#i might be losing my sanity

[whoscherrycoke]

QUEER PPL WE WON

Morph x Logan fans come get your food. The creator of 97 just explicity confirmed Morph has romantic feelings for Logan.

[kunikiiida-kuuun]

Me anytime Asagiri talks about Kunikida and Dazai

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

don’t mind me, i’m just thinking about these photos of alex and miles with fans who look like dfwya era miles and humbug era alex 🫠

[aaronsinferno]

“YMMOTKCUB” ☝🏾

[midnigtartist]

Thank you so fucking much for pegged Gale. I do, however, find myself overcome with the desire to give you money to draw Dotty pegging him further; preferably into a slobbering, whimpering mess. Praytell, commissions opening when?

LMAO

Good news. I’ll probably be opening comms up again at the end of this month/start of December

Bad news. They’ll just be more of the Gather Your Party bg3 chibi comms

Good news. These comms will be open for Veilgaurd too!

[frollosversion]

Louder for people at the back, Miss Sinclair.

++ LADY GAGA'S BODYGUARD SAYING "BACK UP AND TURN AROUND" AS SUPPORT VOCALS SOUNDS LIKE ROURKE SPEAKING AT AN INTERCOM. I'M CRYING 😭😂

[birchtreestick]

"SAys he's happy, he's a LIAR, blame the ARSON for the FIRE"

Is one of the sickest lyrics I've ever heard

It's so cool but also:

[baeshijima]

when you have a crisis over whether or not a kiss scene is needed to make the yearning and reunion and pent up emotions that much more meaningful or if it is better to have them commit small fleeting touches and nuzzles and trembling eyes and

[gguk-n]

I have faith in Carlos and his decisions. I will support him through and through. But that doesn't stop me from crying!! Maybe he will make Williams great again....idk....I'm being optimistic here. Please help. We might not get a Carlos win next year when he has been getting at least one P1 each year for the past 3 years. Hoping to deal with my emotions soon.

[tuituipupu]

i’m revoking his sexy symbol rights /j

[funkle420]

i rewatched gravity falls like a month ago but didn't feel like making fanart but i feel like i have to make fanart...

[fanaticmorelikefantastic]

I'm trying to split this into parts but I think I like the huge chunk of text best

A few days passed, a few chapters passed, despite my conscience. I lie on my bed, back to the mattress and laptop precariously perched on my lifted knees. The character Leon is very much different from (my first impressions of) real life Leon, so it should be acceptable, right? I could always ask him about it the next time I see him. Speaking of, I haven’t messaged him yet. Does he respond to texts, or is he more of a call-me kinda guy? There’s only one way to find out, right? I flop my head to the side, looking at my phone which was staring right back at me. I place down my laptop and sit up straight. This is serious business. I open a new message thread with him as the recipient and stare. It really is hard to know what to say. Would he even reply? It is pretty late. Does eight o’clock count as late? I felt stupid. I wrote a number of drafts, thirteen to be exact, before landing on the glorious, eloquent, concise and demure:

 ‘Hi :)’.

Wow. How original. I sigh after I send the thing, not knowing if I destroyed my entire reputation with him with just one word, but then I remember how stupid I acted when we were talking in person, so I felt a little bit relieved. Maybe he was into stupid people. I had been staring at my phone screen for a while, and I almost jumped when Leon’s reply came in. 

‘Hey there stranger.’ My mom says that. I laugh a little bit to myself, the tension I didn’t know I had accumulated leaving my shoulders. I fall onto my back and type away.

‘About that coffee date,’ Might as well call it what it is, right? ‘How’s tomorrow at 5?’ Most regular working people get off by then right? Or should I not have suggested a weekday at all? That would’ve been better, right? I need to stop saying right, it's making me sick.

‘Yea that works great.’ Oh thank God. I quickly type back (not too quickly though, I don’t wanna mess up my spelling and look like even more of an idiot).

‘Okay, I’ll see you then?’ I held a breath.

‘Of course.’ 

The day of reckoning is upon thee. Thy heart shall be examined and let woe be also upon ye if any impurities they find, for ye shall be smote with their unquellable wrath and thy face forever stained by iniquity.

Today is the coffee date.

I sigh and turn on my side, then my other side. It’s only… 8 in the morning, so I turn over (again) and try to go back to sleep so I can avoid my problems. Problems, like what I should wear. What should I wear?... What should I wear! I sat up so fast my skin almost flew off my bones. I haven’t been on a date since, since, since- My face contorted into shock as I came to the realization that I have, in fact, never been on a date. I think. I hope I’m wrong as I slug out of bed and into my houseshoes. I tried my best to think through all (three) of the drunken parties I had in college, but anybody I liked then ended up being either taken, or a scumbag. Some guys would ask for my number at parties, but they never contacted me, so I think they were just playing around. There was this one guy back in high school, but does that even count anymore? Not that it matters because by the time I figured out he (formerly) liked me back, he had already dated and broken up with one of my friends. Then there was- I don’t even want to think about that mess. I rinsed the lather out of my hair (I started taking a shower while boarded on this thought train) as I came to the rather depressing conclusion that I’ve never been in a serious and proper relationship with someone. I might have gone on a couple dates, but they must not have gone well, cause I don’t remember a single one. Suddenly, I felt very pathetic. Am I really that deprived of romance? I mean, I write (mostly) romance books for a living, it’s a given that I’ll be alone, but I didn’t think I’d be that sorry. I slapped myself in the face while putting on moisturizer. Just because no man has ever wanted to commit to being in a relationship with me or even take me out for lunch doesn’t mean I’m sorry and pathetic and unappealing and desperate and weird and annoying and sorry and just overall a bad catch. I mean, I’m going to lunch (dinner? Coffee?) with a super attractive guy today  (who also seems to have a good personality, that’s important of course!) A super attractive guy whose appearance I totally appropriated for my novel, and when I inevitably have to tell him about it, he won’t want to see me again for the rest of his life. I sigh, burying my face into my hands to hide from my reflection. What the hell. 

I flop onto my bed, deep conditioner in my hair. I’m wearing my specifically oversized shirt, the one I always wear when I’m deciding what to wear for an event. I love how comfortable it is (it also smells great because it just came out of the wash). It’s no use being sad about it now, right? I should properly tell Leon (the real one) what I did and then move on.The worst that could happen is he gets angry and stops me from publishing the book, reports me to the police for stalking and possible voyeurism and I get thrown in jail over something I didn’t (really) do. Even so, I’m still young. Maybe I could write a book about being in prison (people have done it before, I might become successful). For now, I’ll just take a nap until it’s time to rinse out my conditioner. 

It is way past the time to rinse out my conditioner.  My phone delightfully informs me that it’s 10 o'clock (in the morning of course). That’s not too bad.  I rinse the conditioner out of my hair, add leave-in, mouse, moisturizer, the whole shabang. I sigh (again). I don’t have the will to keep working on my book until I clear it with (the real) Leon. I couldn't help but feel helplessly ashamed. It was never a problem before, I would just steal a little bit of someone’s personality and write it into my book. I honestly didn’t do it that often either, so I was never really worried about having to talk to the people I used. It was way too early to start getting dressed, and I didn’t really have anything else on my schedule. I had three options: agonize over the inevitable until my time runs out, clean my house, OR agonize over the inevitable while cleaning the house (shut up about that painting. It’ll be done another time). I chose to kill two birds with one breakdown and began my quest of cleaning. The image of his disgusted face crosses my mind, immediately the living room is immaculate. I think about how I thought I was so smart for naming the character something ‘ComPleTely diFFereNT’ and all the laundry is folded. It’s like magic almost, how when I think about how much of a fool I’m going to make of myself tonight, my bedroom is the cleanest it’s been in months. Just like that, the clock strikes three. I should probably start getting dressed now. 

I tried on a black dress, too fancy, then a sweater and pants, too casual. Maybe I should wear a skirt? If I wore it with my sweater, I would end up looking like a schoolgirl, so I decided against it. Whilst rummaging in the depths of my closet, I found a fluffy cardigan that I’ve never worn. It even had the tag on it still. I ripped the tag off (carefully of course) and decided to throw it on over a black cotton slip dress and tennis shoes of the same color. I put on some mascara and a light brown eyeliner, adding a lip gloss with a darker brown tint. It was cute I guess. It matched my outfit. I think he liked my ponytail last time, so I made sure to have one today too, carefully brushing my bangs into place. As a finishing touch, I bore a rose gold chain with a simple pendant. It’s good, it’s pretty, and I like it. That clock also says that it’s four thirty. Oh my God, it’s four thirty. 

I had no idea how long it took to get to that cafe from my house (which is really an apartment, but I like to- we don’t have time for that spiel). Since I had only ever visited out of leisure, I never thought to check. I quickly typed the address of the place into my phone. Twenty minutes. It takes me ten minutes to get out the door, so I should make it just in time. I threw everything I thought I’d need into my purse. Lip gloss, wallet, keys, phone, pencil, pen, memo pad, if it was in my reach and it made a sliver of sense, it was put in the purse. I quickly locked the door behind me then checked the time on my phone. I’m right on schedule, so from here on out, I don’t have to worry. While walking to my doom, I felt more at ease than I had all day, like the feeling of finally getting to the firing range after weeks of the execution waitlist. Ater this, I’ll delete his number from my phone, never appear in that cafe again, and rewrite the entirety of my novel. I watched a bird deftly land on a tree branch nearby, a mourning dove, how pretty, and took the liberty to call it proof that I’m on the right track. With this newfound relief, I waltzed all the way to the door. Then the fear kicked back in. Even if you know you’re going to die, it’s still scary to face the firing range. Mustering up all the courage in my fallen and twisted stomach, I opened the door. Leon. He was here already, sitting patiently at a table (for two), facing the wall. Without checking who came in, he immediately stood and turned to beckon me over, a bit weird, but maybe he saw me before I opened the door. 

“I thought I was on time for once.” I try to calm myself by being funny (I’m not) as he pulls the chair for me to sit down (wow, gentleman alert (or maybe my standards are low)). 

“No, I'm just early. Military habit.” That tracked. I gathered all my resolve to not twirl my hair after I sat. I spent too much time on it. Instead, I just looked up and smiled. He even looks good from down here. He’s gotta be cheating somehow, that’s just not natural.

“So I guess you’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes?” He raised his eyebrows for a second, as if to communicate his answer. I guess I was right. At least something good came out of being raised in a military household (though the damage to my social skills is irreparable).

“I’ll order. Do you know what you want?” 

“Chicken panini and Chai latte, please.” I think I might have been a little too excited about the food, because he laughed at me. Not audibly or anything, but I could see it in his eyes. 

“Coming right up.”  He was suave in the way that a men’s soap model is.  It only dawned on me as he walked away, but the way Leon spoke was very smooth. It scrambled my brain. So much so that I had almost completely forgotten about the truth of this meeting, my (tentatively) first and last date. It’ll be painful for sure, but I have to set things straight. Right as I took in an exasperated sigh, a white porcelain plate was placed before me. With a chicken panini :) 

“Why the long face? Is it that horrible to be on a date with me?” His smile made me wish I could melt into a puddle. I watched him sit across from me and I knew I had to tell him. 

“No, it’s great actually. I don’t get out much. It’s not about you, I swear. Just… promise you won’t be too mad?” Even if I couldn’t melt into a puddle, my palms sure were trying to. I looked at him. He cocked his eyebrow at me while taking a sip of his coffee. He’s always drinking coffee.

“You’re scaring me, what is it?” Liar. He looked more amused than anything. It made me wonder if he was really as wholesome as he appeared when he asked for my number. Or maybe that was just my mind running off again.

“Okay. You see, I’m an author, and I’m in the process of writing a novel right now. A couple days ago I saw you at the cafe and- I was having a hard time figuring out one of the characters, okay? Well, I saw you, and I wrote the character to look like you and-” I heaved a sigh. This is the worst part. “I named him Leon. I- I really didn’t know! I just made sense with the theme and all. But then the next day you asked me out and you said that  y o u r  name was Leon, and that just made everything worse. I’m sorry, I’ll change it. I just thought it wasn’t right to start- whatever this is- without telling you.” I sighed, looking at him. He looked surprised, but not appalled, thank God. After a moment, he even laughed. A low rumbling thing that made me feel (somehow) even more embarrassed of myself. 

“You know, that’s one hell of a way to start a first date.” I laughed a little. Maybe he wouldn’t press any charges after all. 

“Yea, I know. I’ll pay you back for today. It’s totally understandable if you wanna leave.” I try not to make him any more uncomfortable than he probably already is. It only just occurred to me that he might just be good at hiding his emotions. 

“No, you don’t have to. It’s just- I don’t think I can top that. Here I was planning to butter you up with compliments, then you tell me you wrote a whole book about me? I mean, that’s something else.” I felt my shoulders relax a little. He took it as a compliment?

“You know, most people would think of that as a negative thing.” I couldn’t help but snicker a little. I even took a bite of my sandwich (panini). It was delicious, as always.

“There are things in the world that are much less pleasant than getting written about.” The way he says it makes me think that maybe he experienced one or two of those things, but now is not the time to pry.

The conversation actually went well, great even. We spoke about all sorts of things, family (he doesn't have any), food (his favorite is, get this, grilled cheese. What the hell.), hobbies (that he doesn’t have) and the like. He couldn’t speak about work (classified, he says), so instead I told him of all my creative endeavors, art, literature, music. He said it was good that I’m creative. I said it’s good that I survived it. He owns a motorcycle. Our banter continued and before we knew it, two hours had passed. 

“Is the sun setting already? What time is it?” I was in a daze. Spending time with him felt like I was intoxicated, everything was so warm and fuzzy that I could barely think anymore. I looked back at him. He seemed just as composed and sane as ever. He’s a secret agent after all, keeps his emotions in check. All I ever do is feel. 

“Seven. Do you wanna call it, or should we change locations?” I thought about it for a second. I want to spend more time with him. I mean, he’s cool and friendly, and he didn’t even flinch when I told him about the novel fiasco. 

“How about dinner? You can pick where.” I really just wanted the chance to ride his motorcycle, but let’s not talk about that too much.

“Didn’t you just eat? You wanna dry my wallet, huh?” He said that, but he was already helping me out of my chair and towards the door.

“A sandwich isn’t a meal, and I could pay if it’s really that much trouble.” I laughed. I didn’t know it before I met him, but Leon’s strange sense of humor is really right up my alley. 

“Now that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, would it?” He opened the door for me. The cold night air made me glad that I wore this sweater. I turned to face him, the streetlights accenting his face in a way that’s probably outlawed in seventeen countries. The chill in the air makes me feel alive. This night was special, for a reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on at the time.

“So, take me away to this amazing restaurant then, Mr. Gentleman.” After my (genius) little quip, I do a spin to soak up the air. I don’t notice the way he looks at me. I don’t see how he’s staring like I’m the first human being he’s seen in months. All I see are the stars above us.

“It’s a pretty small place, but the food is to die for. I hope you’re okay with outdoor restaurants?” I stop and see his face again. His eyes look like pretty blue stars. 

“Long as the food’s worth.” Just as he’s about to lead me away, he makes a face like he forgot something, then turns to me.

“Are you okay with riding my bike there? It’s a little further than walking distance.” I give him a slight nod.

“We’ll see.” 

[faradaykay]

it's so weird when your hyperfixation is a game you are still waiting to play bc like. girl what do you mean you're obsessed with it you're still waiting to get your hands on it you haven't played it

[wikaliyag]

absolutely devastated, it kinda looks like greg is kissing his hand

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

grand finale ! BITB!! rand is the spiral. kian is the corruption. rolan is the stranger.

[ikkimars]

MINGIIIIIIIIII WTF SIR CALM TF DOWN WITH THOSE ARMS