario where other members grow closer, and your anxiety around speaking in the group begins. They’re already close, it seems almost futile to interrupt, right? 

What if you’re ignored? What if you’ve missed your window of opportunity? 

It’s a line of thinking that crosses your mind when you send in an apology for being inactive, moments later your phone pinging with a notification.

Linkin.parkjisung: no need to apologize! life gets busy for everyone, myself included. hope you’re doing ok (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

Other group members echo his message, sending in their own real-life obligations that the group ends up bonding over, complaining of rising car insurance and overly demanding bosses. 

It’s the start of it all, really. That one message, a hand extended to yours that breaks you out of your shell and kick starts your friendship with Jisung. From that day onwards, you move more freely throughout the server, making good friends with everyone but better friends with Jisung. Somewhere down the line, you end up privately messaging each other. What starts out as simply giving each other music recommendations (since he apparently always loves the songs/artists you send into the server) becomes sneaking into the bathroom during a busy family reunion to call Jisung about how your grandmother wore a catsuit to impress her ex, your grandfather. You grow that close, no details spared on life events. How else is there space for secrecy when you’re video calling drunk, watching festival performances of Fontaines D.C.?

In any case, you’re close. You text everyday and call every week like clockwork, namely because you live some hours away from each other. During your calls, he’s shrouded in a low darkness, self conscious of the way he looks, he says. You’re unconvinced, slivers of his features in photos he sends you with his roommates’ three cats or on call saying otherwise. Regardless, you let it slide because Jisung becomes more than his face - he becomes a source of comfort, someone who makes you laugh as much as brings you calm, someone you slowly can’t imagine your days without. In hindsight, this is where your romantic feelings develop. And with convenient timing too because one of the bands you recommended to Jisung, Wunderhorse are on tour, set to perform in a city two hours from the both of you.

“Tickets are going onsale at 10 am on Thursday,” Jisung murmurs, the clicks of his cursor coming through your laptop speaker. “Remember to set your alarm.”

“Will do. Lemme set a remin-” opening up your calendar, you see an unwelcome surprise. “Fuck.”

“What’s up?” Jisung’s voice echoes with sincere concern.

“I forgot I have a shift that day,” you groan, already knowing by the time your lunch break came, the event would be sold out. “We’re understaffed as is, so there’s no way I can get someone to cover for me.”

A deep hum vibrates from Jisung’s chest, a few more clicks of his cursor sounding before he asks in a small voice. “Well, I could just get the tickets for us both.”

“You would?”

“Yeah, I’m meant to be working from home that day anyways. And not to flex, but my internet’s pretty decent.”

You laugh. “Is that for your job or your crippling gaming addiction?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles back, the sound blooming a warmth of happiness in your chest. “Working in CompSci has its perks.”

“So, I’m finding out,” you smile, an underlying layer of discomfort shifting you against your desk chair. “Are you sure, though?”

“Of course. I’d hate if you lost out on this knowing I could’ve done something to help,” Jisung explains. “You were the one to introduce me to them anyways. Plus we’d have a better chance of sticking together in the pit if we get them together, right?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, something taking flight in your airy chest. “Yeah, you’re right. Just send me your bank details so I can transfer you the day of.”

“Coming right up!” he jokes, and you laugh, however lame he claims himself to be.

On Thursday, he sends you a photo of his solid black high-tech set-up, a PC he’s constructed himself with more monitors than you can count. The side of his face is included in the picture, silky black hair, a brown eye and a beauty mark on his cheekbone you dream of kissing later that night. You find out he secures the tickets on your lunch break, your debt towards him being booking the hotel you’d be staying at. Due to the limited funds you’re working with, you end up getting a shared room, an option that gives him pause before he agrees in a tremored voice. You’re a bit apprehensive yourself, but you booked for two beds, so it should be fine. If worst comes to worst, and something happens between you two – like him turning out to be a sexist neckbeard loser he couldn’t take no for an answer - you’d sleep in your car (or kick him out, actually). At any rate, you had options (and a friend tracking your live location).

In no time, weeks fly by and Wunderhorse drops their latest album. It’s the best thing you’ve experienced since sliced bread, an opinion Jisung shares as you two listen to it over call late one Friday night, speaking about your favourite songs amongst other things. You don’t know how it starts, perhaps it’s a lyric that sticks out to him that he mentions or something else entirely, but suddenly, you’re reminded of high school you. How deeply you wanted to be accepted by others, and how that satisfaction depended on the person you got it from. That you preferred conformity instead of individuality, because being seen with popular shallow kids meant something to you.

“I wasn’t a good person in high school,” you find yourself admitting, your body hollowed out with guilt. Regret like ash on your tongue. “I hurt people because I valued other people’s opinions over my own. I know I was young, but-”

“You said it yourself: you were young,” Jisung comments, the serious intent in his voice catching you off guard. “The fact you recognise your behaviour and feel remorse for it shows how much you’ve grown. I mean, high school can be very unforgiving because nobody really knows who they are or what the fuck they’re doing, so it’s only reasonably to make choices you may regret. What’s important, I think, is how you’ve chosen to move forward,”

“You said it yourself, you’ve apologised to those you hurt. Not many, if any person in your position, would do the same, which shows how much you genuinely care to make things right,” you sniff, vision blurring with tears of relief and sadness. “So, if you ask me, I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself. It’s all a learning curve, you were doing what was best to protect yourself then. And now, you’re a better and kinder person because of it.”

Another time you should’ve known you’d fallen for him. Yet, you remain none the wiser. All the way until concert day, getting off work early that Friday afternoon and making the journey down to the bright city lights of Seoul. Everything twinkles and dazzles, a 180 from your modest living in your hometown. You suppose your excitement for the concert has some role in this too, but considering the lack of vibrancy in your life, you allow yourself to sink your teeth into this. Feel the goosebumps against your skin, the lightness in your limbs and the uptake in your heartbeat.

You check into the hotel first since Jisung has a last-minute team meeting at work, setting yourself up on your side of the cosy room of wooden and white hues. As you slip on your Hello Kitty headband to do skincare, a knock rasps against the door, audible above the sound of your music.

With furrowed eyebrows, you approach the door, revealing a sight that stops your heart in its tracks.

On the other side of the door is who you should’ve expected: Jisung. What you don’t expect, however, is his sharp features, black smooth hair with matching formal clothing to contrast so beautifully with his porcelain skin. The dark, ocean blue contacts he wears with a pretty pink lip tint. Not to mention that beauty mark you’ve been thirsting over for the past few months? Yeah, that’s all in eye-view now, close enough to touch and it’s this fact that sends your brain into overdrive.

While you malfunction, Jisung dips his head, a large fist curled to his lips to hide his sheepish smile. Chuckles in a bit of an awkward and embarrassed way. 

Oh my god?!

“Nice to finally meet you,” he greets, black leather overnight bag clutched to his side. A fluffy blue and pink keychain of Little Twin Stars hangs off the zip, a cute juxtaposition to his intimidating outfit. And height. God, he really wasn’t lying when he said he was nearly 6 ft. 

“I texted you I’d arrived, but you hadn’t read them,”

A forceful blink out of your trance brings you back to reality, one where you’re not openly drooling over how handsome your internet best friend is. “Yeah, sorry. I was busy getting ready.”

“I figured so,” his eyes scan your clothes - your ripped baggy jeans, leather platform shoes amongst what you have on - and his lips curve, admiration in his eyes. “You look great.”

If there weren’t societal ideals of an inappropriate reaction to that compliment, you would’ve tattooed it to your forehead, or on your lower back. Maybe ripped off your shirt and kissed him before combusting because what do you mean, this very handsome man, thinks you look great?!

“Thank you,” you blush, your body running hot like a furnace. Even so, you decide to take advantage of the situation, leaning in for an embrace that he reciprocates as you mumble into his shoulder. “Nice to finally meet you too.”

The rest of the afternoon blurs, the few moments of scattered glances and awkward silence incomparable with the ease of conversation that flows between you once his favourite song, Poppy, comes on. Catching up to speed with each other’s day as you two get ready, it’s not lost on you how domestic the scene is - how familiar, or right it feels. Jisung, in all aspects of the word, is endearing - flustered by the compliments you send his way, brightening up at the new additions to the setlist and best of you, timid with pink cheeks when he hands over a ‘first meeting’ gift - an assortment of snacks, a Hello Kitty plushie and a card that makes you coo. It takes everything in you not to sink your teeth into him, overwhelmed by the sweetness that laces his actions and words, riding the high he and the music gives you as you make your way to the venue after you’re both finished.

Long lines snake around the arena, grey clouds permeating the area as rainfall clatters to the pavement. Jisung, ever so prepared, brings along an umbrella that you share, squeezing underneath so much you feel the warmth of Jisung through his bare, very defined bicep. How someone looks so good in a silver sequin top under a tattered sleeveless black vest is beyond you. Then again, him being single is beyond your comprehension too. Considering his calm and thoughtful demeanour, coupled with his good looks, you would’ve expected people lining up by the thousands to plead their case. However, whenever you two talked about this, he’d simply say his go-to phrase and change the topic, his phrase being:

“I’ve got my eye on someone. Just working up the courage to ask them out.”

Whoever managed to catch his eye, you’d thought to be lucky. Maybe they’d saved a small village in their past life because as people push when the doors open, Jisung shields you from any damage, reminding you how good of a romantic partner he could be. Especially so when you’re inside and he snaps all your photos, accompanying you to the bar and merch table where you get matching t-shirts before he keeps them with him so you’re free throughout the concert. Dimmed red lights and chatter fill the spacious hall, a flood of warm bodies surrounding you as you peer at the stage, the band all set up and ready to go come showtime. You sing along to the host of songs the venue plays beforehand, enough nudges in the shoulder to get Jisung to sing along and of course - of course - he has a beautiful voice too. At this point, you were convinced he either had a missing toe or had weird opinions about the order of cereal because the more you spent time with him, the more he shines in your eyes.

Eventually, the chatter dies down and all lights go off, screams rising through the crowd as Wunderhorse comes onto the stage. Buzzing at a frequency unheard of, you bounce off the balls of your feet, hand holding Jisung as you exclaim, “It’s them! It’s really them!”

Missing how flushed Jisung becomes at the contact, you sing with all your heart - offkey and all - to their opening song, Midas. The energy is through the roof, a dizzying world of flashing lights and music that retches the lyrics straight out of you. In a moment’s chance, Jisung and you turn to each other mid-song, smiles bright as the stage lights outline your damp faces, chest heaving with a mouthful of lyrics in their wake. It’s the happiest you’ve been, holding his hand like this, and as the night winds to simmer, you sway to slow songs and thank your lucky stars for finding your way back to this.

After the show, you two chatter with other adoring fans before trekking to your nearby hotel, stomachs growling for food. Jisung finds a great Chinese place that delivers until 2 am, a gesture you simper at, unaware he’d even remembered you’d liked the cuisine. At this point, you’re drained in the best possible way, a dull ache in your feet but riding a high of something you’ll remember forever. 

Now, you’re all up to speed. Great. Let’s get back to your current dilemma.

Somehow, someway, your unlaced and stubborn platform shoes cause a stumble, one that Jisung tries to save you from but ends up caught in the mix. How, you might ask? Well, you’re not entirely sure but what you definitely know is that you’ve fallen on one of the beds, Jisung’s body caging yours as he braces his own fall. Face-to-face. With you.

Ok.

You’re close enough to share a breath, within reach to see his long lashes and shaky pupils that dart from your eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again. Suddenly, the room temperature dials to an unprecedented heat, walls closing in on you two as you lie in waiting. Waiting for the other to make their move. To lean in or pull away, heads or tails on a coin.

His phone rings, cutting through the tension-filled air with a knife. The moment, gone. 

“You okay?” he rasps, a knit in his eyebrows as if he’s holding himself back. You blink wordlessly, your answer in an absent nod. “I’ll, uhm…get the food.”

It’s not a suggestion, nothing that you can object to, particularly when he’s long gone and you’re clutching at your chest, months of infatuation knocking the breath out of you.

When Jisung returns minutes later, you’ve turned the TV on, preparing to fill the silence if need be. It proves necessary, only groans of pleasure and compliments to the chef shared between you two as you eat your weight in noodles. Not much is said when you’re getting ready for bed either, brushing your teeth together as if you're a couple and settling into separate beds, all the lights turned off.

Still reeling for the fall, and convinced his shallow breaths allude to his slumber, you’re startled by the call of your name, head turning towards Jisung beside you.

“Yes?”

“You sure you’re ok?” he asks before clearing his throat. “That was…some fall.”

You can say that again.

“I’m ok,” you lie. You’re on high alert, frazzled at every end with a heart you’ve just realised longs for the man not even two metres away from you. “Are you?”

Silence. The only feedback you hear is the crinkle of his duvet as he shuffles in his bed.

“Ask me another question.”

You turn to him, shrouded in darkness. “Like what?”

He doesn’t speak again, lets the silence devour the space between you before he says. “Ask me about the person I’m interested in.”

Water that rivals the arctic pours down your back, a harsh call to reality as you remember. Right, he has someone he’s interested in. Someone who he’ll devout his time to, listen to their music recommendations and hold their hands at concerts. And you? Well, you’ll still be friends, just not as close. Maybe not even friends at all.

The thought closes an iron fist around your heart.

“Why haven’t you asked them out?” is what you manage, because it’s on your mind - what time and place he’ll find himself in when he confesses his feelings.

“Because I’m scared,” he admits, small and in a whisper. “Considering we met online, it’s kind of hard to gauge their interest or read any signs. You don’t give me much to work with,”

You still. “I don’t?’

“I mean, I haven’t been too obvious, but I’m crazy about you,” he confesses. “I love the light in your eyes and the kindness in your heart. You’re so deeply human and live life like it’s your first and last. There’s no one like you and I think the idea of knowing how special you are triggered my fear of rejection. Because what would my life be without watching festival performances drunk with you? What would it be if you didn’t laugh at my lame jokes and didn’t command my every thought?”

Jisung shuffles again, a flicker of dim light in between you two at a lamp source as he stares over at you, wholehearted and vulnerable. “It���d be an empty one - not worth living.”

Slowly, your body brings you upwards, the two of you hanging off the edges of your bed. So close if you’d reach out, your hands would touch. 

“When?” you croak, unable to meet his eyes. “When did you…start feeling this way?”

His eyes lower, a slight curve to the corner of his lips. “Around November?”

Electricity zaps your back straight. Five months ago? “When we joined the server?”

“Shortly after that,” he admits, a coy grin breaking out against his flushed features. “I was having a really hard day and you’d recommend a song in the chat, Favourite by Fontaines DC, and said how nostalgic and hopeful it felt to you. I gave it a listen and…it was like a battery in my back. I cried, but I also smiled too because I understood what you meant by it all,”

He threads his fingers together, peering up with shining eyes as he adds, “it felt like a peak into your soul, and mine too….I think that’s where it started.”

Your hand finally reaches out, overlaying his as tears fill your sight. “You know you’re my favourite, right?”

“No one stood a chance after that drunk video of you singing along to Champagne Supernova,” you share a laugh, reminiscing of the video he accidentally sent into the server one December night. A die-hard Oasis fan till the end. “I mean it. There’s no one I’d want to spend my days with, listen to music with and discover all there is to life. No one but you.”

His bottom lip gives a wobble, hands unearthing from yours as his thumb grazes your knuckles, bringing the hand up in a searing kiss. One he looks you right in the eyes for as he says, “Can we push the beds together please?”

You bark out an unexpected laugh, fondness shaping your smile as you speak with all of your heart. “I would love nothing more.”

[fluffyartbl0g]

Redraw of the panels that SHATTERED MY HEART o(；△；)o!!! OG panels + Opinions on the Luffy separation arc under read more

Okay let me just go on a tangent about my feelings about the post-series Luffy separation arc, cause I think it gets way too much hate when it’s such a heartbreaking and well executed deviation from oda’s standard formula!!! I know that we all love monkey d. luffy and he’s LITERALLY the main character of the series, but it was also really nice to get more time to focus on the rest of the crew. But here’s the thing, even when Luffy wasn’t here, he was still here. And I’m not talking about the so called ���blessings’ or whatever that kept SUSPICIOUSLY popping up around the crew when Luffy disappeared, I’m talking about the consequences that arised from him disappearing. We truly got to see how grand the effect luffy has had on the world around him, and how many lives he was able to touch ; - ; So even though luffy physically wasn’t present (I mean KIND OF but you know what I mean), this was still VERY MUCH a luffy arc imo. 

Oh man but I think Oda wrote luffy’s disappearance so well,,, I was sobbing for like 80 percent of this arc. Like just gradually seeing the crew’s deterioration as time passes by,,, but everyone has such unwavering faith in their captain, he HAS to come back cause Luffy always comes back. But here’s the thing, Luffy didn’t know what was happening to him when he started disappearing. But what he DID know is that he wasn’t sure if he was gonna be able to come back or not. And Luffy hates breaking promises- he’d never make a promise if he didn’t plan to keep it, and he’s not an idiot either, so when he just felt himself disappearing and saw zoro nearby... Instead of saying something like “I’ll be back!” and potentially making his crewmates wait for him forever, he tells zoro to “take care of the crew”... SOBBING AND CRYING T - T. So YES. the crew has unwavering faith in their captain. But. Luffy didnt say that he’d be coming back or anything. So what are they supposed to do really.

And it’s really hard to read at some parts, like it never loses the goofy tone that has been there throughout all of one piece and it’s really sweet to see everyone rely on each other to keep one another afloat, but the slight tension that keeps building up over the months while they keep looking for clues and answers... And how each lead keeps becoming a dead end... When it builds up and Usopp finally voices the thing that’s on everyone’s mind.

Oh man. I started crying so hard. It took 6 month for any one of them to say something. Like this is One piece. Of course Luffy is gonna come back eventually, it would be waay too dark otherwise... But Idk man, even I started to doubt that :((( But luckily. THIS IS ONE PIECE. So right after everyone started,,, well not exactly losing hope or anything (maybe a bit)? but going BATSHIT INSANE FROM THE REALITY THAT THEIR CAPTAIN MIGHT BE GONE FOR GOOD, they finally got a solid actual clue of what might’ve happened to luffy!!! And I’m SO GLADDDD!!!!

Omg and when they tracked down the pray-pray no mi user and finally got some answers out of him. OMG WAIT A MOMENT I REALLY LIKED IS WHEN PRIEST GUY IS LIKE “urerheg without luffy up there as a god the entire world may very well be destroyed cause the sun has been super unstable for centuries blah blah” and then Nami freaking PUMMELED THE GUY AND SHOVED HIM DOWN WITH HER STAFF AND

SOBBING CRYING SOBBING. THEY WOULD POTENTIALLY BLOW UP THE ENTIRE WORLD IF IT MEANT THAT THEIR CAPTAIN WOULDNT HAVE TO BE LONELY ; - ; KILL ME.

URGH I was really hoping that Luffy would return right once they beat him up cause I really really missed my boy, but honestly I think the final method of getting Luffy to return was super clever and absolutely worth the extra 3 weeks of waiting!!! I know that it was foreshadowed across the whole West Blue Saga and everything but I honestly had no clue it would end like that, DONT MAKE FUN OF ME :(((

When the crew finally got their captain back after 8 months of waiting... I mean they’ve been separated before for even longer periods of time, but they always knew that they’d be back together. This time they didn’t know. BUT AREHAHRGE ALL THE PAIN AND SUFFERING WAS SO WORTHIT WHEN THEY ALL FINALLY REUNITED T - T!!!!!! UWAHHWHAHWUAAGGHA!!! AND SEEING ALL THEIR ALLIES AND FRIENDS THEYVE MADE JUST CHEER AND CRY WHEN THEY HEAR THE NEWS!!!! I WOULD CHUCK ALL THE PANELS HERE IF I COULD BUT ID JUS T REACH THE IMAGE LIMIT BECAUSE ALL OF THEM MADE ME CRY ; - ;!!! Literally just read those 5 chapters in the arc finale cause,,,, man so good T - T

Anyways TLDR: The post-series luffy seperation arc is NOT BAD and you guys are JUST COWARDS AND LIARS!!!!

[servantofthefates]

Minchiate Etruria | 1806 - 1807

This deck has 41 Major Arcana cards and a total of 97.

The extra cards are the four virtues (Hope, Prudence, Faith, Charity), the four elements and the 12 Zodiac signs.

Other deviations from the standard tarot deck are a few Major Arcana character replacements, the portrayal of two female Pages, and the use of centaurs and monsters to represent the Knights.

[laious]

haikyuu characters formality guide

in general: speaking formally will change the pattern of your words and insert extra articles at the end of sentences. if you're older, you can address your juniors by either their first or last name (first is usually more intimate though; see oikawa calling hinata "shouyou") and you don't have to use formal speech patterns. of course, if you're the same age you don't have to do so either.

generally assume that everyone keeps to a standard level of formality with their seniors and will, most often than not, call seniors by their last names + san

karasuno

hinata: obviously formal to his seniors (except kenma), but pretty relaxed about calling them by their first names or nicknames (e.g. noya-san, asahi-san, daichi-san)

kageyama: formal and does not deviate. calls his seniors by their full last names (even atsumu and osamu, who other characters usually differentiate by calling them by their first names, or sawamura, whom most others call daichi-san). he calls kiyoko shimizu-senpai, even though most others will say kiyoko-san (like noya and tanaka). the unusual part is that he calls his grandfather by his first name + san. miwa refers to him as kazuyo-kun, which is definitely weird. they've got an interesting family dynamic

tsukishima: formal. but also very snarky. he also calls his seniors by their full last names

yamaguchi: formal, same as tsukishima but much more polite

yachi: overly formal at times to the extent that she slips into ceremonial speech pattersn, but this is played for humor and is symptomatic of her overly anxious personality

tanaka: formal, but will call kiyoko-san by her first name

noya: same as above, except 1) when he fought asahi in s1, he didn't use formal language at all, and 2) he calls yaku "morisuke-kun." seems like nekoma third years are pretty casual! plus nishinoya tends to use people's first names for people he's close with (e.g. shouyou, ryuu, chikara).

everyone else

kenma: he explicitly doesn't like the hierarchical system. he calls kuroo by a nickname and doesn't speak formally to him at all. interestingly, he also doesn't speak formally to kai or yaku, and refers to them as kai-kun and yaku-kun. this is pretty unusual but it goes to show how accepting others are of his quirk (or that he's just really close to the 3rd years)

atsumu: formal with the third years, but not formal with aran, whom he calls aran-kun. this makes sense because they're childhood friends. post-timeskip, he interestingly refers to bokuto as bokkun, which is pretty informal, and as far as i remember he doesn't speak to him formally. also, he likes to call everyone by their first names + kun, which i guess is to be expected seeing as almost everyone calls him and osamu by their first names.

sakusa: his speech patterns is one of my favs bc it's all over the place. he's polite to his seniors and post-timeskip will use formal language with bokuto and call him bokuto-san, but then why the hell is he speaking so informally to ushiwaka? it's not even like they're longtime friends? he calls him wakatoshi-kun and doesn't use formal speech patterns with him at all. shocking.

that's about it for now i think

[cosmicallydivine]

kevin day, queen of exy

i am a huge fan of the “girl who is also a prince” thing (shocking from a predominantly locked tomb blog, i know) but i love love love when male characters get feminine titles. i think it’s such an interesting way to talk about feminism and the conversation about how “women’s empowerment” in media often comes from women being masculine, which still leaves this implication that things associated with women or femininity are inherently disempowering. because the thing that’s empowering and cool about the “girl who is also a prince” or any fem character taking on a masculine title/position isn’t the masculinity, it’s the departure from a box that the character was forced into. women being masculine isn’t empowering because masculinity is empowering, it’s empowering because it’s a deconstruction of gender binaries and prescribed roles. and a really interesting way to explore that concept is to have male/masc characters be empowered by taking on feminine titles or roles. because that has the same theme of breaking out of the prescribed roles and finding power in that, AND it also presents femininity/things traditionally associated with women as something that IS strong and aspirational, which is a message that is sorely lacking in a lot of media. and also because having afab or fem characters be the only ones who are getting to play with gender and have these titles that contradict their “main” gender identity plays into the idea that masculinity and masculine language/titles positions are the “standard” and anything feminine is an add-on deviation from that norm. it’s like amab biology being taught as the standard, and then afab biology being taught in relation to where it differs from that “norm.” or like how that latin word for girl (puella) is literally a linguistic diminutive of the word for boy (puer). (i know i’m a linguistics nerd just bear with me) or going back to my first sentence, with princess being a derivative of the word prince; the femininity is an add-on, it’s an extra, it exists only in its relation to and deviation from the “norm.” like its far less jarring to hear a female character be called “sir” than to hear a male character be called “ma’am,” because we automatically think of the masculine language as more of a “default.” but all gender roles are equally made up. they’re all equally human invented, they’re all equally fake. it’s the same leap for a fem person to take on masculine language as it is for a masc person to take on feminine language and they’re both really interesting things to explore and i wish that was more explored in media.

so, all of this is to say that i genuinely think “kevin day queen of exy” is one of the most interesting takes on feminism and empowerment i’ve seen in media. because it is such a clear story of empowerment for kevin. it is literally him revolting against his abusers who tried to take his life away from him and it’s him reclaiming his own sense of identity and acknowledging and flaunting to the world how fucking good he is at his sport and he does all of that by taking on a feminine title. i just love it so much.

just- more stories with boys who are also princesses and empresses and queens please!!

[thedandelionresistance]

A screenshot reading:

honestly, if someone tells you "im a trans man" you should default to he/him pronouns if he doesnt specify his pronouns

and if someone tells you "im a trans woman" you should default to she/her pronouns if she doesnt specify her pronouns

its honestly just really frustrating being they/themed as a binary trans person i understand that people mean well but its annoying that unless i specifically tell someone my pronouns that they'll default to they/them unless specifically told to use other pronouns like please just infer it from "trans man/woman"

or better yet, lets just normalize not using pronouns for anyone

.

This is just exorsexism and binarism.

So uh, no actually.

Not all BINARY trans people use she/her or he/him pronouns.

Assuming pronouns from labels or presentation or anything is exactly what we've been FIGHTING for years to get people NOT to do.

This is literally just enforcing that pronouns-gender. It's literally going to hurt literally every trans woman who doesn't use she/her pronouns and literally every trans man who doesn't use he/him pronouns, including he/him butch trans women, she/her fem trans men, and trans women and men who use they/them, it/its, and neopronouns. It also hurts nonbinary trans women and nonbinary trans men, as well as both binary and nonbinary multigender people (depending on which label they use for their multigenderedness, because surprise surprise, womanhood/manhood does not inherently equal binary gender.

Being a binary trans person who uses the expected pronouns associated with said binary gender does not mean that you get to try and set a standard of relatively conforming to the status quo. You do not get to set a standard of misgendering anyone who deviates from relative social norms and forcing people whose identities and pronouns are less palatable to binary society, who have less ability to assimilate, for your own comfort.

Normalize telling people your pronouns, yes, and asking for them if you don't know. Not using them without knowing what pronouns are right? Sure. They/them is, for all that it is called a "neutral" pronoun, still misgendering people who don't use it (especially for people who explicitly WANT a gendered pronoun. We use fae/faer precisely because it affirms our faegender identity).

But not all binary trans people even use binary pronouns, let alone the ones that "match" their gender. Not all trans women/trans men are even binary. This is the exact same logic people will use to assume all nonbinary people use they/them and that it's acceptable to misgender nonbinary people who don't use they/them, because it's the "default" pronoun for their gender.

Even if binary trans men and women using their "matching" pronouns are in the majority, that makes it all the more important not to just decide their needs are more important than a smaller subgroup of trans people who have less of an overall voice or ability to get their needs met. Communities should work to protect ALL their members, and especially minorities within the community who are more vulnerable because of their smaller numbers.

Additional note: I blocked the person in the screenshot because of trauma over past internet discussions devolving into unproductive and emotional difficult arguments that didn't result in anything other than painful feelings. This person seems like a decent person who would be willing to talk things out, but I can't currently do so while maintaining my mental health. If he does see this and goes "oh I hadn't thought of that" or whatever, I honestly would love to talk about solutions that help everyone. I'm upset at the idea of prioritizing one group of trans people, especially in ways that hurt others, and extra especially in ways that uphold existing transphobic societal ideals like "pronouns=gender". But I have no ill will towards the person in the screenshot and will remind everyone NOT to try to find and harass them.

It's perfectly valid to be upset by even well-intentioned misgendering. But the solution is not to just swap who is being misgendered, ignoring/erasing the existence of trans men and women who don't use the default pronouns and/or aren't binary. It's not to use the same logic used to justify misgendering nonbinary people.

It's to work to find a solution that doesn't misgender anyone, which is why I specifically point out not gendering anyone until you're sure as good insight from the screenshot of the OP.

They made a vent post that was at worst a bit thoughtless, suggesting something that could be harmful because of it. They're not a bad person for that. I just wasn't able to respond directly but did want to point out that even if it's not bad, it isn't okay either, and why it isn't.

[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

Isn't the way we do XL sizes hot?

Like, first you're "large", maybe a standard deviation away from the average, of that. The big side of normal.

But then you get fatter than that, now it's notable. You're not just large. You're too big for large. You're extra large.

But then you keep growing past that and now we have a problem. You're even fatter than the notably fat. So we settle on "Extra Extra Large".

But you can't leave well enough alone, can you and now your fatter than the "fatter than fat". So we throw up our hands and call it "3XL" for short, which is a good thing because you keep getting fatter than we previously thought possible, so we just keep adding to the number in front as we add inches to the latest batch of clothes.

it’s so wild I’ve gotten here. I haven’t worn a large in a long time. Literally decades I think. But 5XL? I never in my wildest dreams ever anticipated being over 3XL. When 4XL came I chocked it up to me simply wanting baggier clothes. I literally said to myself “better stop here, all the stores don’t carry over 3XL in person”. A 3XL is now a kinky shirt for me that I could break buttons off of.

5XLs aren’t baggy on me. They just fit correctly. I could probably get away with a 5XLT, because I’m very tall and have a hanging gut.

it’s an astute observation you’ve made here. I am now 5 times larger than the large size, and I suppose it makes sense? I eat 3-5 times, sometimes 8-9 the average person each meal. The average person’s lunch is only 1/5th what I eat. I literally consume 5X the serving sizes. My daily caloric intake is often close to 5X the average person.

So it does make sense doesn’t it? 5XLs suit me. I’m 5X the person.

It will be a shame if I outgrow my current wardrobe. I love them all!

[tomorobo-illust]

See hi-res version here: patreon.com/posts/106479528

I've been meaning to draw this sweet good boy for almost a year now and SO happy I finally got to draw him ;w; This character, Mosstifer (Moss) is @extra-standard-deviation's creation for their DnD campaign and I was in love with him the moment I saw him <3

I used the screenshots as ref from their Final Fantasy XIV game where Moss is living his best life chilling with his (not) husbando in their sweet cottagecore home~ Thank you once again Kestrel for feeding me new updates and lore for your good boy!! I wish nothing but the best for him~

[beefrobeefcal]

Some angst??? Idk. Maybe there’s something here. You decide.

This is after Frankie tells mouse that he is as big as he wants to get. Mouse, being the wonderful partner she is, listens to his request and stops encouraging any extra ~indulging~ to help him maintain/lose weight.

BUT each time they pass a gelato shop without going in or mouse says no to a dessert menu, it stings. It’s as if he’s been left hanging for a kiss or like he’s been left on read.

Food has become an avenue of affection, and now that it’s closed he’s realizing how much it means to him. And even though he’s the one that asked for this, he feels like he’s going crazy being denied in this way.

To Nonnie, Love Beefro

The bitch is back. Need we say more?

--------<3---------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: All Pent Up & Nowhere to Go

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pregnant Fem!Reader

Summary: A communication breakdown causes a lot of angst.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 3,546

Content Warning: weight talk, angsty angsty, self esteem issues, communication breakdown, allusions to oral (f-receiving), feederism talk, car smut, masturbation, p in the v, established relationship

Author's Notes: I know this deviated from the original ask, but I hope this suffices, Nonnie. It's not as sweet or innocent as I think you were looking for. Thank you @xdaddysprincessxx for beta'ing & offering ideas! Thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for also beta'ing & being their every awesome supportive self.

Things were rough, that much was true. After the night that Frankie had confided in you that he felt he was big enough then thinking out loud about how maybe he was getting too big, you’d done your best to keep his meals at standard portions and not offered anything indulgent to him. 

On a Saturday, Benny had stopped by to return the snow shovel he’d borrowed from Frankie. Having not seen him in a while, you stepped back into the house to let the guys catch up. But you heard everything through the kitchen window as the guys chatted in the backyard. 

“Fish! Holy shit! You losing weight? Last I saw you, you looked... you were bigger!”, Benny chirped with a huge smile on his face, patting Frankie on the shoulder. 

“Yeah... well, you know... was getting pretty big... wanna keep the Mrs. Happy...” 

You almost dropped the knife while you were chopping vegetables.  

You peaked out the window and saw Benny’s face twist in confusion as he looked at Frankie. “I... dude, I thought... I mean, if you’re serious about it, I could always use your help. Trying to become a personal trainer... you know, I need to personally train someone...?” 

It wasn’t like Frankie hadn’t specifically said to you that he might be too big, but the way you jumped at his words and completely changed how you fed him – how you cared for him – was jarring. To see his portion sizes shrink so quickly and not be offered a dessert was disappointing for him. At the rate you changed everything, he couldn’t help but feel that you had wanted him to lose weight. Were you embarrassed to be seen with him like that? Were you glad to have a smaller partner? Did his body disgust you and were you doing a good job being supportive?  

Frankie’s mind would churn and whirl through every insecurity almost nightly as you slept peacefully next to him. When Benny offered to help him slim down further, he thought you would be happier, but it only made him feel worse about himself, and he didn’t know how to tell you. He didn’t want to disappoint you.  

Almost four months since Benny offered, Frankie had shrunk. Not by mass proportions, but enough that his silhouette was definitely smaller. It could have been because he wasn’t constantly heaving around a big, full belly anymore, but his clothing was no longer pulled tight across his middle. You did your best not to say anything about his body or comment on his eating, and despite your disappointment at his changing physique, you kept up a supportive and positive attitude. You had no idea that withholding that was eating Frankie up inside. 

The positive side of this was that Frankie’s broad shoulders were definitely broader and his arms were thicker and more muscular. But Frankie was miserable; he missed how you looked at him adoringly as he ate, or how you would squirm under his weight. He’d pulled away and was irritated almost all the time when he was home. He'd barely touched you in the past two months, and it left you wondering why he had become so removed. You’d tried talking to him, crawling onto his lap in nothing but a smile, but he’d declined, saying something along the line of being tired. Needless to say, the dejection had caused your vibrator and dildo collection to increase. 

Frankie texted you on a Friday evening and said he was going to the gym with Benny, and you could eat without him.  Your heart sank when you read the message and you ate your pathetic peanut butter and jam sandwich alone at the table. Your sadness quickly turned to anger with a smack of horniness; he’d gone from needing to make you scream his name and come on his hands, mouth and cock almost daily to barely looking at you, and you had only done what you thought he wanted you to. Not bothering to clear the table, you stomped off to your bedroom and grabbed one of your toys from the drawer. It was a newer one that was specifically used on your clit, and it was the closest thing to his mouth you could get. Not bothering to look at the time, you got to work, making yourself whine and pant, starting the ritual you’d created every time you missed his touch.  

You were so engrossed and close to climax that you didn’t hear Frankie’s truck pull up or the door open. You didn’t hear him come down the hallway because he no longer called out your name; he had stopped doing that a month ago. You didn’t hear him standing in the hallway, rocking between his feet anxiously, listening to you pulling those sounds that he used to out of your mouth. You didn’t hear the hurt that was boiling over into frustration and anger in his mind.  

You did, however, hear the bedroom door open as you came, and when your eyes met his, you barely recognized the broad, angry man standing in your doorway. 

“What. The. Fuck.”, he snarled through gritted teeth. In his heightened state, he couldn’t differentiate whether his anger was at you for what you were doing or at him for not willing to do it to you himself. 

“Frankie... baby... hi...”, you said softly, reaching your hand out to him, beckoning him to join you. 

“What the FUCK is that?”, he barked, clearly hurt, and pointing to the vibrator in your hand. 

You jumped at his harsh, loud tone, then closed your legs and pulled your knees to your body. Swallowing hard, you tried to find your voice, “Honey... I just... I needed...” 

He stepped into your room, his hulking form at the end of the bed. His eyes darted between your face and the vibrator. For the first time ever in your relationship, he felt unneeded and replaced. Betrayal broke out on his face, and he yelled, “You needed what? To replace me? Let me know I can’t keep you happy, so you put of a fucking show for me to come home to?” 

This was not your Frankie. Why was he mad? He’d never been angry before when he’d walk in on you masturbating in the past. He used to take it as the warm up act before he got to the main event, even telling you to finish for him before he got involved.  

“Baby... honey, no! I could never replace you! I just... I wanted a release... I didn’t think it was a big deal!” 

“That’s why you had to hide it then, huh?”, he yelled again, this time, sadness and hurt clearly in his voice. He didn’t know how to tell you the deep hurt he felt, thinking you were hiding this from him; thinking you didn't want him anymore, “Wait till I’m not home and then fuck yourself? Don’t need me anymore?” 

You saw his body language show more than his words could say. He was hurting and had been hurting for a while. You had no clue that he was making this whole big change for you, and now you’d basically told him that after all that hard work, you’d replaced him. No, you had no idea what was running through his head. All you knew was that you were tired of being rebuffed and ignored and wanted to give yourself some much needed pleasure and release and he was mad at you for it. 

“How fucking dare you! You barely even look at me anymore – let alone touch me – and you want to give me shit for wanting to-to feel good?”, you yelled back, standing up from the bed. His face fell and his big brown eyes widened. Your emotions were getting the better of you, and you could feel the hot tears begin to flood your eyes. Your voice cracked. “What is happening, Frankie? Talk to me!” 

He said nothing. He just turned and hurried out of the room, and you heard the back door slam shut and the garage door open. You waited to hear the truck start, but nothing came. You grabbed your things from the bathroom and bedroom and settled into the guest room. 

After having a shower in the guest bathroom, you’d crawled into the guest bed and tried to sooth yourself by scrolling through your phone. It was only once you heard Frankie come back into the house that you put your phone down. You saw his shadow pass the guestroom door, heading to your room, and then come back out and hover in front of the door. You wanted to call out to him, but it seemed fruitless. He’s turned down so many of your advances and chances to open up, you figured this was it. If he wanted it, he had to make the move. 

Your heart broke for a second time that night as the shadow retreated back down the hallway, and you heard your bedroom door close. 

Your night was restless; you tossed and turned, never able to find a spot that was comfortable. By the time morning light was pouring in through the window, you’d resigned to the fact that you were not going to get more than a few hours of sleep.  

As you laid in bed, trying to decide how to tackle the awkwardness that was sure to come from your next interaction with Frankie, your phone buzzed and your heard his buzz, too, from the next room.  

Calendar Reminder! - 12:00 pm – Taste of the Town! Food Truck Festival 

You groaned quietly, turning off the reminder. You’d bought tickets months ago for this, before Frankie’s health kick, at his request. You’d already made up your mind that he wouldn’t want to go – you weren’t going to make him – and opened up your messages to ask the group chat if anyone wanted the tickets.  

As you typed, a notification popped up from Frankie.  

You still wanna go? 

You were stunned. You knew he knew you’d read the message, and you wanted to answer, desperately clawing at any shred of attention he was willing to give you, but he was still on your shit list. 

Was gonna ask the guys and Hannah if they wanted the tickets. Assumed you wouldn’t want to.  

Through the walls, you heard him get out of bed and rip open the bedroom door. You got out of bed and waited for him to come bursting through the guestroom door, but instead he knocked. 

“Mouse? I-I think... I want to go with you. Might be fun, baby...” 

His voice was soft and pleading, and it made you melt. But you wanted an apology, an explanation!  

“It’s okay... I know it’s not your thing anymore...” 

The door opened up and Frankie stood in front of you with an adorable pout on his face.  

“No. I want to go. With you. I want to go with you.” 

You’d conceded and now that you were standing outside in the sunshine with Frankie as he ate a hot dog, you were glad you did. While the conversation was a bit awkward and stilted, he was at least talking to you.  

You mind wandered, watching the other happy couples walking hand in hand, when Frankie’s voice pulled you back.  

“Mouse? You gonna eat that?” 

You turned to him, then looked where he was pointing – at your hot dog.  

“Oh... no. Go ahead.”, you said quickly. Then as he grabbed it and was about to take a bite, you blurted out, “Are you sure you want another one?” 

You knew it was wrong as you watched Frankie’s eyes fall. He closed his mouth and put the hot dog down onto the picnic table, and sulked. You felt horrible. 

“Honey... I didn’t mean to stop you. I just thought...” 

“Thought what?”, he interjected in a cold, quiet tone. “Thought if I ate that you’d have a fat boyfriend again?” 

You froze, feeling the lump in your throat start. Is that what you had become? That girlfriend? “No... No, I thought it’s what you... I - never mind. You enjoy it, okay?” 

He didn’t look up at you. You did your best to keep the tears at bay, but it was quickly going to be a fruitless endevour. You got up from the table, trying and failing to keep your voice from breaking, “I’m going to get us something to drink, okay?” 

If he tried to stop you or say something, you didn’t know; you were already moving away from him, discreetly wiping your eyes.  

The rest of the afternoon was quiet and somber. Frankie had eaten your hot dog, but avoided anything else except the lemonade you brought him. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you didn’t want this to go on any longer. 

“Frankie?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know what I did to fuck this up, but I want to make it better.” 

He stopped and looked at you. You felt his eyes look over your face, examining you. And he was. He was looking for his Mouse; his sassy, hot tempered, spitfire Mouse. Instead, he saw you looking the way you had for months, and he’d ignored it – sad and scared. He pulled you into a hug and it felt different; not just from the bit of weight he’d lost, but the emotion behind it, and you couldn't place what it was be it felt final. 

“I’m sorry, too, baby.” 

The ride home was quiet; the only sound was the radio on a low volume. You noticed up ahead that traffic was backing up on the highway, and as Frankie slowed the truck to a stop, he swore under his breath. 

Then you heard it. His tummy grumbled. Frankie was hungry. 

“Do you still keep snacks in your truck?” 

Your quiet question broke through the silence and was met with an irritated sigh from Frankie. 

“No. Benny helped me clean it all out.” 

“I have a granola bar in my purse.” 

You pulled out the little, wrapped bar and held it out for him. After a brief hesitation, he took it and ate it. 

Silence. 

“You... you got any more?” 

You smiled to yourself and pulled another one out of your bag, handing it to him, and just as with the first, it disappeared quickly.  

“Can we talk? I feel like we haven’t had a real conversation lately... and I just wanna know how you're doing.”, you pleaded softly. You took a risk and placed your hand on his shoulder. 

He let out a huff. “I hate this.” 

You pulled your hand back and faced forward, and he quickly turned, grabbing your hand. 

“No! No no no! Mouse, no, honey! That’s not what I meant! I mean... I hate this diet!” 

“This diet?” 

He turned back, hand returning to the steering wheel. “Yeah... I hate it. I’m always hungry and I just feel like shit, and I don’t feel like myself and I know this is what you want, but - “ 

“Whoa! Wait... what I want?”, you interjected, sounding almost offended. 

“Yeah. You want this. “, Frankie eyed you before finishing, “... don’t you?” 

“I... no! I thought you wanted this!” 

“Why would you think that?!”, he snapped. 

“Be-because you said you thought you were getting too big so I asked if you wanted to make a change and you said yes! I was trying to be supportive!” 

You didn’t mean to yell that at him, but you were so wound up and just as confused as he was. 

You stared at each other until a horn honking broke the silence. Frankie quickly turned and got the truck moving again. 

“You did this for me? Not because... not because you hated how I looked?” 

You stared at him aghast. “How are you even asking that?!” 

“You made me do it so quickly! Like all of sudden you... you just stopped. Stopped everything! It’s like you wanted it and as soon as I said it, you were elated!” 

“Oh my god, no! Frankie, no! I always felt selfish giving you all this food, and then you said you might not be happy with it... I love how happy I can make you with food and I never stopped! I put the same energy I would have into feeding you into... into not doing it as much!”, you said frantically. “Why didn’t you say anything?  Is this why you’ve ignored me? Why you’ve-you’ve cut me out? Is this why you don’t like me anymore? Don’t want to be around me?” 

Frankie slammed on the brakes and the whole truck lurched. He looked at you with wide eyed, his mouth open in shock. 

The horn behind you sounded again, and if not for the moving traffic, you were sure that that Frankie was ready to jump out and punch the guy behind you’s lights out. 

As soon as an opportunity presented itself, Frankie exited the highway and pulled into a parking lot. He threw the truck into park and ripped his seat belt off, then jumped out of the truck. You stayed put, watching him stalk around to the passenger side and rip the door open.  

“What?!”, he barked, breathing heavily with a panicked face. 

“What??”, you asked back, just as panicked as he was. 

“You think I don’t like you?! That I don’t want to be around you?” 

“Yes!”, you cried out softly, grabbing his face. “You keep pushing me away and I don’t know why!” 

His eyes searched yours before he spoke. 

“Tell me you want me to enjoy eating again.” 

“I... what? Frankie, I’m trying to be serious here!” 

“So am I! Say it! If you mean it, say it!” 

“I...” 

“Tell me you want me to eat everything on my plate.”, he growled, reaching around and unbuckling your seat belt. “Tell me you want me to hit my fucking limit every day at dinner.” 

You felt heat pooling in your core. This was the most animated and hottest you’d seen him in so long.  

“I want -” 

“Tell me you wanna watch my clothes get too small again.” 

He pushed you back and crawled up on the bench and shoved his knee right up to your cunt as he hovered over you.  

“Tell me you want a fat guy to fuck you.” 

“I want you to get fat again and fuck me.” 

From the outside, it was clear what was happening in the truck. The door was wide open and your only saving grace was that you were in a parking lot for a nightclub, and it was 2:30 pm. Regardless, Frankie ate you out in the front seat of the car and you finally made it home around 5:00pm – just in time for dinner. 

You made sure he finished everything you made – lasagna of course! Then, instead of Frankie hoisting himself to the couch, he backed you down the hallway to your bedroom.  

“Never wanna go that long again without your pussy on my mouth, princess...” 

You whined as you gripped his full – albeit smaller – belly. He grunted and one of your hands slid down to his hard cock in his jeans.  

“I don’t want these jeans to fit you anymore, Frankie...”, you cooed as you palmed his cock. “Wanna watch you struggle getting them up... got too skinny for me...” 

Frankie made a groaning sound as his eyes rolled and he shoved you onto the bed. You got your clothes off and frantically helped him remove his and you pulled him down on top of you.  

“Fuck! I missed this!”, you growled, biting his ear lobe.  

He shifted and laid on his side and pulled you into a feverish kiss. As your mouths danced, his hand slid between your legs. He groaned again with how wet you were. 

“Can’t wait... need to fuck this pussy... need to feel it, princess.” 

You nodded dumbly, shoving him to his back and crawling onto him. You spat in your hand, gave his cock a few pumps, then positioned yourself over him and sank down.  

You both let out long, low moans, finally feeling like the missing puzzle piece was found. You started moving and his hands gripped your hips, keeping pace. 

“Say it, princess... say it” 

“I’m gonna make you so fat, Frankie...” 

Benny pulled up to your house, determined to find out why Frankie had started coming up with excuses to avoid work outs. It had been almost two months since the last time he showed up and he’d looked like he’d put on a little weight then. 

“Fish? Mouse? Anyone home?”, he yelled, banging on the door. 

Frankie was sitting on the couch, letting dinner settle, and smiled at you then motioned for you to stay seated.  

“I’ll get it.” 

As soon as the door opened, Benny knew exactly why he wasn’t coming to work outs. Frankie’s stuffed belly was almost nearing where it was when Benny started working with him, and the shirt he was wearing looked to be at its maximum tension.  

He grinned and gently elbowed Frankie’s belly. “See you’re putting in a different kind of work, huh, Fish?” 

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi@rubyfruitjungle @lilmizmoz

[synthwavecryptid]

I know the clones are supposed to be like. Carbon copies with very little room for variance (especially in the earlier generations), but I am having SO much fun playing with genetic wiggle room re: hair and eye pigmentation, and body types/builds between command and trooper class and specialties

Like. In addition to the voluntary changes like hair bleaching and/or dying, tattoos, and piercings, it all makes for such fun little markers of individuality

Some examples in clones I’ve already done:

Fox is going prematurely grey, has a pronounced amber gold eye color, and a STACKED upper body from anger induced workouts (he looks extra cut because he’s chronically dehydrated and doesn’t fucking eat)

Bacara is a hot mess from battle injury, including shock induced grey/white hair and corneal scarring that made a defined line in one iris, but he’s also built beefier like most command class by default. Would be a nightmare of an absolute unit if he had access to a solid caloric and protein intake. (GAR war rations are enough for functionality and efficiency but that’s about it)

Ashe is an earlier Gen, so at baseline he’s pretty close to template-standard outside of near-black eye color. He was cookie cutter perfect before Geonosis, it was afterwards when he started bucking the system in little ways like growing his hair beyond regulation

Toast got the grey eye pigment gene, but was mad jealous over not getting the blonde one too, thus the bleaching even though his natural is a very pretty brown vs the standard black. Softer in the face, but with a marked bridge deviation from a prior broken nose.

Lifeline pulled a hodgepodge of genes, from lighter brown hair with a loose wave curl pattern to hazel eyes and the propensity to freckles. Ashe and Toast are decently sturdy from ARC training, but Li is lean like a greyhound. Agility over strength

Rex’s eyes skew lighter to match his blonde gene, but not quite Toast’s grey and definitely not Echo’s pale gold. Probably keeps his hair shorn short to bring less attention to it, because a full head of tight blonde curls is a little too eye catching for comfort

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Jackass in Japan!

Y/N is flown out to Japan with the Jackass cast to help keep them in line while filming Jackass: The Movie. Unfortunately, nothing goes as they plan.

Johnny Knoxville X Gn!Reader

(Fluff)

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, crude language, alcohol, implied drug use, implied sexual content, improper use of sex toys, cross dressing, fights, vomiting, urine, nudity

4.7K Words

An: Aaa more manager Y/N!! I know I wrote it a lot but I LOVE the dynamic they have with the guys (especially Johnny!!) A few of my friends actually took a trip to Japan not too long ago, so this was partially inspired by that! Also apologies from deviating from my usual update schedule! This fic is just SO GIANT at least by my standards!! Anyways thank you for all the requests and please keep sending them in!! I love reading them and I love writing them even more! XD

As a country of etiquette, social subtleties, and rich culture, Japan probably wouldn’t be your first destination to fly the guys out to film in. Maybe a chain restaurant play place would be better- no sharp objects and everything made of plastic and easily sanitizable. You begged Jeff to cut you some slack just this one time, but after a totally sincere and completely not bullshitted speech on his behalf about how ‘integral’ you are to the team, you agreed to come along to babysit- make sure none of them run off to far.

Three hours deep into the flight to Japan and Steve hadn’t stopped bouncing his knee since takeoff. Somewhere between annoyed and concerned, you decided to find out what the hell was the matter and peered through the gap in the seat in front of you.

“Hey. Hey, hey dude! Dude, we should get- like, some of those tiny liquor bottles, right? Like, the kind they got on planes?” Steve waved his hands wildly as he rambled to Chris, staring at him with dinner plate wide eyes. In contrast, Pontius didn’t even look at him, drifting between sleep and consciousness, “Oh? Oh, yeah. Sure.” You knew Jeff warned you about this, but the results of Chris’ tendency to mix sleeping pills with red wine could be managed by bringing him an extra pair of pants. What you couldn’t seem to reign in, though, was the hummingbird buzzing next to him.

Snapping you out of your little bird watching trance, Steve whipped his head around to you, staring back through the gap about an inch from your face with a grin a mile wide, “Y/N! Y/N! Hey! Think y’could grab me some’a those?” He jabbed a finger at Ryan’s tray table, sticky and littered with at least twenty multicolored little bottles of liquor- some full, some empty, and some half drank as Ryan leaned his forehead against the seat in front of him in a drunken stupor. Steve’s restless fingers thrummed against the leather headrest he rested them on, unable to sit still.

You debated for a moment whether you could swipe one while he was busy working on the one in his hand, but before you could do anything your attention was torn by the retching noises you heard next to you. Johnny was folded into the seat next to you, his long legs awkwardly zig zagged under the seat in front of you as he clutched onto his paper airsickness bag for dear life. Of course, Steve found it hilarious because, for once, it wasn’t him throwing up, “Haha! Knoxville’s yackin!” Johnny leaned over, nearly on top of you as he tried to stabilize himself. God, he was heavy. Glaring at Steve with hazy loathing, he clutched the vomit filled bag up with wordless intent- the kind of intent you really didn’t want to be seated in the front row for.

The threat worked and you watched Steve shrink back in his seat as Johnny fell back against the barely padded leather, his complexion more akin to a boiled egg than anything human. You felt a little bad for the guy, even though just a second before he was smothering you in his chest. Oh, and great timing- here comes the stewardess, with her pretty high heels and her cart full of sodas and tiny liquors and little bags of peanuts. Steve hailed her like a cab and, after finishing his stuttery, incomprehensible rant that she just smiled and nodded at, she stopped next to Ryan, tapping him on the shoulder with a perfectly manicured nail. “Excuse me, sir? Can I help you with those?” He blinked his eyes open slowly, glancing around him, only just seeming to notice the sea of plastic in front of him. “Oh…Yeah.” And in one fell sweep of his arm, he brushed the pile of bottles into the trash can attached to the cart she was pushing, a handful of bottles clattering to the ground. Bending down to grab one, he held a yellow plastic bottle up, blinking behind his sunglasses, “Can I get some more of these too?” She nodded. Glancing over to Johnny, you saw his complexion get a little greener. You added to Ryan’s request, “And can we get some more of those bags, please?”

Somewhere in the 20 hour flight, you ended up falling asleep on Johnny’s muscular shoulder, which would have been kind of a sweet moment if it wasn’t for him stirring you every now and then with his gagging. While you were fading back asleep in between one bout of vomiting and another, you felt Bam squeeze past your knees as he got up to use the bathroom. Thinking nothing of it, your eyes remained closed until you heard rolling plastic and you felt the smack of his head hitting your knees. “Motherfucker!” He rubbed the back of his head, looking up at Ryan with dazed rage in his eyes, “Pick up your goddamn bottles!” Ryan couldn’t seem to care less as Bam scrounged on the ground, grabbing one of the mini bottles and hucking it at his head, missing by about six inches.

You rubbed Johnny’s back as everyone waited for him to finish hurling the rest of his guts into a trash can. Stumbling back to you, he wiped his mouth, “Okay, okay- that’s it.” The gate was pretty crowded and you really had to keep an eye on everyone. Sighing in exasperation, you wondered how you were going to corral these idiots all the way to the train station, much less the hotel. “Okay, everybody!” You clapped your hands, getting their attention before making a fist at your side, mimicking holding something, “Grab onto the invisible rope!” It was a trick preschool teachers used when kids didn’t want to hold each other's hands when they went somewhere. Sure, on one hand, you were dealing with fully grown men, but on the other hand they were very tired, somewhat intoxicated men, so equal odds.

“This is so fuckin’ stupid.” Bam grumbled, “Invisible rope my ass…” He turned back around snidely to Ryan who followed behind him, “Who do they think they are? Jeff?” Raising his eyebrows and still half plastered, Ryan glanced at Bam’s clutched hand, “And I see you’re still holding the invisible rope…?”

As you sat down on the train, you finally had a moment to relax. It was around sunset now, and the windows of the train car glowed golden as the automatic doors slid shut, the entire car completely silent. Jeff had the guys under control, you told yourself, he keeps them on a short leash. You deserve a nap. Reclining against the plastic seat, your eyes fluttered shut for just a moment- just a second, a flap of a butterfly’s wings.

And when your ears perked up to the sound of snickering you realized just how wrong you were in assuming Jeff would cover your ass. A small crowd formed around Pontius who had passed out, the giant piss stain on his pants front and center for any of the horrified witnesses as the guys artfully graffitied every inch of his now shirtless body. Among these, a comically large penis pointed to his mouth and “I ♡ YAKUZA” was scrawled across his back in sharpie. People whispered and looked on at the scene in dismay while you panicked and did your best with damage control.

By the time you got to your stop, Chris looked like a public bathroom stall, and frankly smelled like one too. The only thing you could do was hand him his discarded shirt he threw off when you got on as everyone was rushing to get up and leave, but he shook his head, very clearly still high and looking around like he’d never seen your face before. He slurred his words, “C’mon, Y/N. Who wouldn't want to see this hyper-masculine, Adonis-like physique?” Instead of heeding your insistence, Pontius took this as an opportunity to flex his admittedly impressive muscles at you. You tried your best to reason with him, putting on your happiest, most super nicest voice ever in desperation, “Oh, of course! But listen, it’s really cold out right now, and you can’t be catching a cold before filming tomorrow, right?”

He seemed to take a moment to process what you were saying before nodding a little. By then, it was just you and him on the train and people were starting to board. You didn’t have a lot of time, but the plan was working, “That’s right! So can you put this on?” It was like trying to reason with a five year old. But sure enough, after a few slow blinks, he wriggled it over his head without an argument. The things you do for a living.

When the group got to the hotel, Jeff got the room keys from the front desk while you grabbed some food from a vending machine, enough to tide you over until the next morning. By that point, everyone was exhausted, sitting in the lobby chairs half asleep, or in Steve and Ryan’s case, fully asleep. It was kinda cute, seeing them all passed out, stretched out on couches or resting heads on each other's shoulders, like the calm little center of their usual chaos.

By the time he came back, nobody questioned the fact that Jeff got only three keys until you were all crowded together in the elevator. Bam was the first to pick up on it, “Hey. Where’s my key?” Jeff leaned against the dimpled metal siding nonchalantly, “Knoxville’s got your key.” Sighing, Bam waved his hand in front of Johnny’s sleep line covered face to wake him up from where he was dozing off standing up, “Dude. Hand it over.”

“What? I only got one key- this is mine.” Drowsily, Johnny pulled the single brass key out of his pocket to prove it, the plastic room number tag dangling from one end. Blinking a couple times, Bam still had enough energy to get pissed, “We- we have one fuckin room?” He continued his fatigued interrogation as they walked down the hall, “Well it’s a suite, right? Right?”

It was not a suite. It wasn’t in the same zip code as a suite. Crowded in the door, the only sounds in the hallway were the slamming of two doors- your’s and Jeff’s. “Huh. Only two beds…” Johnny broke the silence, “That means…this one’s mine!” Making a mad dash, he flung himself at the nearest bed, stumbling over his own feet. Hot on his heels, Bam shoved Ryan out of the way but tripped, rolling to the carpet as he was clamored over by the rest of the guys, sputtering curse words. Far after everyone laid their claim, Steve wandered in, still half asleep. They had forgotten him downstairs. “Oh, hey buddy!” Johnny grinned, “You're gettin’ the couch tonight.” This earned him a sigh of exasperation, “Really? The fuckin couch? Come on dude! Why don’t you get fuckin’ Y/N- they got a room all to themself!” Swinging his long legs off the bed, Johnny chuckled, “Gladly.”

Halfway unpacking, your head turned at the knock at your door. You were caught a little by surprise by the towering man leaning against your door frame as you opened it, staring down at you with that charming glint in his dark eyes. “Knoxville?” His voice was sweet as he looked over you with the ghost of a smile on his face, “You sharin’ with anyone tonight, sweetheart?” You looked back at your one open suitcase and the two beds in the room, then back at him, “No…?” Johnny quirked an eyebrow at you as he leaned down a little closer, his grin growing to show just a sliver more of his teeth, “Would you like some company?”

With a sweet smile and a flutter of your eyelashes, you shut the door in his face. That was for throwing up on you on the plane.

Later that evening, Chris strutted back into the room a few hours after they sent him to go grab food, holding bunches of plastic shopping bags in his hands with pride like a hunter with his first kill of the season. The noise alerted Johnny, getting up from in front of the television, his stomach growling, “God, what took’y so long, Pontius?” Without taking another look, he reached a hand into one of the bags, rummaging through it for something to eat, “Isn’t there a seven eleven across the-”

Bam and Steve peeked into the kitchen at just the perfect time to see Johnny yank the thick, purple object out of the bag as Chris watched, absolutely delighted. Staring at the thick, oblong shape and feeling its weight in his hand, Johnny didn’t know what to do. Almost as an instinct, he threw it. It bounced once on the wooden table before falling perfectly upright, wiggling a little. The sight of a purple dildo swaying gently in the breeze made the room howl with laughter, everyone collapsing against furniture. Once the laughter subsided, they attacked the contents of the bags like wild dogs.

“Holy shit!” With wide eyes, Steve parked himself on the couch and perused one of the many porno mags, completely mystified, “And I thought the chicks in Poland were hot…” Peering over his shoulder, Bam squinted disbelievingly at the four page gatefold that unfurled, “No way- they gotta be fake.” Not taking his eyes off of the glossy pages, Steve shook his head, “Nuh-uh. C’mon, look at that, she’s clearly-“

Slap! The noise reverberated through the room as Steve was suddenly whacked upside the head with a floppy, purple blur. Chris didn’t even have the chance to shout ‘Lombardi!’ before he was on the ground. The ensuing fight and wrestling match was loud enough to tear Johnny’s attention away from the Tenga egg he was trying to blow up like a balloon, but not enough to wake up Ryan who had been sleeping like a baby through this entire ordeal. This wouldn’t be the case for long.

As soon as he wriggled out of his grasp, Pontius went after Johnny. Unlike Steve, however, he had a head start and a chase ensued. Ducking behind chairs, under tables, and in and out of doors, they went around and around. Steve chased Chris who chased Johnny, the room echoing with yelling and whooping and thumping from running into furniture. It was like Scooby Doo. This, in turn, woke up Ryan. In the middle of the commotion, he snatched the dildo from Chris’ hands, ran to the door, and hurdled it down the hallway like a fifty mile an hour fastball, sending it soaring before he slammed the door and trudged back to bed.

You heard something hit the plywood of your door with a thump while you sat in bed, watching tv in a language you didn't understand and pretending you knew what was going on. Part of you was weary to investigate, but your curiosity was overwhelming and you went to check it out anyway. There it was, laying on your doorstep like an abandoned baby on a church stoop. Glance left, glance right- nobody in the hallway. No witnesses. It’s not like anyone would see it if you took it, right? You shrugged. Oh hell, why not?

“Dude- you can’t just leave it out there!” Bam argued with a still half asleep Ryan who had since laid back in bed, “Well, why can't you go get it?” He sighed, conceding and running out of the door. From the hallway a few seconds later, Bam excitedly yelled back, “Guys! The fuckin thing- it’s gone!” Everyone flooded outside to aid in the search, but no dice. Johnny got up from where he was crouched next to a potted plant, “Where the hell’d you throw it, Dunn?”

“I don’t know! The thing probably landed outside the manager’s room!” Glances were shot. Silence.

Morning filtered softly through the windows overlooking Shibuya, illuminating the absolute pigsty the room had become in just one night. Really, it was impressive they could trash a hotel room that fast- they should be in the Guiness book of world records. Blinking his eyes open lazily, Johnny did a double take when he felt a second body pressed against his. It was Steve, wearing a dreamy smile while resting his head against his chest. On his other side was Pontius, not laying on him like a lovesick girlfriend, sure, but instead sporting quite the sheet tent while snoring on the other side of the bed. After getting shoved off, Steve tumbled to the scratchy, unvacuumed carpet, only stirring just slightly, rubbing his head as Johnny threw a flat pillow at him.

After a few minutes of trying to get back to sleep, Johnny reluctantly rolled out of bed to the sound of your insistent knocking at the door. Looking scruffy and disheveled, clad only in the pair of white boxers he slept in that sat just low enough on his hips that you could see a little bit of the hair leading below his waistband as he leaned against the doorframe, looking down with half lidded eyes, his gaze fixed on either you or his manhood. His voice was thick and low, still groggy from the night before, “Mornin’.” A smirk crept onto his face, “Knew you’d come’t your senses.” As much as usually annoyed you with his flirting this time was different. Maybe it was that look behind his eyes that suggested what he wanted or the warmth radiating off of his muscular body, but you had to keep yourself from stumbling over your words as you almost forgot about what you came there to tell him, “Huh? What- no. No! You guys are late! Let’s go!” Leaning to one side, you peered under his arm, looking at the hurricane that hit their room, “Oh my god, how did y-“

“Aaaaah!!” There was a shriek from the far bed that undeniably came from Bam as the covers flew up in a flurry of white sheet. He sounded like April. Frantically scrambling to his feet, he stood wide eyed, with his back pressed against the glass window…ass naked. The entirety of Shibuya was getting mooned by him. Not even worried about exposing himself, he flew into a panicked explanation, jabbing a finger in Ryan’s direction as he barely stirred, still in bed, “Y/N! Y/N- Ryan’s knee was in my ass!”

“All of you! Get up!” You didn’t try to dispute the claim, much less question it as the boys slowly dragged their feet, groggily getting dressed as they stumbled out the door. Herding them like sheep, you followed behind to make sure none of them wandered off or got attacked by wolves, lingering next to Johnny for a little too long as he eyed you. “Have a good night, Y/N?” He couldn’t have known, “Yeah, s’pretty alright.” The grin playing on his lips told you otherwise, “Really? Was it?” There was this knowing insistence in his voice as he got this maniacal little glint in his eyes, continuing, “If last night was a color, would you say it would be…purple?”

Oh, he knew alright.

The shoot went pretty well- you got to spend a day lounging on a beach while Chris and Steve swam with some whale sharks, so you couldn’t complain. They jerked off some sea cucumbers, filled their shorts with live shrimp, and you got a front row seat to the show. Thousands of people were gonna be paying twenty bucks to see this in theaters, and you get this for free. Lucky you!

The problem came, however, later that evening, when Steve gave you a call. You picked up your buzzing flip phone and glanced out at the dark cityscape through your window, knowing whatever he said wouldn’t be good before he even opened his mouth, “What?” From the noises on the other end of the line, it seemed like he was in the midst of an argument of sorts as he spoke over the line, “Hey, bro man dude!” He spoke with the kind of feigned enthusiasm that you only get when someone’s about to tell you something bad, “Do you, like- know how to do makeup?”

Reluctantly, you agreed to help him after he explained the whole situation to you, but you didn’t grapple with what you would actually be getting into until you showed up on the scene. You found them in the dark alley next to some nightclub, crowded around…someone who was making a lot of commotion. As you got a little closer, you saw it was- oh god, it was Bam, completely disillusioned to whatever scheme he was a part of. Chris was trying feebly to apply what looked like lipstick to his lips but he wasn’t getting very far. Noticing you, he stepped back a little, revealing the canvas you would be working with. Leaning against the wall feebly in red plastic heels and a shiny purple spandex dress, Bam looked like the definition of a hot mess. God, they even shaved his legs.

“Shut up! Just get over here!” He could practically read your mind and was clearly impatient, but it was hard to take Bam seriously in that shiny blond wig they put him in. Johnny handed you the shopping bag of makeup they bought as you sighed, twisting open a tube or mascara. You got to work as Johnny awkwardly explained how they were turned away at the door and, thinking the club didn’t want them to turn the place into a sausage fest, they thought the bouncer wanted them to get some chicks. “Unfortunately, the only one of us who speaks the damn language is Steve here- what’d you say to those gals back there?” Johnny elbowed him and you could hear the proud grin in his voice as he said with gusto while, at the same time, also stumbling over his words, “Watashi wa chiisana whinna-o motte imasu!”

“You guys fuckin’ owe me…” Unsteadily swaying on his stilettos, Bam was still shorter than Ryan who had his arm around his shoulders as they walked back around to the club, music thumping so loudly from within that the windows shook. Ryan went to raise his voice to speak to the bouncer, but before he could, he wordlessly lifted the velvet rope and everyone's faces lit up! You were honestly surprised that the plan worked, but, yet again, you knew it could only work so well. Just as Bam got one shiny red foot inside- click! He looked back at you with those scared, wide eyed looks kids get when they get dropped off at preschool for the first time as the bouncer ushered him inside, deserting the rest of you.

“Great fuckin luck…” Steve said what you were all thinking, “What’re we gonna do now?” Scrounging around in your pocket, you grabbed a crumpled up a map as you stopped under a streetlamp to clumsily unfold it and point to a circled location- it was a fancy restaurant that just so happened to have a bar inside.

It was the kind of high class establishment that you walked into and immediately felt out of place in, with lots of hand carved wood and yellowy paper lighting fixtures, where everyone talked in whispers and you weren’t allowed to let your glass make a noise when it hit the table. The five of you took apprehensive seats at the bar, sticking out like a handful of sore thumbs. Not sure what to do, you started up small talk, but you couldn't get more than a few words out to Chris before your attention was stolen away to what was happening at the far end of the bar.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the blur of Steve getting yanked up by the back of his shirt like a kitten at the hands of the burly bartender behind the counter as he angrily shouted at him in Japanese. He dangled for a moment, wearing that deer in the headlights look, before he was unceremoniously tossed out onto the sidewalk outside. Chris, always considerate, was the first to flee, then came Ryan as he finished up his drink.

You held a hand out to Steve, gripping his cut up palm in yours and potentially contracting who knows how many diseases as you helped him to his feet while he ranted, “Dude! I don’t know what the big fuckin deal was- all I asked for was some sucky!” He couldn’t be serious, but the look on his face told you otherwise. Sure, his Japanese earlier was broken, but shit, it wasn't that broken. “Steve- Steve.” It was a challenge to keep a straight face as you tried your very best to clarify, “It’s sake, not sucky.” A look of wide eyed clarity crossed his face before he chuckled, smiling at his own stupidity.

Your desperation that night had led you to this little hole in the wall ramen shop tucked away practically underground. In stark contrast to your previous whereabouts, the ceiling was so low that you needed to duck through the door and the walls were so skinny you needed to shuffle past the counter seats with your back to the wall. But it was quiet and the food was cheap, so you all sat in an exhausted little row in front of the guy who made the food as you slurped your noodles, steam wafting onto your faces.

Swallowing a mouthful, Chris was the first to speak up, glancing out the steamy window at the nightclub across the street, “Hey, s’anyone know where Bam is?” Your chopsticks stilled in your bowl as realization hit you like a freight train. “Oh my god…” You could hear Ryan and Johnny start cracking up as you rubbed the space between your eyes, your head nearly falling into your noodles, “We forgot Bam…” Your one job and you fucked it up. Johnny patted your back like how one would pet a big dog, grinning, “Ah, don’t worry, Y/N! We'll get’im on the way back.”

That was an hour ago, and if you thought he looked rough when you ditched him, you didn’t know how to describe Bam as he hobbled out of the doors on only one heeled foot, his lipstick hopelessly smeared across his cheek as he angrily stuffed his already askew wig into a trash can. It really was kind of funny with how pissed he looked. “Hey, dude! How’d it go in there?” Ryan put his hand up for a high five but just received an exhausted head shake in return, “I don’t wanna talk about it. I…am so drunk.” Putting an arm around him, Ryan nodded, “Okay, buddy.”

By the time you got back to the hotel, everyone was more than ready to pass out on their feet. Everyone, of course, sans whoever was knocking on your door at three in the morning. Looking through the peephole, your suspicions were confirmed as you opened the door, “Knoxville?” The hallway was silent as your eyes trailed up his body, landing on a rare apologetic expression he was wearing. A sorry smile played on his lips as he spoke quietly, “Hey, Y/N. Just wanna say sorry for me’n the guys screwing the night up. Maybe, I dunno- I could come in for a coffee? Nightcap?”

Something in you compelled you not to shut the door, “Sure. I think I’ve gotta few bottles in the mini bar. Come in.” Following you into your comparatively spotless room, Johnny bent down and fished around in the fridge without even asking you. Standing behind him, your eyes fixated on the gold lettering spelling ‘Knoxville’ on his black leather belt as the back of his shirt slid up, exposing about an inch of skin on his lower back, an oddly sensual act you felt simultaneously turned on by and a little guilty for watching. He grabbed four random mini liquor bottles, one in between each finger, and plopped down on top of your sheets. “Grab a few for yourself.” Typical. There were only two left so you grabbed them, taking a seat next to him, both pairs of legs outstretched on the scratchy bedspread as you drank and reminisced about the day you just had by the yellow light of your bedside table lamp.

[eltanin0]

hmm i think it's about time i drop the lore for my green slugcat, dubbed "The Relict" (while the name has slightly grown on me, i'm still hesitant to set it in stone)

unfathomable, insane amounts of rambling below. nobody is forced to read it. Holy shit it's longer than the RoS one D:

About The Relict and general stuff on the campaign. this is just what i've got for now and very well could change in the future.

I would like to start by mentioning that when creating this character i tried my best to keep them plausible within the world of Rain World. With changes that could realistically be created without a ton of extra code, or deviate too far from the base slugcats, at most being within the realm of the "More Slugcats Expansion." so Relict, a green slugcat with a bite taken out of it's right ear and eye, as well as it's right arm (in-game dominant) having a lighter "singed" color to it. The Relict is predominantly shown with an angered expression and focuses on fighting, rather than fleeing. of course it didn't always look this way, starting out as a regular green slugcat and gaining these traits later.

i think i'm going to start with story elements and backstory, i believe knowing these first will help with the understanding of gameplay elements later. The Relict was an average slugcat part of a very ordinary colony. they predominantly hung out with 2 other slugcats, a pale desaturated blue one, and a pink one (this idea is still pending, however it's a viable placeholder for now). one day, while at their home in a region similar to the outer expanse, their colony is attacked by a roaming Lizard. i'm still not 100% decided on what type of lizard, however i'm between either a caramel or a red. either way, their colony is massacred starting with the pink slugcat, and Relict about to be next. The pale blue scug shoves Relict out of the way, sacrificing themselves, and is killed instead. The Relict flees, chased by the lizard, to the edge of their forest area. they're cornered on a cliffside with water below and the lizard slowly approaching. As the lizard bites, The Relict falls backwards out of the jaws, only sustaining minor injuries to it's ear and eye. I'm still not decided whether i should make the avoidance luck, with the ground beneath The Relict crumbling slightly and causing the fall, or whether The Relict should choose to rather die from falling than eaten by the lizard. Regardless, The Relict falls backwards off the cliff and into the water below. unconscious, they drift away atop the water before washing up on shore in an unfamiliar land. along with intense anger to lizards, henceforth they are wracked with survivors guilt and it ways heavily on their mind.This is the basics of their backstory and ideally all of this information would would be conveyed to the player through dream sequences/cutscenes. I would also like to mention that their story is the reason for their name. "Relict" has multiple meanings, however "something surviving where other's did not" is a reoccuring theme. a remnant of something old. (Remnant being a possible name i'd thought of). It's also a connection between the scug and RoS

i think i will now talk a bit about their gameplay changes. they are a fairly standard slugcat, standard in that they don't have crazy abilities like most downpour scugs (no explosive jumps or infinite spears). they are however fairly stronger and quicker than the average slugcat. stat-wise they're similar to the Hunter, above average speed, jump height, slide distance, pole climbing, throwing power (i used to have numerical values for all the stats). like the hunter they're primarily carnivorous, able to eat corpses, only requiring 6 food pips to hibernate and able to store 1 pip spare. there is a reason for all of this later. due to The Relict's hatred and hunting of lizards, all lizards are more hostile to them and are less likely to give up hunting them/ more likely to hunt them given the chance. there are also more lizard spawns in this campaign. if it wasn't obvious, combat is a large part of the campaign and the character of Relict. Okay let's talk about the explosive resistance. The reasoning behind it ties into The Relict's character and story, primarily their survivors guilt. Their view on themselves is pretty negative, seeing themselves as expendable, and will gladly put themselves in harms way to gain an advantage in a fight. like being intentionally bitten by lizards so they can put a grenade in their mouth :P . Due to using this tactic repeatedly, their body has changed in an effort to adapt. This has both upsides and downsides. upside, they've got some resistance to explosives! not immunity, enough will kill them and they're briefly stunned after using them, they can probably tank 2 grenades. Still that's pretty useful. Downside, while the repeated exposure helped harden their skin/fur, it also caused some permanent damage primarily to their right (dominant) arm. This damage has caused their right arm to be significantly weaker than their left, in both throwing power and damage (how fast spears go and how much damage they do). Not to say they're weak by any means. Remember that they're significantly stronger than regular scugs, so this damage only limits their right arm to that of a regular slugcat (1.0). due to having to use their left arm mainly for spear throwing now, their left arm is significantly stronger (1.5). think about it like taking some strength away from the primary hand and reallocating it to the secondary. now it's no cannon arm like Gourmand has, but it's still pretty strong, however it's locked to the left hand which means you need to have nothing in the right to actually make use of it. Would also like to mention that the general toughness that the repeated explosives granted The Relict, also decreases the chances of lethal damage occuring :P (spears, bites, all that). I also like to think this could be conveyed to the player through gameplay cutscenes. so far the changes aren't too crazy, i dont think. to dumb it down a bunch and simplify, we have a slugcat who: has similar stats to hunter, is primarily carnivorous, has some resistance to explosives and bites, and has a stronger left arm and weaker right arm. hopefully these changes aren't too farfetched, because i've got a couple more :P

THIS WILL BE CONTINUED IN THE REBLOG BECAUSE TUMBLR WONT LET ME POST THE FULL THING >:[