#gods the sponsors too

[perish-the-creator]

Give these four a studio, microphones, and some energon snacks and I'm telling you they'd produce the best Podcast across the whole multiverse.

[asleepinawell]

there are waaaaay too many options for a tumblr poll, but I'm curious, which ffxiv zone is your absolute LEAST favorite? which zone fills you with blinding rage whenever you teleport there? which zone do you wish bahamut had blasted into non-existence?

and sure, why not, what's your favorite?

comments/replies/tags welcomed for responses!

[skitskatdacat63]

This is my personal crossover event of the century

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

Someone Worth Loving | Yandere!Imayoshi Shouichi

for anon who asked "in which a popular s/o was the crush of imayoshi in first year until there year, but  s/o didn't want to be tie down so they just play around, and yan! imayoshi was a delusional to think that he's special. i think imayoshi will be very oc, so feel free to change something hehe. i love your writing style and works" this was fun to write, challenging but also a good chance to have a think about yandere!imayoshi further and outside my usual box for him. he's not particularly delusional here - i just can't see someone as socially aware and intelligent as ima being a delusional yandere. but i figured the combination of a) him not being a control freak and being pretty laidback; having that darker side, but also not wanting people to perceive him as evil unlike hanamiya + b) probable abandonment/grief issues after losing his mum + c) liking prim and proper girls = a more intriguing and unique yandere than i usually give him credit for. so thanks for the ask anon, and without further ado... content warning for slight explicit-ness. this is a yandere fic - it's not romance, and it's written accordingly.

It was love at first sight for Imayoshi. 

On that fatal first day, you skipped through the doors of the Touou classroom that you would share with Imayoshi for the next three years, holding hands with a ‘friend’ you had befriended just minutes prior (whom, Imayoshi already understood, would be forgotten about as soon as someone more suitable appeared to take her place), asking her where they should sit.

The other girl pointed to two empty desks near the front. That was when you let go of her hand. 

“I just have to sit by the windows,” you said, not at all apologetically, as if it was a given, not even sparing a second glance at the girl beside you - her eyes a little wide, almost a touch teary as she realised that she was already being demoted to rank of Friendless First Year. 

There was only one seat left near the windows. They’d have to split up. And the remaining chair was by fellow first year Imayoshi, who was pulling a pen out his backpack, pondering whether to ignore you or put on a show of bored confidence and do introductions.

As he pondered, you sat down beside him. Your knee briefly pressed against his. Then panicked, pulled away. You looked around the classroom as if you were ignoring your seatmate by accident, just curious about all the new faces. You had felt the sparks too. 

It took only this long - just those few seconds - for Imayoshi to stumble across realisations that would affect the rest of his life. 

(1) For all that confidence you showed off - confidence that, as you grew older, would become glam and men double your age wrapping their arms around your shoulders - you were an insecure coward like the crowds of girls who looked up to you from the distance.

(2) Imayoshi was feeling something. At the time, he called it curiosity; it would take later introspections for it to be correctly labelled as love. 

Not that there was much reason to love you, at the beginning anyway. Though the two of you talked often, quick conversations in at least a couple classes a day, they were nothing but the usual seatmate discussions. You, an idiot, had cottoned onto the fact that Imayoshi was breezing through every class. You put on your usual batting-eyelashes persona, cutesy obsequiousness (“I’m so sorry to bother you again, but for number 13...”) punctuated with meaningless sweet-nothings (“Honestly, Shouichi, you’re the best. I love you.”), and who was he to deny your requests for help?

Of course, with anyone else, Imayoshi would have gotten fed up by now - the occasional question was fine, but in almost every lesson? - yet it was cute how you thought you could rely on him. Like you seriously believed that him talking you through integrating exponentials meant you could trust him. 

When he’d walk into the classroom at break, while you were sat gossiping with all your girlfriends (an ever-expanding plague of copycats, B-rate versions of you), they’d all stop talking but you. 

You’d say, “don’t worry about him - that’s my bestie, Shouichi. He’s literally saving my grade right now.”

And then everyone would go back to gossiping, and you’d flash him a quick smile, and Imayoshi would never comment on how he technically hadn’t given you permission to use his first name, or on how it was so fucking stupid of you to dismiss him as the nerd who let you copy his answers sometimes. Like he didn’t have ears; like he was just one of your pawns; like he didn’t own you. 

Okay, that was an exaggeration. Maybe. But Imayoshi did in fact have ears, and he was a being with agency who overheard plenty of gossip and rumours, gossip that could destroy your sweet little reputation - not to mention your relationship with your parents - if he so chose. The fact that he didn’t was chivalry in action. Anyone else would have faced his bored wrath - he’d already manipulated a few rumours such that you had discarded one of your close friends on account of them.

Yet, for the time being, he was content letting you bathe in the sunlight. 

After all, he couldn’t have his future wife kicked out of school for being a pathetic, needy slut who couldn’t let a party finish without having at least slammed her lips on at least one total stranger.  

If you got expelled, you wouldn’t be in the yearbook. And then what would the two of you reminisce over, twenty years from now, cuddling on the sofa? 

So he tried to be content with observing you, playing his part as the polite nerd, and it worked for over a year. There were highs (you cheering him on during the final basketball match in your first year); there were lows (you had brought some brainless baseball jock to the match). But Imayoshi endured. Imayoshi took his time. Imayoshi let you gush over how happy you were to be sitting next to him again in your second year - “you’re my guardian angel, Shou-chan”. Imayoshi turned a blind eye to the partying and the boys, who lingered by the classroom door hoping to catch sight of you, and the never-ending stream of friends, and the way you’d smile at him like you adored him, only to switch it off as soon as the class was over. As soon as you had no more use for him.

Imayoshi, mature for his age, understood that he couldn’t make you who he wanted you to be overnight. Unfortunately, it seemed that girls like you just had to go through this phase. 

It was in the third year that things went downhill.

When it rains, it pours. On the first day of term, you hadn’t greeted him when you entered the classroom, too busy texting frantically on your phone, a new fluffy pink keychain dangling from it that didn’t match any of your girl friends’ and so had to be a gift from a stranger.

Imayoshi had greeted you, of course.

But when you had looked up briefly to smile and say hi back, he had been demoted: "Shouichi" instead of "Shou-chan". 

You were working harder than before too. Suddenly, the two of you were working in silence side by side, your hair falling over your face, hiding it from Imayoshi. You never once tucked it behind your ear to ask Imayoshi for the answers to the next section. You just sat and wrote away, like you fancied yourself the best in the class now. Clearly, you’d been studying over the holiday. Fine. Good even - Imayoshi couldn’t marry a complete fool, even an obedient housewife needed some brains. But to reject him because of it? Discard him like all the other toys you got bored of using? 

He felt his anger swell and spin in a strength of feeling he had not known since his mother died. Murder occurred to him; abduction no longer seemed unreasonable. He tucked away duct tape and rope and sleeping pills in a shelf his sister could not reach, locked it for good measure, and spent his nights tossing and turning and questioning his own identity. 

He heard rumours you were in trouble. Kicked out the house, financial issues, an abortion: almost everything got mentioned. Someone had a friend whose mum was a cop, and apparently you’d been visiting the police station following a domestic violence case, a prostitution case, or maybe just a mugging. The specifics were unclear and frequently changed, but Imayoshi took sight of the bruises on your neck and arms, just visible under layers of concealer, and on he went pondering.

He would never get the truth out of you directly, no. These days, whenever he entered the classroom at break, you and your few remaining trusted friends whispered until he left. The trust was gone; and the gossip no longer appropriate for male ears to hear.

A complete stranger would have been treated in the same way. A stranger. 

He’d put so much work into you, spent two years as a loyal servant, letting you feel smug and superior, and this was what he fucking got for it? 

"Imayoshi was not rash," he told himself. 

"Imayoshi wants to be rash," his reflection parroted back to him. 

“Imayoshi?” called Susa, nudging him in the middle of a study session, “you okay?”

“Tired,” replied Imayoshi, realising that the page in front of him was still empty. 

He smiled an easy smile, and forced the thought of you out of his mind before he snapped his pencil in two. 

----

And “he’s tired” was what Susa repeated when Harasawa, fiddling with his hair, asked why Imayoshi acting a bit out of it today. 

The coach glanced at Imayoshi with critical eyes, and saw a stranger in him. “Do you want to take a break?”

“I’ll be alright.“ Imayoshi forced the familiar grin across his lips yet again. “Some match play will wake me up.”

The last thing he needed was some time away from basketball. For every minute he wasn’t concentrating on the game, he was thinking of you smiling at male ‘friends’, you cuddling up with police officers, you flirting with strangers on the street, you and that miniskirt you wore everywhere outside of school and the men who would stare and you feeding into their attraction, and they’d put a hand around your waist and let their fingers slip underneath your tights, and they’d murmur “hotel?” to you, and you’d rub up against them and- 

Sakurai passed the ball to Imayoshi, and the captain dribbled and felt a moment’s peace. He passed it back to Wakamatsu, standing ready under the hoop-

You’d be pulling off your clothes real slow, really teasing them, and they’d be touching and licking and sucking on that skin that belonged to Imayoshi alone. They’d throw you to the bed; you squeal, maybe whimper at the big bad man standing in front of you. God you’d be noisy, slut that you are - you wouldn’t talk to Imayoshi any more but you wouldn’t shut up for these salarymen (why did Momoi have to mention that word on the street was you were in the JK business now? If hearing of you being with classmates wasn’t torture enough!), even when you were gagging you’d be crying out, tears in your eyes, and maybe they beat you, maybe they ground into you until you couldn’t walk, your underwear ripped, miniskirt stained around your hip, lying hopelessly on a bed in an empty room, your skin littered with both hickeys and bruises. 

Maybe you’d pray for a better life. The audacity to pray having spent all these years betraying him. 

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” muttered Susa in the changing room, briefly squeezing his friend's shoulder. 

Imayoshi looked around feeling like he’d awoken from a nightmare.

Everyone but Imayoshi had long finished changing out of their kit. People were talking, laughing, bouncing a spare basketball against the wall. Aomine, despite being a known virgin, was proudly announcing his list of the easiest lays in the school. Your name came in at number two. And before Imayoshi could ask Aomine how he knew that if all he spent his free time doing was jerking off to magazine pages, Wakamatsu interjected. 

Wakamatsu told Aomine not to talk about you like that.

Wakamatsu was blushing. 

"You fucking siren," murmured Imayoshi under his breath, thinking of the way you used to bat your eyelashes at him. 

Something about the blonde made Imayoshi see mistakes like never before. God himself couldn’t have made it any clearer. Imayoshi had let you run wild for too long, and in your own sickness you had diseased everyone else too. You had brought shame to yourself, and - worse - to the Imayoshi name that you would one day take on as your own. 

It was time to remind you to whom you belonged. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be too late to make you an honourable housewife, an obedient little dog. 

“You still there?” said Susa with a little more concern, nudging Imayoshi again. 

“Don’t worry,” and this time Imayoshi didn’t need to force that closed-eye, cruel grin. “I’ve got something to sort out, and then I’ll be back to normal.”

He would teach you that he had never been your toy. 

[magnus-rhymes-with-swagness]

Thinking thoughts about Ambrosius’s decision to try to kill Nimona… while this choice is certainly not a good one, it does make a sad sort of sense. He doesn’t know Nimona, not really. He’s faced off with her, sure, but his main impression of her is of a terrifying monster intent on killing. He doesn’t know her as a person, has never even properly met her. (Nobody truly knows her, but Ballister knows her best, at least, and seems to be one of the only people in the kingdom who understands that she’s more than a mindless weapon.) From Ambrosius’s perspective, though, there seems to be every reason to kill her.

This choice is doubly reinforced by his sense of loyalty and the desire to prove himself. Loyalty is an important theme in the story, and Ambrosius’s loyalties lie chiefly with Ballister, the person he seems to care about most, and the director, the closest he ever had to a parental figure. He also has an intense desire to prove himself to both of them - to prove that he really does care about Ballister and wants to protect him, and to prove that he’s capable of being a good knight and defending his kingdom.

Ambrosius is… rather insecure. He has very low self-esteem, and has always seen himself as lesser compared to Ballister, not as worthy as him or as good at jousting, even going so far as to bitterly tell Ballister he was always “better, without hardly even seeming to try.” And it’s possible that Ambrosius feels indebted to the director - who knows what might have happened to him if he hadn’t been taken in by the institution, and he owes his status as king’s champion to her. (Not that that’s a good thing, of course, but even so - she did still skyrocket him to victory and fame.)

At this point in time Ambrosius is still the director’s puppet. From an outside perspective it’s obvious that her intentions are nefarious, but when you’ve been manipulated by someone for most of your life, maybe even as long as you can remember, you… don’t necessarily know that. Ambrosius is still deeply under her influence, to the point that he still desperately craves her validation and approval even when she deliberately hurts him. She’s explicitly ordered him to kill Nimona, so that’s what he has to do so he doesn’t fail in her eyes.

There’s a sad irony in the parallels between Ambrosius and Nimona and the cycle they unintentionally perpetuate - two people raised as weapons in cruel institutions, used against their will to hurt people they cared about, now trying to kill one another. He might not know her backstory, but he can certainly see how she’s being used as a weapon now. And in the moment when he lifts his sword and attempts the killing blow, he too is a weapon. Does he see himself in her, perhaps? Does he subconsciously recognize that they’re the same in that regard? Is his firm belief that she’s dangerous born from the way he sees himself?

When he tries to kill her, is he trying to kill part of himself?

[homestuck--edits]

meowrails requester from before: i really liked it! can you edit the one with vriska flying, but godtier nepeta as vriska and equius as vrissy?

:> them !!

-mod davesprite

[keepthetension]

lol

that reminds me, there was less product placement than i was expecting in the finale

[kjzx]

One day there's gonna be a person online that will take people's requests of any color and draw it in a person's skintone in a convincing way, see: a brown that looks like a light skinned white person's skin in a darker lighting, a green that looks like a healthy person's skin in neon lights, and so on.

And this will be a huge thing for the online art community in the west. I think the thing it lacks right now is this realization that the knowledge that tree trunks are brown and leaves are green are just something observed under the specific conditions of a sunny day, even in these very conditions these very leaves and trunk can look blue and purple and gray and so on if cast in shadow, especially in art

[lepakonpaska]

[happy rambling in the tags because i love my job so much ✨️🌻]

[skitskatdacat63]

I have a problem.

Further evidence:

[ghoul-haunted]

alright I gotta put da:i down and go back to the musketeers, I miss enjoying things

[leronboi]

HOW TF DOES JUSTIN HAVE A DOX GUN!?? AND HAVE SPONSORS!??!???!! WHY DOESN'T THE VOICES DO ANYTHING ABOUT HIM!?!??? You would think that Justin doxing ppl would be against terms of service??? AND AT THE END, JUSTIN LOSES HIS SPONSORS!????? WHY?? DID THEY REALIZE DOXING PEOPLE IS BAD??? WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT!????

[ayoyoungg]

I finally met JO1 😭😭😭

8.20.23

[solitarelee]

Okay guys I have NEVER recommended anything here other than books and hashtag not sponsored BUT. I just got my Nike Go FlyEase shoes and they are a disability GAME CHANGER for me.

[img desc: a person steps onto an odd looking sneaker which is folded partially in half. the shoe closes around their foot as they step down]

They are a funky little shoe that literally FOLDS in such a manner that they can be put on and off entirely without your hands; you can just step in and out of them.

The history of them is actually very interesting; the FlyEase line was always designed with disability in mind (the first one was inspired by a teenager with cerebral palsy, Matthew Walzer). They've been a thing for years but they never had one that particularly stood out to me amongst other similar shoes... until the Go.

You see, along with being someone who has only a few bends in me per day before it's all over, I'm also a fall risk. Like a comical fall risk. I've fallen into traffic. I will just roll over and die at a moment's notice. And most slide on shoes are unstable and slip around on your foot. This shoe clamps onto me like a goddamn vice. It's Got Me. It's also got good arch support which is like, a plus. By freeing up a bunch of bend-overs per day, this is going to leave me with a lot more ability and energy, especially on the bad days.

They sound too good to be true (I was VERY skeptical buying them despite the video review), but seriously, you can just step into them--and out of them by stepping on that chonky back heel there. God knows I'm not the only person with difficulty sliding on heels or tying laces in the world, so I thought I would be remiss if I didn't recommend them. If you think they might help you out, they probably WOULD, as they were recommended to me by Footless Jo, an amputee YouTuber, and as mentioned, were inspired in part by people with disabilities ranging from cerebral palsy to past strokes.

They're Pricey but ultimately average when it comes to Nice Shoes(tm), the ones I got were $125.

[theclaravita]

That was a fun impromptu (sponsored) stream! We got some progress on leveling up characters, got through some of the campaign, and called forth many champions to upgrade my core team!

Tomorrow is Bric-a-Brac Episode VIII! Goliath Tank Strike! Check it out at twitch.tv/claravitalia! Highlights for this week will be out tomorrow morning by 10am! Stay tuned on TikTok for those! :D

[angelsforthenight]

BEYOND SALVAGE — ellie williams x fem!reader.

a catholic boarding school AU pt 1 🍓

pt 2 here!

you’re somebody that’s virtuous, staying in an all girls catholic boarding school. fallen victim to the vast fear of god, you try your hardest not to sin. however what happens when an embarrassing incident catches a certain rogue girl’s attention — who absolutely reeks of sin?

content: heavy religious talk, catholic, holy! reader, rebel!ellie, quiet!reader, player!ellie, ellie has piercings, ‘lil raunchy but no smut (yet heheh), v brief mention of drugs, v brief mention of porn.

a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i did back in the summer! i had accidentally (and stupidly) deleted my account :,) let’s pray people see this.

having lived in a catholic boarding school for half of your life, it’s only natural you were heavily religious. the fear of god plagued you like a disease. you were nailed on following the Word, and earning a seat in heaven — not it’s roaring, fiery counterpart.

you were a good girl: always following the rules the sisters bestowed upon you. always deemed as pure, and untainted. you prayed every night without fail: knelt beside your bed, elbows against the mattress, hands clasped together.

you had always tried your hardest to stray away from sin. however, there’d be temptations, of course. for instance, that one time you caught a bunch of girls in your dorm giggling and squealing at a porno-magazine they had randomly found somewhere. you had accidentally caught a very brief glimpse at a woman flaunting her tits and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it made you feel something. a needy little throb between your thighs. that night, consumed with guilt, you had prayed so hard that your head hurt.

oh, and if we’re talking about temptations? ELLIE WILLIAMS had to be the hardest one yet.

take the word sinful and ellie would come to mind. she was someone you had always tried your best to avoid. rebellious, brash and cocky. it was said she was forced here as punishment from her parents. she had always been hard to discipline: had piercings (spider bites and one on her right brow), always snuck out and was notorious for smuggling in drugs.

even though ellie was a pain, there was no way the nuns could expel her since her parents sponsored the school a generous amount. they had to resort to seeing ellie as someone they could “save.”

whenever she roamed the hallways, every girl would scramble to move out of her way. she was incredibly intimidating and got into fights whenever she wanted to — both with students AND the sisters. of course you wouldn’t want to mess with her.

there were also numerous rumours circling around about her. too many to count, but one stuck with you the most: that she gets it on with girls. hearing from your gossip-gripped friends that ellie had fucked a handful of girls in your school had surprised you. you were brutally naive, so preoccupied with seeming good in the eyes of the Lord that you weren’t aware that something like that could happen. this had only made you want to stay away from ellie even more.

you were quiet, so timid and meek that you believed yourself lucky to actually have friends. your quietness allowed ellie not to notice you, not even be aware of your existence despite you two being in a lot of the same classes. you didn’t mind — in fact, you were glad. relieved, even.

that is, until the school’s annual sports day.

it was a scorching hot day in the middle of june and many of the girls were excited. not particularly because of the sports but because every time, the neighbouring all boys school would join yours. a classic boys versus girls. you didn’t really care whether the boys were here or not, as opposed to your friends who were all bashful and red-faced. you found it understandable considering they’re sheltered away from them most of the time. bless them.

you and your friends were leaning against the fence of the tennis court. you were so hot that your t-shirt stuck to the small of your back, little baby hairs glued to your forehead. bored from all the boy-talk, your eyes decided to drift to a certain auburn-haired girl: manspreading on the bench right across from you. you wondered how a woman could sit so unladylike.

ellie was out of breath, probably from doing a running activity. there was visible sweat gleaming on the corner of her forehead and her cheeks were pink. god knows why, but you allowed yourself to prolong your stare. you watched as ellie grabbed her water bottle, gulping down desperate sips; some of the water spilling and dripping down her slender neck. you watched as the skin on her neck bobbed as she sipped, heard as she panted breathlessly like a dog. you felt the skin on your cheeks begin to prickle, and you suddenly found it hard to breathe. when her pale green eyes caught yours, you immediately looked away, turning your attention back to your friends. that was the first time you two had ever made eye contact.

a moment later, it was your group’s turn to play tennis. ellie remained perched on the bench, and as you waited in the queue to have a go on batting the ball, you happened to be quite near her. you tried your very best to play it cool. ellie paid no attention, spaced-out and obviously too lazy to participate in the activities.

there were also boys in the queue, right behind you, which had got your girls in a frenzy. one of your friends decided to push you against them. “oops” she would say before purposely bumping you towards them again and again. you were awkward and uncomfortable, but you had played it off and giggled, acting as if it was funny. at a point, she accidentally pushed you too hard which made you lose your balance; stumbling on your heel and falling backwards. right onto ellie’s lap. yep! her lap.

“woah?” ellie said, caught off guard. “oh shit. go. go!” your so-called friends murmured as they scrambled off, leaving you completely and utterly humiliated. you immediately bolted off her lap as you turned around to look at her.

“i’m really sorry. that was— i mean, my f-friends were…” you began to ramble, feeling your whole body turn hot. ellie’s lips cracked up into an amused grin.

“it’s chill. not very often you get a cute girl sitting on your lap for less than a second.” she chuckled. you blushed immensely, before rapidly nodding and speeding away.

if only your little innocent self knew how quick things would change…

a/n: hooked? read pt 2 here!