#technically this was at 11pm

[guppygiggles]

Quick and scribbly tickles for my friend, Celeste Tail, who has a penchant for being a troublemaker… 💙

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

[sisyphusrequiem]

DESPERATELY NEED an event where we see affogato cookie’s backstory and an apology from dark cacao please please please

(not hating on dark cacao I love the guy but I wish affogato cookie was there for his initial apology as well)

[iwrite-sinsandtragedies]

Day 1 — Merfolk ₊˚✧ ﾟ

Submission for @olba-week-event

MC: Ai/Sky

The 'thing' is, in fact, Cliff Holden's very expensive diving watch. RIP, Mr. shark man. Maybe if you're lucky Ai will give it back 😏

These two pictures also sum up Liz and Lee's dynamics with Ai pretty nicely honestly 😂 she's a little menace and they only tolerate her shenanigans half the time because they usually get cool shit out of it. Was the risk worth it? Perhaps not. The adventure was memorable though, that will always be guaranteed ✨In this case, it was a dangerous escapade into the populated shallows of Sunset Bird to see if there was anything cool to scavenge from the locals 🤭

If you're curious btw - Liz 's design is based off a mix of a sandbar shark and tiger shark, meanwhile Ai was made with ideas of butterfly koi and betta fish in mind. Lee was a bit more ambiguous, but I was kind of just going for a vibe somewhere between angelfish, flying fish and oarfish tbh. It all turned out in the end!

[aeyn]

An angel disguised in pink!

Aged up! No curse AU!Megumi Fushiguro x Jirai Kei! Reader

Summary : Megumi just turned 21, and has already received an invite from Gojo Satoru - to go drinking. It's Gojo, after all. He's seeing faces he vaguely remember from college, but fresh faces were uncommon, even in a Gojo party. You, dressed like an angel in pink, piqued his interest.

WARNINGS : people getting DRUNK, you can tell i've never been to a party and drank, mentions of addiction to host clubs, a smudge of angst maybe if you squint really hard, mostly fluff though

Word count : 1.4K (it's so short!!)

AUTHORS NOTE!!: Hello everyone... I started writing this like yesterday and wasn't aware today was his actual birthday..... ALSO this is my first time writing and i'm not 100% in my english..!! I'm not familiar with posting on tumblr as a whole, so with the layout and all that, i'm not quite familiar. Please give me some leeway with that kind of stuff. also, my laptop kind of broke while i was trying to post this, so im typing this from my touchscreen ipad. It's a little annoying, but oh well..

This was also LIGHTLY inspired by @lokissweater 's mlb megumi... i know its not anything close to their levels of writing, but i was kinda inspired to write megumi for my Landmine reader from her and how she writes Megumi.

I talked too much, i'll just let you read it already ^^"...

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

The club Megumi found himself in wasn’t particularly big, but it buzzed with energy. The space was packed with familiar faces—classmates, acquaintances, and a handful of people he’d crossed paths with at one point or another. As soon as he’d turned 21, Gojo had dragged him along to this club, boasting about it being owned by one of Geto’s many “connections.” What Gojo failed to mention was that it was a private party. Not that it mattered much; Megumi realized he wasn’t exactly out of his element.

Most of the crowd blurred together as people he vaguely recognized, but there were a few exceptions. Two were Shoko’s friends, chatting animatedly by the bar. The third was a girl—you—whom Megumi didn’t recognize at all. The strobe lights bathed the room in eye-numbing neon green, but even through the haze, the soft pink of your blouse stood out.

You caught his gaze from across the room, and when your eyes met, you offered a small, awkward smile accompanied by a polite nod. Megumi’s eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks warming with the faintest blush—thankfully hidden by the poor lighting. Still, he managed a curt nod in return, stiff and reserved as ever.

Nobara, watching the interaction from her spot by the bar, smirked to herself. She’d invited you along partly because she knew you enjoyed the club scene, but mostly because an idea had begun forming in her head. You… and Megumi… Yeah, that had potential.

While most of the party (including a very drunk Gojo and Shoko) had taken over the dance floor, Megumi stayed firmly planted at the edge of the chaos, arms crossed. He sighed, his gaze flicking between the reckless dancing and his untouched canned beer.

Adults.

Gojo, currently in a drunken dance battle with Itadori, was reason enough for Megumi to swear off drinking tonight. Witnessing the sheer level of intoxication his mentor had achieved was enough to keep him sober.

Lost in thought, Megumi didn’t notice you approach until he felt the chill of a bottled green tea press against his arm. He startled slightly, turning to find you standing beside him, a tentative smile on your face.

“Figured you might want this. You didn’t touch your beer all night,” you said, holding out the tea.

For a moment, he just blinked at you, caught off guard. Then, taking the bottle, he muttered a quiet, “Thanks. Uh…”

“Oh, right. Um, I’m Y/N.” You dug into your pink MCM bag before pulling out a similar bottle of green tea for yourself.

“So… you’re not a fan of alcohol?” you asked, idly adjusting the lace on your skirt.

Megumi shrugged, taking a sip of the tea. “Not when Gojo’s around. Someone’s gotta stay sober enough to drag him home.”

“Fair enough. He does seem… like a lot.” You cast a concerned glance at the “honored one” himself, doing the Worm on the floor.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Megumi said, the corners of his lips lifting subconsciously. For the first time, he felt like he was actually enjoying himself that night.

A comfortable pause settled as you both observed the other guests.

“You’re… friends with Nobara, right?” Megumi turned his attention to Nobara, who was on the dance floor with a cocktail in hand, her face flushed red from the alcohol she’d ingested, and a feather boa draped across her shoulders like something out of a ’90s movie.

“Yeah. She dragged me along tonight. Said it’d be fun. And I just figured I’d come over and say hi since you looked kind of… out of place.” You laughed softly, his plain shirt and baggy jeans a stark contrast to the vibrant, flashy outfits in the room.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked with a small sigh, running a hand through his hair he hadn’t cared to style.

“A little. You’re the only one here who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else.”

“I’m just not big on crowds. Or neon lights. Or drunk people.”

Another moment of silence passed as you nodded in understanding, observing the dance floor growing even more chaotic.

“You seem like you’re enjoying this,” Megumi said, cocking his head toward the unfolding disasters (Geto spilling his drink onto a very pissed-off Nanami).

“I, uh, I’m used to the nightlife. I used to frequent a lot of bars and nightclubs.”

Megumi raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Used to? You don’t anymore?”

You hesitated for a moment, swirling the green tea bottle in your hands. “Not as much, no. I… got addicted at one point, I guess. I was filling a void in myself. But I realized it wasn’t healthy.”

Megumi’s expression softened, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to curiosity. “Addicted?”

You hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Not just clubs—host clubs, mostly. I’d go out all the time, spending way too much money just to be around people who’d tell me what I wanted to hear. For a while, I thought it was fun, but… I guess I was filling a void. They hook you in, you know? They leave you alone, and when you start getting desperate, you spend more.”

He frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Host clubs?”

You glanced at him, gauging his reaction, and let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I know. It’s not the most… admirable thing. But when you’re feeling empty, it’s easy to get addicted to the attention. They make you feel special, even if it’s just an act.”

Megumi took a moment to process your words, his gaze steady but without judgment. “What made you stop?”

You smiled faintly, your expression a mix of self-awareness and vulnerability. “I realized it wasn’t real. I was paying for affection, not earning it. And honestly? It wasn’t making me happy—it was just a distraction. So I quit and started focusing on myself. It’s not easy, but… I’m trying.”

He nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “That… takes a lot of self-awareness. Most people wouldn’t even admit they were doing it to fill a void.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks. I’m not sure if it’s self-awareness or just running out of money.”

That earned a soft chuckle from Megumi, and for the first time that night, the tension between you eased.

“What about you?” you asked, shifting the focus. “You don’t seem like the type to… well, pay for attention.”

He leaned against the wall, thinking. “Not really my thing. I guess I’ve always been more focused on the people I already care about.”

You nodded, impressed by his grounded perspective. “Must be nice. Knowing you’re enough without needing to hear it from someone else.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “I think everyone needs to hear it sometimes. Just… not in that way.”

A quiet moment passed between you, the chaotic energy of the club fading into the background.

Finally, you broke the silence with a teasing smile. “So, if clubs aren’t your thing, what is? What would you do for fun?”

“Honestly?” Megumi said, his lips quirking in a rare smile. “Probably stay home with a book or go to a quiet park. Somewhere peaceful.”

You grinned, leaning closer. “A book and a park? You’re a walking cliché.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t seem annoyed. “And you’re not, Miss ‘Host Clubs for the Guys’?”

“Touché,” you said, laughing softly. “But hey, if you ever get curious, I can recommend a few places.”

“Pass,” he said, shaking his head, but the amusement in his voice made it clear he wasn’t dismissing you.

“Your loss,” you teased, taking another sip of your tea. “But seriously, thanks for not judging me. Most people wouldn’t be so… understanding.”

He looked at you, his expression earnest. “Everyone’s got their reasons.”

Your chest tightened slightly at his words, and you found yourself smiling in a way you hadn’t in a long time. “You’re a lot deeper than I expected, Megumi.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, but there was warmth in his tone.

And just like that, the club felt a little less overwhelming, and the two of you felt a little more connected. Fein by Travis Scott played in the background of the packed bar at 1:23 a.m. Gojo and Geto slumped over each other groggily as the alcohol took its toll. Itadori darted around, still inexplicably full of energy, while Nobara stood barefoot, heels in hand, complaining to Maki. 

Somehow, amidst the chaos, this moment felt peaceful.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

(I hope everyone liked this... I probably will write a continuation or maybe make it a series when i have the time to.)

[daily-polyshow]

day 110!! alt hair styles!!!

[zaachknight]

I now have a hatred for insta posts and I really hate this but it took me 3 days so

[glitchven]

Theyre soulmates, your honor.

[plan-3-tmars]

My Theory on Kazui's Parent's.

Q: Is there a meaning behind your name?

A: It's cause I'm the eldest son. It seems like my father was also wishing I'd be "a strong man."

The wording of Kazui's answer here really makes me think. We know that Kazui is strong. He defended Fuuta against Kotoko and even talks about having "never gone up against a woman [like her]" in his VD, implying that he has gotten into fights before (most likely at work - either in the field or in training.)

It seems like, to me, Kazui has parents with very traditional views. Kazui's father wishing that he would turn out to be "a strong man" could imply that he places value on the old-style gender roles in family or society in general. Yes he most likely thinks that being strong physically is important, but also being strong mentally. A 'normal' man who doesn't cry, doesn't show emotain. A man who provides for his family and sticks to tradition, simple as. A son who does what's expected of him - that kind of strong.

~~~

I also think the way Kazui talks is linked to his family's old-school beliefs. Despite only being 39, Kazui always refers to himself as an "old man" and says things like "when your mature/older like me," etc. It's a bit odd, though it might be a cultural thing. Kazui does call himself immature though, so for a man who believes he has only grown up in terms of his age and not his mind, he puts an awful lot of weight on what it means to be an adult. Can you see where I'm going with this? Yup it's back to his strong man comment baby!!!

In that previous qoute Kazui says how his father was also wishing he'd be a strong man. I think the other person Kazui is referencing might very well be himself. I think if Kazui has been taught these old school gender-roles since he was a child, then he might hold alot of weight to them. He wouldn't know any different if that was all he heard about what it meant to be a man as a kid, and therefore wants to live up to that expectation his parents hold of him. He, however, quickly learns that he is not this way and internalises it as something being wrong with him, something that isn't normal that he must fix. Which brings me to my next point...

~~~

I think that Kazui's family are more important to understanding his crime then we may think based on what's been shown to us so far, and I'd even go so far as to say that their beliefs might've been a very big reason/the reason on why Kazui felt the need to lie and marry Hinako.

If we take a situation where Kazui has very traditional parents who want him to grow up quickly, get a nice job and settle down young, it might make sense on why he felt obligated to marry Hinako. In Half he talks about how he's confused on why he doesn't feel happiness in their relationship, as "isn't this what happiness is?" I believe these ideas came from Kazui's parent's. That perhaps they unknowingly (or full knowingly) drilled the idea into his head that a perfect looking couple such as he and Hinako is the ultimate true love, the true happiness, and that he should follow in those steps if he wants to be happy and successful as it in turn will also make them happy and proud of him.

[tango-but-everywhere]

Happy one year to the sillies <3

Jimmy, Double life episode 1

[ID: a minecraft screenshot from the double life server, taken from the ground looking up a birch tree at spawn. Tango is on top of the tree, facing right but looking down on the viewer, Jimmy. His username is yellow and he’s just in his neutral skin. End ID]

[sangre]

level 10 outfit update just dropped :) i combined serisínthe's original outfit with a bit of a more combat-inconvenient (moulin rouge-inspired) extravagance

[aviomons]

thought i might as well post this since i haven't posted in a while :-).

[anxioustwilight]

I think I should draw if all of the video game characters I’ve scrunglified were in a room together

[thesunshinecourts]

countdown to tsc: apr 7., 2024, 23:58 pdt

2. digging your fingers into fresh dirt // renee walker, after lazarus

When Renee gets to the garden, her fingers are still stained with blood.

It had taken Abby’s most soothing tone and Wymack doing a passable imitation of Aaron’s impatient candour—the same language as Wymack’s, but less heart-filled bluster, more blunt force trauma—to get Renee to leave the room. She’s still not sure she should have, but Abby’s voice had been gentle when she’d said, this isn’t like Matt. Giving him something to believe in will come later.

Renee doesn’t know if she’s ever seen Abby so angry and horrified. It’s worse than how she looked at Kevin’s injuries, that very first night. It’s worse than how she looked at Neil, both times, after the Nest and after his father. It’s almost as devastated, Renee thinks, as the way she looked when she held Allison tight to her chest that first night after Seth.

Wymack is better at holding his expressions in check, but Renee knows him. There had been a tremor in his knuckles when he opened the passenger car door. He’d gotten it under control fairly quickly, to his credit, but Renee had noticed.

Renee had thought, I am not the only one who must draw on all my reserves to keep steady.

She breathes out, then in, as if the smell of growth in the world around her can flush through her body. When she was a second year, Seth had taken a biology class with Dwayne. It had nothing to do with either of their majors—she remembers Juan making some sort of joke about growing pot, and Seth elbowing him with a sidelong glance at Allison, who had rolled her eyes and told them both that she thought they’d be lucky to keep a fake plant alive in the shithole they called a dorm—but Seth had liked it better than anyone had expected, occasionally offering up things he found interesting from the units on horticulture.

There had been a joke about photosynthesis once, something that had been mostly earnest information, but he hadn’t been able to resist throwing in some teasing at the end, always trying to make Allison laugh. Renee feels a sudden wave of indescribable, quiet grief when she realises she can’t remember how his joke had gone.

There are four plants to her left, still in the plastic pottles you buy them in at the store. Renee remembers Abby talking about a sale a few weeks ago, and wonders if these are those same plants. It’s been a demanding few weeks, she thinks. Life is often unkind to those that cannot move of their own accord.

She’s not really thinking about it when she walks over and picks them up. She puts them together, two by two, and squeezes her fingers around two pottles per hand. There are probably gloves somewhere; a trowel too, maybe.

Renee does not care.

Kneeling down at the edge of the garden, there’s a patch with looser soil than the rest. It is poor behaviour, she thinks, to start messing around with Abby’s things without asking permission first, but Renee does not have the space in her yet to hold back. Abby will forgive her, which is not an acceptable reason to do something, but Renee is so angry. She spent her whole night transforming terrified grief into determination and a plan, and then the six-hours-and-then-some drive from Castle Evermore back home with nothing in her mind but Jean. The impossibiity of him.

The impossibility of him still being alive. The impossibility of her getting there in time, and even that’s still to be determined. The impossibility of how much she aches, looking at him and thinking about him and praying for him. Four hundred miles on the I-77, and all she could do was pray.

It was a very human thing, Renee thinks, to walk into Evermore to get him out. Stephanie had been proud of her, and Abby had called her brave, and Andrew had looked at her with that innate knowledge of someone who understood what it meant to take someone under their wing, and absolutely none of their thoughts and love and understanding change the fact that Renee walked into Castle Evermore with more fear than faith.

She digs. One hand into the soil, then the next. There is blood on her fingers still, beneath the nails. Part of Renee has the uncharitable thought that she hopes it’s Zane’s, stray flecks from when she punched him. More of her accepts that it’s Jean’s. She does not know when it is from: when she first knelt at his side on Riko’s bedroom floor, when he was carefully settled into her car, when she and Wymack lifted him into Abby’s house, when she sat beside him and held his hand as those broken, wounded sounds ripped their way from his throat and drove right into her heart, piercing it through, over and over, just as the way the ugliest part of her, buried beneath therapy and anger management and the most wilful calm she has ever had to cloak her body in, wishes it could do to Riko.

Jean’s blood beneath her fingernails, spattered across her hands, buried into the soil. She’s planting a flower she does not know the name of, and all she hopes for is that Jean will bloom.

Please, she prays, tugging the roots apart with a care and precision she did not feel capable of two hours ago, listening to Jean’s screams. Please, she prays, pressing the plant into the soil, cupping her hands together to scoop the dirt, helping it settle into its new home. Please, she prays, patting down the soil, warm earth meeting her palms like a balm.

Please, she prays. Stephanie says you are not done with him yet. She was right about me. Thank you for getting us this far. Please. Please. Please.

“Renee?”

It’s Abby’s voice, exhausted and haunted and utterly wrecked. She still manages a wan smile when Renee looks up at her. Abby doesn’t seem to notice that Renee has been co-opting her garden, or maybe she’s too raw to care.

“You can come back in now,” she says, like she knows it’s both a gift and punishment at once.

Renee nods, then stands, brushing the dirt off her trousers. She looks at Abby as she approaches, trying to choose her words. To ask how he is would only invite more sadness; to ask if he’ll live betrays how deep her fear has run.

“I’m sorry,” she says in the end, quiet but sincere. “That must have been… very difficult.”

The look Abby gives her is brief, but pained. “He breaks my heart as much as any of you,” she says, quickly, fervently, “but that is never a thing to apologise for.” Abby looks so sad. It makes Renee ache, but this is not the type of thing she can wipe away. “Thank you for bringing him here,” Abby says, and Renee feels rocked with it.

“Thank you for letting me,” she says in return, and neither of those are entirely what they mean, but it is enough. Renee will always walk into Castle Evermore to save Jean, and Wymack and Abby will always open the door when she arrives in South Carolina. There is no version of this story, Renee thinks, where they follow any other script.

This is what it is to be Foxes, after all.

“He’s still not quite himself,” Abby says. There is a part of Renee that finds this sentence amusing; Abby has never met Jean, not truly, only from Kevin’s stories. More of her is somber. She knows what Abby means. “But I think he’ll feel — perhaps only marginally, but I think he’ll feel more at ease having you beside him. I’ve done what I can, for now, and there will be more medication and treatment and dressing of his wounds, much more before the night is through, let alone before he is recovered, but —” She exhales, long and low. “He is alone, and in pain. We can’t do much more about the second one. But he can have you back.”

Renee nods, setting her jaw as Abby steps back to allow her through.

“Then he shall have me until I am no longer needed,” Renee says, and thinks, and perhaps some time longer after that.

Abby gives her a careful look. “That could be a very long while,” she says, but she does not offer any sort of objection.

“That’s okay,” Renee says. “I don’t mind waiting.”

[shaniacsboogara]

last day of this bio boogers

[schumigrace]

how is it actually possible to get 231 emails in 3 days

[radiocmyk]

Woohoo happy birthday to me. Nothing else of particular note going on today. Just... just these.