#reduced to giggles

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

“he makes me laugh from a place i didn’t realise was there”

[astrobei]

hey :) so i was wondering if you could incorporate 3, 12 and 50 into a single one shot ? bc that would be Amazing but if you don't want you you can just pick whichever haha

challenge accepted !! this was super fun to write thank you !! :^)

3, 12, and 50 for touch prompts: hiding face in neck + pushing a strand of hair behind their ear + putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

If you’d asked Mike, a few years ago, how he thought he’d end up dying, he’d have a few different guesses. Clawed to death by monsters, maybe, was up at the top of his list for a while there. Shot to death by government agents also made the top five more than once, which was kind of worrying. And it was probably very concerning that getting stomped on, impaled, or eaten by an alien supermonster hivemind was on there at all.

Suffice it to say that he didn’t die in any of those ways, since Mike is currently, in the present moment, alive. But probably not for long. He’s seen some shit, and he hasn’t even graduated college, and maybe it’s a little bit pathetic that after all of that– the monsters and the Russians and the end of the world– that this is how he really dies: backed up against the wall at some completely questionable house party, being flirted with by Will Byers.

At least, that’s what Mike thinks is going on here. If he’s being totally honest, he doesn’t have all that much experience in the flirting department, considering that the one person he’d ever dated hadn’t done much flirting and the one person he had maybe wanted to flirt with hadn’t–

Well, it doesn’t matter. Said person is doing it now, and for all of Mike’s past reminiscence and speculation on the topic, he didn’t think it would be happening like this.

“You look nice tonight,” Will is saying, barely audible over the low thrum of music in the background. They’re not even somewhere particularly loud– the hallway is a blessed reprieve from the chaos of whatever is happening in the living room, but Will’s voice has dropped into something low and intentional. He smiles. “You should wear more green.”

Oh, god. Mike is going to die.

“Uh. Really?” he says, in what’s definitely not a squeak. It comes out assured and confident and–

Oh, who is he kidding? Will’s smile grows, surely delighted at the unfortunate crack in Mike’s voice. He leans in a bit closer, and it’s barely a few inches, but he might as well have just pushed Mike up against the wall and–

“Yeah,” Will whispers, so soft that Mike has to lean in another inch to hear him. He reaches a hand out and runs a thumb along the hem of Mike’s sweater, the side of his wrist brushing softly against Mike’s collarbone. Mike’s heart stops dead, still and unmoving and seized up, right there in his chest cavity. “It’s definitely your color.”

“Oh,” Mike breathes, and yeah.

So Will might be flirting with him, is the bottom line here, and the issue isn’t so much that it’s unwelcome– the opposite, in fact. Mike feels a little bit like if he weren’t caged in by Will’s arm on one side of his chest and the adjacent wall on the other, then his soul might be just flying right out of his body altogether. It feels like maybe it’s already halfway there, because Will’s gaze is steady, eyes sparkling with amusement even in the dim light of the hallway, and wow, are his hands shaking?

For his own sake, he hopes not. 

And the issue isn’t that it’s unwelcome, but more so that in all his years of existence and all the crazy shit he’s seen, somehow, being flirted with by Will Byers was lower on the list of things Mike thought might happen to him someday than interdimensional portals or his telekinetically gifted ex-girlfriend.

“You look nice too,” Mike gets out, in a surprisingly even voice. Will does look nice, so this isn’t a difficult sentiment to portray by any means. He’s swapped out one of his usual sweaters, big and worn comfortably around the edges and all down the seams, for something a little more fitted. It’s a soft cream color, and Mike doesn’t know where Will got this, because he’s been shopping at the same stores the entire time since they moved here for school and none of them carry clothes like this. Mature, a little grown up, and really, really attractive.

Will lets out a small, pleased noise. “Yeah?”

“How many drinks have you had?” Mike peers suspiciously down at him, because it’s not like Will is an idiot, per se, or super uptight about these sorts of things, but he’s not usually this– this bold. If Mike is going to be blunt about it, Will has never been this bold before and maybe it’s about time, but that doesn’t mean Mike is any more ready for it.

Not that he’s complaining. Oh, god.

“One,” Will grins. “Why? How many have you had?”

Christ. Mike swallows, and says, “Like, half. It was nasty so I just– um. Left it there. Heads up, by the way, don’t drink the jungle juice.”

“Noted,” Will laughs. It does something to Mike’s stomach, watching the way his shoulders relax, like he’s comfortable and at ease here, standing in front of Mike all up close and personal in a dark corner of a dark hallway with– oh, god– no one around.

“Yeah,” Mike says, kind of lamely, and notices belatedly that his gaze has settled somewhere around the general vicinity of Will’s mouth sometime in the last forty seconds or so. Maybe longer, if he’s being totally honest, but who’s counting, right?

(Mike. Mike is counting.)

“So anyway,” Will continues, without missing a beat. “You look really good in green. I don’t know why you never wear colors.”

“It’s not on purpose,” Mike insists, even though it kind of is, because it’s a lot harder to accidentally look like an idiot if all of your clothes match by default. “I don’t know, I just– I don’t have a reason to?”

“Okay, well,” Will starts, and then he moves forward until their chests are almost flush against each other, and Mike is seriously, seriously backed into a corner, even more than he was before. Both metaphorically and extremely literally. “It looks nice with your hair,” Will murmurs, and reaches a hand up to tug lightly at a strand falling loose around Mike’s face.

Will smells really nice, actually, like the good cologne he wears on special occasions, and Mike doesn’t know why he dressed up so nice to go to a party where you have to scoop your drinks out of a bowl with a red plastic cup, but hey. Again, he’s not complaining.

“My– my hair?” Mike asks faintly, because it’s just his hair, and he hasn’t ever given it much thought before now, because it’s only hair. Black and just long enough to land on this side of inconvenient, but suddenly Will has one hand in it and it’s not just hair anymore, but maybe the best thing to ever happen to him.

Will nods. He looks a little pink, which is quite possibly the most endearing thing Mike has ever seen, and it’s also more of a confidence booster than it probably should be, that Will hasn’t turned into a total smooth-talking Casanova out of literally nowhere. That maybe he’s losing his shit just as much as Mike is right now.

“Yeah,” Will says, and yeah, his voice catches just a little bit on the single syllable, and Mike bites back a pleased smile. “It looks really good with your hair,” he says again, then tucks the loose strand carefully behind Mike’s ear. “So that’s one reason.”

“I hardly think that’s good enough reason to redo my entire wardrobe,” Mike says, egged on just a little bit by the way Will is definitely turning more pink by the second.

“It brings out your eyes too,” Will murmurs, looking steadily up at him. It’s hard to tell exactly what he’s thinking– half his face is drowned out in shadow and the proximity is rendering Mike kind of useless altogether– but Mike thinks maybe he has a guess.

He blinks. “My eyes?”

“Mhm.” Will strokes the pad of one thumb over the skin there, just over his cheekbone. Mike instantly forgets how to breathe. Christ. “They’re pretty.”

“I– are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“Stone-cold sober,” Will assures him. “Why? Who’s asking?”

Me, Mike thinks, me, me, me. What he says is, “Um. Someone.”

Will raises an eyebrow, but he keeps his hand right where it is– resting on Mike’s cheek, thumb under his eye, and oh, god. Mike is going to die. 

“Someone?”

“You don’t know him?” Mike tries.

“Shame,” Will says noncommittally, and it sounds like he might be on the verge of laughing again. He steps back, the vacuum-seal proximity between their bodies vanishing in an instant as the air of the room rushes in all at once– stifling, stuffy, a little warm and sweaty and immediately, it’s like the noise in the place has been cranked up to ten.

Was it this loud in here all along?

Mike is going to scream. He’s going to die, right here in the hallway, and then he’s going to scream some more. “Where are you going?” he asks, and it comes out a bit petulant and a bit needy and way, way too thrown off-guard for his liking, but he can’t find it in himself to care. The lingering warmth of Will’s palm against his cheek is something he’s already missing like it’s a physical thing.

“Who’s asking?” Will says again, and dear god, if Mike had known before what it would have been like to be flirted with Will Byers, he would have, like, grabbed a couple witnesses and signed off an early copy of his last will and testament, bequeathed his meager belongings to whomever they may concern, then laid himself down to die in peace.

“Me,” Mike blurts out this time, taking a step forward from the wall and grabbing Will’s wrist. “I’m asking because I think you shouldn’t go and you should just stay here with me and– and flirt with me some more, because, um. That was nice, and I liked that, even if I thought I was going to die for a minute there, and if you go then– um. You can’t flirt with me anymore?”

Will smiles for real this time, wide and shocked and pleased. “Yeah?” And it’s a little shy when he says it, like maybe he didn’t actually expect this to go anywhere, like he didn’t expect Mike to grow a fucking pair and stop melting into the floor long enough to reciprocate.

“Yeah,” Mike whispers, and he’s just started to pull Will back towards him, Will already stumbling a little with the motion, when he hears a voice from around the doorframe they’re currently maybe ten feet away from.

“Mike? Will?”

“Shit,” Will mutters, eyes wide. “What the hell is Max doing here? I thought she was upstairs.”

Mike opens his mouth to answer when a second voice responds, “I swear I saw them go through here,” and it might be Dustin and it might be Lucas but all that’s really important is that whoever it is is close, and Mike doesn’t know if he has the cardiac strength in him to go through all of this again later, and all of his brainpower is currently being used to not pass out on the spot, and–

Lucky for him, Will has his shit marginally more together. “Here,” he’s saying, then there are fingers wrapping around Mike’s forearm and before he can fully process what’s happening, he’s being dragged in the opposite direction. Will throws open a door, then shoves Mike inside.

Mike wrinkles his nose. “It smells like feet in here,” he says, and he can’t see Will’s face because it’s pitch black in– wherever they are– but he’s willing to bet real money that he’s rolling his eyes.

“Coat closet,” Will says simply, “now shut up.”

Okay, yeah, makes sense. There’s something heavy and soft brushing up against Mike’s side, and he takes a couple steps backwards until he can feel the wall behind him. God, okay. This is fine. This is fine. This is–

“You know,” Mike says, as if this will distract him from his unnecessarily sweaty palms, “you didn’t have to ambush–”

Quick as lightning, Will claps a hand over Mike’s mouth. “If you want to kiss me,” Will hisses, and, okay, he’s pressed up against Mike again, which is fine, it’s great, actually– “I’m going to need you to shut up.”

The footsteps come closer. Mike holds his breath. He thinks maybe Will is too because he can’t hear him breathe, and he’s gone tense and still where he’s pressed up against Mike. A voice that’s definitely Dustin’s is grumbling, “Man, if I find them and the taco place down the street is already closed, I’m going to kill him.”

Mike bites back a laugh. The taco place closed twenty minutes ago, which he knows, because he’d been on his way to find Dustin when he’d– when he’d run into Will in the hallway.

Oh, god.

“Are they gone?” Will whispers, as if his hand is not currently over Mike’s mouth. He clears his throat like hello, and Will drops his hand. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“Who said I wanted to kiss you,” Mike says hoarsely, and Will’s hand pauses somewhere between his collarbone and sternum.

“Well,” he hears Will say, still entirely invisible in the dark save for a few dots of faint light coming in through the slats in the door. “You don’t have to kiss me. If you don’t want to.”

For the first time all evening, Will sounds a little hesitant. No, Mike thinks. He can’t have that. He shakes his head, even though Will can’t see him. “Let’s not be too hasty here, okay, I didn’t say that.”

A pause. “Yeah?” Will says, a little shy, almost. “You want to kiss me?”

Screw it. 

“I do,” Mike says, as earnestly as he can find in himself to muster up, and he hears Will breathe in sharply somewhere in front of him. “I really, really want to–”

To Will’s credit, kissing in the dark probably wouldn’t work out for anybody. Mike is a few inches taller and the angle is a bit off, and it’s pretty impressive, if he’s being honest, that Will’s mouth lands mostly on his. Which should also not be rendering Mike as totally speechless as it is– being kissed on the corner of his lips in an awkward, clumsily endearing sort of way– but Will has always surprised him. “Shit,” Will says, pulling back slightly, “sorry, I was trying to guess where you were, and I–”

“It’s cool,” Mike hears himself say, and he didn’t mean to say it, but it seems that his brain has sort of kicked itself into autopilot mode, because he’s reaching out before he can really think about what he’s doing. His hand brushes Will’s shoulder, and he moves it up against the side of his neck, and says, hesitating, “Here– let’s try this.”

“Okay,” Will says softly, not even a whisper with how quiet it comes out. Mike drags a hand into Will’s hair, brings the other one to cup his cheek, and slowly, slowly moves forward.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Mike murmurs, tracing a thumb over the curve of Will’s lower lip, grounding himself. “Um. Just so you know that I’m, like, coming in.”

“Okay,” Will says again, and then Mike kisses him.

It’s instantly better this time– so much better, Mike thinks, immediately going lightheaded with the sensation of it. It’s like every other sense is dialed up to eleven in the dark– Will’s hair soft against his hand, the scent of his cologne, the faint taste of orange soda on his lips. The soft, startled noise Will makes in the back of his throat, cut off like it escaped him before he could stop himself, and that thought is enough to make Mike’s stomach swoop in a dizzying sort of way, that Will really wanted to kiss him so badly that he just couldn’t help himself, that maybe he thought about it in all the same ways Mike had. That maybe he came up with a hundred and one ways it might happen and maybe this was a possibility, in Will’s mind– a coat closet in the dark, barely one drink in.

“I can’t see you,” Will says, pulling back so that their lips are just barely brushing against each other. He’s got his hands on either side of Mike’s neck, like he’s anchoring himself lest he drift away entirely in the dark.

Mike lowers his hands, pulls Will in by the waist– the solid planes of his back, the soft fabric of this sweater, this goddamn sweater– and says, “You’re the one that kissed me in the dark, you idiot.”

Will makes a small noise of affront. “You’re the one that asked me to,” he says, a little smugly, which technically isn’t the most true statement, but Mike supposes that he had kind of set himself up to be kissed, so maybe he should let this one slide. And then Will runs a thumb along to his chin, tilts his face down, slowly, slowly, and kisses him again– and Mike can’t remember what exactly it was he was protesting.

Maybe Will had been onto something, because Mike is pretty chuffed about not being able to actually see the person he’s kissing, especially when that person is Will, who Mike spent a disproportionate amount of time wanting to look at even before this whole thing went down, but this is pretty nice for now, he thinks, as Will presses him a little more firmly into the wall. And that’s also nice, because Mike thinks he might be dying, and the solid parallel weights of the wall behind him and Will in front of him might be the only thing keeping him from keeling over entirely.

“Okay,” Mike says, pulling back, which is nowhere close to his top ten most intelligent moments of all time. Or even twenty, maybe. “You–”

The rest of the sentence gets lost to the sands of time, because the door is flying open so fast that Will flinches, and Mike tightens his grip around his waist on instinct. “What–”

“Oh,” Max Mayfield is saying, arms crossed. “This is where you two disappeared to.”

Mike closes his eyes, and prays to whichever higher power might be listening for a rapid, painless death.

Nothing happens. Figures.

“Come on, man,” he hears Dustin say, “we were looking for you guys!”

“We know,” Mike says, and then immediately wants to sink through the floor and disappear at the way his voice cracks, just a little. It’s barely noticeable, really, but his friends are like sharks in blood-infested waters. Lucas’ smug grin grows so wide that Mike considers just leaning over and smacking it off his face.

“Oh,” he says, far too gleefully for Mike’s liking, “so is this what you meant by I’m going to go look for Dustin, Mike?”

“Didn’t realize I took up residence near Will’s tonsils,” Dustin grumbles.

Will groans, dropping his head to Mike’s shoulder. “Never talk about my tonsils again,” he mumbles against Mike’s collarbone, but he’s smiling. Mike can tell, even if he can’t see him.

“Not even if they’re inflamed?”

Will doesn’t pull away, just shakes his head and tightens his arms where they’re wrapped around Mike’s neck. Despite himself, despite the way his face feels about a million degrees warm right now, Mike smiles. “No,” Will says simply. “All of you go away.”

“Yeah, I bet you want us to,” Max says, “but I’m serious. We gotta go. Someone just threw up on the couch and it’s nasty in there.”

Mike wrinkles his nose. “Way to kill the mood.”

“Mission accomplished,” Max says, and wiggles her car keys in the air. “I’m leaving in five, with or without you.”

“I don’t want to stay here with the puke sofa,” Mike admits, pulling away with no small amount of reluctance. “So we should probably–”

“Yeah,” Will agrees, pressing a kiss to Mike’s cheek. “Now come on. I want to be able to see you when I kiss you this time.”

It’s a good thing the hallway is still dark, because Mike goes very, very red.

[starleska]

we all thought there were only five winks in The Giggle...what a wonderful day to be proven wrong 🥰

[allnightstay]

"You're Being Childish"

Summary: Gaoshun notices Jinshi is in a mood and decides there's an easy way to get him out of it.

Lee: Jinshi 💜

Ler: Gaoshun

⚠️ this is a tickle fic ⚠️

Hope you enjoy! ~ This might be one of my favorite fics yet 🙈

The air in Jinshi’s private study was thick with tension, the kind that only arose when the man was deep in thought—or deep in frustration. His brows were furrowed, and his normally composed face was taut with annoyance. He leaned over the desk, papers scattered in front of him, but his gaze was distant. The usual aura of grace and control that surrounded Jinshi seemed to have dissolved, replaced by a rare moment of irritation.

Gaoshun, ever observant, stood by the door, watching Jinshi for a long moment. His normally calm expression shifted to one of concern, though he kept his approach light.

"Jinshi," he said softly, crossing the room and stopping at the desk, where Jinshi barely acknowledged his presence. "You look like you've been chewing on a thorn. What’s bothering you?"

Jinshi sighed deeply, glancing at Gaoshun with a flicker of frustration in his eyes. "Nothing you need to worry about. Just... a small matter I need to handle." He dismissed the conversation with a wave, but his voice betrayed his inner tension.

Gaoshun tilted his head, studying his master. Jinshi’s shoulders were hunched, and the usual confident, almost smug expression had faded. This wasn’t the Jinshi he knew—the one who always carried himself with poise and composure. No, this man before him was... less than his usual self.

"You know," Gaoshun said with a teasing tone, "you really ought to stop acting like this. You're being a bit... childish, don’t you think?"

Jinshi, looking exasperated, gave him a sharp look. "I am not being childish. I am simply... occupied," he muttered, his voice tight.

Gaoshun, however, wasn’t going to let it slide so easily. He smiled mischievously. "Occupied, huh? You look like you’ve been sulking. Why not let it go for a moment? There’s more to life than reports and concerns."

Jinshi didn’t respond, too deep in his thoughts to even argue. Gaoshun, now fully convinced that his master needed a distraction, let out a quiet chuckle. He’d dealt with Jinshi’s moods before, and he knew just the remedy.

"Well," Gaoshun said casually, stepping closer to the desk, "if you’re not going to cheer up, I’ll have to help you out. You look like you need a little... fun."

Jinshi gave him a pointed, annoyed look. "I don’t need fun, Gaoshun. I need peace."

Gaoshun raised an eyebrow. "You call that peace?" He reached down and, without warning, lightly poked Jinshi’s side—right under the ribs.

Jinshi jumped in his chair, his back straightening instantly, a sharp, surprised gasp escaping his lips. His eyes widened. "Gaoshun, what are you—?"

Gaoshun ignored him, his fingers dancing quickly over Jinshi’s side, lightly skimming over the sensitive skin. "Oh? You are ticklish," Gaoshun mused, his voice teasing. "I never thought the mighty Jinshi could be brought to giggles by a simple poke."

Jinshi’s face flushed slightly, a laugh bubbling out of him before he could suppress it. "Ihihi—Gaoshun!" he protested weakly, but the protest was undermined by the fact that his body was already squirming in the chair. His lips pressed tightly together in an attempt to keep the laughter at bay, but it was no use. Gaoshun’s fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.

"Oh, what’s this?" Gaoshun continued, his voice light and playful, though his hands were becoming more persistent. "The stoic Jinshi, reduced to a giggling mess. How... charming."

Jinshi, now unable to remain composed, let out a small, uncontrollable laugh. "Nahaha! Stop it! I—" But before he could finish the sentence, Gaoshun pressed in a little harder, his fingers finding their way into the side of his ribs.

"No can do, Jinshi," Gaoshun teased, his hands moving expertly along the sensitive spot. "You’re being childish, after all. Let’s see how much more childish you can be."

Jinshi’s breath hitched, and he doubled over slightly in his seat, trying to escape the tickling. His normally unflappable self was slipping away, and soon, a full-on laugh escaped him. "AHAHAHA Gaoshun, stoHOHOhop! I’m not—ahahaha—beheing childish!" He tried to speak between bursts of laughter, his usually formal speech turning into a series of giggles.

Gaoshun grinned, clearly enjoying this rare moment of seeing Jinshi so unguarded. "Oh, I think you are. A very ticklish child, at that."

Jinshi’s attempts to stay composed faltered as Gaoshun’s fingers found another vulnerable spot, just below his ribs. The effect was immediate—Jinshi burst into deeper laughter, his entire body jerking with each new touch. He clutched at his sides, squirming desperately in the chair, but the tickling just wouldn’t stop.

"Ahhh AHAHAahahaha! Please! Nohohot there!" Jinshi gasped out, his face flushed with both embarrassment and the uncontrollable joy of the laughter. His hands shot up to try to push Gaoshun’s hands away, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing harder.

Gaoshun, never one to back down from a challenge, pressed his advantage. "Not there? But you sound so childish when you laugh like that."

Jinshi, his body wriggling in the chair, could barely get out a coherent thought. "I—hahaha—stohop calling mehehe a child!" he protested weakly, though it was clear from the way his laughter was building that he was losing his grip.

Gaoshun’s fingers moved faster, more deliberately now, working their way around Jinshi’s waist and along his sides, the pressure and speed increasing. The effect was immediate—Jinshi’s laughter grew louder, a deep, throaty sound that filled the room. He tried to wriggle free, but Gaoshun was too persistent, tickling him in a way that had Jinshi gasping between belly laughs.

"You are a child, Jinshi. A very ticklish, giggly one!" Gaoshun teased, his hands relentless.

Jinshi could barely breathe between his fits of laughter, his entire body shaking from the ticklish assault. His attempts to sound dignified fell apart as his laughter turned into uncontrollable giggles. "Nohohot!—hahaha—I’m nohohohot—ahhahahaha—stohohop, plehehease!" he gasped, his voice wavering with every new burst of laughter.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Gaoshun relented, pulling his hands away. Jinshi slumped back in his chair, breathless, his face beet red from both laughter and exertion. He wiped his eyes quickly, still catching his breath, his chest heaving with the remnants of his deep belly laughs.

Gaoshun stepped back with a grin, satisfied with the result. "There. Now you look much better, Jinshi. A little lightheartedness was just what you needed, don't you think?"

Jinshi, still recovering, gave Gaoshun a weak glare, but there was no venom in it. He couldn't even maintain his usual sharpness after such an intense round of tickling. His smile, albeit reluctant, tugged at the corners of his lips. "You’re insufferable, Gaoshun."

Gaoshun raised his hands in mock surrender. "I’m just here to help, Jinshi. I wouldn’t want you to remain all... sulky and serious."

Jinshi chuckled softly, rubbing his side where Gaoshun’s fingers had been most relentless. "You have a strange way of helping."

"Everyone needs a little laughter, Jinshi," Gaoshun said, his grin never fading. "Even you."

Jinshi finally allowed himself to relax, the tension melting from his shoulders. Though the embarrassment still lingered, there was a lightness in the air now—something Gaoshun’s antics had clearly accomplished. Jinshi leaned back in his chair, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he glanced at his servant.

"You’re lucky," Jinshi muttered, still catching his breath. "I’ll get you back for this."

Gaoshun only laughed. "I’m counting on it."

And with that, the two shared a brief moment of peace—one where Jinshi had, for once, been caught off guard, but it was a reminder that even the most serious of men could find joy in the simplest of things.

[musclesandhammering]

Hard pills to swallow: Cas isn’t gay & Misha Collins is annoying

[ratatatastic]

"im a big slow defenceman" "the other night ek said hes a big slow defenceman" "😄☺️"

[little-creature-business]

Kobyyy!!

I think he deserves blue eyes /hj

errmmm and little note :3

signature is different bc we post on different accounts, this is like a little hideaway account where some of our friends/irls can’t see our insane thoughts and art HAVAIHS

Yagh 🙏 that is us, we didn’t steal this, and even if you thought you can go to that account whenever and see the art is the same and we even reference this account /srs

[jackass-jones]

The 999 cast is very important to me and there’s so much good about them but I think one big thing they have is that they’re all smart and contribute to the story

[tugtemester]

if you listen to a single sam campbell interview please make it this one (apple) (spotify)

[dailykugisaki]

Day 224 | id in alt

They b saying big words.

[nikki-tine]

Just oooone more thing to add before I get some sleep:

My Deitysonas are not exempt from being ticklish.~

If you want to utterly destroy a god with tickles, then my Deitysonas are very much fitting that criteria :3

[cxra-melty]

I love him so much

Talking about the movie so spoilers in the tags!!!

[salty-an-disco]

I know, intellectually, that Razor’s the funniest route, but goddamit, rewatching one of my fave let’s plays right now, and Razor’s so goddamn funny

[for28seconds]

The way Charles just throws babe and baby here and there in a conversation like it's nothing 😭😭

[bestfurrywife]

If you guys are interested, there's a little bonus game we could play.

I used to play it with a sibling. You pull up a wikipedia list of animals, and the other person picks a random corresponding number. You click that phylum and do it again for the next classification, and repeat until you have a species. Then you draw whatever you get.

Here we would poll for it, and whatever animal we get, I design a character to be the mascot for this blog. Does that sound fun?

[neatfrog]

Ok I’m stoned so I’m going to be silly for a moment, pls don’t take any of this seriously I’m just having a laugh

Y’all know what I like? Using icons to represent characters/ships. Not sure if it originated in eastern fandom spaces but I saw it on Twitter a lot back when I used it

Example: 📻🍎 (radioapple) - that’s an easy one!

huskerdust uhhh 🐱🕷️ ? mmm wish there were cuter spider emojis (and this looks shite on dark mode)

😈🦉- stolitz!

fizzmodeus: 🤡🐓 (ok this one is honestly cracking me up but it makes sense right???)

I’m at a loss for what to use for Charlie, for Vaggie maybe uhh 🪽(angel wing)? or is that way too on the nose lol

Ok yeah I’m tapped out now but this was fun to think about for 5 minutes