#i'm normal about it im. all of this is normal

[akqrus]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH KAJWKSKSKJSJDKDKDJDKSJSJSKSKSKKDKDKDKDKDKKDKDKDSJKDKDJDDKDJDJKDJDKDJDKDJDKKDDJFKKFJFJFJJFJH

I LOVE THIS SO SO SOSOOOOOOOOOO MUCHHHHHHHH. THIS IS SO AMAZING AND LOVELY, I FEEL LIKE IM DREAMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I JUMPED OUT OF BED FROM EXCITEMENT AND SHOWED EVERYONE.

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LADYNOIR X SHAWARMA DATES!!!! LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THANK YOUUUUUUU, AKARIII. I LOVE YOUUUUUUU 😭😭😭😭😭😭💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Happy Holidays @akqrus !

I'm your secret Santa for the Ashville discord event~! You wanted Ladynoir I give you Ladynoir~~~~🫰😎

Here are some close-ups below :)

[bkgexe]

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

[thewertsearch]

Echidna's Palace looks suspiciously like Jade's foyer - although, I think it's probably more accurate to say that the foyer looks like the palace. Kanaya and Jade both lived in houses derived from the Frog Temple, which explains this resemblance, as well as Jade's Prospit-themed bedroom.

We still haven't learned why Sburb provides these houses, though. Are we about to?

PCG: OH GOD, HE'S STILL FOLLOWING YOU?

Yeesh. That’s got to be at least a little unnerving. We know his protective instincts are powerful, but are we quite sure that they're inviolable?

?GG: its ok though. as long as he is tailing me like a lost puppy, at least hes not killing anybody

Only because he’s running out of victims, Jade! He’s already killed the other three Players, and their Dream Selves have either fled the session or attained immortality.

I honestly think that the main reason he's tailing you is that he's at a bit of a loose end. You know, after killing all your friends.

PCG: DON'T TRUST HIM JADE, I'M TELLING YOU. HE IS A STAB HAPPY PLANET EXPLODING ASSHOLE.

PCG: REMEMBER WHAT HE DID TO DAVE? […] ?GG: […] im kind of starting to think that was just his way of saying hi ?GG: my dog used to fetch my bullets too! ?GG: i really think he believes he is my dog, on some level

That is an indescribably fucked-up way to parse Dave’s murder.

...and to make matters worse, I’m pretty sure you’re 100% correct.

PCG: DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON THE PUPPY. ?GG: dont worry, im keeping my eye on him ?GG: aaaaaa no no no, bad jack, bad!!!!!!

LMAO

Paperkind is normally a pretty useless specibus, but if your goal is to bully an evil demidog, there’s nothing quite like it.

[libbytwq]

merry christmas!!! (2024)

So, it's Christmas. Normally I never make this type of Christmas special, normally because every year I usually have no one in specific online to be grateful for, aside from my followers. But these past 5 months, my life has truly changed, and i finally have people I want to wish a genuine Merry Christmas to. So here is a gift for those wonderful people.

And thats not all, I'm not just gonna make a cute lil gift and not explain why I love these people!

APPRECIATION GO! 💥

SMG8 // @strange0-0storm -- STORM!! I know we rarely interact, but everytime we do, it's an absolute treat. I love seeing your art, the stuff you make is so awesome and fun to look at, and talking about goofy shit is so much fun. I look up to you a lot and I want to interact with you a lot more. SMG8 was one of the first ever SMG4 OCs I've ever gotten myself familiar with, he's such a silly man and I want to punt him, I love your stuff sm, stay cool 💥

Mango // @its-a-me-mango -- MANGO!! I've always been a massive fan of your art since I was first getting myself familiar with the SMG4 Tumblr community, because of your artstyle and the goofy jokes and silly stuff, but since joining the TSB discord server and interacting with you, I think you are even cooler. Our interactions are so incredibly goofy and I love every single time you appear on VCs. Our sense of humor almost feels like it clicks and everytime we make jokes I be cackling, to the point I sometimes get distracted from what I'm working on... but hey its okay because we're all silly here :3 i love your stuff sm man and i think ur an absolute vibe keep doing that forever and ever

N4 // @bluesbox -- BLUE!! It is so much fun interacting with you about theories and stuff!! And hearing you yap abt N4 lore is so fun and cool.... im INVESTED....... Yappin with you about goofy lil theory stuff is an absolute treat and i love interacting with you sm guh h,, we are the SCHEMERS......

TSB // @tiredsmashbros -- TOMM!! you...... YOU..... I WOULDNT BE FRIENDS WITH ANY OF THESE PEOPLE IF YOU DIDNT EXIST.... i look up to you like crazy and the fact that i can call you a friend is still batshit insane to me....interacting with you and joining your server has in fact changed my life for the better and i am not the same person i was before your 1k birthday party.... you are a huge inspiration to me and your lore is impeccable bUT DUDE I WANT ANSWERS, the TSB lore has me invested and i wanna know whats goin on im gonna..... GSHDJFNF IM GONNA GETTT Y /silly /pos dude your are so crazy awesome i love vibin with you n being silly all the time. qwah puh 💥

Neo // @neo91502 -- NEO!! You were one of the first people i bonded with in the server, and for that i think you are incredibly awesome, i love your art and everything you draw they always look so super cool and awesome and wa h,, i love your stuff sm but man you gotta handle your addiction to tsmg4 and long haired smg4 its gonna be a problem if you cant get it under control /silly YOU ARE SO AWESOME AND FUN I LOVE YAPPING WITH YOU RAAAGH

Hexsy // @nxva-blogz -- NXVA!! sigh..... i GUESS i have to include you.... for the sake of the hexore...... /j /silly you are so crazy and interacting with you is sm fun ill be completely honest. The hexsy lore is so so neat and i love your art sm guh,, I love vibing with you and being silly you are such a goofy ahh individual and you bring a lot of joy hehehehe explodes y

And now, there were a few other people I really wanted to fit on the couch, but couldn't because I burnt tf out. So heres me showing appreciation to those people too!

@knightedmares -- MY TWIN!! KNIGHTMARE KNIGHTMARE KNIGHTMARE!! We have so much in common and we just be vibin everytime you show up. I love your oc Trick sm and i love vibing with you guh

@rmgkyle -- KYLE!!! you feed me everyday and i appreciate it very very much. You are so incredibly goofy and i love RMG from the bottom of my heart and you are so insane but i love that WEE

@mikchi8 -- mikchi you are a menace to the server and i am very scared of you,, but thats ok cuz you are very silly and i love vibin with you /pos

@kittykibbl -- Kitty i LOVE your various AUs a ton and you were one of the first people i interacted with online, from one of the first WOTWs, and i still love your stuff a ton and interacting with you is a lot of fun yippe

Merry Christmas everybody!!

- Lore, libbytwq

[amyispxnk]

Silent Night

Summary - You're back from college for the holidays, and you've decided on exactly what you want for Christmas - Joel Miller's cock.

A/N: this was such a last minute fic im ngl rn. wasn't even planning on posting a Christmas fic, let alone my FIRST dbf joel miller smut?? anyway, i hope everyone enjoys. happy Christmas<3

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, some good ole daddy kink, age gap (20+ years), Joel is pretty pervy in this, alcohol, divorce mentions. Not proofread because I'm tired

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

When you left for college all that time ago, Joel didn't have any strong feelings towards you. You were his best friend's kid, so naturally he saw you often, and got close with you. You were a sweet kid, kind, smart (more than him, he reckoned), and very.. determined when you wanted to be.

Now you're back for Christmas, and as he sees you exiting your dad's car, hurrying over to him, yelling “Joel! Joel! Oh, I missed you so much!” he realises how fucked up his mind might be.

Any normal guy who was reuniting with a girl he'd known since she was a teenager, and a girl he had at least 20 years on, would not be looking at how her tits bounced in her crop top, or how her leggings were tight enough to let him see just how perfect your ass was.

But Joel wasn't normal, he wasn't a good man, so he was looking for all of those things. If he'd actually been looking at your face, maybe he'd have seen you smirking. Maybe he'd have realised you wore those clothes for exactly this reason.

-

Joel, or dad's best buddy, Mr Miller, as you'd known him until you were 16 and couldn't be bothered to pay respect to your elders, had been a part of your life for a while.

Ever since your mom took off, Joel was coming around far more often and, in his own gruff and quiet way, was taking care of you more than your own father was at the time.

Nowadays, you didn't really have any resentment towards your father because of this - he'd just gotten divorced, he was going through a rough time.

But teenage you definitely did, and having Joel step in like that definitely left you with mixed feelings.

If things weren't the way they were back then, you'd probably have developed this all-encompassing crush on him even earlier.

When you were leaving for college though, the crush suddenly dived into your life, crashing down and muddling up everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Now, as you returned back home at last, you knew you had to have him, or you feared you might just lose it.

He was everything a girl.. like you, could want right now. Old, brooding, mysterious, and so fucking hot.

So as you hopped over to him where he stood in his front lawn, you made sure to hug him tight and make sure he could really feel that you weren't wearing a bra. You knew he was looking already, so why not let him feel it?

He hesitated for a moment - probably struggling with his boner which you swore you could already feel - before bringing his arms around you and clapping you on the back.

“I missed you so much, Mr Miller.” You hum sweetly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His own eyes almost flutter shut at the name you chose to use for him, and he manages to choke out a soft missed ya too, darlin’.

That darlin’ would be enough to make you come tonight.

Your dad finally turns around after unloading your luggage and turning the car off, greeting Joel before the two of you head to your house.

-

The next day, it's Christmas Eve. Dinner rolls around, and you check over your makeup one more time. You don't want it to be too much - it would look weird, considering it was only Joel coming over (your dad was a solitary creature) - but you still had to look good for him.

The doorbell rings and you almost trip down the stairs. “I'll get it, dad!” You yell, and he thanks you, completely unaware of your motives.

You open the door, biting back a smirk when Joel immediately looks you up and down, only just managing to tear his eyes away from your chest.

“Hi, Mr Miller. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly.

“Hi, sweetheart… told ya y’dont have ta call me that. Joel's fine.” He says softly, eyes still a little hazy.

You step back to let him inside and immediately take one of the beers he'd brought over once he sets the case down.

“Y’old enough to drink that, honey?” He teases, mind finally out of the gutter for now.

“I'm 21 in like.. a month. It's fineeee.” You smirk, tipping your head back and taking a big swig, showing off the long column of your neck and the swell of your breasts.

His mind is back in the gutter.

Your eyes are off him for now, so he allows him to drink in the sight of you properly. A silly Christmas hat atop your curled, gorgeous hair; red sweater tight around your breasts, little candy-canes dotted around it; your skirt, far too short and he's almost certain you're teasing him now, tights underneath making him want to rip them clean off of you. Your makeup looks perfect, red lips which he knows would look perfect around his cock, mascara which he can picture smudged and ruined from tears and sweat while you fuck-

“Joel, y’made it! Cmon, sit with me.” Your dad grins, and Joel's eyes widen. What the fuck is wrong with him? He cannot be thinking that way about you.

He shakes his head, muttering something to himself before going to sit with your dad.

-

Joel finally thinks he'll have some reprieve from your incessant teasing, letting out a tired sigh as he sits on the couch, your dad on the armchair.

“Tired already, old man?” Your dad teases.

“You're older than me, asshole.” Joel grunts, earning him a chuckle.

Just then, you appear in the doorway. Of course, of-fucking-course, you'd decide to watch TV with them tonight. It's soccer, for Christ's sake, you'd always get bored out of your mind and run upstairs to go on your phone whenever the game was on.

Not today though, much to Joel's dismay.

“What're you watching?” You ask, sitting beside Joel. He tries to mask his discomfort.

“Just soccer hon, I know you don't like-” your dad starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“No, no! It's fine. I'll try watching it tonight.” You smile softly, and settle in to watch.

You clearly get bored after about 5 minutes, sighing softly.

“You really find this interesting?” You murmur to Joel, now having made yourself comfortable on his shoulder. He tried to make himself as stiff as possible when you first lay on him, but you were persistent as always, and he just gave in.

“Ain't nobody forcin’ you to watch it.” He argues, and you keep quiet after that, eventually getting up to go get the food ready.

-

Dinner is yet another trial for Joel. You've gotten just as frustrated and impatient as he is, it seems.

Leaning in front of him when serving the food, giving him a clear view of your tits. Not to mention you never serve food, set the table, but all of a sudden you're acting like little miss helpful today.

‘Accidentally’ dropping a cup and bending over in his eyeshot to pick it up.

Sitting beside him at the table instead of with your dad.

When your hand moves to his thigh, he bolts upright, earning him a look from your dad.

“Bathroom,” is all he can get out before he's rushing upstairs.

“Fucking kid. Thinks she can fuckin’.. pull all this shit with me.. thinks she can act like this in front of her dad.. fuck me.” He mutters to himself, despite undoing his belt and pulling his cock out, barely stifling his groan when he spits on his palm and starts tugging at his length so fast it's almost painful.

His mind conjures up all sorts of unholy images, and he's on the brink of release when- “Mr Miller,” you coo, knocking on the door. “is everything okay? You've been gone for like 10 minutes. Was it something in the food?”

He's so angry, so pent-up, he wants to pull you in here and just fuck that goddamn attitude out of you.

He's deathly silent, flushing, turning on the sink as he pulls his pants up, blue-balled like he'd never been before, and exiting the bathroom.

“Everything is fine.” He grits out, fists clenched as he walks past you. You eye his bulge and smirk before practically skipping down the stairs.

“He said everything's fine, daddy.” You smile to your dad, and he almost collapses. He swears he sees god for a second.

That word coming out of your mouth should absolutely not turn him on like it just did - but it did.

The rest of dinner, he's almost silent, just gulping down beer and chewing on his now cold turkey. You don't try anything with him, actually a little afraid he might just get up and leave.

Instead, you wait until the movie.

Your dad puts Die Hard on, and after a lengthy argument about whether or not it even counts as a Christmas movie, - you insist it's not and will carry that with you to the grave - you settle beside Joel.

Joel thinks he's made it through the worst of the evening, but then you shiver. You shiver again, and then you pout, and he feels obliged to ask.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah.. can I have some of the blanket?” You whisper. Your dad is practically falling asleep in the armchair.

He goes to hand you the blanket, and you, devious as ever, put it over both of your laps, cuddling up to Joel even more.

He's on full alert right now, stiff as a log, waiting for your next game.

The movie goes on, and then your hand creeps under the sheet. Moving from the side, to your own lap, to his arm, then to his leg-

“What're you-” he grunts, but you just shush him.

“I'm trying to watch the movie, Joel.” You huff, as if your hand isn't on his cock right now.

His eyes are darting between you, the screen, his lap under the blanket, and your dad. Way too much is going on, and as you start palming him, he lets out the most pained groan. He sees you biting your lip and he's so angry, so horny, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Your dad suddenly wakes up, and the bubble pops. You pretend you're asleep on Joel's shoulder, and you know you've won when Joel tells your dad to just go on up, that he'll make sure she gets to bed.

As soon as your dad's bedroom door shuts, Joel grabs your jaw, glaring at you.

“Exactly what the fuck do you think you're doing, little girl?” He spits, and you giggle softly.

“‘m not doing anyth- ow, Joel!” You whimper when he squeezes your cheeks together.

“You gonna tell the truth now? Gonna answer me properly?” He says, tone and eyes cold as the ice on your driveway.

You nod, trying to stifle your whimper. He eases the grip on your jaw, still holding it, before asking you again.

“What do you think you're doing?” He says through clenched teeth, and you know he's not fucking around anymore.

“I.. I just..” Fuck it, you may as well shoot your shot, otherwise what was the point of everything tonight anyway?

“I wanted you to fuck me, Joel.”

Creak goes the step at the top of your staircase, and you squeak, jumping off the couch as Joel pulls the blanket and a pillow over his lap. You rush upstairs past your dad, hurriedly bidding him goodnight before slamming your door.

“Just came to grab my phone. Everythin' alright..?” He asks, brows furrowed at your skittish behaviour.

Joel nods, and your dad leaves him alone.

His cock has been throbbing for hours. So long that it's actually painful. But now he can't do anything. You and your dad are upstairs, you'll be asleep in 5 minutes, and Joel will just have to pretend it's your pussy wrapped around his length when he fucks his fist in the guest bedroom tonight.

-

Guilt gnaws away at him as he cleans his come off of his hand and stomach, tossing the tissues into the bin before changing into some sweats and managing to fall asleep after half an hour of tossing and turning.

The world seems to hate him, since he wakes up at 2am, heading to the bathroom only to walk past your bedroom and hear you moaning. He can't make out what you're moaning - but he has a good idea - and he's thankful your doors are quiet when he opens the one to your room.

You're facing away from the door, legs spread, face in your pillow as your hips buck, fingers working your pussy furiously.

“Joel, Joel, fuck-” you gasp, whimpering as you get close.

Fuck this.

If he didn't get to come for the entire evening, you did not get to come right now.

He walks over to you, morales abandoned, and growls your name.

You squeak, biting your lip as you turn and look at him. You'd been so close, but now you're too petrified to finish.

“Joel, I-”

“Not another word.”

It's the last thing he says before he flips you back onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the pillows.

“You're gonna be a good girl and shut the fuck up while I fuck this needy pussy. You understand me?”

You part your lips to reply, earning a spank to your ass.

“Can't fuckin’ listen, can ya? No talking, baby.”

You nod, whimpering as he pushes your head back down and pulls your soaked panties off, tossing them onto the floor.

“Fuck, look at her. Drippin’ for me, ain't she? Didn't know you were such a slut, babygirl.” He teases, knuckles dragging along your slit, and you cry into the pillow, hips bucking back against his hand.

Another spank, making you moan, trying to stop your hips from bucking once more.

“You take what you're fucking given. Do you understand me?”

You nod, having learnt from your mistakes.

“Good girl. Knew you could listen for me.” He coos, before he's thrusting two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat.

You gasp and whine, moaning his name into the pillow, almost tearing your sheets with how hard you grip them.

“That's right.. moan my name. Fuckin’ slut.” He grunts, head ducking down to tease your clit with his tongue. You almost lose it, starting to clench hard and fast around his fingers. You're right on the edge when he pulls away.

“Joel!” You practically sob, deflating as your orgasm drifts away.

“Shh, shh. You thought you could tease me all night and still get off? Y’thought wrong, honey.” He coos, mocking, pulling down his sweatpants and slicking up his cock with your wetness, giving you no warning as he starts to push in.

“Ohh, fuck. Knew you'd be tight for me, baby. That's it, good girl.” He groans, bottoming out. He allows you to cry his name into the pillow, but when he starts really fucking you, it gets too much.

He pulls out to the tip before slamming back into you, making you almost scream, back arching and hips bucking - unsure if you want him to get out, or fuck you even harder.

He decides for you, starting to pound into you. The only sounds in the room are your broken moans, his heavy breathing, and the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin.

“Joel- Joel- pl-please I'm gonna come- please Daddy-” you moan, and his hips stutter before he's pulling you up by your hair, his back to your chest when he resumes his aggressive thrusts.

“Shut- the fuck- up.” He pants in-between thrusts, and you whimper, brows drawing together as you get close. He starts rubbing your clit and you see stars, unable to stop yourself from coming.

“Fuckfuckfuck yes, yes daddy- oh my god-” you sob, before he's pulling out and manhandling you onto your back, thrusting back inside to the hilt, palm covering your mouth.

“You better shut up right now unless you want your real daddy to wake up, find us here like this-” you curse silently when you clench around him at the thought - what is wrong with you?

“Oh, you like that? Dirty fucking girl. Such a slut for daddy, huh?” You clench tighter at that, and his thrusts speed up, pace irregular. “Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.”

His hand leaves your mouth and you cover it yourself, not wanting to anger him anymore.

“‘s okay, baby.” He murmurs, taking your hand from your mouth and leaning down to kiss you. As he does, his hand goes to your clit, and you moan loudly, muffled slightly by the kiss, as your back arches off the bed and you come so hard you see stars, setting off his own release and making him groan, biting your shoulder as he fills you up.

It's quiet for a moment, save for your shared panting, before he pulls out.

“Fuck, honey..” he murmurs, watching your shared fluids dribble out of your cunt, gathering them up on his fingers and pushing them back into your tight hole.

“Made such a mess, didn't we?” He says softly, brushing your hair away from your eyes as you giggle softly, nodding.

“That was so good.” You whisper, and he nods, gathering you up in your arms.

“Joel, you can't stay in here-” you mutter, confused.

“Just relax, honey. I'll leave in the mornin’. Just let me hold you for now.”

You're utterly perplexed, but you're definitely not complaining, swallowed up by his warmth and drifting off within a minute.

-

The next morning, you're opening presents, and you bite your lip when he reads his card from you. At the bottom, you'd added - come to my room afterwards for the second part of your gift - and when he comes upstairs afterwards, it's safe to say he doesn't leave for a good hour.

Dividers by @adornedwithlight <3

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Have a good Christmas everyone!! ❤️

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

21 Guns (American Idiot the Musical)

Do you know what's worth fighting for/When it's not worth dying for/Does it take your breath away/And you feel yourself suffocating

"OUGH KEY CHANGE AT THE END OUGH VIBEYS OUGH FELLAS BE JOININ IN OUGHHH HARMONIES OUGH THE END OUGHHHHHHHHHH REBECCA NAOMI JONES OUGH IM DYING"

Has Thou Considered the Tetrapod (The Mountain Goats)

Held under these smothering waves/By your strong and thick-veined hand/But one of these days/I'm gonna wriggle up on dry land

"Songs about abusive parents dont normally get to me but john darnielle just has such a way with words that this one made me cry the first time i heard it. hes really good at taking just a snapshot of a situation and coloring it with so much depth that you feel like you know exactly how the singer (in this case his childhood self) is feeling in this very specific moment, and it hits so much harder when your experiences overlap. the metaphor of surviving abuse as evolution against all odds is incredibly powerful to me. maybe this tournament is supposed to be more for songs to think about fictional characters to so apologies if this is too personal for what youre going for lol"

[marciaillust]

hey, i hope you're doing great! i feel this may be unorthodox, but i really wanted to reach out to extend my engagement?— awe?— solidarity?— (some variant of those, anyways) with your most recent "workposting" art. i don't normally do this. I've maybe sent 3 asks in my whole life. there's no pressure to respond to this, as i mostly just wanted to cheer you on. also, I'm really sorry this is so long.

i only just recently landed my very first freelance art job, at a start-up company dedicated to making comics + DND inspired art content. I've always felt that "Its nothing to call home about", and so i really resonated with your feelings regarding your work for Brawl Stars. I felt kind of ashamed of my job, that its just a small start up��� that I'm not enough and that i should be trying harder, or something like that. Specifically i resonated with your comment of "presenting brawl stars art feels like showing my anime girl oc to an art teacher" and i don't think i could have solidified any better.

Anyways. all's to say. I really found your work quite jaw-dropping. I was shocked when i read it was for Brawl Stars. I didn't know anything about it, but when i did some research i was even more amazed. they're really, really compositionally beautiful... i mean, i know its just "work" to you ultimately, but it really does feel lively, and everything about it makes it feel like you care. I think sometimes you're just able to tell when an artist genuinely cares about their work; about its end outcome. there's so many intricacies. and a lot of attention to detail. you kept the style that was necessary of you but i also can feel the warmth and the care of the artist behind it— its not corporate, or stale, it doesn't come across as "just work".

since you mentioned League, i genuinely do think it serves an equal purpose and weight to what League of Legends would produce. from a biased standpoint, i would actually value your work more. Its not even that its "more obtainable"/"more realistic" but that there's genuinely more feeling to it. Compositionally/artistically, yeah, League makes great stuff, but occasionally, the feeling or the sense of warmth and care from the creator of the art is lost along the way. I value seeing the artist within their own art a lot, which is why I've admitted to a degree of bias. either way. what you put out there is really gorgeous, and crazy impressive.

I know a stranger with a dumb, fandom-oriented art blog cant solve the self-indited art elitism (you and me both, man💀) and that you've already received plenty of love/reblogs saying similar things, but i wanted to extend my feelings anyways. Its really heart-warming, i guess. It brings me hopefulness, and deep adoration for the craft. I'm not very good with words. Anyways. don't undersell yourself. seeing your work meant more to me than you can imagine. I'm obviously nowhere near your skill level, but it meant more to me as an aspiration. i think that regardless of who you work for, your work is really valuable and downright incredible. because you bring that sense of warmth, care, time, and patience regardless of the media it portrays. and you're able to do that while being objectively talented— utilizing great compositions, colour pallets, shading, characterization, mood, etc. That is more valuable. That is much much cooler than working for Riot. imo.

Initially, i also wanted to ask you some questions about how you assembled your portfolio, if you went to school, (if so) what it did/didn't provide for you going into the art field, and just how you landed the job in general. But i respect you and your time, and wouldnt want to be a burden or anything. If you ever have time for it, i would love to ask them, among others, and we can chat in DM if you'd prefer. Absolutely no pressure. Im happy just watching from the sidelines. I dont anticipate anything from you to begin with! I just hope youll know how influential your post was to read & see, to someone like me!

Oh man. I. How. Where do I even start except

This is one of the most uplifting, touching and encouraging messages I received in my life. I read it thrice. And I still can't believe how full of love it is. This is such high praise, I want you to know I will cherish it and carry it with me for a long long time. It's not often that an artist gets to learn how their art is perceived, not to mention in such a positive light. It really means a lot to me.

It makes me so happy to hear that my work illustrations retain a piece of me that is visible to others. I myself can't see it, but I imagine my closeness to the matter at hand heavily impacts my ability to see objectively at all. There was a time where I was worried that work was overriding the me that makes my art mine, that I was becoming a corporate rendering machine and that what I did at work (the shape language and style) was bleeding into my personal art. There is a part of me that is now breathing easier after reading your message. I would love to answer any questions you have, it's the least I can do to repay you! Feel free to send an ask or even an email, I'll try to be as thorough as I can be with my answers. I wish you happy holidays! Take care! And again thank you so much for taking the time to write this message!

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

just wondering, do you know about the cross-collar rule in asian attire? (if not nbd, just thought you might have some interesting thoughts on it in regards to the first ninja)

YES!!! I do actually!!! ;DD Tho admittedly I only discovered it a few years ago and while I 100% incorporated it into my First Ninja headcanons, I didn't have a chance to share it, I guess, haha. ;D

For those curious about the cross-collar rule: Japanese kimono is traditionally worn left side wrapped over right, unless the wearer is deceased.

Tho in RC9GN character sheets designs - ALL kimono wearing characters with the right side wrapped over left.

While I have no idea if this was an animation error due to negligence of research, or a deliberate choice with or without that clothing rule in mind (considering they travel to past and technically all people they saw are dead in the future lol), but you sure as hell can believe me that my mind run absolutely feral with that tidbit.

In some of my posts I mentioned my hcs about how First Ninja is incredibly loyal to his Clan and the siblings he lost, about how much survival guilt he must have suffered, and how much effort and energy he puts into making sure that the Ninja - the culmination of all their efforts - must survive and live on, all in order to keep the Sorcerer contained and their newfound home (and the world) safe and secure. To the point that he would immerse himself completely into his role of the protector and erase any other identity that he had left - an incredibly utterly noble and stupidly horrifying gesture of self-sacrifice for the continuous survival of his clan even at the price of his civilian life.

I trust you can see where the cross-collar rule comes into play with this. ;)

Because in First Ninja's mind - he is a dead man walking. Whatever was left of his semi-normal life with his siblings had been slipping away from him with every loss, until there was nothing left but the duty his clan had taken on. Whatever he was before that, whatever he could have been - has been dead for a long time. And contrary to harsh wording I use, I do not really see First regard it as a great loss - it is still a loss, but here comes a rule of 'the sacrifice of one for the good of many' (something this Clan will surely understand) - if anything it would seem like a logical progression for all the events of his life.

There is a reason I built my headcanons around First Ninja as the youngest of the Clan: if your whole life revolved around an important duty, it would not seem like the great sacrifice for you to devote your entire life to it to that kind of point considering all the circumstances. I mean from an outside perspective it is pretty horrible, but when you literally grew up in the situation? Its a different matter.

But the rule also can be interpreted in a more (?) uplifting manner because, if you took notice - his Ninja suit is also wrapped right over left, and in this case I chose to interpret it as not sign of death but rather continuity, an immortality of sorts if you will - because even if what was left of that young Norisu lord is dead - the Ninja will live on through inheritance, and no matter how much time will pass, how many inheritors will come and go - Ninja itself will survive. And isnt that an immortality in itself?

Admittedly while I have a great deal of thoughts about this, I'm not good at sharing my headcanons (even now I reread what I wrote and wonder if its even coherent haha...), and so far I only managed to allude to the cross-collar rule in one of my MIS posts:

Where First Ninja is still a mortal but who wears his clothes like a dead man, and Chase Young is an immortal who would not even think of dying, lol.

But trust me, while Im struggling to express all of that - every time I draw First, that rule and all the angsty implications of it are constantly on my mind. ;)

[soap-is-an-artist]

gonna ramble about charlie and auron because i just got out the premiere and. holy shit.

if I'm way off base on my analysis i am so sorry, im still processing, these are just my initial thoughts on stuff. and if you disagree id love to discuss it!

okay so first things first i screamed a LOT. I was so relieved when Charlie said he wasn't mad at Cas [i would've cried probably]. Auron made some truly wild comments. case in point: "I would probably slap the taste out of your mouth if it wouldn't mean getting you all hot and bothered just in time for Casper to drop me off at the office, pull into the parking garage, and fuck some goddamn sense into you." I YELLED OMFG auron. you can't just SAY shit like that. Then the Disney princess line. Charlie sounded so weak when he said "can we go back to that part about 'Casper fucking some sense into me'??" And Auron answering with "Not until I'm outside of the vehicle. You'll have to find someone else to watch." AURON. STOP PLEASE IM GONNA HAVE A HEART ATTACK FROM LAUGHING

alright moving on from that let's get to the serious shit. Charlie is justified to be angry about Auron interfering in his personal life; it ISN'T a healthy way to interact with people, whether you want to befriend them or not. Auron orchestrated this whole scheme because he doesn't know how to communicate his feelings, and you know what? I get it. He doesn't know what normal is, and it's not really his fault that he doesn't know. But he can at least try? Wikihow is free, brother /lh

Charlie wanted a fresh start. He wanted to disconnect from the dangerous world that Auron is a participant in, he wanted to earn his own way in the world, earn a bit of self damn respect like he deserves. Auron undermined all that, despite his good intentions. He lied, big time. And that's kinda shitty and not okay!

Was it about control? Keeping a hand on loose ends, like Charlie thinks? Auron just wanted to "protect him", right? Well, as someone who has had much of their life controlled by people who ALSO just wanted to "protect" me, that's a very weak excuse for taking away someone's agency. Now, our situations aren't exactly the same. Auron is not Charlie's parents [THANK GOD] and there actually some things Charlie isn't aware of that he needs to be protected from! But this was not the move. Like.. at all.

What's my solution? I dunno. But maybe don't force all these things to happen. Perhaps send an email rather than getting your guy to hunt down your former employee's childhood friend/crush and sneakily reunite them behind his back? Or at least try the email first, Auron. Charlie calling Auron out on playing pretend, "just writing one of your little stories"... ouch. But does he kinda deserve that? Yeah. I think so.

[Side note: Charlie talking about how if he'd sought out Cas on his own terms, it would've worked out because they fall in love every time? "Because that's where I'm supposed to be." I. fucking. fell over. I had to fucking BITE something omg. Yeah im biased in this argument sorry lol, i definitely have a favorite here]

HOWEVER: Auron admits that he was wrong! He is not an unrepentant man and he DIDN'T double down! That is a big point in his favor imo. He doesn't actually say "sorry" but he uses a lot more words to mean something... similar? I guess that's a fanfic writer's way. I get it, I also elaborate way too much. So, an actual clear cut "Charlie, I'm sorry I fucked with your life behind your back just because I wanted to be friends with you" would've been nice. But this will do for now.

Also Charlie you REALLY need to watch out for Finn that guy is a freakkkkk he will fuck you up big time. Not normal Finn. The magic one.

Okay I'm done typing whatever pops into my head with the barest pretense at organization lmao, I'll revisit this in time once my thoughts marinate a little more

[velvetvexations]

Since we're talking about forcefem, here're most of the forcefem-related asks I've had in my inbox, some of which are a few days old on account of technically going in the vexatious tag if not exactly kink asks. I wanted to answer one from today on it's own which I'll get to later but I wanted to get to the older ones and also get to a few of the others from today while I was at it.

i just saw a post where a trans guy was showing some messages where someone was (unconsensually) basically roleplaying forcefemming him. despite him telling them that he did not want that and that it was very much transphobic, and he atill got a message boiling down to "you're not a man, silly, you're a girl :D" and. to be honest. this was the thing that stopped the brainworms of "what if the whole concept of transandrophobia is actually transmisogynistic and i am entirely wrong" bc at least some of these people will just say the most bog standard transphobic shit to trans guys and not register it as transphobia. so why the fuck would they be right about anything transmascs experience also on that note thank you for being so outspoken in favour of transmascs getting to discuss their oppression. it's really helpful to see trans women stand with us here, especially when it comes to aforementioned brainworms

congratulations to that transphobe for creating a new transandrobro

the 'forcemasc isnt revolutionary' shit is the most annoying iteration of stupid tumblr discourse. like im going through the tag trying to read some horny shit and oh look. theres someone being stupid and hypocritical. in my horny tag.

people are getting tribalist about kinks and it's depressing

Every time people are saying that trans men & mascs cannot possibly fathom being objectified & fetishized, I think on all of the posts I’ve seen that did that exact same thing. And yeah, some of it might have been kink, so no hate no judgement I dabble in that tag too, but I’ve also seen “get in the dress” type posts that seem to be genuinely calling for trans men to be more feminine, untagged & in the wild, enough where I’m like — am I just imagining this? Like am I crazy? Am I missing something, or was that extremely detailed post about why I MUST stay feminine — or become more — for someone else’s benefit being 100% serious? And, again — if it’s kink, all the power to them, I love that for them, I even occasionally love that for me. But I have encountered enough people who were dead serious that I sometimes want no one but trusted friends & advisors to ever witness me again. And then I look at statistics & feel genuinely ill. And yeah, I’m gnc — and there’s the rub, because while I feel genuine joy being fem as well as masc, I want it to be a Choice, not something forced upon me.

people need to be fucking normal

Yh like ik a lot of shitposts don't have any tags but people have. Really gotta tag forcefem. I've blocked a large amount of people making these jokes + filtered their names n I still see it

I'm sorry, anon. <3

Fuck thank you so much for talking so openly about forcemasc. I’m so dumb I thought there wasn’t a name for that kink that I’ve been into for years, albeit my version is way more weirder. It would be like a… forcemascfem??? Like first it’s forcemasc and then it turns into forcefem and then right back to forcemasc…. And then back to- Idk my gender is weird and my kinky fantasy for that is weird

Cross as many boundries as you want, that sounds rad. Forcefem has a lot of infrastructure to jump off of.

“I’m doing a kink in a non kink way so it’s not kink blog!” Sorry this pisses me off It’s still a kink. Like. If someone made an I-suggest-BDSM blog and tried to claim it wasn’t a kink blog I’m sure more people would see how silly this is but because it’s the transfem approved virtuous forcefem they just let it slide??? Like. You are engaging in a kink and thats fine. You can say there won’t be anything explicitly sexual! But it will still be a kink blog because it’s a blog about a kink! A kink blog if you will! It doesn’t matter if you’re not getting off to it, it’s still a kink! That you are participating in! On your blog about that kink!

It SHOULD piss you off! It's extremely fucking scummy!

what the hell? for like one solid minute(longer than that but i like saying it this way) all the forcefem on my dash was tagged and i could blissfully not have to see it every other post and then just today i had to unfollow a buncha people for an assload of untagged forcefem :/ like im transmasc i think its understandable that i do not wish to see that anyway hope your day is goin well miss velvet

yeah it's praxis to not tag kink anymore

trfs are perfectly aware what the "force" bit means when forcemasc comes up in conversation

strange how that works

[madamemiz]

sad: falling out of a hyperfixation

tragic: watching your beloved friends and mutuals fall out of the hyperfixation while you're still in it

[muzzlemouths]

ME WHEN I WHEN YOU WHEN WHEN IM WHEN I WH

I have been having Many Thoughts with regards to @muzzlemouths' cult AU/Taken Under Wing AU

most of those thoughts consist of wings

[ruporas]

feast (ID in alt)

[localfandomenthusiast]

Pick your poison,

Charles "Sounds a lot like you, maybe that's why I like her so much" Rowland

Or

Edwin "I keep attracting freaky ass guys towards me (Crow, cat and own bully/murderer)" Payne

[alleyesony0u]

IT WAS A CYCLE ALL ALONG IT WAS A CYCLE EVBO WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE THE CHOSEN ONE THERE ARE PEOPLE ABOVE YOU BUT THERE WILL ALWAYS BE PEOPLE ABOVE THEM IT IS A CONSTANT CYCLE OF CAUSING PAIN AND SUFFERING TO GET TO THE TOP (or in this case bottom) OF THE SYSTEM

the swords are the ones being farmed for immortality, others weapons either invade or are sent as punishment. those other weapons saw a kid, a wimpy natural-born sword who just so happened to take on the home of the chosen one, and used that because that's what they've always done. used the sword level for immortality. they are swords in this civilization, but they also have their old weapons, they are the higher ups that control those who think they're the higher ups.

this world is not a good one. it is all abuse and exploitation and using using using.

even the diamond swords used and used and used. most of them were not born with a sword in their hand.

the further the hole you dig, the more of the abuse you find. getting to the bottom of it.

bows, shields, swords, tridents, axes. and you are born with the unlucky blade that dooms you to be the farm animal.

and evbo was the perfect image of the perfect sword. born to die.

[hiko-the-teacup]

i do NOT know how to draw elk horns I am SORRY