#i dont think i want to talk about this anymore

[sillylilneurodivergent]

Correct, I'm a huge nerd (proud of it) & yes, I have like 14 bodies in my basement right now. I kill once a year.😇/silly j

Hmmmm your kinlists say you are a very silly guy but also a very complex guy??? Idk I only know Morgie, Pinkie Pie, Uliana, & Unikitty 😓

Making a tag game cause I can

Rules: post 4 fictional characters you relate to and assume something about the person you reblogged from based on their characters

No pressure tag! @sidneyoftheblackwoods @mqstermindswift @stars-and-birds @zenilvar @forever-chained-to-myself @themidnightarcher @skeelly @thepencilsnameissteve @thislove-taylorsversion @thislifeissweeterthanfiction @swiftieannah @a-pessimistic-swiftie @catastrxblues @jellycanon @what-about-wendy and anyone else who wants to join<3

[diamonddaze01]

고맙다

pairing: ljh x reader genre: hurt-comfort (kae im sorry) | wc: 1.4k warnings: none | rating: pg a/n: for my 400 follower celebration -> @ylangelegy lyrics lab + “i wanted to become your tomorrow so i lived in the today” (thanks) // this is a (kind-of) spin off to us, again (but can be read alone) // kae i am sorry dont hurt me it ends well i swear.

The rain was soft but constant, like a whisper that hadn’t yet learned to quiet down. The sound of it tapping gently against the windows filled the silence of Jihoon’s studio, his hands frozen mid-task as he watched you from the doorframe. You stood there, not quite sure whether to step inside or remain in the hallway, as if the space between you and him was more than just the width of the door.

It had been months. Maybe half a year? Jihoon had lost track of time the moment you’d asked for a break. The day he left your apartment was still a vivid blur, a moment he replayed in his mind over and over, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. There were a thousand reasons why he’d never reached out. A thousand excuses he fed himself to make it feel like it was just something that had to happen. But in the deepest part of his chest, the place where he kept all the things he wouldn’t say aloud, he still missed you. He still felt your absence every time he walked into the studio, every time he poured a cup of coffee, every time he sat down to write music.

And now you were standing there, a few feet away from him. The ghost of what once was, the thing he’d never let himself forget.

“Can we talk?” Your voice was a little shaky, but you stood there with an open vulnerability, as if you had prepared for this moment even though you were uncertain of the outcome. Your eyes darted between his, as though you were trying to gauge how much of him was still the person you once knew, and how much of him had changed.

Jihoon didn’t respond right away. He didn’t know if he could, not without giving in to the feeling creeping up his throat. The one that said maybe, just maybe, you were still something worth fighting for.

“What’s there to talk about?” he finally muttered, his tone a little too cold, a little too detached. He wasn’t sure how else to respond. He had spent so long building walls around himself, convincing himself that you weren’t a part of his present anymore. He couldn’t afford to let that slip.

You took a step forward, your eyes soft with uncertainty. “I don’t know, Jihoon. Maybe... maybe I’m just trying to figure out what happened.”

There it was—the thing he never let himself think about too much. You asking what happened was like peeling back a scab that had barely healed. He couldn’t ignore the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him when you brought it up, couldn’t ignore the fact that he had failed you in ways he hadn’t even fully realized until now.

Jihoon looked away for a moment, unwilling to meet your gaze directly. He knew what you wanted—what you were hoping for—but he didn’t know how to give it to you. The pieces of him that had been holding onto you were all tangled up in regret. “What happened?” he repeated softly, almost to himself. “I don’t know. I thought maybe if I... kept my distance, kept working, it would get easier. But I was wrong. I guess we were wrong.”

Your face softened, as if your heart had just cracked open a little, just enough to let him see it. “I thought about it, Jihoon. About what we were, what we could have been,” you said quietly, stepping closer, just enough to bridge the gap but not enough to make him feel cornered. “And I thought maybe... maybe I wasn’t the right person for you, or maybe you weren’t the right person for me. But now, standing here, I don’t think I can just keep pretending that’s how it works.”

Jihoon let out a shaky breath, his fingers gripping the edge of his desk as he tried to find words that wouldn’t sound weak. The truth was, he hadn’t wanted to admit how much he missed you. How much he had wanted to fight for you, but had kept telling himself that time would heal everything. That you were just another chapter in his life that needed to be closed, but the more he tried to lock it away, the more it kept coming back.

“I kept thinking... maybe if I just moved forward, if I just stayed focused on what’s next, I’d stop wanting you. I’d stop thinking about you. But that’s not how it works, is it?” His voice was softer now, as if all the bravado had slipped away, leaving only the truth.

You shook your head slowly, the motion so familiar, so comforting, that Jihoon almost didn’t want to look away. “No, it’s not. We never really... gave ourselves a chance to be in the present, Jihoon. We kept thinking about the future, about what we could become. But maybe... maybe we should’ve just focused on today. On what we were, what we still could be.”

His heart thudded painfully in his chest. There it was—the words he had never been brave enough to speak. The ones that had been sitting at the back of his mind, waiting to be freed. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words feeling heavier than they should. “I never gave you the chance to be with me like that. I thought I had time, thought I had all the time in the world to make things right, but... now I don’t know how to do that.”

Your eyes softened, but there was something else in them, something deep that he couldn’t quite read. You took a deep breath, as though you had made up your mind about something, and it was in that moment that Jihoon realized you had never really stopped caring. Not even after everything.

“I was so focused on tomorrow,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain, “that I forgot to appreciate the moments we had, the moments that mattered right now.”

Jihoon swallowed hard, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Maybe I did the same.”

You stepped closer, closing the space between you both, and this time, Jihoon didn’t hesitate. He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours, the touch almost tentative, as if waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, your fingers intertwined, and for the first time in months, everything felt... right. Not perfect, not neatly wrapped in a bow, but real.

Jihoon’s eyes dropped to where your hands held his. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “Can I kiss you?”

The question caught you off guard, and a tear slipped down your cheek as a soft, incredulous laugh bubbled out of you. “Yes, you idiot,” you said, your voice breaking as you reached for him. “Please kiss me.”

And then his lips were on yours. The kiss wasn’t hurried or desperate—it was grounding, steady, and filled with all the things neither of you had the courage to say aloud. Your warmth, the familiarity, the way your hand cradled his cheek—it was everything he hadn’t realized he missed.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breaths mingling with your own. “I missed you,” he murmured, the words so quiet they almost melted into the sound of the rain.

You smiled through your tears, your hands still resting lightly on his cheeks. “I missed you too, Jihoon.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You simply stood there, the silence between you no longer heavy, but comforting.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Jihoon asked, his voice quiet, almost unsure. He wasn’t expecting an answer, but he needed to hear it, needed to know if there was a chance for them.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with something like hope, but also like you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. “We take it one step at a time,” you said softly. “We don’t rush. We just... we just live in today. Together.”

Jihoon nodded slowly, the truth of it settling in his chest like a quiet storm. He had spent too long living in the what-ifs and the could-have-beens. Maybe it was time to stop looking ahead, to stop worrying about tomorrow, and just... live. With you. Today.

And as the rain continued to fall outside, Jihoon held you like you were something he didn’t deserve but would spend the rest of his life trying to. One step at a time, he thought. Today. Together.

[lanadoeswriting]

A HC IDEA THING

long-distance relationship (i live a week away from my bf and i need to cope 🙏)

LONG DISTANCE HCS

one last kiss, then catch your flight

pairings: charlie slimecicle x long distance!reader

tw: fluff, nsfw mention..?

a/n: THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA I LOVE THIS LOVE YOU!! YOU GUYS HAVE GIVEN ME SUCH GOOD REQS I NEED TO CATCH UP

he never actually cares about the time diff for him, as long as he can hear or see you.

"charlie, why do you sound so tired?"

"oh, yeah it's like 4 AM"

"CHARLIE, go to sleep!"

"but then i can't hear you talk anymore."

he will stay on facetime if you fall asleep bc its late in your timezone, like watching you sleep. in a cute way... i think.

he loves seeing pictures of you or pics that you have taken and will think of them when he's doing........... things!

and if your like ranting on about something or telling him off over the phone he'll be like

"char, i cant believe that you could even-" "i- oh god"

"what? charlie what is-" "no, no. dont stop, keep talking."

let your imagination do the rest ;)

he makes sure to send sweet little good morning messages and sends them when its sent when you wake up, no matter the time zone.

if you are in a hotel of some sorts he will send flowers or little gifts to your hotel room.

he literally has the most disappointed puppy eyes look on his face while he tells you that his pillow doesn't smell like you anymore.

wearing your jewelry (earrings or wtv) while your gone PLEASE I LOVE HIS PIERCINGS SM

sends you pics of the most random things that hes doing just bc he doesn't want to feel alone

like he will just send a pic of him getting water or doing quite literally anything bc he can!!

has been caught smiling at his phone on more than 1 occasion (certified simp)

[kryaaas]

while Harry is not the same person as he used to be because of forgotten memories, I feel like sometimes people talk about pre-amnesia Harry and post-amnesia Harry as they are two separate entities.

But the reason why this New Harry came to be in the first place is directly tied to Old Harry's desire to change himself. He wanted to do anything, something that could change him, even if it meant "getting worse". Even if it meant killing himself, physically or metaphorically. And before there were several attempts to erase his memories by excessive drinking

Harry can become better or sober not because he is magically "fixed" by amnesia, but because he already had this intrinsic desire to do good. Ans amnesia gave him a chance to do so and start anew

I dont think Harry can be *fully* disconnected from his past self. Even if he doesnt remember, Harry's past is something that is shown to subconsciously influence his behavior, actions, thoughts. But because its all vague and hazy Harry can allow himself not to be Defined by past regrets anymore. He can move forward.

[scamperin-shroom]

Classic Zelda games: "So Link doesn't talk because he's meant to resemble you the player 🥰"

Echoes of Wisdom: "Link doesn't talk because his ability to speak was physically taken from him by a dark force"

(edit: since I need people to understand Link can't talk at all. It was forced out of him. It's not a choice. That part of him was consumed)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

im with fam but i always thinka him so doodle time

[pullthehilt]

Reader is Yuu with an implied family with siblings. Not re-read or edited.

One day you realise that there is just a bit too much food on the table. It takes eating with the others to truly notice, but it starts with Grim complaining.

"We've been eating the same thing for days now!" And you laugh because it's true. After eating it fresh the first day, you tend to pack up and store the rest equally in the fridge and freezer because, yes, it's a lot. Dishes that are soups, or meals that are cooked in the larger pots and pans. Food that is to be served with rice on the side, portions that are bigger than your face. That isn't to say that you had a lot of thaumarks on you as you're just good at making bulk purchases worth it.

Everyone laughs at Grims moping, remarking of how he should be greatful you're feeding him at all. The banter is great.

But you're picking at your packed lunch now.

Why do you cook so much? Why do you reach for the bigger pots and pans? Why are your portions always for more than one?

From the fog of your mind, you see... your kitchen. Or you think it's your kitchen. It's not the kitchen back at Ramshackle, but the one from before Ramshackle. You're bustling around the counter, chatting to a faceless figure by the table, and reaching for seasonings without even looking. You're opening cabinets and finding what you need easily and asking the figure to make some rice to accompany whatever is in that pot. There's the squeals of children and hearty laughter from the other room. And hands, there's a hand at the small of your back and you think it's a motherly touch because how else can you describe the gentle way they press you to the side of their body.

For the next few days you can't eat properly. There's weight at your gut that substitutes for food and you don't make anything more. When your friends come over to invade the living room of Ramshackle, you don't have much snacks to offer them.

Peering into the fridge only reveals the stacks of containers of food you were eating days prior. You're mulling about maybe something you can make for them when,

"Whoa, talk about excess. Grim wasn't kidding." Ace's voice is right behind you.

"Ugh, sorry guys. i don't think I have anything proper to really feed you guys--"

"Is that some sort of egg salad?" Deuce's hand slithers forward to grab at one of the containters. "You have bread?" Nodding you gesture to the other cabinet. "Then I'll snack on this-- Er, if you wouldn't mind."

Epel peers from the doorway. "You don't happen to haf' some meat in 'er do ya?" Your fingers linger, before meekly pulling out a corrisponding tupperware.

"It's a bit stiff though, Epel."

"Hah, I'll jus' throw it on tha' stove or somthing. If it's still tough, I dun' care. Sometimes just gotta eat the greasy foods." He takes the tupperware and slaps it into a pan to heat it up. The aroma of sizzling meat is quick to attract both Sebek and Jack who add to the noise of chatter amongst the others, the former mostly.

You find yourself to the side, watching as they scour through your leftovers, opening and nodding at the meals inside before choosing which to heat up. And it's loud, but not grating. They're navigating through your space with expertice, slipping past each other and peering into cabinets. Jack's making rice and Sebek is counting the plates (whilst also making sounds whenever he sees a chip in the odd one or two). Over the stove Epel and Ace are jerking their hands into the pan, nipping their fingers to the corner pieces of the meat to just 'check if it's ready to eat'. Gathering the spoons and forks, Deuce nibbles on a piece of his egg salad sandwich before disappearing in the living area where everyone is setting up.

The dinner table has been set. You don't feel entirely there, floating to a cushion on the floor as your left overs are bought over to the table plate-by-plate. Everyone sits around you, Grim settled into your lap as he nibbles on a piece of fried fish, and they're passing the dishes around.

You've eaten these things before but you've always eaten them with Grim or alone when Grim takes his naps early. Instead of one set of cutlery scraping at porcelain, there's multiple sets-- a symphony playing to their hunger as they gather more to pile onto their plates.

[mothiepixie]

SET ME FREE

[cent-scratchnsniff]

something bad did indeed happen to that man. spent abt 25 minutes trying to find a better picture of that one (1) offical piece with his eyes open that wasnt compressed or tiny

[biblically-accurate-dca]

does anyone here even know how inaccessible the dca fandom is to people who dont like self inserts? lol

like there's already so many tags just for the dca's name, but then you combine that with the multiple different ways to tag self inserts? it's nearly impossible to filter out all of it without missing something. the only reliable way to do it is to either block the character tags or to block everyone who posts self inserts (which is like 80% of the people who post in the tags btw)

and even if you DO finally filter out all of it... if you post any sort of dca content you will inevitably still get comments from self shippers in your notes

obligatory disclaimer that this isn't me hating on self inserts btw. but as someone who spent so long feeling completely isolated from this community due to how much it caters towards self insert content? it kinda sucks. like a lot

[gomzdrawfr]

Evanescence

it's now or never

Prev | Next(?)

also on Ao3 tags: canon divergence, angst and fluff, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence and behaviours, major character death (MCD), mention of MW3 content

38 hours ago...

The tent was quiet, save for the rustling sound of Price working his rifle, clean and clinical, repetitive and comforting as he swiped the cloth across the weapon time and time again. A soldier’s meditation, though tonight it brought little comfort.

Raven sat by the cot, her gaze flicking over the mission dossier for the fifth time, black hair falling in soft waves that she tucked behind her ear with practised, almost annoyed motions. The moonlight filtered through the tent’s fabric and framed her figure, highlighting the tension in her shoulders.

She’d been like this ever since the trip.

Tense, distant, yet always close enough to remind him of the rift between them. 

They were fine, but not fine. They were not arguing, they were not talking much either.

He’d mucked it up, didn’t he? Trying to shield her away only made a huge dent in their relationship. Her silence wasn’t outright anger either, it was worse—calculated distance, the kind you’d use to guard a fragile truce. He would feel her gaze on him, pensive, heavy with thoughts, but the eye contact never lasted long.

Afraid of what she’d find in those blue eyes of his, perhaps.

He’d been wrong to think leaving her on the island was the answer. Wrong to think even suggesting it wouldn’t do damage. He’d only been trying to protect her—his birdie—only to plant a seed of doubt, one that was now growing wild between them.

He hadn’t the faintest clue how to uproot it without tearing them apart in the process.

Feelings. 

Messy things. Unpredictable. Dangerous. 

He’d spent a lifetime building walls between himself and the world. That’s why this—they—were forbidden in the first place. Love was ravenous. It consumed him because he had always been selfish with the things he loved. Tugged at his heart and twisted it into knots he wasn’t trained to untangle. Whispers curled in his mind like a serpent, whispers about a promised future, something soft, something real—things he didn’t have the right to want, much less to keep. 

It was everything John feared. And everything he needed.

Letting Raven in had been a gamble. But then again, it wasn’t like he’d had a choice. The most unexpected encounters soften a man the most, and he’d already carved a place for her in his heart. Trying to push her out now was as fruitless as stopping the moon from orbiting the Earth. 

He’d like to think he’s smart, he is, but sometimes he wished he’s not a dumb fuck when it comes to people he cares.

He sees her place the papers aside. She rubs her cheek, puts down her mask, and turns away, she was so damn composed that it drove him mad sometimes. How she could compartmentalize everything so clearly, yet refuse to bring up what actually mattered? 

Well, the same way he did, he supposed.  

Price had spent years waging wars on battlefields, but this? Fighting his own emotions while trying to mend hers? It felt like wading through quicksand blindfolded. His hands faltered for a moment, the cloth dropping onto the floor. He grumbled as he set his weapon aside, rubbing a hand over his beard as he leaned forward, the creak of his knees cutting through the silence.

I’m not getting any younger, yet here I am, a bloody Captain, tiptoeing around emotions like a lad out of his fucking depth.

Grow a spine, John. You’ve faced worse. Enough of this bollocks. 

Love makes him vulnerable, makes his mind cloudy, makes him think of the person next to him instead of the damn mission. Two of them in a small tent, trying to make sense of something they were never trained for, something that doesn't follow a neat box of objectives and outcomes. 

Price sat up, his heavy footstep thumped softly on the ground as the oil lamp went dark with a twist of his fingers. He moved towards her cot, slow and deliberate, like approaching a wounded cat. 

The cot dipped under his weight as he pressed a knee into it. Instinctively, Raven turned and curled into his side, pressing her face into his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close, planting a small kiss into the black of her hair.

This. These quiet moments were the only time he felt like she truly let him in, when the weight of the day dissolved into silence and the world outside didn’t matter. 

Forget about the mission, the fishing trip, the look on her face when he’d told her he was leaving.

The tension is still there evidently, her breathing steady but shallow, never fully resting. The tension between them didn’t vanish, but it softened here, in each other’s arms.

Price shifted slightly, cradling her close to his chest, careful not to disturb her. Though she doubted she was asleep. She rarely was, not fully, certainly not during these few weeks. Her head rested against his chest, and he felt the faint rhythm of her heartbeat when their chests were pressed together. 

He took a deep inhale, catching the familiar hint of smoke and tobacco from her hair. 

Smoking again.

You’re the one to talk, burning through your boxes like there’s no tomorrow.

When was the last time he smelled that faint lemon shampoo she used to wear? The one that clung to her after long showers, fresh like Summer. Probably before they had to leave it all behind—before Shepherd.

Before one bullet erased everything they’d built together.

He winched internally at the memory, a weight he hadn’t learned to carry properly. That bloke deserved it, but with every fleeting look she gave him, every touch she offered, even with the warmth of her body against his now, they all carried the same unspoken question.

Will you leave me again, John?

It killed him, that doubt.

His hand slipped into her hair, fingers brushing through the strands absentmindedly. He supposed they weren’t completely lost yet, not if she still allowed him to join her in sleep. But time is running out, so will her patience.  

“Tomorrow’s going to be rough,” he mumbled, voice low and gravelly.

I might lose you tomorrow.

Her arms wrapped around his chest tightened briefly before it relaxed, an answer.

Price sighs, placing another kiss on her head, his lips lingered longer than usual.

Can I kiss all your doubts away, love?

Don’t be daft, no time to be soft, got a mission to finish.

Price closed his eyes, squeezing her shoulders softly, rubbing his bearded face onto the side of her neck, smiling at the shiver from her. 

Tomorrow, he promised himself as he drifted into a restless sleep. 

He’d find the right words tomorrow. 

The mission had gone sideways, to no one’s surprise.

A tip-off that was supposed to lead them to their target turned out to be a trap, and they were ambushed. The once quiet jungle was now alive with tension, every corner every sound—rustling leaves, broken twigs, bullets whizzing through the air with commands and screams in all corners. Raven moved like a shadow beside him, precise and silent movement to dispatch the enemies one by one until they were separated.

Price spotted her through the chaos after God knows how long, her back pressed against a tree as gunfire rained down.

And then it happened.

One of the enemies flanked her, she hadn’t seen them. 

His chest twisted with a grief he hadn’t allowed himself to feel as the enemy’s finger curled on the trigger, not for Soap, not for anyone. He wouldn’t let Raven become another name carved into the graveyard of his failures. 

He couldn’t.

Time slowed. Adrenaline surged. Price moved without hesitation, the need to protect her overriding every other thought as he sprinted towards her.

“Raven! Down!” He barked out, tackling her to the ground just as the crack of a rifle echoed through the air. 

Everything else that happened afterwards was a blur, ignoring the white-hot pain ripping through him, Price didn’t falter as he turned his knife on the operator, sinking down into the flesh and slashed. He didn’t stop, couldn’t, not until the enemy was silent, lifeless beneath him.

And then he dropped, the bloody knife slipped from his hand as his strength seeped away through the red, slumping forward as the taste of copper flooded his mouth.

Blood spilled over his lip as he coughed, each breath a struggle.

“Price!”

Raven’s voice was distant at first, her panicked scream barely cutting through the dizzying haze. Her hands were on him, dragging his heavy body away, leaving a trail of red coating the green leaves until they were under some form of cover, her hands pressing into the wound desperately to stop the bleeding. His vision swimming, his hearings muffled.

But somewhere in the confusion, he felt something warm dripping down his cheek.

Raven doesn’t cry, she hated crying, hated the feeling of weakness, a luxury she couldn’t afford in their line of work. But everything from the last trip—the hurt, the misunderstandings, the constant nagging doubt in her mind that refuses to die out, the constant reminder of how fleeting their connection was, how fragile human life—his life—was bubbled to the surface.

The wine glass shattered, splintering into a thousand pieces as the liquid splashed over everything.

Tears pricked at her eyes, spilling over her mask and cheek before she could stop them, each roll of those tears felt like acid. 

Not now not now not now not now not now not now—

“Why are you so desperate to leave me?” the sound of her voice, fractured and raw, the pain in her tone pierced him deeper than the bullet below his abdomen.

“Why…why do you always leave?” Her words spilled out just like her tears did, completely beyond her control as she pressed harder into his wound. The warm blood coated her gloved hands like lava.

Too hot, too much.

His trembling hand reached up to her, brushing against her wet cheek before he coughed again, blood bubbling in his throat. It felt like he was drowning, but he forced the words out.

It’s now or never. 

“Never… in my life… would I want to leave you. Never, Raven…” He swallowed hard, feeling as if he might regurgitate the blood again.

“I just want you safe…”

“Then why?” She demanded, trying desperately to regain any resemblance of composure and control, but it fails and slipped away, just like-

“Why do you keep making me watch you slip away?” 

Price really shouldn’t be laughing, he cracked a pained smile instead. Is this what you think, birdie? Maybe I’m not the only one daft in this relationship.

“Because I can’t…lose you. Not you.” He coughed, the sound wet and strained. 

“I’d rather…it be me….every time.”

Her grip on the nape of his neck tightened as she shook her head furiously. “That’s not your choice to make, John! I’ve told you already—y-you don’t get to decide that for me!”

She heaved, watching his blood on her palm, then back at him, panic and dread coiling around her throat, tightening with each word that felt like a losing game, but she persisted.

It’s now or never.

“I'm not here to watch you destroy yourself trying to save everyone, trying to save me. I’m here because I chose you.” She gripped his neck, forcing him to keep eye contact on her.

“So you damn bloody well choose me too, Jonathan Price.”

John’s eyes widened just a fraction, and for a moment, the chaos around them faded away, leaving only the two of them.

There was no hesitation in his immediate reply. “Always. Over and over…I’ll choose you. I promise.”

Her eyes softened for a fraction before determination hardened her expression. “You better, John. Because I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

She scrambled to her feet, lifting him up despite his weak protests. “You’re not dying on me today, Captain,” she grunted out, her tone brooking no arguments.

He smirked faintly, even if everything hurt.

“Yes, ma’am”. 

Back at their camp, After Price lay bandaged but alive. Raven slumped against the bed beside him, exhaustion etched into her features but her hand never leaving him, resting on his lap, still wearing the bloodied uniform.

Price stirred, brushing a trembling finger against her temple.

“You’re not going anywhere…” he murmured quietly, watching her eyes open slowly.

“Not unless you push me away again…” she replied hoarsely, a gentle warning. 

His jaw tightened as he shook his head. “Never. Not ever again.” 

I’ve made some cock-ups in my time, but none bigger than hurtin’ you. 

I’ll be damned if I let you think for a second more that you don’t matter.

He cupped her cheek, sighing as his thumb brushed her skin. 

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Eira…but losing you won’t be one of them…”

For the first time since they left the island, she smiled, dimples deepening—a real smile, small and slightly crooked, genuine. 

Price couldn’t help the faint chuckle that escaped him. 

“I could bloody murder for a smoke right now…”

“I think you lost them in the middle of the op”

“Bloody hell…” he muttered, shaking his head with half-mocked despair. Raven smirked slightly, stretching out her stiff shoulders.

“We should…go out,” Price said after a moment of silence, reaching out as he fiddled absently with a pale strand of her hair. He wondered briefly if the white strands peeking through the black were dyed or something she’d never mentioned.

There was still a lot between them left unexplored and unresolved. 

“You can’t walk,” She pointed out, patting his bandage gently for emphasis. 

He huffed a quiet laugh. “No, I meant…once I’m patched up, I’ll take you out. Dinner, a trip, whatever you want. We need to talk about this…about us.”

Can’t let another life-and-death situation force out our confessions. Raven tilted her head, a hum of thought escaping her as a flicker of surprise passed through her gaze. “Abusing your sick leave, are you?”

“Not much I can do with a punctured organ,” he deadpanned.

“Touche…” She sighed, not entirely meeting his gaze yet.

“Birdie…”

She clicked her tongue, relenting as she nodded her head. “Alright, alright. Yeah…fine we’ll talk about it and go somewhere I suppose.” 

A wave of contentment settled over him as he leaned back into the pillow, a small smile graced his lips.

I’ll stop being a daft bastard for you, birdie. 

“Where to?” he asked. 

“....fishing?” she offered after a moment, and Price blinked a few times. “...Really?” The corner of his lips twitched slightly in guilt. “I…thought you would’ve resented the idea after…what I did.”

She chuckled quietly, smoothing out her hair.  “Well, we’ll do it my way this time.”

[sketchingdemonss]

i pull the crops from my mind fields and all i harvested were these vintages what the hell

[angy-grrr]

daily reminder: Ochako had to make herself physically see the damage the villains and war created in order to forget the uneasy feeling she got when Himiko smiled sadly (+ all the things she thought when she saw her). She cant forget what she has done (because she doesnt like the destruction), but that doesnt mean she cant forgive her or that made her feel distance from her.

Izuku can't forgive what Shigaraki has done, and as far as we know, he doesn't need to remind himself of the pain; his empathy doesn't make him feel weird about reaching out to a villain, at least on its own.

Its not a copy paste of the same battle or story.

Himiko and Izuku make Ochako wonder about the concept of heroism and saving, the roles heroes and villains have, and they also have an impact on her behavior, ideals, and feelings for them and herself. Shigaraki's fate and the world around Izuku seems to make him wonder about his role as a savior, because he doesnt feel like he fulfilled it really, when it ended up with someone else dying. He finds in Ochako someone who would agree on ideals about saving others, and thats great on its own.

[1945sellmeats]

based on some image i saw i dont know. sex penis

[reel-fear]

Genuinely so curious who Mike thinks is gonna be buying The Cage or the new DCTL GN bc with the way he tweets as far as he's concerned, it's not gonna be:

The queer people he has actively admitted he will never show any representation of in the games.

2. The POC he has actively fought against representing in his franchise. [Who he also mocked for thinking they would be represented in his franchise]

3. The Bendy fandom which has always been concerned with topics of diversity esp in the sense of queer people since its creation. Who he has responded to really poorly esp in regards to the GN.

4. The fans who critique him. [He blocked me for doing so lol]

5. His fans in general who he tweets about like this currently. [He's being vague about why people were mad at him or sent him 'nasty messages' because if you actually looked into why you'd see he was in the wrong. Either way, a very hateful way to speak abt ur own fanbase.]

Reminder while Mike is trash talking his fans he has always treated them rather poorly. The fans who won the fanart contest for Chapter 5 never got their posters actually in game due to it being rushed. Not only was chapter 5 a big slap to the face story wise, but it was literally so rushed he couldn't be bothered to add in the art his fans gave him for his game FOR FREE. [Meatly blames this on a crazy timeline, reminder him and Mike are the literal ceos of this company. The proposal of future updates here is also pretty cruel considering Mike nowadays happily admits he corrupted Chapter 5's source code and therefore literally can't update it At All currently. Because he is a moron]

At least they got to be in Boris and the dark survival, and by that I mean that was the Only game they got to be in so far, isn't that just treating your fans like you love them? Shoving their hard work into a spin off game almost nobody has played or addresses much. [Hell, who knows if with the Lone Wolf rebrand they'll even stay there. In which case they'll be in None of the games, only in the credits of BATIM]

6. The Bendy fans who just generally disagree with him on stuff. Like the new ink demon design where there is literally a public poll showing people generally prefer the old one.

7. The Bendy fans who can see he is actively lying to them. To their fucking faces.

He says this has always been the case, but screenshots and links to tweets regarding the books being canon prove it was not. Does he really think bendy fans are stupid or something? [Unless he's admitting here he lied to Kress when he told her the books were canon which sounds worse!]

8. Anyone who doesn't like the idea of giving money to a guy who laid off tons of employees then afterwards thought it was a great idea to express his anti-union views! Also brag about how good of an employer he was, according to his employees, he was not!

So in summary; Mike is an awful person who has not learned anything from the awful things he did. I will not be purchasing The Cage because, combined with this and his absolute refusal to take any kind of critique or see any differing interpretation of his franchise, I have no reason to think my problems with the franchise will ever be addressed or fixed. I probably will pirate The Cage along with any future Bendy Products [Including the movie] and will do my best to avoid giving it any kind of monetary support. Unless this changes any time soon, I can't see myself making anymore positive Bendy posts soon.

Mike has just managed to make it so hard to speak positively or optimistically of this franchise when he's so willing to broadcast how little he cares about it or its fans. I'm at the point where I refuse to pull any of my punches with my problems with it. What's the point of trying to play nice with my critique when either way the people creating it don't care?

So with this post, I want to invite anyone who feels similarly about the franchise to tell me, make a post or send an ask talking about how all of this makes you feel. It may not change how things are, but genuinely seeing other people share my feelings of anger makes me feel better. It feels nice to see when other people share our same concerns and worries. I'd also love to know if anyone else thinks they'll be avoiding purchasing Bendy products over this.

I'm not forcing anyone to participate in it nor trying to say anyone who doesn't supports mike but genuinely maybe if we can collectively decide to boycott things like the movie, graphic novel and The Cage... It might at least make the bendy devs acknowledge how much they have destroyed their own fandom's faith and trust in them.

The way Mike tweets about his actions like he had no control over why people were mad at him at least proves to me he takes NONE of it back nor regrets it. If you didn't know about his actions and only went off his tweets, you would be led to believe Mike has been needlessly picked apart by fans over things he couldn't control [or in his own words, had his words twisted and taken out of context]. That is not how you speak about your actions if you have actually learned better from them.

anyway, that has been my bendy dev callout post. This is an open invitation to anyone feeling similarly upset about the way the franchise is going to talk about it. It's genuinely nice to see how people feel about this and the more we talk about the more it's likely the bendy devs are forced to address our concerns. I don't think they will but hey, that's why I'm not gonna support them with my money anymore nor am I gonna be nice to them in any content I make critiquing Bendy. I mean I'm also basically making this post just in case anyone asks me Why I feel this way towards to bendy devs/as a way to respond to anyone who thinks I am too harsh in my critique in the future.

As always, it seems the best part of Bendy isn't actually anything about canon but about what the fan's are creating with the ideas Bendy failed to do anything interesting with.

Also the books, the books slap.

[localkiss]

who else just wants actual friends lol. talk everyday, call, play games. whatever. im so sick of being lonely. being the one to always reach out. lmaoo might go write angst rn, not too sure.