#some of the people in the tags in the last post were right in that there ARE bats who are pollinators

[gdinthehouseee]

I Belong To You: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: after years of being separated, and a night of stolen glances and unspoken feelings, your ex-boyfriend, ji-yong, invites you to his penthouse.

word count: 4024

tags: angst to fluff; exes to lovers, jealousy, slightly spicy towards the end

ao3 link

Ji-yong swirls the amber liquid in his glass, watching the way it catches the light, pretending he doesn’t notice the way cameras keep panning to you. But he does. How could he not notice the way you’re dressed in something stunning, the way you continue to command attention without lifting a finger, the way you’re pretending not to notice him too. He knows you a little too well for your liking—he always has.

Briefly pulling him out of his own head, the audience erupts into polite applause as the host rattles on about the next category, but the words barely register in his mind. He knows the drill—clap, nod, look engaged. He’s done this a million times. But tonight, it’s different. Not because you’re here. No. The two of you have been pretending not to see each other sitting so close yet so far from each other for a few years now.

Tonight is different because this time you’re not alone.

The artist you recently collaborated with is sitting beside you, leaning in too close, whispering something in your ear that makes you laugh. Ji-yong doesn’t have to check his phone to know what’s already happening. The cameras have caught it, the fans have seen it, and the internet is losing its mind. There will be clips, slowed-down edits, overanalyzed expressions. People will pick apart every second, searching for something—anything—to confirm their theories. Some will say you’ve finally moved on. Others will refuse to believe it, insisting you’re just trying to make him jealous. And maybe, in some twisted way, they’re right. Because the longer Ji-yong watches, the more certain he becomes that you know exactly what you’re doing. And it’s working.

The whispers had been there for months. Quiet speculations, half-serious comments under posts.

"Why haven’t they been seen together lately?""Ji-yong didn’t like her last three posts… something feels off.""She used to wear his jewelry all the time. When’s the last time we saw it?"

But nothing set the internet on fire like the day you released that song. It wasn’t an outright breakup anthem—no names, no obvious details. But it was melancholic. Raw. The kind of song that settled under the skin, playing in the back of people's minds long after it ended. And the lyrics…

You weren’t angry. You weren’t bitter. You were heartbroken. It didn’t take long before the theories started rolling in.

"Wait. Wait. WAIT. Is this a breakup song??"“Please tell me she just felt like making a break-up song…” "If they’re still together, why would she write this??""IS THIS ABOUT GD???”

Some refused to believe it, digging for loopholes, convincing themselves it was just a song. But the more they analyzed the lyrics, the deeper they spiraled. Someone found an old interview where you had casually mentioned, "I write best from experience." And that’s when the internet really lost its mind.

Breakup edits flooded timelines. Your old moments together—laughing, whispering, looking at each other like no one else in the world existed—now repurposed under the saddest soundtracks imaginable. Fan accounts were in shambles. Some mourned. Others coped through denial. But one tweet said it best:

"If this song is really about Ji-yong, I don’t think I’ll ever recover."

Ji-yong saw that tweet. And he hasn’t recovered either.

He should have known tonight wouldn’t have been any easier than the last few award shows. From the moment you walked into the venue, the cameras couldn’t get enough of you. The fans couldn’t stop screaming your name. And now, as you stand on stage beside him, accepting the award for Best Collaboration, Ji-yong feels a familiar, sinking weight in his chest.

You thank your team, your fans, everyone who made this happen. Your collaborator smiles beside you, the two of you standing close—too close—and Ji-yong knows the internet is already eating this up.

The lights shift. The first notes of your song together play. 

Ji-yong leans back in his seat, jaw tight, as you and your collaborator exchange a glance before stepping into position. The performance is effortless—smooth, intimate, rehearsed. Every look, every touch, every perfectly timed harmony makes it clear why the song was a hit. The chemistry is there, and Ji-yong isn’t the only one who notices. Fans are already screaming. Social media is probably on fire.

And then—just when Ji-yong thinks he can finally breathe—the lights don’t turn up again, in fact, they dim even lower. There’s a pause. Murmurs ripple through the venue.

Then, a single spotlight. It lands on you, and the opening chords of that song begin to play.

Ji-yong stiffens. He hears the collective gasp from the audience, feels the energy shift. Because this—this wasn’t publicly announced. This wasn’t planned. And yet, here you are, standing alone in the center of the stage, staring straight into the camera as you sing the first words.

"I don’t blame you, I just miss you."

The same line that had sent the internet spiraling. The song is stripped down—just a piano, raw vocals, and heartbreak woven into every note. Ji-yong doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. The entire venue is silent, hanging onto every word. Because this is the moment. The confirmation. The truth. No one can deny it anymore. This is the breakup song. This is the proof. This is what the fans had been speculating about for years.

The camera pans through the audience, catching dropped jaws, wide eyes, people clinging to their seats. Some fans are already in tears. Others are recording with shaking hands.

And Ji-yong? He’s gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turn white. Because the way you sing it—soft, emotional, your voice cracking just enough on the high notes—he knows it’s real. He knows it’s about him. 

When you reach the bridge—the part that had wrecked him the first time he heard it—your voice softens, turning almost fragile. The lyrics cut through the silence like a confession, every word laced with something raw, something unspoken. He feels it in his chest, the weight of your voice pressing down on him like gravity. The way you linger on certain lines, how your lips part just slightly before the next note—it’s all too familiar. Because he knows this song. He was the one who used to hear those words before anyone else. He was the one who knew what they truly meant.

Then, for the briefest second, your eyes flicker across the room.

And when they finally land on him—just for a moment, just long enough to steal the air from his lungs—Ji-yong forgets everything else.

It’s barely noticeable, but he catches it. The slightest hesitation, the way your breath hitches before the next lyric, the flicker of something deep in your gaze before you force yourself to look away. But he saw it. And it’s enough. Because no matter how much time has passed, no matter how many headlines or rumors or new collaborations have tried to fill the space between you—this moment tells him everything.

You still feel it, too.

Ji-yong exhales, shaking his head, running his tongue over his teeth before looking down at his phone. Without a second thought, he opens the contact that never blocked him. The contact that maybe should have blocked him all those years ago. The contact that shut the door, yet never locked it.

Your heart is still racing as you make your way back to your seat. The applause is deafening, a mix of cheers and shocked murmurs rippling through the venue. You don’t need to check social media to know it’s already in flames—fan theories igniting, clips of your performance circulating within seconds. But none of it matters. Not right now.

Because the only thing on your mind is him.

Sliding into your seat, you smooth your dress over your legs, trying to steady your breathing. Your collaborator leans over, whispering something about how insane that moment was, how the internet is probably imploding, but his voice barely registers.

Your phone vibrates in your palm.

“Come over once this is done.”

You stare at the words, fingers tightening around your phone. The weight of his message settles over you, heavy and intoxicating all at once. He’s not even pretending. No casual “Congratulations.” No vague “We should catch up.” Just this. Direct. Certain. Exactly like him, painfully so.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard for a moment before you start typing. “Yours or mine?”

The reply comes almost instantly.

“Don’t make me wait.”

A slow exhale leaves your lips. The meaning is clear.

You lock your phone, not even bothering to reply, pulse thrumming against your skin. The award show continues around you—more speeches, more performances, more things you should probably be paying attention to. But the only thing you can think about is the fact that in just a little while, you’ll be face to face with Ji-yong again. Something tells you neither of you will be walking away unscathed. You can’t help but think of the last time you were in his penthouse.

Maybe it was the rain that made everything feel heavier that night, or maybe it was the way Ji-yong wouldn’t look at you when he said it. “Maybe we should stop this.”  You had known, deep down, that he was already halfway out the door, that the fights weren’t really fights anymore but drawn-out endings neither of you wanted to name. “Would you have ever let me go?”  He had asked, voice quiet, almost pleading. And you hadn’t answered—because the truth was, you never would have. So he did it for you. And now, after standing under those stage lights, singing the words that had lived in your chest ever since—I don’t blame you. I just miss you.—you knew he was out there, listening. You knew he understood. He has always known you a little too well, and he always will. 

The city pulsed beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, neon signs flickering in and out of focus, their glow reflecting off the sleek marble floors. Inside, it was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that felt deliberate, heavy with the things neither of you had said in too long.

You stepped further in, the soft click of your heels the only sound between you. The air smelled like him—something warm, familiar, laced with the faintest trace of smoke. Ji-yong stood by the window, back turned, a cigarette burning between his fingers, untouched. He wasn’t smoking it. Just holding it, watching the city below like it might have answers.

"You came," he murmured, not turning around. His voice was lower than you remembered, a little rough around the edges.

"You told me to."

He finally turned then, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering. His lips curled into something unreadable—half a smirk, half something else, something more cautious. Like he hadn’t actually expected you to show. Like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted you to.

"Hell of a performance tonight," he said, voice deceptively light.

You swallowed, tilting your head. "Which part?"

"You know which part."

Of course you did. It had been impossible to miss—how the audience lost their minds when the first chords of your solo rang out, how the camera panned to him the second your voice wrapped around the lyrics. The ones you had written with him still lingering in the back of your mind. The ones he recognized the moment you sang them.

You shifted, arms crossing over your chest, suddenly too aware of the weight in the air. "Did you mean it?" you asked, voice quieter than you intended.

His jaw tightened. "Did you?"

It wasn’t an answer. But maybe neither of you had one. Not yet. The silence between you stretched, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. Outside, the city still pulsed, but here—here, it was just you and him, standing in the aftermath of something neither of you had figured out how to name.

Ji-yong finally moved, stepping away from the window, snuffing out his cigarette in a crystal ashtray on the table. "Sit," he said, nodding toward the couch.

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to—but because you knew what this was. You knew the pattern, the pull, the way the air always seemed to shift when you were in the same room. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, how many miles had stretched between you. The moment you let yourself be near him, the distance never seemed to matter at all. Still, you sat.

Ji-yong watched you for a moment before settling into the armchair across from you, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. His gaze flickered over your face, like he was searching for something—like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find it.

"How long are we gonna do this?" His voice was quieter now, less teasing, more careful.

"Do what?" You knew what he meant, but you weren’t ready to give him that. Not yet.

He huffed out something like a laugh, shaking his head. "You know what. The stolen glances. The bullshit small talk when we run into each other. The way half the internet still thinks we’re secretly together."

You tilted your head, letting the words hang between you for a moment before saying, "Depends on what your definition of ‘stopping’ was."

His lips parted slightly, and you saw the moment the words hit—like an echo of that night, when he’d stood in this very room and told you that whatever this was… wasn’t working. That the two of you should stop seeing each other. When you hadn’t answered, because you hadn’t wanted to stop at all.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "You know why I texted you."

You leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. "Do I?"

"I saw you up there." His voice was lower now, quieter, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it out loud. "Singing that song. Looking at me."

"It’s a song, Ji-yong." Your fingers curled slightly against your lap.

"Don’t do that." He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flashing. "Don’t act like that was just a song. Like you weren’t—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You meant it. I know you did."

Your stomach twisted. Because he was right. The song wasn’t a lie. It was the closest thing to the truth you could bring yourself to say, wrapped in melody and lyrics and the weight of everything left behind. You had known the moment you performed it that he’d hear every unspoken word between the lines. And yet, a part of you had still been surprised by how much it seemed to hit him.

Ji-yong leaned forward again, his elbows braced on his knees. "Did you write it because you were angry?"

You blinked. "What?"

"The song." His gaze burned into you. "Was it because you were angry at me?"

You let out a breath of something close to a laugh, shaking your head. "No, Ji-yong."

"Then why?"

"Because I missed you."

The words hung between you, heavier than anything else in the room. Ji-yong’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. "So what, you missed me, but you moved on?" His voice was lower now, rough around the edges, like he was forcing himself to stay calm. But you knew him too well—knew the tension in his shoulders, the way his leg bounced slightly, the heat in his gaze.

You frowned. "What?"

"Him." He tilted his chin toward the muted TV, where clips of your performance still played, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You and him." His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his jaw flexed. "That’s real, isn’t it?"

"Ji-yong—"

"Just say it." His voice was firmer now, raw with something that almost sounded like desperation. "Tell me you’re with him."

Your breath caught in your throat. "I’m not."

Something flickered in his expression—relief, maybe—but it was gone in a second, buried under something heavier. "But you could be, right?" He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You look good together. The internet thinks so, anyway. Maybe that’s what you needed—someone who wasn’t afraid to have you by his side, out in the open."

You flinched at the accusation in his tone. "That’s not fair."

"Isn’t it?" He leaned in, his eyes burning into yours. "You think I don’t see the way people talk? How they say you’re happier now? How they beg you to move on from me?" His voice dropped even lower, like he was choking on the words. "Maybe you already have."

Your chest tightened. "Ji-yong, it was just a song. Just a performance."

"Doesn’t look like that’s all it was."

"And whose fault is that?" The words snapped from your lips before you could stop them, and Ji-yong stilled, his breath hitching.

Silence stretched between you yet again. Your heart pounded, but you didn’t look away. "You were the one who said we should stop, remember?" Your voice wavered, but it didn’t break. "You walked away first. And now you’re angry because someone else was willing to stand next to me?"

Ji-yong’s throat bobbed, his fists clenching against his knees. "I—"

"You don’t get to be mad about this."

"Like hell I don’t." His voice was rough now, sharp with emotion as he sat forward, his hands gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white. "You think I wanted to walk away? You think I don’t regret it every fucking day?" His jaw clenched, his eyes blazing. "Do you know what it does to me, seeing you with him? Seeing the way you smiled up at him tonight, the way he had his hands on you like he had the right?"

Your breath caught, your stomach twisting. "Ji-yong—"

"It makes me sick," he rasped, his voice nearly breaking. "Because it should be me."

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with everything unspoken, everything left behind. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your fingers trembling against your lap.

And then, softer this time, almost like he hated himself for admitting it—

"It should’ve always been me."

The weight of his words settled between you, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in the space closing in, crackling like a live wire. His eyes searched yours, dark and desperate, and something in you snapped.

Before you could second-guess it—before reason could talk you out of it—you surged forward, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him in.

Ji-yong barely had time to inhale before your lips crashed into his. A sharp inhale, a shuddered exhale—then he was kissing you back with just as much fire, his hands flying to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The moment his fingers dug into your skin, a quiet, broken sound slipped from your throat, and that was all it took for him to completely unravel. His hands slid up, one tangling into your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His lips were frantic, almost desperate, molding against yours in a way that felt both familiar and like something entirely new. You gasped against his mouth as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, and he took the opportunity to press even closer, his grip tightening like he was terrified you’d slip away again.

The taste of him—faint traces of champagne and something unmistakably him—sent a shiver down your spine. Your fingers fisted in his shirt, as if holding onto him could stop the past from swallowing you both whole. It was intoxicating. Overwhelming. And so, so dangerous.

When the two of you finally needed to breathe, your breaths tangled in the space between you, uneven and desperate, his forehead pressed against yours like he couldn’t bear to let go. His grip on your waist was firm, his fingers still curled into the fabric of your outfit, as if releasing you meant losing you all over again. His name was on the tip of your tongue, but the weight of everything—the past, the pain, the longing—held it back. Instead, you exhaled softly, your fingers loosening their hold on his shirt just enough to smooth over the wrinkles you had left behind.

"It always has been you."

Ji-yong tensed. His breath caught, and for a second, he didn’t move. Like the words had struck him too deeply, like he wasn’t sure he had heard them right.

And then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching, desperate for something—reassurance, confirmation, maybe even permission. "Say it again," he murmured, his voice rough.

Your hand slid up, resting against his cheek, your thumb brushing just below the dark smudge of eyeliner that had started to smudge from the heat between you. "It always has been you, Ji-yong."

Something in him broke.

With a sharp inhale, he crashed his lips against yours again, this time with even more urgency, like he had something to prove. Like he needed to remind you, remind himself, of everything you had once been. His hands roamed, gripping, pulling, desperate to keep you as close as possible. You gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed the sound with a groan, deepening the kiss until the rest of the world blurred into nothing.

His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your back, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head just the way he liked. The kiss deepened, his lips pressing into yours with a hunger that bordered on desperation, like he was trying to erase the time you had spent apart. Like he needed to remind you exactly who he was, who he had always been to you.

"You don’t know what you do to me," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, his breath warm as his mouth trailed lower. His lips ghosted over your jaw, down the column of your throat, lingering at the spot just below your ear. "I tried, baby." He exhaled shakily, his grip tightening at your waist. "I really fucking tried to move on."

Your fingers curled into his shirt, needing something to ground yourself as his teeth grazed your skin, his lips pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your neck that had your breath hitching. "Ji-yong..."

With a growl, he grabbed your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the nearest surface—a sleek, marble counter, cool against your overheated skin. His hands spread your legs, stepping between them as he pulled you in, molding himself to you like he belonged there. And he did. The two of you belong to each other.

Your lips met again in a mess of teeth and tongues and unspoken words, the air between you thick with everything you had left unsaid. His fingers trailed up your thighs, his grip firm, possessive, like he was reminding himself that you were really here. That he could touch you again.

"Tell me you still feel this," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with want. "Tell me I’m not the only one losing my mind."

You didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, you tugged him closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "I never stopped."

Ji-yong cursed under his breath before crashing his lips to yours again, this time deeper, hungrier, as if those words had undone something inside him. His hands slid to your waist, gripping tight as he lifted you off the counter effortlessly, carrying you through the familiar space like he’d done a hundred times before.

Your back hit the couch, his body covering yours in an instant. His mouth never left your skin, trailing fire wherever he touched. "You’re mine," he murmured against your collarbone, his hands sliding down, gripping your thighs to pull you even closer. "And I’m yours."

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @mattsturniolosbabymama @redhoodedtoad @bettelaboure @petersasteria @allthoughtsmindfull

[cherrysurf]

What. The. Fuck. s.hinata x reader

this is inspired by the tt trend “They say shooters shoot, Duke Dennis what’s up with you?” [im not sure if anyone did this before but if so lmk.]

Hinata Shoyo was your favorite MSBY player; you had been to a few games and were amazed by how cool and energetic he was. Recently, the "They say shooters shoot, Duke Dennis what’s up with you?" trend had been going around, and few people got noticed by their celebrity crushes or TikTok celebrities. You found the trend so interesting and comedic that you decided to make one of your own for Hinata Shoyo. It didn’t necessarily matter if he saw it or not; it was simply just for fun. In case he did see it, though, you made sure you looked your best because you never know, right? You finally posted the video after three tries. You added a few tags, but nothing crazy. After that, you put your phone to charge and went off to do your nightly ritual of showering and reading to detox your brain from your phone to sleep easier, which was a habit of yours that was hard to break at first.You fell asleep wondering about the possibilities of that video and perhaps fantasizing about a life with Shoyo Hinata because you’re just a girl, after all.You woke up at noon. It was Saturday midday when you picked up your phone and headed to the bathroom to brush your morning breath out of your mouth. As you opened TikTok to mindlessly scroll, you were reminded of the video you posted last night, which had a lot of likes and comments.You laughed at some people relating and some "toxic fans," and then as you went deeper, you found comments saying, "HE LIKED AND REPOSTED YOUR VIDEO." You were now internally freaking out as you stared at the many comments saying this. Then, you saw a familiar name with a blue mark next to it.

Hinata Shoyo: nothing much, what about you? 😉

Your toothbrush fell out of your mouth. Although the comment didn’t quite seem like his, it was cute to see him comment. You quickly ran to his repost, and sure enough, there was your video. Was this real? You thought it was too good to be true and way too easy to get his attention like that.You quickly exited TikTok to head to Instagram to get your mind from going haywire. That was until you checked your DMs to be met with that same name yet again.

"Hey! It’s me, Shoyo. Sorry about my TikTok comments. Atsumu said to put that, but I came to reach out because I'm not really like that 😅 I'd love to get to know you if you were serious about what you said on TikTok?"

"What the fuck!" you exclaimed as your phone fell onto the counter; you splashed yourself several times before you saw this was all real.

i genuinely don’t know how i feel abt this it’s mostly js so my brain can start writing again because i haven’t in awhile.

mostly for @dearru and me

gen hq list: @heartmaddie @livteracts @vertejay @massacremars @bakery-anon @na-i1 @nanasrkives @sexylexy12 @softpia

[onlyangel4]

espresso (the meeting). la knight. smau.

la knight x singer!reader

synopsis: a favour for a friend turns into so much more

warnings: cursing. allusions to smut.

faceclaim: dua lipa

author's note: this will be two parts teeny tiny bit of written work.

wwe posted two stories tagging y/ninsta + rhearipley_wwe

story one written: mami was arrived in la

story two: but she is not alone

rhearipley_wwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: someone is supposed to be practicing for tonight. she is not.

wwe posted a story tagging reallaknight

written: the megastar has arrived

y/ninsta posted a story

written: all glammed and ready to watch bestie beat the shit out of people

wwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: y/n stuns on our red carpet

wwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: what a way to open the show

y/ninsta posted a story tagging rhearipley_wwe

written: that's my girl

performing in front of thousands every night was nothing compared to this. walking into a room of equally as famous people that you did not know. people that already had their established friends while you were the outsider was real fucking scary. but demi would be there soon and she would be able to rescue you from your loneliness.

walking into the venue there was a smile on your lips, one there to mask your nervousness. you just made a beeline to the bar, if you were going to have to endure this alone you might as well get drunk. you ordered your drink and took a seat on a near by high top table, eyes looking over at the groups of people mingling amongst each other, celebrating this massive step forward in wwe history.

“you put on quite the show out there”, a voice spoke from behind you making your head whip around. Eyes landing on a tall hunk of a man whose eyes were boring into you.

“thank you”, you smiled

“now why are you drinking alone, a star like you should have people to celebrate with”, this man saw right through you

“demi is meeting me once she is done with press”

the man kissed his teeth, “expect to be waiting all night then”, he spoke as he pulled out the seat opposite you basically inviting himself to sit with you.

“i’m shaun by the way, but people hear know me as-“

“la knight, i know”, you interrupted causing a smirk to form on the man’s lips.

“so you do know who i am”

“i’ve been friends with demi for years, I have to do my research on her co workers, make sure there are no bad eggs out there”

“and are there?”

“that’s for me to know and you to find out”, you teased softly making the man in front of you laugh.

“you are quite the enigma missy”

“thank you, that’s what I’m going for”, shaun was certainly amused by you. you were a breath of fresh air, someone who was unafraid to be themselves and he was instantly obsessed with you.

you were about to come up with some kind of conversation when your phone buzzed, you pulled it out of your pocket to check it.

a slight frown appeared on your lips as you read the messages. You weren’t mad at demi for being busy. it was just that you guys both had insane travelling schedules so it had been over six months since you had gotten to spend an evening together so you were looking forward to a night out with your best friend.

shaun caught onto your change in mood straight away, “she not coming?”, he asked

“some last minute meeting with the boss”

“that’s alright, just means i have to keep you company”

“i’m sure there are people you would rather spend time with”

shaun was quick to shake his head, “you are the most interesting person in here darling.”

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

[theancientfootsteps]

I have to thank you for this reply because it definitely made me realize I was being pretty careless about this whole conversation. I was frustrated with a few particular people I'd seen posting about their Christian witchcraft and saying things that seemed very disrespectful in my eyes, so I just reblogged this like "yeah I'm annoyed by this thing!!" without really thinking about the implications of some of the exact things that were said.

But what you're saying is absolutely right, we really need to be careful not to generalize about paganism. To me this post had no connection at all to, for example, my friend who is pagan. But that doesn't mean there was no implied connection. And we can't let our frustrations with the practices of a particular subgroup of people let us forget that, as you say in your tags, antipaganism has done far more harm than Christian witchcraft ever will.

And I love your last point as well, I hadn't thought about it that way but I resonate with it a lot. I used to do tarot a LOT, I was quite the enthusiast and I still have many different tarot decks on my bookshelves. But I stopped very soon after converting to Christianity. Not because I thought I wasn't allowed to do it anymore, but because I simply didn't feel the need to. Anytime I was struggling with or wondering about something I would previously consult the cards for, I found myself wanting to pray about it instead. It happened naturally because of my closeness to God.

Sorry, these are kind of disconnected thoughts I wouldn't usually bother putting in a reblog, but I just wanted to acknowledge your thoughtful response and how it made me reconsider some things!

like I get it, being witchy and occult is in vogue right now, and I’m not ever going to tell someone it isn’t real or it’s not a valid spiritual practice

but we have a God who spent an excruciatingly long amount of time explaining to us how She wanted to be worshiped. part of worshiping a specific god of any sort in any pantheon is being aware of their preferences and desires - why is the way She wants us to worship Her no longer good enough? why do we need to look elsewhere? we are not supposed to divine, to use magic, to invoke without cause. there are rules. we should follow them.

[botanyshitposts]

confirming the Ethiopian wolf pollination hypothesis seems so straightforward in theory, like just erecting anti-wolf barriers around some of the hot poker plants and seeing if those get pollinated at the same rate as the other ones, but also I feel like it could be some lab’s 6 year long project that ends up in Nature and answers more questions about wolf dessert time than I could ever think to ask. and also it would give more beautiful photos of wolves between 3 seconds and 1 hour into passionate nectar indulgence. so hopefully with the media attention they’re getting they can do that

[fatedroses]

And some days, I just wish you wouldn't look at me at all.

[archduke42]

Thank you again for the tag @jedimasterbailey! I still have a final chapter to write for "Book of Barriss Offee" but I have been tremendously satisfied with getting this far. :)

I needed a boost to write since the election left me a bit depressed but your work is wonderful and it makes me want to also do more :) Rule: Post the last line you wrote or drew and tag some friends!

Barriss and Bron turned top face the glowing, astonished that the Holocron sparked new life that was rapidly spreading on the planet. Trees, grass and flowers erupted from the ground, and were spreading fast from the tiny spot on Minos Secundus. Barriss almost gasped at the beauty. Then, she remembered "Hurry! Let's go!" She grabbed their hand and ran for the Crystal Palace

Fulcrum, known as Ahsoka Tano, spotted Barriss running with a Jedi she had not seen in many years. She watched as they ran towards the Arboretum where trees and plants were springing to life. She felt her heart leap with joy, having figured out what was happening. "Well I'll be damned!" she whispered to herself as she watched Barriss who had become reborn in the light "Look at you go, girl!" Hunter and Huyang quickly landed the ship in some grass outside the facility.

Barriss and Bron ran furiously to the entrance of the Palace. She frantically waved her hand at every door to get into the now stunningly beautiful forest. Flowers blossomed, birds sang around them. She was almost out of breath as she called out. Bron slowed a little, in awe of the bright colors manifesting in the trees. Bright pink, blue, green, each tree more gorgeous than the last. And the people! Separatists and Clone troops cheered and almost danced together as they found themselves free of the Sith trap.

Barriss gasped, out of breath, calling out one more time. She stopped and stared ahead. Falling to her knees, it was as if the world had been silenced, that everything froze. Barriss felt a wave of shock, some terror, but then joy. She opened her arms, her face nearly broken by the hardest cry she ever felt to burst a damn wide open.

Tanith ran into her arms. The life and noise blasted into Barriss' ears again. Everything that froze was in motion again, and the Universe made right.

Like a child once scared now filled with the greatest happiness, the girl wrapped herself around Barriss and cried with her. Such horrible ugly tears and crying, but it was the happiest moment for them both. The crowd gathered around them with equal joy.

So great was the joy and relief, nobody noticed the Star Destroyer exiting hyperspace, floating into one of the morning layers of the sky. The Empire had arrived, and Vader was determined to have his reckoning with the traitor.

But that time was for a later chapter. Barriss and Tanith embraced as Fulcrum ran towards them. The final chapter of the story would be set in motion.......

If anyone wants to try, you are very welcome to add in on this.

@sillywizardvoice thank you for tagging me in the last line challenge and im so sorry im so late to this. i love getting tagged in stuff like that it just got totally buried in my notifications

Rules: post the last line you wrote or drew. tag some people.

Barriss switched the water off and ducked down to the corner where her first aid kit was. She rifled through the kit until she found what she was looking for. Trauma shears. This was definitely not what they were intended for but they would have to work. She went back to the sink, looked in the mirror, then decided she couldn’t stand looking in the mirror, so she turned around, then started sniping. She cut just above the nape of her neck, watching black clumps fall to the floor. She would probably regret this later but she needed to go to sleep without being a walking biohazard.  Barriss averted her gaze from the mirror when she went back to the sink to re-rinse her hair. It was probably a shitty job but it would be hidden under her scarf anyway. Eventually Master Unduli would see it but that was a future Barriss problem.  She washed any stray hairs left on her neck and shoulders off in the sink, then grabbed a rag and scrubbed away at the blood left on her skin. When she was finished there was still some blood left under her fingernails and her dirty clothes and cut hair to deal with, but she would do that after she slept. Her short hair was strange, she kept trying to run her fingers through her hair or expected the feeling of it brushing against her back, but it was gone. Seven inches of hair gone in half an hour. That had to have been what, nine years of hair growth? Whatever.

have some traumatized barriss <3 also this is completely unedited and im not bothering to reread it so no judging. also don't know what counts as a line so im putting in the last chunk i wrote with enough context to make sense.

ps my ao3 is veelovesrocks, i post once in a blue moon.

no pressure tags! @bluedeedeedoop @stellanslashgeode @jedimasterbailey @islandofarson and any of my other writer/artist friends!!

[beneathsilverstars]

if i failed to protect my kid during the apocalypse and they almost died wandering on their own but got rescued by a team of four competent, battle-experienced adults who cared about them very much and made them feel less scared and useless but refused to let them fight, i think that would be a pretty decent outcome and i'd be pretty okay with it. sure i could dream up a better situation but there's a hell of a lot of worse ones too.

[gigifujijifu]

Anyone else remember the little 88x31 buttons from older internet days? I've been remembering them a lot lately.

I make ffxiv ones in msp when I'm in queue or my bf is flying me around between quests.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I don’t get why people feel like the Duolingo owl is threatening, if I ever feel like he is I just get mad at him. I could fight an owl. I don’t know if I’d win, but I don’t think I’d lose (two things that can apparently coexist). I think I’d survive at least and that’s not really winning but also not losing.

You wanna be so threatening? Da bør du drepe meg!

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Backing up the billion photos I have on my phone after putting it off for literal Years, but I just hit the QSMP section and man... :(

[widevibratobitch]

me when im obsessed with dead singers from 50 (well... mostly 70-120) years ago and im heartbroken to know i'll never see them on stage... never hear them breathe, never see them sweat, never even touch the hem of their garment...

it really is enough to drive a person mad...

[hyperfixationtimego]

sometimes I end up shipping things just to be contrarian. like not on purpose or anything I just get insulted when people say shit like “these two unrelated characters, who are roughly the same age but have wildly conflicting perspectives on the world, would never work in a relationship.” like okay. you are joyless and unimaginative btw. i’m picturing them in my head rn and it’s the greatest drama of our generation. they’re kissing with tongue. jsyk.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

ok another one in that i went over everything again expressly to pick up murder mystery clues, especially in the beginning

noted as the first appearance of mordecai, hanging out in the garage. to be perched on the hood of a car, leaning back, is so whimsical for him. jaunty. but also, being the earliest appearance in the comic / its own timelines, you know. more informatively, it sure seems like atlas was shot or something there. looks like it matches his design even from the mostly obscured look we get at it, and presumably there's any all the more unobscured view available to everyone in-universe. it's also presented as part of someone's file, so that's noted re: drago, though it may just be the required framing to present it as a photograph that'd exist at all

then introduced to mitzi in the next page, and i've helpfully added the arrow b/c i was looking for it like "well, based on this Theory that the basis of mitzi and mordecai being in cahoots and having an understanding about it is their mutually having a personal/emotional connection to atlas (at least on their end b/c we see so little from atlas and hear even less. even when people would usually say one is personally connected to their wife. are they)....might mordecai show up at the glimpse of atlas's funeral" and i'm noting how closely that design there aligns with mordecai's, even though this isn't high res enough to be absolutely certain. but: seems to have a shaded-in coloration, center streak in the ear, sharply triangular corner of face (especially a feature in these earliest depictions, rather than this triangularity incorporating a bit more waviness / curve later), light uhh muzzle nose mouth area, what could be the outline of the light stripe under the eyes, light eyebrows >:c ly arched, & pince-nez or just glasses if that's the only option when you're cats....there's a lot of "wow that really could be mordecai huh" design alignments that are otherwise just a lot of coincidences like, whoops drew this background rando who matches so closely one of the main cast members....characters. getting theatrical out here. and what's then also noticeable is: none of the other background randos resemble any other characters, even when if mordecai is simply here as an Important Employee, where's viktor, where's anyone else we know was already around, where's the employees who remained steadfast who are shown immediately after this, versus mordecai who, as an employee, did Not loyally stick around at lackadaisy, but as someone with enough emotional investment in atlas for that to indeed be the foundation of his and mitzi's murder mystery Understanding, to then also maybe be the only lackadaisy employee at atlas's funeral (presumably with mitzi's knowledge), to have left lackadaisy out of grief rather than professional interests....hmm

mordecai also in this picture, where again everyone's hanging out, next to atlas and singled out by being the only person not sitting. did he just get there, maybe. is he On The Job still, i.e. maybe by being something of an [almost always active personal bodyguard] here. seems he'd face more Away from atlas for that. but not like i know what he's up to otherwise, and Thee Point may be to more symbolically have him standing apart. with even viktor also there, sitting and chilling, to show how mordecai Might also be doing that....but isn't. also of course tingling with mystery senses about what mitzi was going to have said to wick here, about how she would hate to, dot dot dot...then changes her mind upon Considering Atlas

here's mordecai Standing Near atlas again while socializing is happening. while he is also distinct from a) mitzi, in that this is confirming (if somewhat implicitly) that mordecai was in fact already associated with lackadaisy & atlas before atlas met mitzi, and b) viktor, who was still stationed with the arbogasts' funeral home, wherein i'm also considering this relevant b/c naturally it emphasizes that the professional viktor & mordecai duo's existence doesn't make them interchangeable: backing up that mitzi sure may have had a reason beyond a coin flip for having this secret with mordecai rather than viktor (and, of course, the reason probably isn't just "i need to work with some lackadaisy employee who can fire a gun" in the first place)

a couple more points being

mordecai going on and on about professional approach all the time; could simply be his preference, could be an expression of the like precision / methodical perspective that makes him good at biting and killing, could be [that] plus just how he deals with his job being biting and killing when it's unlikely he was up to that before the train ride ft. atlas and atlas taking him on for that success....i also wonder if he took a Professional Approach to killing atlas / thinks of it in that way, even if that reason for [secret mystery involvement with mitzi on this] was an emotional one, and that being recent and tumultuous has him like tripling down on this. even though mordecai may not have killed atlas either, even presuming atlas Was shot and killed. and knowing that mitzi gave him a gun, or mordecai gave her the gun, or they passed it back and forth a few times for obfuscation

the pig farmers start wandering into a dark area of lackadaisy's caves and there's bones back there. what goes on in said caves....all this coming about b/c atlas opportunistically took advantage of the cave access, seems like the kind of environment with real potential for some figurative resonance. like also the rivers.

mitzi telling wick that atlas was the murderous one in the relationship....not necessarily that significant when like, technically who around here Isn't murderous. just like there having been "here's the body stashing cave section" isn't necessarily extraordinary in its literal existence, but with the symbolism of wandering into the caves and finding an area with no light, where you start walking on old bones, and are about to be killed yourself....hmm. and re: atlas's murderousness, sure is possible to team up to kill someone to protect a fourth party, even though like, who. and that would add another layer of "mitzi and mordecai care about the same person" on top of their presumed [handshaken] emotional regard towards atlas. possible, but like, who would that be. it seems unlikely atlas would, say, threaten ivy or something. and how would that incorporate that [there has to be the Mitzi's Asserted Culpability] element. but these things are sure noted

not directly related to the mystery but i will leave off again on the mordenico agenda. even though, also, it is a "bite me a zillion times, two zillion times shy on me" situation like, what are the odds the [inroad of intrigue over shaking up the glitter in your funny little guy who everyone usually just would rather ignore] situation is actually bound for working out. yet [Also Everything Else. like in this scene and the prior Hotel Room Fête encounters] and declaring yourselves as the same and trying to stay friends no matter what....we can dream

[angelicxi]

also not to to make vague and whining posts...but to make vague and whining posts, since I am actively sick and so dizzy I can barely stand upright for five minutes at a time, ergo sorely lack the required brainpower needed to express this w any of like, grace and precision, much less eloquence.

man oh man I am so fucking done with the way people approach art and media. how all of it is now perceived as "content" and the only metric by which they judge whether or not it is good is how hashtag relatable it is to the consumer, how the point of it is, or should be, as far as these people are concerned, to be Nice and Inoffensive and Digestible and About Me, The Specialest And Most Importantest Little Princeling, actually. how they perceive themselves as a customer, essentially. shopper weighing you, the artist / creative, like a product in his hands and tutting. and more than anything I loathe the incredibly dangerous entitlement bred by this attitude.

also, people have gotten waaaaayyyyyy too comfortable with just wandering into the DMs / inboxes of strangers they encounter at random on the internet with increasingly bizarre grievances. main character syndrome is sosososo real, deranged and common. I want to scream!! I AM screaming!!!!

[enigma-absolute]

Today marks 10 years since I first really stepped into the Eddsworld fandom and went through an event with it.

But it also happened to be first anniversary of its creator's passing. This year marks the 10th.

I figured 13 year old me wouldn't want to feel alone in that moment, so I made this to join her and go through the flow together.

Without Edd and Eddsworld, I don't think I would've had that accessible foundation, can-do mindset and enthusiastic influence, admiration and desire to animate and make stories of my own. I was a year too late when I first entered into the fandom and heard about it, but these past 10 years taught me it's never too late to make an impact and tell your tales - no matter how long they'll take.

Thank you Edd Gould. For everything.