#if I can recall

[thefirstlioveyou]

ppl are slowly beginning to be weird abt about queer henry interpretations the same way milevens get abt queer mike interpretations

[time-woods]

gettingback into tma so here's the season 1 crew redesigns

the old designs from 2022 . . they mainly got a wardrobe change

[whump-in-the-closet]

Five Types of Living Weapon Whumpees

The guard dog -> loyalty has been ingrained into their bones, following their handler around like their shadow. No one dares stand against the organization because of the legendary dread surrounding this living weapon. They hardly say a word but every movement is calculated, eyes always darting, always watching. (“You always were their lapdog.”)

The loose cannon -> dangerous for both sides. Always talking back and never predictable, their value is dependent on their skill. If it wasn’t for that, they’d be dead a long time ago. Their loyalty is earned, not bought. No one wants to be on their bad side, walking on tip toe whenever they show up. And they enjoy it. (“What’s everyone looking at? Aren’t you happy to see me? I even brought my rifle!”)

The broken down -> most common type of whumpee I’ve seen. They’ve been overpowered and forced into the commission. They hate their handler more than anything else but see no way out. When they’re told to shoot, they don’t even blink. It’s always “yes, sir” this and “yes, sir” that. If they feel any sympathy, they don’t show it. They’ll do anything to avoid punishment and flinch at quick movements. Nothing they face on the field is worse than the cards they’ve been dealt. (“I understand, sir/ ma’am. I-I’m sorry.”)

The dissenter -> Usually recruited into the organization or joined as a last ditch option. Not necessarily against using their abilities or skill, they just hate being told what to do. As time goes on and their disobedience is punished over and over again, they grow reluctant. Bitter. With every order, they slip in a snarky comment. Roll their eyes. Anything to assert their own identity. Or what’s left of it. (“ah ah ah, you didn’t think i’d notice? The middle finger was a bit much. I’m afraid it will have to go.”)

The ghost in the machine -> known only by their codename by outsiders and by their number in the organization, they’ve been stripped of all humanity. They live, breathe, and think by their handlers orders. They’ve been told over and over again that they are just a weapon. And a weapon does what it’s told. Their anonymity is attached to the organization in the same way a gun is simply an extension of their arm. But at night they still stare up at the ceiling with a blank stare— did they ever a life before this? They can’t remember. (“It’s not like it’s a person. It doesn’t have feelings like that.”)

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.

[batgirlcopia]

the smilerrrr

[avocadoraisin]

Still working on ideas I put on my list a year ago.

I imagine arcanine was Hoffman's original partner pokemon in the police force that had to watch his heart turn cold, but still remained ever-loyal.

(Maybe Team Jigsaw test people, but in less deadly ways, lmao?)

I also always love giving everyone tiny baby pokemon to care for. Perez has a plusle.

[higgsbison]

I need you to understand my vision

[nekrosmos]

Hope this hasn't been done before 😔​✌️​

Twitter | Ko-FI

[cosmicdenro]

theres no going back for me im afraid

[molathesunfish]

assorted lcb art

[elbiotipo]

Firefox should also come with a tamagotchi like extension where you take care of your own little Firefox, it's the best way to make it popular

[liedownquisition]

When They Match Each Other's Freak

[fantasykiri5]

Imp and Skizzzzz!!

They’re hivewings, of course!!

[muchanmocha]

Sua's Protection

I found it funny that Sua with her low mental strength is the one trying to shield Mizi, who has high mental strength, but then I realized that it made a lot of sense.

Sua was trying to protect Mizi the very same way she had wanted to be protected with her low mental fortitude.

This is further corroborated by the fact that her biggest trauma stemmed from her sister instilling in her her own fear of Sua's death by describing the horrific practices of Anakt Garden in excruciating detail.

It makes sense that Sua would then take the opposite approach and try to protect Mizi by keeping her from the same words, actions, and knowledge that had traumatized her in the past.

In a way this too is a sacrifice. It means Sua gives up having someone to confide in and seek companionship from when exposed to the various horrors their world still has to offer.

By being determined to keep Mizi in the dark, Sua is also throwing away the comfort and protection Mizi would want to give in the moments when she's scared and afraid.

The morning probably won't come to me

Like a lie, if all this is just a dream

(You hug me tight as if nothing happened)

It's just sweet dream, it's today

Wait for me, I'll go see you soon, ooh

Lord, please when the song is over,

Save me please

— Sweet Dream, reflecting Sua's feelings going into Round 1

Yet no matter the form, self-sacrifice is inherently an act of selfishness and Alnst backs up this message again and again.

It is the whole one-sided aspect of self-sacrifice that makes it selfish.

Despite it involving multiple people, only one person is required when making that decision — themselves. And by deciding on their own, they're effectively rejecting communication and discussion, thereby showing no respect for the other person's will.

What can be more selfish than overriding someone else's feelings for the sake of your own?

Self-sacrifice doesn't need the other party's consent.

It doesn't ask for their opinion.

It doesn't give them the right to choose, because the choice is already made for them.

In the end, it's one decision made independently by an individual on behalf of someone else, and that someone else will be the one to shoulder the results.

[jackalsraised]

some new sad girl guy spring dialogue for sebby!

also bonus bc its summer 13 now and i already gave him a bouquet

[corviiids]

I'm sorry PLEASE elaborate or cap/link the story about you wearing the nightmare perfume to..... work? as a lawyer? Court work? Bad smell court work??? Rook,

i did post the story here at some point but sure i'll retell it with more context. anyone who doesn't know, im a lawyer and my favourite character is goro akechi from persona 5 whose face i have been wearing since 2017. ok we proceed

the perfume is followed by kerosene, which is slightly infamous. i encountered it when i was first trying to find a decent gourmand fragrance which actually smells like coffee. (i still haven't found a good one so if anyone has any recs...) that tumblr post about its fragrantica reviews shows off some of the funnier ones, but the actual fragrantica page shows the response is a bit more complicated. followed is a very divisive fragrance. those who love it absolutely adore it. everyone else thinks it's a curse on all of humanity forever. i read those reviews and instantly decided i had to try it so i bought a sample.

the thing that makes followed by kerosene most controversial is that it has really unreasonably strong staying power. the other notable thing about followed is that despite being advertised as a coffee and vanilla forward fragrance, it actually has an INCREDIBLY strong smell of maple syrup. perfume depends really heavily on the individual, since the same perfume will act differently on different people's skin, which is why some people insist this smells of a lovely pleasant coffee and, while lasting, generally fades okay, and other people insist the maple syrup demons live in their vents to this day. i actually adore followed. i'm pretty sensitive to strong fragrances and i don't love sweet things, so i was really apprehensive, but i ended up really liking it? it IS strong, but i use a very tiny little amount and to me it smells of a pleasantly burnt caramelised maple followed (hehe) by a nice jaunty undertone of espresso. everyone i've asked irl also thought it was very pleasant.

i was wearing followed to work and needed to run to court for boring BAU reasons. i was NOT there for a hearing. this did not happen while phoenix wrighting my way through actual fucking advocacy. just making this extremely clear for my own mental health. anyway i was in court wearing my little perfume having a normal day talking to a court officer about documents or whatever and they stopped dead mid-conversation and went, "do you smell pancakes?"

anyway that's why i don't wear the fragrance anymore. not because it's a nightmare perfume from hell. just because i absolutely cannot repeat the experience of standing inside a fucking courthouse having to politely giggle and fib my way through an interaction with a completely innocent court officer who had no idea the amount of psychic damage they'd just dealt me by asking me so politely with their real human voice if i smelled sweet pancakes while i stood there knowing and dreading the true reality, which was that the pancakes, after all this time, was me