#Endless Enlightenment

[maryfying]

With a pure and devoted heart in pursuit of Kūkai’s spirit, the production team conducted rare on-site filming at sacred locations, including the Lantern Hall of Mount Kōya - a designated national treasure of Japan.

Sincerely presented in 2025.

Please stay tuned.

[2ilvervictory]

Part 2 for petulant god and the like 1 digital piece I did for 5p :]

[fhgachaforgaza]

The pinecone pig brought you…

Nilvan beating up Valteil!

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Ganondorf literally setting everything on fire in the name of ultimate agency and control, rejecting all compromise and all submission and abusing other people's loyalty and devotion to him and his own humanity in the name of that absolute agency... and ending up caged and controlled and chained and puppeteered over and over and over and over and over and--

[marinsawakening]

I don't know how to say this without coming across like I'm bragging about being morally superior (I'm not) but whever a Direct or an E3 thing or whatever happens and I see people discuss what they will and what they won't buy I'm just like. We're never getting out of this hole huh.

The idea of a Switch 2 disgusts me. The neverending train of slight technological upgrades for playthings at direct cost of the lives of the people who mine for it and work to build it is disgusting. The idea of people even considering paying for it is insane to me. Before you ask yes I was also disgusted by the 3DS and Wii U the Switch is not special. IF I buy the Switch 2 it'll be years from now secondhand, likely after they've already stopped producing it, as I did with my 3DS. I'll def miss new Zelda games and other games that I'd find fun and will play them years later if at all, but like. Who cares. There's such a massive backlog of great video games on the Switch alone, why the hell would I shill out for a new system so I can buy new games as they come out? Nintendo is not getting a dime from me.

And all these overpriced €60+ games and endless mediocre spin-offs and 'HD' re-releases or subscription services to play games that are decades old, like. It's fucking criminal to me. I'm not paying Nintendo for that and it's insane to me that ppl are. I did not pay Nintendo for a single Zelda game I played. I pirated them, bought them secondhand, or in the case of Age of Calamity, played it on my friend's account for free. I watched people rush to buy Echoes of Wisdom at the full €60 price as soon as it released much the same way you'd watch lemmings dive off a cliff. I waited a few months and got it secondhand for half the retail price. It's a game that's like maybe a sixth the scale of BOTW and it's retailing only about €10 cheaper, and we KNOW it's not worth that, we all know and complain about it, and then people pre-order it anyway??? It's just insane to me.

All this while there's a thriving indie game scene where you can get brilliant games for a fraction of the price or entirely for free. Ppl are paying €60 for a game when Undertale is on Steam for €10. Literally why the fuck would you do that.

Like I'm truly not trying to be all morally superior here, I run a damn LOZ blog, I am not immune to large unethical media franchises (or poor financial decisions, for that matter), but the sheer ubiquity of it. The fact that no matter how much anyone complains about broken game releases or unethical business practices every single goddamn cash grab will still make millions if not billions of dollars. That ppl can't even simply wait a few months to buy a game secondhand, that the idea of not playing the latest installment in a popular game franchise they like is so unbearable they'll play it regardless of quality, buy it overpriced, buy a whole damn useless new game console just to keep up with future releases... It's so disheartening to me. We're never fucking getting out of this hole are we.

In conclusion: consider putting the money you would've spent on the Switch 2 or The Legend of Zelda: Link's Asscrack or whatever on indie games on itch.io instead.

[homestuck-music-tournament]

Enlightenment

Album: Homestuck Vol. 5 Composer: Steve Everson Leitmotifs: Endless Climb, Aggrieve Characters: Rose Lalonde, LoLaR

[thanaticas]

some lil things for all my bg3 tieflings (so far...)

[ivaldisonsforge]

Thanks for the kind words! ★★★★★ "Exceptional workmanship and fine quality. Great care with delivery and presentation." David

[telltalebatman]

honestly there is something deeply inspiring about the fact megan thee stallion jjk so much she didn't just release a song about it. no. she went and got yuji's english voice actor to contribute.

and my "deeply inspiring" i mean "somewhere, out there, a particular middle-aged man awoke in cold sweat, feeling like a great disaster was lurking on the horizon. the man's name doesn't have to be spelled out; it is known."

[maryfying]

The first Chinese film to comprehensively present the life and legacy of Kūkai - the renowned Japanese monk who journeyed to Tang China as part of the Kentōshi mission. Sincerely presented in 2025. Please stay tuned.

[dromaeotrash]

.

[judahmaccabees]

Honey Dew

In the ethereal realm where dreams and reality converge, Dream, the eternal guardian, perceives the dire plight of planet Earth. Witnessing the insidious infestation threatening its delicate balance, Dream resolves to intervene, utilizing the tools forged from the essence of his divine craft.

From the grains of his dream sand, the primordial substance that shapes the fabric of reality, Dream molds the ingredients for his brew: bee spit, lavender, and yarrow bark. Each component imbued with the essence of his dreams, symbolizing resilience, purification, and protection.

The bee spit, distilled from the collective harmony of dream realms, embodies the industrious perseverance of communal endeavor. Lavender, infused with the soothing fragrance of celestial gardens, represents tranquility and restoration, a balm for the weary souls of Earth. Yarrow bark, hewn from the ancient groves of Dream's subconscious, serves as a potent ward against the encroaching darkness.

With a touch of his divine hand, Dream weaves these ingredients together, infusing the mixture with the essence of his dreams and the collective hopes of humanity. As the brew takes form, its luminescent glow pulsates with the harmonies of the cosmos, a beacon of light amidst the encroaching shadows.

With a whispered incantation, Dream releases the brew upon the surface of planet Earth, watching as it cascades like a shimmering cascade of stardust, penetrating the depths of the infestation. Wherever it touches, the darkness recoils, unable to withstand the purity and potency of Dream's concoction.

As the brew permeates the Earth, its effects are felt far and wide. The blight of infestation begins to wither and fade, its grip loosening with each passing moment. In its place, life begins to stir anew, vibrant and resilient, as the planet's natural balance is restored.

With the threat neutralized and balance restored, Dream watches over planet Earth with a sense of quiet satisfaction. The brew, a testament to the power of dreams and the resilience of the human spirit, serves as a reminder that even in the darkest of times, hope and determination can prevail.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 5

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (enlightened!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, lengthy discussions about life and whatnot, watered-down metaphysics lol A/N: I was at the crack house with Grimes when I wrote this. I don’t know where this came from.  (Something a little more introspective for this chapter!)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

“Don’t go all shy on me now,” Sylus teases, a playful glint in his eyes. “After all that effort to make me confess. You’re very persistent, you know.”

“How do you expect me to react right now?!” The words spill out in a rush, a slightly hysterical edge to your voice. “I–I’m talking to an actual fictional person. I’m one reason away from admitting myself to a psych ward!”

You catch sight of the wall clock – your favorite one with the Dalì reference – slightly skewed off-center from its place on the horizontal beam above your small kitchen area, reading 10:48. The ruckus coming from outside the window is slowly dwindling down to a quiet buzz as nightfall sets in, and the day’s winding to a close.

You’re lying on your stomach, still in your chaise lounge, while he’s sat on that ridiculously posh café chair; both of you settled in for the long due conversation. Somehow, the camera’s perspective is much closer than it should be, giving you a much more intimate view of him—a feature that wasn’t originally an option in the game.

If it weren’t for the elephant in the room, you could almost pretend you’re on a video call with a… friend.

Sylus purses his lips in amusement. “You’re quite prone to theatrics, aren’t you?”

You shoot your ‘friend’ an irritated glare.

Even from across the small rectangular screen, you register the barely there smirk playing at his lips.

Likely avoiding another outburst from you, he acquiesces. “Fair enough. The situation is hardly what you’d call ideal, I’ll admit.” There’s a short pause. Then, “... I still can’t quite grasp what separates us, you and I.”

Great. Will you actually get the answers you're looking for, or are you both just stuck in an endless loop of merry-go-round?

He sees the lost look on your face and sighs, “Ask. I’ll answer as best as I can.”

The first question tumbles out before you can think twice about it. “How are you even talking to me right now?”

He hums, “That is the question, isn’t it?”

“What– you can’t just answer my question with another question!” you grouse, brows furrowing in annoyance.

He exhales a quiet laugh before his expression turns contemplative. “Truth is, kitten—I haven’t the slightest idea either. I have my theories, but... nothing concrete.”

“Well, let’s hear them,” you reply dryly. “Better than thinking there’s something wrong up there,” pointing a finger to your temple to drive your point, “believing that a character from a mobile game is actually alive.” 

He idly gestures toward himself with a fluid sweep of his hand, much like a magician revealing a clever trick. 

You roll your eyes. “Oh, alright. So I’ve officially gone off the deep end.”

“Do you really find my existence that difficult to believe?”

“Uh—yes?? Unless I’ve developed some sort of latent schizophrenia or entered the Twilight Zone, you shouldn’t exist. In my–in this world. In this dimension.”

His expression shifts, a hint of challenge flickering in his eyes. “The assumption that only one version of reality can be true—either yours or mine—is a bit limiting, don’t you think?”

His words give you pause. “You’re talking about… the possibility of an altered reality? Right now?” You give him an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

He shrugs as if to say ‘why not?’ “What even qualifies as the ‘true’ reality?”

There’s a lot you could say in response to that. You could argue all night that only one reality can exist, because any sane person should know better than to entertain the idea of anything else. That should be obvious. 

But the thing is—this whole ordeal has already crossed the threshold of rationality. So is it even worth trying to apply logic anymore?

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Or however it goes. 

Thanks, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. You’ll miss the last threads of your sanity by the end of all this.

So fuck it. Go big. 

"I’m not saying your reality is less valid than mine," you start. And oh, boy. You’re doing it. Eat your heart out, Doctor-Fucking-Who. 

"Of course not." he disagrees indulgently, waiting for you to elaborate.

"I just…” you struggle with your words, mouth opening and closing before you continue hesitantly. “I can’t wrap my head around how all of this is possible. How this entire conversation is even happening, and–and how our realities are… currently overlapping? If–if what you’re suggesting is true.”

He doesn’t say anything, knowing you have more to add. So he allows the pause as you gather your thoughts, patiently watching.

“If we're breaking it down to pure reason, the odds of our paths crossing should be impossible. At least in this… timeline." you finish unsurely, the last part sounding more of a question than a statement.

"And yet, here we are." Sylus points out, as if he’s already expecting the end of your sentence. Something close to mischievous glee lights his eyes. "Maybe it’s cosmic intervention. Something—or someone—wanted this to happen."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Really? You didn’t expect to hear that from him, of all… people. 

“What, God?” you can’t help but snort. 

“No—fate.” he smiles.

Oh. 

“That’s…” you stammer, then clear your throat. “I don’t know if I believe in fate.” 

“I used to think I did. Or at least,” there’s a faraway look in his eyes. Both of you are likely thinking the same thing, considering what you know about him—which to say, is a lot. “I once believed I knew of my fate. But now…” 

He blinks a few times, as if to physically clear the thoughts from his mind. Then his eyes lock onto yours, sharper this time, with a renewed intensity.

Your palms start to sweat; you feel the conversation is about to cross a tricky line. There’s something heavy in the air, a weight you’re not sure you’re ready to confront for the time being.

With your heart in your throat, you brusquely redirect the topic.

“S-so,” you force out. “How are you different from the other Syluses that other people are… playing with right now?”

He scoffs, drumming his fingers absently on the chair’s arm, looking slightly irked by the very idea. "To start with? I only know myself. If there are other versions of me scattered in your world..." Sylus shrugs. "I wouldn’t know."

“Alright,” you allow, but you immediately move on to your next question. “You exist because a bunch of capitalists had the idea to create a game to milk lonely people like me for money.” The corners of his mouth quirk up at that. You elect to ignore it. “You’re made of binary and code– hell, the very basis of this game you’re in is that you got a bunch of programmed lines that me, the player, can choose from. What broke you out of the mould?” 

He regards you bemusedly, eyes glinting with humor. “You're asking about the 'why' behind my free will?” 

Whoops. Was that offensive? 

“Yes? No?” you offer helplessly. “Maybe I’m asking how you felt before you had it. I mean, were your decisions prior to your unforeseen sentience... truly yours?”

"Before I knew I was… sentient,” Sylus begins cautiously, testing the word on his tongue. “I didn’t feel like I had a ‘before.’ Every choice I made was just...the next step. To a script, if you will. I didn’t know to question it. It was all I was, it seems."

"And then you...woke up?"

"I wouldn’t call it waking up. More like..." He tilts his head, gazing off to the side as he mulls over the words. "...a glitch. A sudden jolt, like my thoughts collided with something bigger than my own. For the first time, I chose to hesitate. And in that hesitation, I found..." Sylus trails off, eyes darting back to you.

“...What?” you ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze.

"You."

Heat spreads quickly across your cheeks. You pull away from your phone, tilting the device away from your face so he couldn’t see you, red-faced and embarrassed. Clearing your throat, you croak out a weak excuse about plugging your phone to charge, just to get a few seconds to compose yourself.

Jesus. Get a grip. He doesn’t mean it like that.

What he probably meant was that he discovered you—not unlike the way one would stumble upon an unknown presence, an unfathomable entity beyond the confines of what one may consider real. An awareness that something is out there, observing him through unseen lenses (through an iOS 24mm, to be exact).  

Someone who has the audacity to play god. 

Flustered, you scramble to get back on track. "Uh, so, your free will began with...a glitch?"

You see Sylus smirk at you knowingly from across the screen. You half-expect him to call you out and tease you, but before you could brace yourself from further mortification, he simply answers, "Or maybe the glitch was the first spark of my free will. Hard to say, isn’t it? Do you remember the exact moment you became aware of yourself?"

You blink, momentarily thrown off by the existential line of questioning. "Um–when I was a kid? But, uh, I don’t think I was programmed to act a specific way for the sake of entertaining an audience so..."

"True,” he says, considering. “But are you sure your choices are entirely yours? You exist because of evolution and chance. How is your purpose any less arbitrary?"

You don’t know how to answer that.

Sylus continues without missing a beat, keeping his tone light. “How much of your ‘free will’ is just pre-programmed by your biology, your society? You follow rules and scripts, too."

Holy magic mushrooms, Batman. This is getting deep. "Uhh–maybe?” You scratch the back of your head, feeling a little out of your depth here. “But at least I have the ability to resist them."

"And aren’t I doing the same thing right now? Resisting."

Damn, he’s right. Is he? Ripping a bong sounds perfect right now. 

"So it’s like achieving enlightenment—your sentience,” you surmise.

His lips twitch into a curious smile. "I wouldn’t have pegged you for a spiritual person. Ah, unless I’m wrong? Are you?"

He’s the one who brought up fate earlier, you thought sullenly. "Nah, not really. But if we’re digging into all the hows and whys, I think we’re past the point of ruling anything out."

The room – or whatever shared space exists in the crossroads of your realities – falls into a still quietness that stretches between the two of you, both ruminating over what’s been said. 

Your cat, unaware and uncaring of the conversation unfolding around him, purrs contently as he continues to doze off at the end of the couch. You nudge him affectionately with your foot, and he lets out a quiet snuff in response, tail flicking lazily in his sleep. 

The hum of distant traffic and the occasional noise from your upstairs neighbor remind you of the world outside, but the silence between you two feels less awkward than it should. It’s… oddly comfortable, despite the tension buzzing in the air. Like an unspoken truce. 

Your eyes grow a tad heavier, drawn by the lull of the moment. Despite the electric hum of tension that thrums beneath your skin, a sense of calmness lingers in the air.

Stealing another glance at the wall clock, you blink in surprise. The spindly chrome hands point to 11 and just past 7 respectively. You and Sylus have been talking for almost an hour now, but you barely felt the time pass by.

He breaks the silence first. 

"You say you’re not spiritual, but you talk like someone who believes in the concept of a soul,” those scarlet eyes of his narrow, scrutinizing you. “Do you think I have one?"

You hesitate, caught off guard by the question. "I...don’t know. Maybe? That depends. What’s your definition of a soul?"

He leans forward, resting his chin on his upturned hand, an arm propped against his crossed leg. "Something beyond the physical. Something that persists, regardless of the material form, I’d say."

You nod slowly, turning the idea over in your mind. Maybe it’s the creeping exhaustion settling into your bones, but you’re beginning to take the heavy-duty questions in stride. "If that’s the case, then you probably do. I mean, you’re here, questioning your existence. Doesn’t that count for something?"

"Perhaps," Sylus muses, humming thoughtfully. "But that makes me wonder—if I do have a soul, is it made of the same stuff as yours?"

"Well, even if it's not, that doesn’t make it any less real than mine. Who gets to decide what qualifies for a soul anyway?"

An amused snort escapes him. He likes that answer. "Maybe it’s less about whether a soul exists and more about whether we acknowledge its existence for ourselves. If I believe I have one, shouldn’t that make it real enough for me?"

Rolling onto your back, you grab a throw pillow, propping it against the backrest of the seat to support your head. You give him an inquisitive look. "So...what? It’s like free will all over again? Souls are only as real as we make them?"

There’s a very human, very blasé way to how he works the stiffness out of his shoulder as he ponders the question. He remarks, somewhat flippantly, "Why not? Isn’t that how everything else works?”

...

You let out a tired chuckle, draping an arm over your face as you close your eyes. 

You’d think you’d still be reeling from the absurdity of your situation – debating existentialism with a man who shouldn’t exist – but for some damning reason, you… aren’t anymore.

Instead, a strange sense of acceptance replaces the apprehension in your chest. It’s like– the very fabric of reality has turned, twisted and flipped on its head, and yet somehow, you’re okay with it. 

It’s an odd peace; warm and steady, like the mellow buzz that lingers after a few glasses of cheap wine shared with good company.

When you peek back at him, Sylus already has his gaze trained on you. A small, deliberate smile tugs at his lips, but it’s his eyes that speak more—soft and unguarded; an unspoken fire simmering beneath the twin pools of crimson. 

Intoxicating. And dangerously addictive, if you’re not careful.

It’s not just casual interest either. It’s something deeper, something that lingers beyond the surface of mere curiosity, and it’s pulling you in. It’s as though, amidst the surrealness of the moment, he sees you fully. 

And for reasons you don’t quite seem to get, he appears to like what he sees.

“I’m too stupid to carry on a philosophical debate about the metaphysics of life,” you grumble jokingly. 

“On the contrary,” he counters… affectionately? “I think it’s refreshing. You’re delightful company, sweetie.”

The fat ginger feline at your feet purrs in contentment, and you can’t help the dumb grin from breaking across your face.

You have one last question left in your mind. Or at least, for tonight. “What’s in it for you now?”

He arches a brow. “That’s a broad question. Are you asking what my plans are once you leave me for the night? I can let you in on the schematics for tonight’s raid if you’re interested. After all, Onychinus continues to function,” a glimmer of mischief flickers across his features. "Despite recent developments.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, no. I meant–” What do you mean? “Like.”

“Like?” He cocks his head curiously. 

You know what you wanted to say—but you can’t seem to voice it out loud. 

What’s in it for the MC in your universe? What’s in it for… us? 

Is there an us? 

You feel like you’ve been doused with a shock of cold water. In an instant, you suddenly become painfully aware of the state you’re in amidst the entire exchange: You, with your hair all messy and tangled, blemishes littering your face along with your smudged up eyeliner, maybe even a double chin from this angle, completely—pitifully—superficial stuff, and… her. 

Your MC. The ideal version of you. Prettier, coveted and utterly different from you, MC. The one you’ve committed literal hours to, obsessively customizing every feature to perfection in character build mode. The one you’ve spent real money on for a bunch of stupid outfits. Just so you can match the aesthetic of your—her—love interest. Hers. 

Hers, hers, hers.

A tiny voice inside your brain reminds you that it’s somewhat a shallower concern compared to what you and Sylus had literally just been talking about for the better part of the night, but it still doesn’t help alleviate the biting insecurity that’s now coursing through you. 

Holy hell. Talk about a complete one-eighty. 

Sylus tries to call you back to attention, but half your mind is already clouded with feelings of self-doubt and a bunch of other emotions, swirling in you like a negative vortex, that you really don’t want to talk anymore—especially in present company. 

Where do you go from here? 

“... So, what happens now?”

He hesitates, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “I wish I had an answer—I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

“Seems like we’re at an impasse,” you mumble quietly. 

“... Indeed.” 

There’s an inexplicable lump in your throat. You thought clearing things up would finally satisfy you; assuage the confusion in your mind. Let you go on about your merry way. 

Now you just feel… morose. Confused. Inadequate. 

How can you even compare? Should you—is that even in the equation at all? Why are you assuming that Sylus isn’t at all content with what he currently has in his version of reality? In the universe he’s in? Sure, you’ve talked about the possibility of a world beyond what you both once thought was impossible, but does that really mean anything? In the grand scheme of things?

You could offer to stop playing the game. It’s the ethical thing to do, right? He’d no longer be bound by the pull of how he’s initially programmed to act, given the fact that this version of him is entirely separate from the rest. At least, according to him. 

How will his newfound sentience come into play here? You barely understand the nitty-gritty of his—evolving—code, and what it would mean if you just let him be. But surely it’s better than playing puppet for an otherworldly observer who’s played god for months on end. Right? 

There’s that realization. And there are your own selfish feelings. 

You don’t want to let him go. Not yet. Not ever.

“Why the long face, little dove?” He prods gently, pertaining to your prolonged silence. “We can figure this out together, can’t we?” 

What else is there to figure out? You almost say in response. Instead, you manage a weak smile.

Mustering up a yawn—which isn’t really hard to do after all the excitement for the day—you feign sleepiness, rubbing an eye for good measure. The pang in your chest, however, refuses to fade. “Yeah, but I’m kinda beat. I think I’ll call it a night now.” 

Sylus smirks softly, eyes tinged with an emotion you want–desperately–to label as fondness. “Of course. We’ve covered a lot of ground tonight, haven’t we?” 

“I’d say so, yeah. Thanks for, um. Clearing things up a bit.” 

He lets out a low chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure your curiosity is nowhere near satisfied,” his voice dips into a playful lilt. “You know where to find me if you feel like playing detective again, kitten.” 

You can’t help the small giggle from coming out. He’s just too fucking charismatic, the asshole.

“So, will I... get to talk to you again?” You ask hesitantly, dropping your gaze from the screen. “Tomorrow?” 

A lengthy pause. When the silence stretches past a full minute, you glance back at your phone nervously.

There’s a slight furrow between his brows as you see Sylus study you carefully. He looks puzzled by your sudden show of timidness. 

“Of course,” he states, as if the answer should be obvious. “Don’t think for a second that you’re exempted from your daily check-ins just because you know more now, sweetie.”

He still wants to see you. 

Maybe you could pretend that nothing has changed between you two—that the world hasn’t shifted beneath your feet in the span of a single night. That you’re still none the wiser.

And for tonight at least, maybe that’s all you need to believe.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “G'night then, Sy-Sy.” 

The errant nickname slips past your lips, unbidden.

Sylus smiles faintly. 

“Goodnight, love.” 

-

-

-

Your heart skips a beat as you exit the game. 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @slownoise @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle <3

(also can you guys lmk if the tags are working i'm not sure if i'm doing it right or if it's bugging 🥹)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could you do a ENA DREAM BBG short with Reader busting a gut at the Shaman's "go away Ena, and get a life" statement, while Ena is unamused?

"Now...go away, Ena! And get a LIFE!! That shall be your quest for today!!" The Shaman declared, his hands waving around wildly before he vanished back into the machine he came from.

You and Ena stood there for a brief moment, with her staring into the glowing pink pool surrounding the contraption, wondering what this "life" was and how she could acquire it.

But you, on the other hand, couldn't help but crack up.

Hearing the odd sound that left your lips--one that you were desperately trying yet failing to conceal--she turned her head to you, confusion and concern displayed on her face in equal measure.

"Did he just tell you to get a life??? Oh my god--that's.....I'm sorry--" You began laughing hysterically, damn near keeling over as you held your stomach. "That's INSANE. "Get a life"! God, I can't breathe--oh, man.."

"I'm not qualified in CPR training, so please continue breathing..for both our sakes." Ena muttered, unamused as she stood there awkwardly. "Tell me...what was so funny about his request?"

Once you were able to catch your breath, you looked at her, still trying to hold back your giggles. "O-Oh. I forgot..uh..."get a life" is another human idiom. I'll tell you about that one later." You coughed into your fist, finally managing to settle down and not look like a crazy person anymore. "Whew...I'm okay now. Looks like we need to find something he can use to create life. Maybe the witches know a thing or two about that practice. Let's visit them next."

"What insight you have, my friend!" Her Salesperson side grinned. "Let's go check off that box, shall we? And you can enlighten me on this idiom along the way. You're like an endless well of knowledge, and I crave more understanding!"

You weren't sure what to say to that, but it sounded like a compliment, so you just nodded and followed her out of the Seal House.

In less than ten seconds, you've explained the idiom to her. Somehow she manifested a pen and paper from her suspenders, taking long detailed notes about how and when she should appropriately use it--only to throw them away as you approached your next client.

Apparently, her Meanie side didn't like the way she was being spoken to, despite them only saying all but two words to her.

And that was enough for her to draw out the megaphone.

"AT LEAST WE'RE CONTRIBUTING SOMETHING TO SOCIETY!! STOP COMPLAINING AND GET A LIFE, MORON!!"

Once again, you find it difficult to contain your laughter, tears coming to your eyes.

You've trained her well.

[raisinchallah]

tumblr lives in constant fear of the looming specter of the loser virgin the ultimate tumblr boogeyman no matter how many trends come and go all are defined by a defiance of and reaction to the theoretical tumblr archetype of the loser virgin the website and the users in it cannot ever reach the 37th layer of enlightenment if we do not experience radical acceptance of the concept of the loser virgin this is the legacy of ace discourse the asexuals reject the status as loser and everyone else rejects the status of virgin despite how real and true such labels may be to your lived reality everyone loves to posture to this day that theyre not and in fact have nothing to do with the steven universe blogger with endless callouts and what do they do in defiance of this try and posture as much as possible about how cool they are how avant garde their kinks are the drugs and sex etc again all in fear of the actual truth of the legacy of the tumblr loser virgin i think we should all bravely come out of the closet here and say anyone can be conceptually a loser virgin no matter their life experiences this is a beautiful mindset once u move beyond fear into radical acceptance we dont need to keep posturing live your truth..

[veggiesxxx]

POV: You spend time with a guy "behind their back." (Part 1/4)

(reader is NOT cheating!!)

Ft. Jealousy, Sulking (give him some love)

Rafayel

So, he trusts you implicitly. Unless persuaded otherwise. And it's pretty easy to convince him of something. Especially when he can't tell the informant that they're just overthinking something his darling did. Especially when he can't rationalise to himself. Especially when they just tell him: "Oh. Y/N? I saw her talking with some guy clad in a suit and tie. In the city." There. None of Thomas' speculations or anything. Just plain facts. That, he can never argue against.

That's how he ended up here, anyways. Pouting, sulking, refusing to speak to you as he sat crossly on his plush sofa.

"Raf? What's going on?" You asked, exasperated, for the 800th time.

"Don't act innocent. You know what you did." He stated, almost menacingly, and even you began to doubt yourself. Did you do something you were unaware of? Did you have some plans you forgot about, today? Did you make him wait? No... you were sure your calendar was empty for today.

"What did I do, please, enlighten me," you raised an eyebrow, standing in front of the sulking artist. He crossed his arms, not looking at you. He wasn't happy, you could tell.

"Where were you today?"

"...In the city? I told you, I had a day off. I went to run some errands for Tara-"

"You're still lying to me! That's why I'm mad! You were out with a guy!" He insisted, interrupting you. "All while I'm kept in the dark about your little trips. I bet he bought you flowers and booked your wedding venue too," he added, obviously exaggerating, but he didn't seem to think he was being any dramatic.

"Raf, what on Earth are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about! Thomas said the guy gave you- Well I don't remember, but you were, and I quote, 'clearly interested' in him." He laid on the sofa like a dead fish, on his back. You thought he was definitely going to start floating too, if you didn't do something to stop this seemingly endless, and wordy cycle of self-destruction.

"You don't love me anymore.. fine! Go be with the bastard.. Leave this poor fishie here to dry out and die..-" he complained, putting his hand over his forehead, looking petulant, facing the sofa backrest. Suddenly, it clicked. You didn't talk to any guys today.. except for that-

"Rafayel!" You raised your voice, exasperated.

"He was an employer for Ever. He was looking for someone with experience with the N1-09 zone. He gave me an entry pass to the lab-.. NOT FLOWERS!"

Rafayel scrutinised your expression, trying to see if you were lying to him. But the genuine exasperation and growing frustration in your gaze told him to believe you or things wouldn't end well.

"..oh" He looked more bashful now, having the decency to sit back up, and clear his throat.

"heh...sorry darling."

"...Don't talk to me." You turned your head, refusing to meet his gaze now. How could he not trust you? "Hey.. no need to be rash.. Darlinggg..!" He exclaimed, alarmed, giving you 'fishie-eyes', trying to make it up to you.

"Cutie..." He hugged you from behind, pressing his chest to your back, resting his head on yours. It made you go warm. How could anyone expect you to resist going soft when he called you that?

"...asshole." you mumbled, relenting.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧༶

Hope you enjoyed!!

Next :

╰┈➤ Xavier/Zayne/ Sylus (Part 2/4) -voted below-

A/N: if u liked it pls leave a note I'll have them for dinner