#god its such stupid brainrot

[winds-of-zephyr416]

So it seems like there’s a lot of variety in the way people like to characterize the dark lords, especially together as a ship. Sooooooo…

The options are just from different takes I’ve seen floating around/played with myself, so pls excuse if they aren’t very diverse or comprehensible.

Reiterating from the poll, please please ramble!! I wanna hear it!!! this is your opportunity to unleash your infodumps and headcanons on the world! No pressure, but insanity about these very very sane ainur is not only welcome, but encouraged :)

[angerygoomba]

wtv this is

[dykensteinery]

hey lads its clervalstein

[lazyveran]

i am trying soo hard not to give the fire siblings more dragony traits. god

[pomfiores]

the nice thing about living at work being offline for chunks at a time is the people u used to really dislike seeing on the dash (by no one's fault, promise), it doesn't really bother you anymore when you see them pop up as recs or smth. like. neat. lol. it's nice! it's comforting. i feel like I've def moved on from things, its liberating.

[amber-angel]

Insane insane I am. I saw Kyle Adams perform and he was the guy who sang Drink With Me but angry (revolutionary btw). And maybe it's just been too long since I saw it but if that post is true holy fuck this man is so good at his job and that is exactly what I would do if I could play Grantaire. He got the role and understood the assignment and executed it PERFECTLY. King shit

[neros-left-pec]

GAMING WITH THE DMC MEN

🌷 pairings: dmc men x fem!reader 🌷 warnings/tags: just fluff + probably OOC 🌷 author's note: i have really bad dmc brainrot but ive never even played the games (don't ask how this happened) LOL. i kinda see these as crack hcs since im not actually familiar with their canon personalities but i hope u can enjoy it regardless!

DANTE SPARDA

always picks the worst/unhinged dialogue options bc he wants to see what happens

starts laughing if it ends up with people getting mad at each other, bonus points if they start fighting for real

"Ooooh no, he didn't like that! OH SHIT, HE PUNCHED HIM! GET HIM!!"

refers to every protagonist as dude, regardless of gender or species

adores mariokart. gets waaaay into the motion controls and nearly destroys the living room coffee table

sits behind you while you play and narrates everything to piss you off. makes a big deal when you mess up to tease you

"In a world... where she messes up every single quick-time-event-"

absolutely cracked at rhythm games, just dance is his SHIT. also really enjoys osu!

loves playing coop with you and distracting u with tickles or kisses till you get mad

he loooooooooooooooooooooooves making you mad bro is a master at ragebait

VERGIL SPARDA

he says games are a waste of time, but once he finds one he likes he will memorize every mechanic almost instantly.

huge fan of strategic games. his favorites are fire emblem, civ and mahjong. mahjong counts right?

loves playing mahjong online with other losers and beating them. however is sooo annoyed at all the fan service in mahjong games. he likes playing riichi city but had to turn on the family friendly setting and only plays with the default character.

hates RNG. avoids gachas like they are the plague

you normally game in the living room while he sits next to you reading a book. if you start to get emotional over the story, he will arch an eyebrow. he ever so slightly leans into you to comfort you

you definitely notice and give him a pointed look. he sees you staring, but keeps his eyes focused on the book. but damn him, you can see a little smirk form in the corner of his mouth

pretends like he isnt paying attention but definitely is. gets invested if the story is really good

makes a surprisingly good partner in coop games. he'll act annoyed but will carry you anyway lol

teaches you how to play mahjong so you both can play

you love it when he explains things to you

whenever he catches you staring lovingly when he explains the rules to you, he blushes a tad and his eyebrows kinda raise in surprise. but its sooooooooooo subtle.

he catches himself pretty quick but you dont miss it hehe

NERO SPARDA

loves horror games but jumps at EVERYTHINGGGG LOL ITS SO CUTE

screams like a bitch honestly

gets weirdly competitive about mario kart. he will not hesitate to obliterate you with blue shells but he'll give you lots of smooches after to make up for it

always wants to name his character something stupid.

"I'm calling him Boob lord" (he would name a pokemon this)

teases you if you get flustered over flirty game characters

"Is your face red?? Oh my god, it is, are you serious? You're gonna fall for that? It's so corny!"

thinks he can do better hehe gets a bit jellyyyy

loves couch coop. will sit way too close and will flick u in the forehead if you cause him to lose

"No you forgot the- oh my god, fine, I'll get it!"

[idontbelieveinfear]

NO BECAUSE YOU CANT JUST DO THIS CONCEPT JUSTICE IN A ONE-SHOT NOOOO YOU GOTTA HAVE CONTRAST. BETWEEN WHO FORD IS, WHO HE LIKES TO BE, WHO HE PRIDES HIMSELF ON BEING, THEN SEE HIM KEEP IT TOGETHER, CHANNEL HIS COMBAT SKILLS, WORK WELL UNDER PRESSURE, ADD MORE PRESSURE, SKILLFULLY HIDE THE ANIMAL, REPRESS IT, AND THEN SEE HIM COLLAPSE INTO IT. NO REGRET OF IT, HE DOESNT CONCEPTUALIZE THAT THERE SHOULD BE ANY, HE GIVES IN COMPLETELY

Peak. Peak. He will murder these people and I'll be there for the aftermath and it'll be so fucking scary.

YESSSSSS YESSSSSS YESSS LETS GOOO AAAAAAAAAAAA WELL WRITTEN FERAL FORD 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏 FUCKING FINALLY HOLY SHIT

Stan Overboard

[mysterymachine67]

crowley brainrot 💔

just imagine, reader is a hunter and crowley has taken an obscure liking to reader. so much so that they started having sex. the more time passed, the more they got intimate. cut to crowley appearing in reader's motel room, pissed at him for ignoring the king of hell for weeks (busy, difficult hunt). reader gently coaxes poor lil touch starved, needy crowley and makes it up to him for the missed time with a lot of teasing and rough sex (just the way crowley likes it.)

PAIRING -> Crowley Macleod x M!reader

SUMMARY -> You and Crowley have grown close, way too close. Over the course of time it led it more intimate activities. But lately you’ve been speaking to him less. And with Crowley being Crowley, of course he’s going to make a big deal out of it.

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

This was sm fun to write!

You had way too much of a close relationship with Crowley. With you being a hunter, and him being a demon—the King of Hell for fucks sake. Everybody knows how close you are to him. Sam and Dean absolutely hate it. But neither you nor Crowley seemed to care. Especially, Crowley.

Lately, you haven’t been speaking to him, nor have had any contact with him. It wasn’t your fault. You were to caught up in this god awful hunt that was taking you way too long. You’ve been too busy, and he hated the idea of you ‘ignoring’ him. So, he decided to come by and pay you a little visit. Which is what he should’ve done in the first place because what the fuck?

At the moment, you were stressed out, sitting at the beat up table with books, papers, you name it. Head in hand while looking over some of the text. Take-out was on the table too. A bag with balled up trash and a half full cup right next to you. You didn’t really care given the current situation you were in. Just as you went to turn the page, there was a shift in the air and a quick noise. Which caused you to react immediately and reach for your gun. Getting ready to get whatever was in your motel room. But it was just Crowley. The man who you’ve been ‘ignoring’ for days on end. You sighed, shoulders dropping while setting the gun back down. “Yes?” You spoke, tiredly. With this difficult of a hunt, it was really taking a toll on you.

Crowley was a bit taken aback. You’ve been no contact with him for weeks and that’s all you have to say? The hell?

“What have you been up to?” He asked, starting to walk around the room a bit.

“A hunt. A difficult one at that,” you retreated back to your seat. Sitting down and deciding to give yourself a break to watch him.

“So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me? Some stupid little hunt is all that it takes for you to ghost me?”

“Crowley, y’know it’s not like that.” You pause. “If I had the chance to talk to you I would, but I’ve been busy.”

He takes a moment—collecting himself. “All you had to do was simply ask me for help!”

You really couldn’t deal with this right now. With Crowley and the hunt? You had stuff that you needed to do. But maybe you could make an exception. “I promise you, If I would’ve had the time on my hands to speak to you, I would’ve.” He shifted on his feet, trying to keep this pissed off, mean demeanor going. But it was a bit obvious it was failing. “How ‘bout I make it up to you?” You say as you started to get up and walk toward him. Stopping once you were just a few inches away.

“Deal.”

⟢

Clothes were being shed, tossed around the room while you guys made it to the bed. A problem for later. His lips were against yours, whenever you’d pull away to breathe you’d take his bottom lip with you. Letting it snap back to place when it reached its limit. Teeth were clanking together, hands were grabbing ‘n pulling at whatever they could, and you guys were practically breathing into each others mouths. Crowley leaned into your touches, wanting more and more. Was he going to voice that? Probably not. But did you notice? Of course.

“Thought you were angry at me? Or does that not matter right now?” You teased, lips hovering over his. Crowley grunted, avoiding your questions because he could. Deciding to kiss you in an attempt to silent you. You scoffed, tried too. Yet leaned in toward him.

A few minutes later you had him right where you wanted him. Tip pushed against his hole, hands at his waist, and his dick twitching. Minus him grumbling to himself. You didn’t use a lot of lube, or how much you were supposed to use. But Crowley didn’t care, if anything he loved it more. You pushed your hips forward, cock slowly sinking in. He clenched and let out a quiet grunt. But you told him to quit it and relax, which he ended up doing sooner or later. The burn and stretch hurt painfully good. He huffed and then let out a moan. Eyes shutting.

“Damnit..”

You barely heard it, considering he whispered it surprisingly quietly. “What? Can’t take some dick?”

“Shut up will you? Ruining the moment,” He grumbled, but you knew he didn’t mean it. You knew he loved it. Once you bottomed out you stayed still for just a moment before proceeding to pull out and fuck into him. Your pace was slow at first but then you sped up in a matter of minutes. Crowley grounded himself by holding onto the sheets. Almost never letting go. “Relax,” one of your hands started to rub at his thigh, in an attempt for him to let up and quit being stubborn. “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

He grunted, hips involuntarily moving. Speaking of hips yours continued to push forward. Your cock getting hugged by his walls perfectly. You decided to be nice, have mercy on him. So your free hand wrapped around his leaking cock, and began pumping. The reaction you got out of Crowley was beautiful. Breath hitching, a moan soon drawing out, a curse under his breath, and him closing his eyes. Oh, were you going to fuck him so good. And he knew it. Knew it the moment he showed up to your motel room and made eye contact with his stressed out lover. Would lover even be the correct term? Who knew.

In a matter of minutes, you had him slowly unfolding. Dick twitching inside of him at the thought of, well, many things. Your angle changed when you gripped his thighs and held them up. A bonus being the sight of your cock disappearing inside of him. With the action, it caused Crowley to let out a quiet whimper. Yes, a whimper.

The King of Hell, a demon who’s tortured, been tortured, and put fear in others, at the palm of your hand. Already a somewhat, noisy mess because of you.

You could tell he was close. By the way he reacted and how he let out more breathy sounds. So you sped up your hand and deepened your thrusts. Getting him closer and closer. But when he was right there, you pulled away and slowed your thrusts. “Oh, you—“ he began. But you cut him off with a snap of your hips—cock going straight to his prostate. A very loud moan pulling from Crowley’s throat. Which you smiled to yourself. Your hand soon returned back to his cock, and your thrusts went back to what they were before. Fast, rough, ‘n deep. This was wrong. Probably not on Crowley’s part, but on yours. You were a hunter. Someone who gets rid of demons, vampires, things that go bump in the night. Not fuck them. You were way too close to a demon—The King of Hell for better measure. Not that it made it any better. But with the way he moaned, clenched around your cock, and reacted to you, all those thoughts drifted away.

Your thumb swiped across his tip. Your goal being to provide more stimulation for your poor, needy partner. Letting out a groan your hips stuttered and you spilled inside of him without warning. Of course he let out some smart remark. Yet, you continued. Fucking your cock into him as if your life depended on it. And Crowley? Oh he was gone. Jaw hung open, back arched, and eyes shut. In a matter of seconds he came to—spurting white strips of cum onto his stomach and up. His face was scrunched up in a look of pleasure. Dick twitching and throbbing furiously. Your hand continued pumping his cock, it being a lot easier than before due to his cum. Crowley panted and huffed ‘n soon it became a bit too much for him. Hips attempting to draw back but got stopped due to the mattress. “Shit!”

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips. “What’s wrong, Crowley? Too much?” With your cock continuing to hammer into him, and your hand not letting up on his cock? Yes! But he refused to have you reel in his vulnerability.

“What? No! M’just fine.”

“Alright then..”

But after minutes into it, you noticed how squirmy he got. And how he often bit his lip to silence himself from making whatever noise that dared to be let out. Were you the type of person to let that go? No. So you did what you could to make him louder. To where he couldn’t rely on biting his lip to holding in his moans. Your hands gripped and grabbed at him all over. Pulling his hand away from his face, whispering praises into his ear then slowly replacing them with something degrading. Which made his overstimulated cock jump.

His hips would thrust up but then not even a few seconds later pull back against the mattress. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted more or less. Yet when he felt that familiar feeling he felt too long ago, he’s sure he knew what he wanted. “C’mon, c’mon.” He’d grumbled, while pushing his hips down to try and get more of your cock.

“Greedy thing, aren’t you?” You teased, laughing to yourself. You pulled out, tip catching at his rim before shoving yourself back in. Hearing a punched out moan in response. Deciding to help him a little you wrapped your hand around his cock yet again. Stroking and doing what you could to make him cum again. And when he did, he made it known. Whining, whimpering, you name it. All fell from his lips and into your ears. All for you to hear. His hips stuttered—not knowing what to do in the heat of the moment.

When the both of you calmed down, you finally spoke up. “Did you miss me?”

“Not at all. If anything I felt better than I ever did not speaking to you.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed.

Sure.

[nqrancia]

no thoughts, head empty, i think it’d be hilarious to call some of the jjba character your “current” boyfriend just to fuck with them. so could i get Rohan, Mista and Diego react to reader calling them that? thank youuu ❤️

“𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.”

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 : rohan kishibe, guido mista, diego brando

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : how does your bf react to being referred to as your current boyfriend

𝐚/𝐧 : this one was fun to write, tsym for requesting diego! i’ve been brainrotting over him recently :)

𝐑𝐎𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐊

He’s not mad, he’s just disappointed.

Rohan is more than familiar with the trends of today, and is also more than aware of their stupidity. At least, that’s what he believes them to be. It’s not the initial statement that bothers him, it’s the notion that you thought he would be dumb enough to fall for the little trick you attempted to pull on him.

“I’m a bit offended you thought that would work on me.”

He won’t admit it, but he does think about that moment more than he wants to.

───

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐎 𝐌.

Appalled, offended, incredulous. Any negative word that could be used to describe the look of betrayal on Mista’s face was the only way to properly read it. He almost immediately thinks he’s done something to wrong you, which he hasn’t, but he doesn’t know that! The man almost felt his soul leave his body. “What do you mean “current boyfriend”?!”

“Babe, did I do something wrong?”

Even his Sex Pistols are freaking out, thinking you’re leaving him. They need their snack distributor, and it has to be you. You always have exactly what they’re craving.

“Mista says he’s sorry for whatever he did wrong!”

As soon as you tell him it was just a small prank, he lets out the biggest sigh of relief he could muster. A weight was just taken off his shoulders, and he’s even more relieved that you aren’t leaving him. “Thank god! I thought this was your own messed up way of telling me you were breaking up with me!”

You have to promise that you won’t call him that again, or he thinks next time he will actually die.

“Never call me your “current boyfriend” ever again, I am your boyfriend for life!”

“I would hope at that point you’d be my husband instead, Guido.”

“Details.”

───

𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐆𝐎 𝐁.

As soon as those words left your mouth, you were doomed. Though his face was kept in a calm expression for your audience, he was internally setting everything in the vicinity on fire. “Current boyfriend”? What exactly did the phrasing of those words mean? Were you trying to insinuate that in the near future you were going to break up with him? To his knowledge, he hadn’t done anything to anger you. But your words gave him a sense of an internal panic.

After your entourage of reporters had come to interview the both of you, he immediately turned to look at you and scoffed. “Current boyfriend”? I see how it is.”

He is not taking this little prank so well. His feeling of betrayal is expressed in harsher words and blunt statements, and will act this way until you apologize properly to him. To others, his actions might seem childish, but you understood why he reacted this way. Diego wasn’t one to care what was lost as long as he didn’t need it or didn’t see a reason for its use, but you were different. He didn’t like humans, yet you were “tolerable” enough to be allowed to be his. He had found trust in you, yet his heart was still fragile.

Which was exactly why he turned to teasing to mess with you, to convince you to fold and ask for his forgiveness.

“Yes, my “current significant other” loves to watch me race. They come to every event just to watch me achieve victory. Cute, isn’t it?”

Diego won’t stop until you apologize, and you have to be as honest and concise as possible with it as well. He won’t accept a half-hearted, shell of a reason. You have to be clear with him and express your want for forgiveness. If you word your sentences correctly, you might just get him to crack a small smile.

“If there is a next time, I won’t be so nice about my teasing.”

@𝐧𝐪𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐚 ݁₊˚⊹☆ - please do not translate or plagiarize my works.

[dipperscavern]

jon snow brainrot rn.

like imagine finding him after the whole thorne execution, post-death and post-revival

i need to hold him so bad🙁🙁 in spite of the horrid crawl of his skin, hair at his nape standing on end, urging him avert his gaze as you approach, he can't help but seek your soft stare, his own eyes weak with feeling, brows curved with vulnerability. and his heartbeat is quickening, and his breathing grows sharp

his hand trembles and no matter how desperately he tries to hold fast, he crumbles when you near, raising a hand to his cheek; warm and soft and tender. his breath hitches violently in his chest and his head falls to the crook of your neck, his silent sobs disrupting the quiet with small soundless gasps

and you hold him close, with a gentleness he deserves that he'd never before recieved, a hand in his curls and the other a firm warmth on his back as he helplessly leans his weight on you to finally release the overflow of agony he'd all but drowned in 🙁🙁🙁

SWEET BOY, I NEED TO HOLD HIM💔💔

SONGBIRDS — JON SNOW

pairing: jon snow x fem!reader, 3.1k words

synopsis: the ask above <3

authors note: ouh this was a rough one! i did in fact steal sentences from this ask, so thank u anon!! i love u!! become a writer!! thank u to my febu frongers @useralba & @eldrith for helping me not lose my sanity over this, love y’all!! enjoy i guess 🙄(if possible) (i’m gonna be quiet now)

SNAP

you’re brought out of your thoughts with a jolt, startled so badly you near fall out of the tree you’ve found sanctuary in. that doesn’t sit well with you, you’ve always been steady.

so was bran, a small voice whispers. so was he, another part of you agrees — and the one it mentions has naught to do with climbing.

was, your mind echoes bitterly. it seems like everyone who once surrounded you is only that anymore, a was. a whisper of the past, faces seen nowhere but in living memory; and now, he has joined them.

fresh tears roll down your cheeks, and you wipe them as soon as they join the conversation of grief. bitterness — mourning — desperation, all cradling you at once.

you readjust your form, limbs beginning to fall asleep from the tight position they’re in. if only you could do the same. it seems the gods have deemed you unable, as every time your eyes droop, you see the face of the lord commander.

the mere thought of him is paining, and the sight of him was entirely too much to bear. so much so that you fled, the memory squeezing uncomfortably at your chest.

his eyes, once ever-expressive, dulled to nothing but an expressionless saccharine blur. lips parted, yet no air being brought in to fill his lungs. the snow beneath him was stained a bloody crimson, and you can almost feel the familiar cold of the icy ground beneath your knees as you kneel beside the form of the man you love.

at first, you had cried. whispering pleas to whomever would listen, clutching any part of him you could reach — you had even attempted to stop the bleeding. stupid, stupid girl.

then, it seemed to occur to you that you were touching death. slowly removing your hands, looking down at the lifeless body of jon snow. and just like that, repulsion had entered your veins. no — rejection.

you rejected this. you rejected death, you rejected the finality you had been dealt. you had stood, clutching your bow, arrows lightly jostling from the movement. hunting.

you had been hunting while jon was dying.

if only time had dealt you a mercy, perhaps you would’ve made it back in time. to save him, or just to say goodbye, you’re not greedy in your wishing.

you glance to your hands, still stained with his blood. suddenly, your eyes flutter shut as you see the image of his body again — his wounds smoking in the cold nights air. it feels like a lifetime ago. rejection has long since abandoned you, leaving bitter acceptance in its wake.

you blink, eyes threatening tears, and your gaze finds the white and red blur of a weirwood tree. you return to the woods to escape, yet the gods find you anyway; what cruel mockery.

how could they, yet again? don’t they see all you lose? they must, you think, as they’re the ones who keep taking. is that the only joy a god may find? maybe now, that’s why you hunt; to send them a life as sick compensation for the one they took. what an acidic dance.

CRACK

this time, when a twig breaks, you are not so foolish as to think it only by coincidence. you aren’t the only hunter out here — yet you did not think to find yourself as prey.

whatever stalks you is enough to bring you out of the cynicality of grief, snapping you into a different mindset. though previously unsure how much more you can withstand, your body proves otherwise, flawless in its transition and execution.

you heart increases its rhythm, surefire in its performance, allowing extra blood flow and oxygen to be pumped to your aching muscles. your breathing changes, now quick and rapid breaths to take in more air which prove effective as you shift yourself from your sitting position.

you had chosen not the tallest tree, but the thickest and most concealed. it gives more room for stability, allowing you to exercise your position; a small decision you now are thankful for as you move forward, outstretching yourself on its thick limb to try and catch glimpse of whatever it is that seeks you.

unfortunately, the concealment that hides you does its job too well. you try to peer through the branches and leaves for what feels like ages, but they prove too thick. you curse under your breath, withdrawing from the branch to retreat back to the trees trunk once more.

closing your eyes, you listen. the gust of wind, the rustling of leaves, a raven cries in the distance. you wait.

there — your ears are graced with the light chirp of birds, in your own tree and in others nearby.

“If danger is near, the birds don’t sing.”

ned starks voice rings through your ears, so loud and clear that for a moment, you almost lose concentration. if asked why, you’d never be able to directly say why your eyes didn’t snap open, why your head didn’t swivel around, looking for the source of the voice you’ve heard. can you and the gods share a secret, if it’s one they decide not to include you on?

as the melody of songbirds continue, you shift to begin your descent.

in any other scenario you would stay in the tree, concealed by its branches until the threat was certainly gone. but things are different. jon is dead — you seek a fight. (do you, or do you refuse to allow the stranger your soul as well?)

the decision made, even in grief, isn’t a rash one. whatever it is isn’t nearby enough to silence the singers, and this may be your only window of opportunity to flip the coin; restoring yourself as predator, not prey.

your feet hit the ground, and you wince at the noise made. it’s midday, so you cannot hope for nightfalls rescue of concealment.

you pause, peering around you while you allow yourself a moment to think. your hunting grounds have always been the forest that surrounds castle black, and you had retreated to the very edge of it. your hunter has come from the north — funny enough, from the direction of castle black itself. if you’re careful, you can make a loop back east, foregoing your usual trail. swallowing your nerves, you begin to move your feet.

your senses are heightened, alike to how they are in battle, but this is different. instead of blood pulsing in your ears, they’re attuned to every sound, no matter how minuscule. the smell of blood and death is replaced by nature, the scent of oak & pine leaves fighting to not be smothered by the cold.

you don’t make much progress before you turn a corner and yelp in surprise, being met with a hulking figure, red eyes boring into you.

“Ghost—!” you shout; in surprise, frustration, and relief all at once. your breathing heavies, heart now beating wildly, ready to supply you should you need to run at a moments notice. then, somehow, you’re smiling. you smile at ghost, at the birds, who didn’t notice him enough to quiet themselves, and the childness of it all. you kneel, shouldering your bow and outstretching an arm.

ghost seems like he’s been waiting for your action, stepping forward immediately. you register his willingness — had he been searching for you? or did he find jon dead and left, as you did, finding you accidentally? if only he could speak; the phantom of a thousand words.

he’s soft under your hands, a small comfort parading in the wake of sad relations. and suddenly, you feel guilty. how long has ghost been by jon’s side? how fierce, the loyalty the direwolf has shown him? how fierce the devotion jon had shown him in return? he mourns alongside you, grief arguably more substantial, as he was given no explanation. how could he understand such matters?

an idiot thought, you're quick to push it away. you both have every right to grief, there is more than enough to go around.

eventually, ghost pulls away, and begins padding in the direction to castle black. you think he means to be solitary, but after a few paces, he stops, turning to look back at you. expectant.

though your breath hitches and grief nags at you once more, you swallow it down, and begin to follow the only remnant of jon snow — a piece of him that the gods saw fit to leave you. what cruel mercy, coming from the same hands of injustice.

though content to wallow in your anger, your disbelief, you refuse to allow the direwolf to return to castle black alone. strangely, the farther you follow him, the more you get a sense of deja vu. it can’t be more than a few minutes before you see a tree with bark missing, torn off and left bare its left side, which is now your right. a mark you had left to remember your trail. ghost has tracked your scent from castle black.

with the realization arises conflicted feelings, as if they can’t agree on how you feel. loyalty rings faintly in the back of your mind, the things done for love.

you forcibly close your mind, numbing yourself as to be fully in the present. you’ll have the rest of your days to dwell on it; but only now are you here, in the company of trees and wolves and birds, oh how they sing.

and suddenly, the melody is quiet.

time itself has been stopped, halted in its tracks. there’s no rustling of branches, of leaves, no sound of birds, no sound at all — the world has become inaudible.

you and ghost mirror each other in the ways you both lurch to a halt. a sick feeling infects your gut, hairs rising on the back of your neck, and the instinctual need to flee almost takes over. but something keeps you there, rooted to your spot, feet unmoving. what anchors you, is another secret between you and the gods; another peculiar joke that you stay the punchline of.

then, after a moment, a gust of wind graces the forest. it blows your hair, rustles through the trees, and almost hesitantly so, the birds begin their song again. ghost looks back at you, surveying as if this is the first time he’s seen you.

he begins to lead the way once more, but a thought still lingers in the back of your mind, and you’re unable to shake off the unease in your gut. what has dismantled the harmonious balance among living things so?

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

he wakes with a gasp.

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

it must be hours later when you approach the gates of castle black. one of the guards on watch takes notice, shaking the other awake. as they both stare down at you, you wonder.

are they close enough to see the mourning that rests forefront on your face? were they the same men who opened the gate for you upon your return last night, only to do the same thing minutes later after you found jon? do they feel guilty? should you?

the wooden gates protest opening, loud creaks and groans as it gives you access, and at first, you don’t see it.

at first, you walk in, and your gaze is trapped on the ground, lost in thought. you’ve come back empty handed, as you came back to jon — or rather, his body. but you don’t think anyone was expecting a stag draped across your shoulders. amidst the unexpected.

when you finally do look up, you’re startled for the ? time today. four men hang in the middle of the courtyard.

you stop in your tracks, but this time, ghost pads on ahead of you. he stops not for anybody, curving them all to fair left. the direction to jon’s chambers.

you don’t have long to dwell on the wolfs mistake, as peoples eyes find your frozen figure. among them, friends; edd, grenn, pyp, others you don’t recognize. some, not dressed in black. wildlings. you begin to walk forward, and a tall, ginger bearded figure spots you. tormund walks to meet you, an expression on his face unreadable — unable to be identified by your tired eyes.

confusion — surprise — apprehension — curiosity; all fight for their seat at the forefront of your mind, but they’re forced to share.

as you and tormund find each other, you glance past him at the hanging men. then to your left, expecting to see ghost still scratching at jon’s door — but he’s not there. was he shooed off? did you misread his intention?

“I don’t— what’s…” you start, but don’t finish. how could you even begin?

tormund reaches for you, hands settling on your biceps. whether he’s keeping you in place or checking for injury, you don’t think you care. the weight and warmth of the gesture is welcomed.

“Tormund, you’re scaring me—” your admission wouldn’t usually come so easy, but you can’t be bothered to guard yourself. you’re exhausted, your muscles are stiff, you’re confused, and you hurt.

he only turns you toward jon’s chambers, pointing, a hand on the small of your back. “In there, little bird.” he says, and you wish to tell him what a help he is. but you don’t. for some reason, you bite your tongue, sparing a last glance at him, before slowly making your way over.

all of the eyes on you make you nervous, and frustrate you all the same. why do they all act like they’ve seen the father?

it doesn’t take long for you to reach the door, curiosity guiding your step. you see ghosts muddied paw prints on the wood, but they don’t turn left or right — ending at the chamber door. your brows furrow almost instinctively. you can’t help but linger on the thought, setting your bow & arrows to lay nearby; your shoulders welcome the reprieve. with bated breaths, you push on the wood, stepping inside. what you find is beyond even your wildest imaginations.

what you find is jon’s head turning to look at you, and you can’t help the sharp inhale of air you take.

his bottom half is clothed, but his upper is uncovered, torso wrapped in bandages; covering the stab wounds that you know took his life.

you think him a hallucination, mind willing his fate to change so desperately it has conjured up its own delusion. but you glance to ghost, dutifully curled by his feet, and shift to turn, looking at the paw prints that led you here.

you turn back to (jon?), closing the door behind you. while your own flickers to ghost once more (an affirmation), jon’s gaze remains fixed on you. you inch closer, surveying him.

his eyes, now encasing life — not quite the same as you knew, but life nonetheless. lips, parted, as to suck in air to fill his lungs. lungs that in return, work in correspondence with his heart, beating to keep him alive.

no. this can’t be…

but it is.

he’s rigid — uncomfortable, yet a part of him fights to relax in your presence. how can it all be so unbalanced and so right all at once? you’re here. you’re all he’s ever wanted. but a part of him keeps him withdrawn, fighting him on reaching out for you.

perhaps it’s the horrid crawl of his skin, urging him avert his gaze as you approach. even so, he can't help but seek your gentle stare, his own eyes weak with feeling, brows curved with vulnerability. you see it as you close in — the turmoil within himself.

a different part of him wins, and he reaches for you. you’ve been waiting, it seems, and reach for him with equal fervor. his hands are cold on your waist, strikingly so. your eyes widen, disbelief written on you like ink on parchment.

you had not expected to feel him. no, you expected for him to vanish underneath your very fingertips.

one of your hands find the bare skin of his torso, experimentally reaching out. jon is hungry for your touch, offering any part of himself for your taking. he has craved you desperately ever since he awoke.

he watches, patient as you register the warmth underneath your hand. there’s blood circulating through his veins. your pupils blow wide in the realization.

you’re anxious for more assurance, your right hand moving to his forearm to keep him in place (jon wouldn’t dare to move), as your left finds his chest. specifically — the part of his chest that keeps safe his heart. you feel it beat underneath your palm, and your reaction is immediate, eyes fluttering shut.

if he didn’t want to be touched, jon would’ve shied away from you by now. but he hasn’t. no, his eyes bore into you with the attention only divine beings receive

jons breathing heavies in anticipation, expectant. he gauges every ounce of your reaction, waiting for your evaluation of him — as a sinner would their god. is he worthy? do you deem him so?

when your eyes open, something clicks into place. jon is here, in the now, alive and breathing; your fingertips said so themselves. you don’t know how, but you can’t find it in yourself to care much in the present, not when you finally have him in your hold once more. what you would’ve given for this, hours ago in your tree. what wouldn’t you have given?

and now, your eyes roam over every part of him, drinking in all that you can. your gaze trails fast, mapping the expanse of his shoulders, down his arms, to his torso, across his bandages again.

your hand removes itself from his chest, only momentarily, but jon chases your touch all the same. you can’t bear to leave him wanting, sliding a hand up his shoulder, feeling the lithe muscle beneath it. you’re desperate to ground the feeling of him, to commit it to memory — and jon seems equal in his need.

you hand stops it’s ascent when it reaches his neck, cradling the juncture of it, thumb smoothing over the soft skin of his cheek, as you meet his gaze. your touch is warm and soft and tender, and in an instant, his eyes are watery. the hands on your waist tremble, and his breaths turn shaky in an attempt to hold himself together. his brows pull together, and his breath hitches violently in his chest. something stirs in you at the sight, the expressions of a broken man.

jon has passed your test of realism with flying colors, and when he realizes, he crumbles.

his head falls to the crook of your neck, closing the small distance between you. you’re quick to wrap your arms around him, and jon’s immediate in pulling you closer — as close as you can get. the tears begin their flow easily, releasing the buildup of emotions harbored from death snaring & absolving him; akin to poison swallowed and retched before fully digested.

your touch is gentle, a hand in his curls and the other a firm warmth on his back. he leans himself into you, almost helplessly so, as if he couldn’t stop himself if he tried. you accept his weight with open arms. if jon was asked why he fights so desperately, even in times it seems hopeless, he would say to repay the gods for their gift to him; you.

the only things that disrupt the steady quiet that surrounds you are his silent sobs, accompanied by the small soundless gasps that flow from his lips as a river of melancholy.

his grip is tight; he drowns in a vast sea of agony, and you alone are his anchor.

[blank-house]

first of all, i want to say that ever since i played the extended demo for the first time, this game has had an iron grip on my brain. like fingers in my brain wrinkles, fr and it shows no sign of stopping, its crazy good.

the question i wanted to ask, though is: what are the lockscreen pics of the main cast?

and specifically for the LIs: does that change after they start dating MC? like do they change it to a pic of them and MC or MC alone? or they just keep it the same?

again, great game and at this point i fear i might never escape the percy tozaki brainrot, it is all consuming :D

Haha nice. I’m high fiving myself rn because everyone else is asleep but thanks for playing and enjoying our game!

I don’t really got a concrete idea of what their lock screens can be.

Elio for sure has some space theme. Or mm it could be a pic of the beach at sunrise/mountains at sundown back at Kaua’i. He’d probably really like having that to see whenever he opens his phone.

Percy’s probably got him and his bros doing something stupid. Like idk Elio and him posing around a sleeping Jamie with sharpie markings.

Cameron’s got the equivalent but with the bestie Trio.

Deja… mm. I teeter on whether or not she goes overboard with the aesthetic or calls it a day with like a picture of herself because why not.

Reynah… I picture a generic pastel background.

Jamie… god. I just think he’s got the stupidest shit as his lock screen. Like a rock that looks like a thumbs up. Definitely something he just saw while walking around.

As for the LIs they probably will change it. Def to incorporate their partner in some lovable/teasing way of theirs.

[internetscenarios]

tgc brainrot,, new group video AND isaac video was very funny

i am on a roll

ok streamer!reader x all tgc members 😆 no grunk obviously but he will be mentioned

tgc x streamer!reader/ cc! reader ≽ܫ≼

isaac ♡︎

- playing minecraft on stream together 🫶🫶

- american truck simulator oh lord

- he would slightly lean ur door open being like “ru streaming :3?”

- in the old house they used to throw basketballs against the wall of tanners room whenever he was streaming

- so if isaac needed ur attention or u werent replying bcs u were streaming he would do something like that LOL

- would jus pop up in ur streams sometimes, like if ur in a vc by urself he would join and scare u

- if u were streaming and focused sometimes he may just come in ur room and shake u while screaming help

- feel like u would place ur hands on his face if he was too in frame

- bro wants to be faceless forever

- u would defo pop up in his streams like u would walk in ask him something and chat would just spam ur name

- would be in most of his videos

- like that one clip where nick is like “where is grunk when you need him”

- im finding it hold on 😐

makes me giggle sm

- but he would be like “where is y/n when u need them”

“they do NOT care”

yumi ︎ ♡︎

- he would LOVEE having u in his streams

- csgo brainrot with him oh god

- he would be screaming at everyone else then be super calm and nice to u if u mess something up LOL

- beating horror games with him, ur there for moral support

- the other way round as well, if ur trying to beat the horror game hes there for support but also constantly trying to tell u what to do while focusing 😐

- brainrot streams where u just watch daily dose of internet or funny tiktoks

- feel like hes not super into physical touch but if ur getting up from ur seat or something he has a hand on your back or waist to make sure you dont lose balance or stuff

- defo sweet tho like

“ok im going to sleep now”

“okayy goodnight love you”

- chat is screaming

- chat constantly asking you both to do a cute pose or smthn for an edit

- ok this is with all tgc boys but if ur public with ur relationship there are SO many edits

nick ♡︎

- ugh nick my love

- lets say hypothetically u live in bento house (sorry thats the only way i refer it as LOL) and u both have separate setups and he is ALWAYS needing help with something

- that one time he had ZERO mods in his chat and had to have chat to help him

- silly bf

- if ur streaming and he comes home from like tgc house he always comes in the room and says hello

- he is always doing something stupid in the background or just being embarrassing

- that one clip in ltlvc3 where larry was standing in yumis doorway, that is him LOL

- feel like he would jus appear and everyone spamming his name in ur chat

- being in his vlogs omg

- defo has at least a few (so many) vlogs of him spoiling u

- ok but if u were moving to austin he would vlog it all like he did with helping yumi move in

- those cute little “meeting my long distance bf” videos and u run up and hug eachother is u and nick :33

- if u were both open abt the relationship and were just in public people would want pictures with both of u,, not just either of u by urself

- his music is always on ur stream playlist

- and if u mention it hes like “omg hehehe”

- always going places like twitchcon w him

- bento is always on stream,, its not an option for him to not have a couple minutes of fame

- i saw someone do this with sapnap so creds to them but like,, imagine there was an edit on ur stream of a celebrity or someone and u we’re giggling and blushing then nick just calls u being like

“u have a boyfriend you know?”

big t ♡︎

- omfg roblox streams with him and larry

- there would be a cute compilation of you two on the vajeesh channel

is that his channel or no???

- in new isaac video he did the intro pretending to sound like isaac, he would get u to do that or the other way round LOL

- ive said this so many times b4 but if u lived separately from tgc house he would pull up to urs and just pretend ur streaming setup was his LOL

- if ur streaming he always comes and says hello

- imagine u were like a family friendly cc,, he would say the most outta pocket things and u would be lecturing him

- same w yumi omfg

- definitely puts some of ur fav songs on his stream playlist, and u do the same!!

- feel like he picks up little things u do in ur videos/streams

- like if u welcome saying like haii guys he does the same

- if hes streaming and u come into his room he forces u to have screentime bcs u deserve it 🫶🫶

- like nick he is always doing the most embarrassing stuff ever

“tanner its not that i dont wanna see you do a backflip, but last time you broke my entire desk.”

- hell naw

- defo always brings u a drink or food if ur hungry

also isaac defo does that. malewife

- if u got matching clothes ur both showing it off on stream

- matching wolf shirts HELP

larry ♡︎

- ROBLOXX STREAM

- if ur not in the stream or streaming u are sat on his bed with him occasionally telling u to say hello leaning his camera towards u

- god u have to put up with the most random shit ever

STUFF LIKE THIS

- also kendrick and drake being in that title did not age well

- if ur streaming he always asks to request a song 🙏🙏

- if ur ever doing a pretty chill stream he always makes it a bit more chaotic oh my god

- like youll be playing minecraft peacefully and talking to chat then larry comes in blasting music

- silly pictures of you two EVERYWHERE

- worlds most loved couple 🫶🫶

IM SORRY LARRYS IS SO SJORT I CANT THINK OF ANY i got lazy 😢😢

i hope these r cool 😆

[goodlucktai]

WAIT WAIT WAIT ok im sorry you can ignore this ask and the other ask too BUT I've been on a baby casey & f!leo fatherson kick brainrot lately and I just think prompt 27 would be heatbreaking and wonderful all at once, ok but fr love you big fan 💕🫂

dialogue prompts

27. “Breathe... breathe. Look at the stars, kid.”

it's @soldrawss birthday and i JUST found out because apparently i am a huge joke to her /j

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOL i hope your day was lovely and that you enjoy this small offering

x

They’re barely home for an hour when Casey’s breath catches in his throat. 

It’s sudden enough that he chokes mid-word and starts to cough, his body trying to clear its airway except that there isn’t any blockage there to dislodge. When he finally manages to suck in a breath that fills his lungs halfway, it rattles in with an audible reedy wheeze. 

Maybe no one noticed, he thinks hysterically, and lifts his eyes to find his entire not-family staring at him from their various positions around the room. 

“You good?” Mikey says, wrapped hands already up like he was ready to make the save if Casey keeled over. 

“Fine,” he says, or tries to. It comes out sounding so hoarse that he might as well have just opened his mouth and croaked at him like a mutant bullfrog. 

Mikey’s brow furrows beneath his dirtied orange mask and he whips around to look to his big brothers for guidance, the way he never really grew out of doing, even after the end of the world. 

Leo is already moving, pushing himself upright off the cot that Raph just set him down on. He waves the instant chorus of “Leo, I swear to god”s away and limps over to where Casey had stationed himself by the handwash sink. He starts to limp over, anyway, and one of his legs folds beneath him immediately, and he would have eaten concrete if it weren’t for all the hands that shot out from all sides to catch him. 

There are still hands to catch him here. It’s nice. 

The tightness in Casey’s chest is unbearable now that he’s given it a second of attention. What he mistook for anxiety and adrenaline was maybe not entirely that, after all. He’s usually better about catching the warning signs—if he’d run the system update that’s been haunting the corner of his HUD for the last week like he should have done, the program designed specifically to monitor his asthma symptoms would have thrown up its own red flag by now. Multiple flags in multiple colors, even, impossible to ignore and more annoying by the second until Casey admitted defeat and took himself to the medbay. 

As long as the update is queued, taking up memory, there’s a ghost in the CPU. As long as there’s a ghost, his family still exists somewhere. They’re not gone, they came here with him. They’re alive and the world didn’t end and Casey can breathe. 

Later, he’ll feel really stupid about this. Later, he’ll hate the way he snatched up Leo’s hands the second they moved into his line of sight and clung to him like a scared little kid. 

But right now he is that scared little kid. 

“Hey, Space-Case,” not-sensei says with sensei’s crooked smile. He almost definitely has a broken cheekbone, and two black eyes, and he’s smiling like he doesn’t feel any of it. “Sounds like you’ve been holding out on us. Slow and steady, life’s not a race unless you make it one.” 

Casey knows what it sounds like when Leo is worried, can hear the upset under the polished glass surface of calm. It shouldn't be comforting to know that, but it’s comforting to know him. He ekes in a breath, it scratches all the way down and it doesn’t feel like it makes a difference, but the success emboldens him to suck down another. 

“You were breathy on the ride home, I thought it must have been from all the smoke,” Leo goes on. “But I guess that was a trigger. Do you have an inhaler?”

“Y–” Casey starts to say, and coughs again, and Leo’s fingers tighten around his before he can panic. “Belt,” he gasps. 

“Okay, that’s enough from you,” Leo says a little shortly. Which isn’t very fair, Casey was just answering his question. Then he realizes Leo’s clipped tone is probably because Casey’s dizziness is overpowering his ability to stand upright.

“Going down,” Leo says to someone else, and instantly, Casey’s controlled fall is arrested halfway to the floor. 

The last time Uncle Rapha held him, he was much smaller and Raph was much bigger, but somehow it feels the same. He leans back in Raph’s lap, the solid plastron behind him bracing him upright, and clumsily tries to help Leo paw through the pouches on his belt. The third time Leo bats Casey’s hands away, Raph reaches around and holds them still. 

“Let’s let the boss work,” Raph rumbles softly. It’s a miracle that he has any softness to spare for Casey, of all people, who closed the door and left his brother behind it. Left his brother in the dark where the monsters live. “We’re still breathing, right, big man?”

“R—Right,” Casey says, but it’s barely got enough air behind it to count. 

“No inhaler,” Leo announces, already turning to address someone else in the room. “Donnie, metal cabinet by the door, third drawer down, should be one in there.” Turning back, he leans in and pins Casey to the spot with a look. “Keep breathing, Case,” he says. “That’s your only job. Don’t slack off now.”

“Why do we have one?” Mikey asks in a voice that shakes. Casey manages to split enough of his attention to regret scaring him. 

“Red used to have asthma when you were all just little turtles,” Splinter says quietly. “He outgrew it, but Blue always says—”

“It’s chronic, not curable,” Leo says in a falsely bright tone, the cadence of an ancient argument. He catches the box his twin throws over and wastes no time ripping it open and shaking the inhaler into his palm. Within seconds, it’s primed, and Leo is curling one hand behind Casey’s head and bringing the mouthpiece to his lips and ordering, “Deep breath.” 

He obeys, feeling the medicine go to work, and holds without exhaling for as long as he can. It’s not long, barely five seconds. Leo shakes the canister and has it ready for him again when he’s ready to suck in another desperate puff. 

“Okay,” Leo says, studying his face with back and forth flicks of bright gold eyes. “You’re okay, Casey. Breathe.” 

“Breathe… breathe,” sensei says, large fingers combing Casey’s hair back from his sweaty forehead. His hand is calloused from the hilt of his sword, rough with scars that didn’t heal well, and gentle. 

“Look at the stars, kid,” he adds, their family’s little joke. There hadn’t been a clear night since the war started, the skies overcast with smoke and ash and pollution from the Technodromes, but every single room Casey had ever lived in had glow-in-the-dark constellations on the ceiling. 

“Look at the stars,” sensei says. 

There aren’t any, Casey wants to cry, maybe would if he had the breath to. There aren’t any anymore. 

Instead he inhales and exhales, carefully, counting each second in his head. The tension seeps out of the room like water through a sieve. Splinter is talking about hot drinks, April is talking about calling her mom. Four bright lights stay sat, a constellation that Casey is somehow in the middle of. 

“I haven’t had an attack in years,” Raph murmurs. He’s rocking Casey very slowly and doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it. “Since I was—six or seven, maybe. You kept one this whole time?”

“Correction, the medication expires, so he has consistently replaced one this whole time,” Donnie says, and sways disinterestedly with the force behind Leo’s disgruntled shove of his shoulder. 

“Oh,” Raph says. “But why?” he asks a moment later. 

“So I could say I told you so when you ended up needing it,” Leo replies disingenuously. 

Casey could say that sensei carried an inhaler in his kit every time he went into the field. Even after Uncle Raph died, he stayed in the habit. It saved Casey’s life once, the day they discovered he had asthma in the worst possible way. Sensei didn’t say I told you so to anyone. That was never the point.

“He loves you,” Casey says. “That’s why.”

For a moment, none of them speak. Then Mikey’s smile fills the room like stubborn sunshine finally breaking through rain clouds. Donnie says, “Intelligent beyond your years. I understand now why Future Me kept you around.” Leo seems to be considering the pros and cons of sinking into his shell and never coming out again, hunched small and embarrassed beside his big brother.

Casey can’t see Raph’s expression, but he can imagine what it looks like. He knows the feeling.

Casey was loved by Leo once, too.

[rotthepoet]

Ngl brothers best friend lorenzo, I said and idc cause I need

Waaittttt no cuz its 9:05 am and the cogs in my head are turning because he’s so delicious. I am continuing Lorenzo brainrot because he’s disgusting and I want him!

Okay so I 100% imagine Lorenzo on the quidditch team and I can only imagine him as this really high and mighty jock. Comes over to your house to practice Quidditch in the backyard with your brother. he is over 24/7 almost. You’ll just be going about your day and suddenly Lorenzo is sitting across from you at the dinner table g l a r i n g at you. And you’re like… a little bit confused because like why are you here? Where is your own home? Why are you staring at me?

And like everyone, even you, is so oblivious to the fact that Enzo WANTS YOU SO BAD OMFG

He loves your brother, duh he’s his best friend, but you’re a special little perk. He likes walking into the kitchen late at night to find you also getting a snack. And you’re dressed so sweetly tonight with a big loose shirt and he cant even tell if youre wearing anything underneath it and fuck hes filling water from the sink and ignoring the raging hard on when you reach up to grab something from the top shelf and your shirt rides up just enough to reveal your underwear. Hes cooked.

And In the beginning, you hate Lorenzo. He’s so fucking mean to you :( he shoves past you in the halls and calls your funny names. Hes just a real dick for a long while after you meet. Then it slows down, not at a noticeable rate either. Just one day you wake up and you say good morning to Enzo in the kitchen and you get a deep “morning…” back. Throws you for a loop. But at least hes not laughing at you anymore.

Okay okay okay because

And hear me out here.

Lorenzo would so totally make an excuse to go over to your house while no ones home because he “left his wallet” or some other bullshit excuse. And he opens tye door and beelines to your room. And god he just wants to bury his face in your pillows for hours, but he opts for rubbing one out while a pair of your underwear is smushed across his face. And you know hes snooping around too. He finds your sex toys and he short circuits because theyre smaller than him which, according to him, means he can make you feel even better than a stupid dildo.

After this he’s even weirder with you. Meeting you more frequently in the kitchen, standing pressed up against your back while he grabs something from over your head. He slides his hand over your waist when he slips right past you in the hallway. He just wants to touch you so bad and like… why wouldn’t you want him? I mean look at him.

[quietwingsinthesky]

like. timing’s a lot of the reason that ten and eleven were the faces of the “who” part of the superwholock boom, but its also that. well. matt smith is the youngest guy to play the doctor. and david tennant was made in a tumblr sexyman factory, he’s like if the onceler had a humansona. undeniably, a lot of the reason nine (and twelve later) didn’t get to be standing next to them is that they weren’t exactly the set fantasy for tumblr at the time in terms of looks. and i cannot emphasize enough the fact that i’m saying ‘for tumblr’, because they have always been hot, just not tumblr hot.

what i’m saying here, when i say that a lot of us are gay now is. well, one, a lot of us are gay now. but two, that you kind of need time to grow up to come out, right? hell, i don’t have the metrics for it, but it does feel right to always be joking about tumblr’s aging userbase. people here for superwholock that are still on this website have been here for a decade. that’s a lot of time to re-evaluate yourself, your sexuality, and the fantasies that come attached to it.

the re-evaluation of nine definitely has to do with s1 just being fantastic in the first place, but. i feel like it’s also that a lot of us are gay now.