#i mean make up

[sadly-in-active]

Smokedmozzerella headcanons?

Please block me if you feel negatively towards this ship. Personally, I enjoy it and think it’s really fun, and if you don’t like it, I have to ask you to leave.

SmokedMozzarella hcs

Summary: These two charming individuals bicker all the time about one another, always shooting little smirks or glares when winning/losing a bet at the Colosseum. They’re practically enemies at this point! The only thing they like about one another is their smarts… and some other things, if you manage to accidentally see the two together. Well, they’re certainly the definition of ‘rivals who spite each other, only to make out- I MEAN MAKE UP!’ Let’s just hope nobody realizes that bickering is their love language, eh?

TW: Dumb petty shit, they need to get a room, they’re both little shits, nobody is safe from hearing them bicker

—

Mozzarella calls him by these LOVELY nicknames ❤️:

Flavorless chicken 😘

Boring little whiner 😩

Sad smoked turkey 🤯

Manipulative bird-brain

The list goes on.

ANYWAYS…so, the two of them bet on a different creature or whatnot in the Colosseum only because they want to spite the other when they win. However, the two occasionally agree to bet on the same one, due to the fact that by a glance they know who would be weak. Mozzarella also whispers a lot to Smoked Cheese, either to comment on the fights or how she’s going to win. Smoked Cheese does the same, but he’s usually quiet, seeming more interested in watching the monsters then hearing about Mozzarella’s overconfidence.

During the rare occasion that they’re not arguing or saying petty insults, it’s quite nice seeing them talk to each other like good friends. Smoked Cheese tries to be cold and grumpy, but Mozzarella is usually the sunshine gal, talking with him about new errors she found, or a new game she made.

He knows that Mozzarella is a conniving little liar, but he can’t help but get attached, albeit with a bit of an attitude towards her. She knows that her plan is to gain his trust, but she also got attached a bit.

I personally hc that Mozzarella’s bird that she summons in her skill is mechanical but sentient, and Smoked Cheese loves that bird so much

They probably pretend to bicker in public about custody over the bird (they’re both proud parents omg)

I don’t have a lot of ideas saved up in my brain but I love these two and they should smooch

[the-creature-22]

Lecturing on the importance of not standing in the path of her fireball.

Tells her to be mindful of where everyone is, before casting a spell.

Counters by telling him she was aware of where everyone was, what she did not expect however- was a grown assed elf deciding to become her meat shield at that second.

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[incredubious]

MODERN AU ACESAN !!!! first impressions with a guy who barely passes the No Shoes No Shirt No Service rule

[ionomycin]

[notbecauseofvictories]

I don't know how strictly accurate this is, but one of the things I find shocking about watching historical dramas is how many people there are around all the time---according to Madame de... (1953) a well-off French household in the Belle Epoque maintains a workforce of at least 3, and the glittering opera has staff just to open doors. According to Shogun (2024) you can expect a deep bench just to mind your household, and again, people who exist to open doors.

Could people....not open doors in the past? Were doors tricky, before the standardization of hinges? Because otherwise, the wealthy used to pay a whole bunch of people to do it for them in multiple contexts, and I find myself baffled.

[codecicle]

Whar does rpf mean 💔💔💔

historians aren't quite sure. Albert Einstein's last words were "rpf is fine" and we've been searching ever since

[several-breathing-eyes]

I saw somebody say that watching the Percy Jackson show made them realize that in the first books Percy doesn't even say half the stuff he thinks and he's just a quiet kid silently judging everyone, like they're so right.

Think about it from Grover's perspective. You know Percy as a quiet boy who certainly has his judgy thoughts but (aside from telling them to you) keeps them to himself. He's just trying to make it through school, for his mom.

Then his mom dies. And he loses the ability to give absolutely any fucks. He starts saying all this shit he never said out loud and to people who could do infinitely worse things to him than anything Nancy Bobifit ever even tried. And it only gets worse as he gets older.

Like bro went from quiet kid in the back of the class to fist fighting a god in the span of like a week. Then he openly told the gods to pay their child support. Grover was having heart attacks every other minute.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

momlita

[noodles-and-tea]

How does Ford react to Fidds taking Stan with him on a creature hunt? A sea based hunt at that.

He gets a lil jealous

[shotmrmiller]

sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.

hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.

and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.

someone put you out of your foggy misery.

"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.

"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—

"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)

you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.

"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.

"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.

in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—

you're lost.

(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)

[mipexch]

I WAS MADE FOR YOU // YOU WERE MADE FOR ME

[hinamie]

unconditionally

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

getting older can be so amazing? you get more familiar with yourself. learn tips & tricks for troubleshooting your own brain. trial & error helps you build routines that minimize discomfort, maximize reward. your preferences/interests don't get set in stone, but you do find out which ones are going to stay with you in the long-term, and which ones are fun but transient joys to appreciate in the moment.

you learn that the world is so much more complex than you were taught, and that that's okay, and that there's an endless supply of things you can learn or watch or experience or think about if you want to. if you're lucky, you loosen up, stop putting so much pressure on yourself. if you're lucky, you learn to recognize that negative inner voice, and whack it with a baseball bat until it hushes up. if you're lucky, you learn to treat yourself gently, not because you are fragile but because you are worthy of gentleness. (i hope you are lucky.)

and some things will change. some things will get better. some things will get good. and maybe you start to recover from the dehumanizing stress of childhood/education. maybe you learn the power of your own autonomy. maybe you learn how to walk away from bad situations (which is a superpower even if you don't realize it yet). and you get to choose your own clothes. and your own food. and which relationships to pursue! and what you do with your free time. and with your life (but don't worry you get to choose that gradually). and that's crazy! and sometimes scary. and extraordinarily, indescribably precious.

[petricorah]

I love "i would kill for you" ship dynamics but what about "i would stop killing" ship dynamic??

I would lay down my sword for you. I would change my nature and go against everything i've known. I would resist the easy way out of solving my problems. I would give up the adrenaline of battle to stay by your side and make tea instead. I'm not sure I know who I am without a weapon in my hand because I've had to fight for so long but for you I'm willing to try and figure this out.

It must be hard. To put down your weapon that's protected you for so long. It's allowed you to stay alive it's kept you from getting hurt--physically and mentally. Because you've never had to worry about a real relationship if you think you'll be dead at the next battle. And you feel naked without it and it feels like you're ripping off an extension of yourself. Are you even whole without it? Are you worthy of being loved if you can't prove it by risking your life? And yet they've found someone who's asking them for something much harder than dying in battle on their behalf. They've found someone who wants them to live. And that's much more terrifying.

[ruporas]

need to exist in your warmth (id in alt)