#it's simple but ay

[royalight]

Change   is   never   easy,   until   peace   returns,   is   it   not   our   responsibility   to   be   the   light   of   hope   for   the   people?

This is an Rp blog for PRINCESS SARAH from Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin. Written by Fauna.

heavily hc based and extremely crossover friendly! please give this a like or preferably a reblog if you'd be interested in interacting!

[yrdnzz]

and i got eyes on the back of my head, i got eyes everywhere so i know where you go

[soundleer]

friendly reminder!! human art—mii art, in this case—is infinitely better!!! 💜🫶✏

————

still ver:

[skully-drawls]

absolutely love the way you draw the noise, especially without the mask! i love when people draw him out of the costume and you do so perfectly

BAWW!!! It's so sweet that you think so!!! I'm glad you enjoy my lil goblin Noise in casual. That really makes my day. ; w ;

He's fun to draw and I probably draw him out of costume too much honestly but I can't help that haha.

Thank you for the lovely inbox message goosshh. <3 <3 <3

[001139]

a story about a flight instructor who hallucinates his dead student

[retro-system]

rebirth

[acruelerdonut]

Why so blue?

[calamitys-child]

Your tags about answering the 6 year old's questions while at work 😭❤️ healed my inner child. Children deserve that kind of listening ear and non judgemental answers.

I feel like both as someone who was a very inquisitive child and is now a stubborn and neurodivergent adult I always have a lot of patience for answering questions especially from weans and other neurodivergent folks cause a lot of the time things aren't explained adequately (especially when people are enforcing Rules like parents or activity leaders or management) and I need to ask lots of specific questions and also because acquiring and sharing straightforward information is a great form of social interaction and bonding. If you want people to meet you where you're at you gotta be prepared to try an do the same to others as much as you comfortably can, yken?

[bookishjules]

tumblr, stop trying to make icons not being outside the posts happen! it's not going to happen!

[yuukei-yikes]

*my takane playlist falls from my pocket but i dont notice and i continue walking away with my gigantic ass*

[floccinaucinihilipilificationer]

From Rhys’s insta story GET INTO IT

[arthurslesbian]

thankfully morgana didn't look too closely at that sword 🙃

[afabkaidou]

Nearly every sorcerer in JJK either want to live a simple like or be pampered, they didn't want to see curses nor be used as pawns in a corrupted system with a looming threat of death for normal people.

[attemptsupon]

What Is A Woman

something that hangs around a body around a neck

not a word but the meaning of the word who believes or doesn't believe in semantics

the one to whom the gender is ascribed

a woman is who is questioned a woman is who has decisions made about her, against her will

[loveindefinitely]

task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.

-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)

thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.

one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.

cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.

he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.

"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.

you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."

his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."

you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.

johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.

three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.

manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.

"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.

you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."

a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"

you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."

the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.

"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.

"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.

"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.

"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"

it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.

johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.

"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.

johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.

"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.

"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"

you shudder.

"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.

he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.

"forty-three."

your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.

all you can manage is one question.

"take me home?"

[kanyniablue]

"...[his] hotness is only matched by his ego. Seriously. I can’t stand him. Even if I also can’t stop thinking about him (specifically kissing him)..."--blurb on a romance book

what's the trope name for this. it's my least* favorite trope