#THIS ISNT A SKIN ITS MARKETING

[jils-things]

idv is a Horror game

[tarrbunny]

Anyway I'm really worried about the direction fortnite is going in with all the metaverse shit Tim Sweeney is pushing

Especially with the new awful rating system for skins

[rawme-price]

Ghost who swears hes coping after johnnys death.

He does a good job of it. Of pretending to be fine. But johnny follows ghost whenever he goes.

Ghost cuts into a fresh loaf of bread, and the smell of johnnys skin wafts out with the steam. Ghost runs a bath and the water splashed to the tune of johnnys laugh. Ghost turns on the car radio, or steps into a grocery market, or walks into the lounge, and its always *always* johnnys favourite song playing.

Johnny, who isnt here anymore. Who's haunting ghost in every step. Ghost feels johnny in the air around him before he sees the living. Gaz will wave at ghost and smear johnnys face. Price will speak to ghost and his voice chops the silence filled by johnny.

But its fine. Ghost is coping. Hes safe for the field. Just let him hold a gun or a knife, johnny will be there too.

And if ghost gets a bit lost in the mission, if simon tries to pull to the surface, then the blood will look just like johnnys did.

[allisluv]

saved by the bell.

summary: finnick helps reader during a sensory overload (based off a request i can't find in my inbox </3)

pairing: finnick o'dair x wife!reader

content warnings: post-rebellion, implied neurodivergent!reader, sensory overload + overstimulation, mention of finnick's mutt attack and as a result finnicks scars, reader has hair long enough to tie back, reader accidentally snaps at finnick but it isnt intentional and she does apologise and finnick forgives, fluff, mention of noise-cancelling headphones, comfort, teasing, fluff, not edited (what a surprise)

a/n: been a while since i posted on here, life was hectic i'm sorry! this is based off my own experience during a sensory overload, but not all are the same!

To mark the one year anniversary of the war ending and to commemerate the lives lost during the rebellion, you and Finnick send out invites asking all of the surviving victors to visit District Four for a small get-together. Its nothing fancy, just finger food and conversation. A celebration of life, Finnick calls it.

Everyone RSVP’s to let the two of you know that they will be attending, and it doesnt take long for Finnick to start planning activites and dragging you along for weekly trips to the farmer’s market to buy supplies for the party.

On the morning of the party, you realise that it’s going to be rough from the get go. Finnick is up with the sun, as he so usually is, and you wake not long after him. The bed is empty without your husband by your side, and it makes your heart ache with loneliness.

You turn onto your side and wince when a stream of sunlight drifts in through a gap in the curtain. Your head feels like it’s going to explode at the brightness, and you’re quick to bury your face into Finnicks pillow. You breathe in his scent in an effort to ground yourself, but all it does it send your senses into overdrive.

A sad, pitiful whine gets caught in the back of your throat as you roll onto your back, glaring at the specks of paint on the ceiling. “Why today?” You grumble, burying your face in your hands as you will yourself to hold it together, if not for yourself, for Finnick and the others.

It takes a while, but eventually, you gather the courage to stand. The floorboards feel cool beneath your feet, and it is such a stark contrast from the sweat pouring out of your pores that all it does it make you want to rip your skin clean off your body.

Sucking in a deep breath, you shuffle towards your closet and begin rooting through it in search of something light to wear. Finnick and you had went shopping for new outfits specifically for today, but the prospect of wearing that particular fabric right now makes you want to claw your eyes out of their sockets, so you settle on a sundress that you have previously deemed as safe to wear when you’re in the midst of a sensory overload.

Once you’re dressed, you tie your hair back out of your face so it doesn’t stick to the back of your neck. Your skin is clammy and damp, and realistically, you really should have taken a shower, but even thinking about it makes your frame hum with irritation.

You flap your hands in an effort to rid yourself of the nervous energy that has taken refuge in your body. When it does little to soothe your weary mind, you plant your hands on your hips and let out a frustrated huff.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by your husband’s voice calling you from the kitchen. “I’m coming!” You call, smoothing out the creases in your sundress before steeling yourself for today, and slipping out of your bedroom. You’re still in your bare feet when you stomp down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Finnick is balancing on a kitchen chair by the entranceway, a roll of triangular-shaped bunting in one hand and a box of thumb tacks in the other. He arches an eyebrow at your foul mood, and your stomping. “Everything okay, angel?”

You brush him off with a dismissive wave of your hand. “I’m fine. What did you need?”

Finnick doesn’t miss the edge to your voice, but he decides not to push it. “Could you hold these thumb tacks and hand them to me when I need them? Or were you busy?” He asks, giving you an out if you need it.

“No, I can help,” You insist, already moving to stand beside him. “Just be careful on that chair. Its decades old.” You warn as you take the thumb tacks. Finnick starts stringing the bunting up along the wall of the archway, and you let out a sigh. “Why do we need bunting, anyway? Dont you think it’s somewhat over the top?”

“Look, I didn’t survive those mutts not to celebrate today.” He teases. “After all those god-damn physio sessions, I deserve bunting if I want bunting.” He pauses. “And Jo’s gonna ask the question you just asked, so you better have my back when she does.”

You roll your eyes fondly and relent. “Alright, alright. If you want bunting, we can have bunting.” You hand him a thumb tack and roll your shoulders back uncomfortably. Chicken curry is stewing in the slow-cooker, and it’s making the kitchen stuffy with heat.

Finnick’s always been observant, and he catches the small movement of your shoulders almost instantly. “Are you sure you’re okay, angel?”

“Mhm.” You shrug non-comitedly and pass him one more thumb tack.

He doesn’t seem convinced, and the second the bunting is secured, he hops off the chair and has a hand on your shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing. Come on, angel. Talk to me.”

As if on cue, the doorbell goes and you let out a relieved sigh— you would have likely cracked and admitted the truth if he kept pushing.

Saved by the bell.

“I’ll get it,” You say, pecking his cheek and moving quickly to answer the front door with Finnick hot on your heels.

The door swings open and Johanna struts inside, shooting a smug look over her shoulder at Annie and Katniss. “See? Told you it would be open.” She brushes past both of you into the kitchen. “Oo. Something smells nice.”

Katniss rolls her eyes, and Peeta nudges her in the ribcage, prompting her to say hello. Haymitch, Annie and Enobraia all exchange greetings with the two of you as you usher them inside.

“You know, you should really keep that door locked,” Beetee says as he envelopes you in his arms. “Did you know there are approximately three thousand burgarlies a day? Thats two every minute. And I bet you more than half of them are due to people leaving their doors unlocked.” He explains nonchalantly as he follows the others into the kitchen.

You rub the back of your neck anxiously, feeling your skin crawl at all of the physical contact you had just endured in the last thirty seconds.

Finnicks eyes land on you and he inches closer to you, but doesn’t touch. “What’s going on with you, angel?” He asks gently. You open your mouth to brush him off but he cuts you off. “And don’t feed me another lie about you being fine. I’m able to read you like an open book. Just tell me whats going on in that pretty little head of yours, okay?”

You grit your teeth in an effort to stay calm. You’re not angry at him, you’re just overwhelmed. Its all too much; the noise from the kitchen, the lights, the heat, Johanna calling out into the hallway about the bunting, the smells of the different food. Which is why you don’t mean to snap, but you do. “Just get off my back, alright? I said I was fine.” You snap, brushing past him into the eye of the storm— the kitchen.

Finnick blinks, momentarily stunned by your outburst, until it dawns on him and he follows after you. He pulls you to one side from where you’re pretending to listen to Enobaria. “Excuse me. We need to talk.”

“What—”

“Now.” Finnick says firmly, but not unkindly, as he steers you by the elbow back into your shared bedroom. He closes the door once you’re both inside, and leads you to sit down on the edge of the bed. He crouches down in front of you, resting his hands on his knees, and asks, “Are you having a sensory overload?” You avert your gaze and that’s all the answer he needs. “Do you need space or do you want me to hold you?”

Your bottom lip trembles and you clamp your teeth into it to stop it from wobbling. “Can you hold me?”

Thats all the confirmation your husband needs. He sits cross legged on the floor and tugs you into his lap. “Loosely or tightly?” He murmurs into your hairline.

“Tightly.” You answer. “Please.”

Finnick tightens his hold on you and presses a kiss to your forehead as your breathing starts to even out and you begin to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble.

“For what?” Finnick asks, kissing your temple once more.

“For snapping at you. It wasn’t fair.”

“It wasn’t,” Finnick agrees. “But you were overwhelmed, and you were stressed. I forgive you. No hard feelings, alright?”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Do you want to come back outside? We can get you your noise cancelling headphones, that way it might be easier to deal with the noise. How does that sound, hm?”

You hesitate. “Johanna’ll make fun of me.”

“Johanna makes fun of everyone,” Finnick points out.

“Fair point, well made.”

“But if she says anything, I’ll fight her.” He cradles your face in his scarred hands and giving your nose a playful tap.

“Will you win, though?” You tease.

“You know it, angel.”

[zonatcannibalism]

The huntrix/saja boys ships are very interesting to me, narratively.

The saja boys prey on insecurity. We see this in their lyrics and their whole persona, really. They make the listener feel special, while reminding them they wont get that feeling anywhere else. Their songs are never about themselves like the huntrix songs are, theyre about the listener. The fans. How the fans are special to them. This is because their goal as a band isnt actually to make music, but to take away the power huntrix have. But its also a parallel to irl boy bands like that. These type of bands, made of young hot men, are made to be desirable. Theyre meant to fulfill every fantasy their audience, usually teenage girls, has. This is why fanfiction about these bands is the most popular type of rpf- the marketing of these things is meant to make the target audience imagine a fantasy world, where they are desirable by these hot dreamy guys. It objectifies the band members, and lets the listener turn them in their head into whatever they want. But this fantasising comes with being confronted with the fact that this is not realistic, and irl someone like the saja boys will never fall in love with you because they saw you in the crowd. The relationship between the saja boys and the listeners is one that makes the listener fantasize about a life without the things they dislike about themselves, a life where they can be someone the saja boys fall in love with. Compared to girl groups that target the same demographic, like huntrix, they are polar opposites. Sometimes they talk to the listener, but most of the time their lyrics are about themselves. Boy bands are meant to be desirable, but girl bands are meant to be relatable- often in an empowering way. Huntrix's songs are always about how cool and hot and powerful they are. Every huntrix song is a self empowerment anthem, and this is their appeal. Sure, they have more valnurable songs, but they always lead on a positive note about embracing your flaws and shit like that. Huntrix songs are meant to make you love yourself and your flaws, saja boys songs are meant to make you imagine a world where your flaws do not exist, or are desirable and socially acceptable. Huntrix, as artists, are all about loving the things in yourself that everyone else dislikes but the saja boys are all about imagining a different reality where they are liked. The saja boys make you dependent on them, huntrix make you feel like you dont need anyone but yourself.

And this is so fucking beyond perfect because the whole movie is about insecurity, and mainly about how huntrix ARE insecure. Rumi is a whole fucking mess that we know of, but zoey and mira also struggle a lot with insecurity. And the thing that helps them most IS huntrix. Being a part of huntrix helps them embrace themselves and get over their fear of being disliked. Before huntrix started, zoey and mira were in the same place that rumi was during the movie- hiding themselves, ashamed. Huntrix is the thing that helped them become confident in their own skin.

But insecurities are never really gone. Even though zoey and mira are doing well because they unlocked their self love arc earlier than rumi did, they still struggle. And thats EXACTLY what the shipping of them with the saja boys is all about. Because the saja boys are not just targeting the fans insecurities- they are targeting zoey, mira and rumis insecurities. The rumi and jinu pairing is pretty obvious- hes a demon, shes insecure about being a demon. Mystery is literally all about being someone that is ridiculously quiet and dosent have a big personality- what zoey wishes she was. Romance abd abby are fun and kinda feminine and cutsy, which are the exact things mira was always told she should be. The girls pairing with each saja boy isnt accidental, its meant to put them in the same place as the fans- wishing they were someone else and feeling like their self love is dependent on the saja boy.

This is why the saja boys succeed. They arent just taking away the fans, but targeting the thing that brings huntrix together- their self confidence and love of the parts of themselves that theyre told are undesirable. This is why the saja boys manage to get underneath their skin, by taking away their self assurance and making them dependent on the saja boys's love, just like their do to their fans. Anyway yeah short analysis

[circle--of--confusion]

Wip Wednesday!

Cardinal Copia X fem!Reader

Plot: You work for the marketing team and have proposed a new merch idea. Unfortunately, Copia isnt too keen right away. (Its a sex toy and he is very confused) later on he catches you using it and, well, things get a bit more heated.

Tags for the snippet: language, sexual themes

~~~~~~~~~

And he thought the plushia was the weirdest thing.

You fake cough into your fist before defending the proposed item.

“Cardinal. We’ve done some research after noticing a handful of spirited comments regarding, ah, you, and we think this could be a market to tap into.” You gesture to the offending thing.

Quinn, the head of marketing chimes in, “There was a lot of success during Papa Secondo’s time with the band when we sold the Phallos Mortuus.”

Copia leans back into his chair. It squeaks too loud into the unbearably quiet room. His eyes flick from the end of the table to the two back down to the table.

He shakes his head. “This isn’t another Phallos Mortuus. This is a grinding mat with a fake nose sticking up from it.”

“If it makes you feel better, it’d modeled after your nose,” you say.

“Sathanas!” Copia leans back exasperated

“Are you not happy fans like you? That they might be attracted to you?” Quinn asks.

Copia straightens up in his chair. “Of course I like it! I try to make sure I bring the, eh, sex appeal for the American audience.” He seductively raises his eyebrows twice. “They seem to enjoy it, those repressed fucks.”

You cross your arms. “And you’ve definitely received an impressive welcome from the fans everywhere. They chant and scream for you!”

He wonders in that moment if you were one of those fans chanting his name. Copia picked up on a feeling from you during the explanation of the sex toy. Your finger stroked down the bridge of the nose a bit too delicately.

He tsks and waves his hands. “A dildo is one thing. This is different. How would we know it would be enjoyable? Does the nose even feel good? It looks uncanny.”

“It's just supposed to act as a nose. But maybe we could modify it to be a bit less… realistic.” Quinn nods her head.

That appears to satisfy the Cardinal and he nods back. The meeting ends shortly after you jot down the notes from Copia and Quinn. She’d given you the task of reworking the mat to be less nosy as she put it.

The toy sat in your office on the desk. You stared at it, thinking of ways to improve it. The idea had been completely your own, sparked from a stray ember in your brain when scrolling through comment after comment from fans lusting over Copia. The constant mention of his strong nose, how it might feel across their skin – how it might feel in more intimate places – made your thoughts run wild.

[dontbelasagne]

wasnt expecting that much of a response to my previous post about rtd and the doctor. its mostly interesting in how rtd frames queerness as part of the narrative. there is a certain perspective that surrounds being outwardly gay, with club culture and hedonism being at the forefront of expression. it arguably is a generational divide between the environment in which rtd had to grow up and survive in versus the time we live in now where there is a multiplicity of lived experiences alongside blatant attempts at reinstating exclusionary laws and social norms against the queer community. myself, a trans woman of colour, growing up as an older gen z throughout the early 2000s saw a lot of language explicitly used to denigrate and position queerness as lesser, dirty, and disruptive. we then got to see our community and culture taken as a marketing opportunity by awful capitalists, and now have to see a return to just outright hate. queerness doesnt just function as an identifying marker, or a behavioural praxis, and rtd himself knows this, which makes his framing even more confusing.

especially when taken into consideration that Ncuti Gatwa, a queer person of colour, was chosen for the role. rtd has always had a shaky foundation when it came to writing people of colour (thinking of what you deserved Martha, and now Belinda), where our experiences with implicit discrimination and microaggressions have always been dismissed, or seen as too much to deal with because to solve that would be to examine your own biases when it came to intersecting identities and privilege in a colonialised patriarchal world. dot and bubble did this excellently, there wasnt any slurs thrown about or violence enacted to dramatize harm, it was the simple rejection of help on the basis of the Doctors skin colour. the anguish, frustration, and just tiredness that came with Ncuti Gatwa screaming in response is our experience. just recognise our humanity, extend your empathy towards us. it would have made for a brilliant introspective look into the doctor as a character, how even though they had always been an alien amongst us, now they have to face the invisible barrier and dehumanization that comes with being human. they've survived universal endings and cataclysmic war, but could they survive not being allowed to feel normal, to simply be?

this isnt to say that rtd is wrong to characterise the doctor in such a way, but i think in the social ties between doctor who and the queer community there was already a recognisable nonconformity with the doctors gender/sexuality and positioning that on any binary metric ends up feeling reductive (this includes all the awful attempts at making the doctor a 'womaniser' - looking at you moffat).

part of the magic that is the doctor, and gallifrayans themselves, is their nature of changing and growing and how this juxtaposed with the attachment to rigid social and biological laws they imposed on themselves. it made sense with that being one of the things the doctor themself ran from - a society that would rather sink with their definitions intact than see a way forward with recognising difference and nuance. it has always been the wonderful tension that is underlying this show constantly - and would have worked brilliantly with the now almost 70 years of history we have with it. how do we frame what's valuable? how do we use language to communicate entertainment and character? why is it so important now to examine the way in which we utilise nostalgia?

[orphiclovers]

as an anorexia fetishist I feel like it’s my duty to correct some of y’all on some cold hard facts. First of all, being malnourished as a child or teen does not automatically make you skinny because life isnt sims 4. it does happen, but only in rare cases, usually in combination with some kind of chronic illness that fucks with the metabolism that the parents arent properly accounting for ...otherwise we're talking literal starvation-level neglect, like being locked in a basement and not fed for weeks to make you visibly bony.

And no matter how much fanon loves to exaggerate the mistreatment KDJ suffered from his relatives into literal supervillain shit that just wasn’t the case. Neglect? Sure and canon! But not to the level where he was wasting away from lack of food. I know plenty of people who didn’t have proper or regular meals growing up due to family or financial situations and their body weight was still completely average or even overweight throughout all of their lives

cause malnutrition in most cases causes non sexy issues like weak immune systems or vitamin deficiency related problems. most people massively underestimate just how severe malnutrition has to be to actually stunt someone’s growth in a visable way. it has to be war or famine level of extreme which most abuse and neglect cases dont reach before someone intervenes. you cant TELL someone is malnutritioned just by looking at them 95% of the time!!! its an invisible illness!! theres a reason even the majority of anorexics arent visibly underweight as media would have you believe

and especially in boys, puberty is a hell of a drug. A lot of guys still shoot up in height even if they lack some nutrients because genetics are doing most of the heavy lifting when it comes to height and body mass. if hes short with narrow shoulders, he was already always going to be short with narrow shoulders which is FINE and you dont need to justifying it with some excuse. it explains itself! (purely from personal experience everybody who I knew who was starving ages 11-18 is like 185+ cm tall its freakish)

also maybe let’s stop with the whole “he skips meals so he has a snatched waist” thing. That’s not how bodies work. even actively skipping meals as an adult doesn’t give you some dainty anime boy waistline. rather than sexyness it just leads to fatigue, poor concentration, slowed metabolism, increased risk of particular types of diseases and mental illness etc. so if you want to explore the consequences of poverty and food insecurity go ahead! its a very interesting topic! but dont start and stop the discussion at "hes super short and has a sexy skinnyyy waist you could wrap your hands around🥺 poor baby" that shit is vile

there is actually a REAL explanation as to the reason the Webtoon drew KDJ, YJH, HSY, YSA etc with identical twig waists and thigh gaps and pale skin and sorry, it has nothing to do with their backstory or characterization or the story

most webtoons of this genre especially are designed to reach a broad demographic of readers and make profit and part of that is sticking to safe designs and not including any features that arent conventionally attractive and migh turn off someone from reading. like ugly faces or fatness or darker skintones, especially for characters with a lot of screentime. thats just the industry standard baby

marketability is more important than good character designs that actually communicate something. they even chose not to include the one feature everyone in orv WAS described as having - being absolutely covered in a shitton of scars on their faces and hands because its the fucking apocalypse. but that would be too "ugly". and I know for a fact most of y'all really WOULDNT read orv if the protagonists were ugly, so are they really WRONG to be worried about losing out?

there is a reason why the FOURTH most used tag on orv fanfiction is "pretty kim dokja" at a whopping 1166 fics tagged and counting. cause you really really need to make sure no one EVER accuses you of being emotionally invested in a character thats not attractive🤢🤮

so yeah. thats the only reason their designs look like kpop idols. its definitely not to show kdjs mistreatment or poverty or whatever. stop trying to give webtoon credit for things they didnt do

[aetherawasneverhere]

⋆˚｡⋆✧˚ study breaks

Summary: the sweetest “study sesh”

Pairings: ethan landry x reader. established relationship. mid-plus size!reader. Au! where ethan isnt ghostface

warnings: fluff, so much fluff, reader worship bro, ethan being down bad thats it

word count: 575

notes: i'm actually in love with ethan landry and i feel like he'd be the most affectionate boyfriend (if he wasnt a psychopathic killer </3)

you had invited ethan over to your dorm room so you could study together for economics after you ended up missing a few of the lectures. 

ethan truly was the best boyfriend in the world to you, putting so much effort to re-teach you every single thing you had missed. he didn't want you failing your classes after all. 

however about 3 hours into the studying, its growing painfully clear that ethan was struggling to keep his hands to himself. there weren't even sexual intentions behind his actions, he just wanted to be touching you, holding you. 

its something you picked up during your relationship, he was clingy. and its not like you minded, you were flattered really. after years of considering no man would ever love you because you aren't those skinny models, a nerdy boy walks into your life and turns it all around for you.

to ethan you were the most beautiful human on earth, practically glowing anywhere you want. first lecture of the morning where you looked a mess? glowing. going to the market in your pjs? to die for. bed head? he could eat you alive.

which is why he ended up curling on your lap mid study session, his arms hugging your squishy waist protectively as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. he was surprisingly light, legs draped over across from yours. 

the ac hummed through the air, sending a wave of cool through the air that contrasted ethan’s warmth on you. it blended with the quiet song playing over the speakers on your night stand. my bed was messy with scattered books and papers, your laptop sitting untouched next to the highlighters. the warm light coming from the lamp on my night stand casted shadows upon us and highlighted ethan’s curly hair just perfectly. it really felt like your own little corner of the world in times like this. 

ethan’s hands caress up your sides, his palm feels warm against your skin. his weight on you felt like a blanket of comfort.

his hand sweeps across your tummy, making you freeze for a few seconds. ethan notices this, lifting his head from your neck to look you in the eyes. you don't say anything for a couple of seconds, only pressing your free hand against your stomach as if to flatten it unconsciously. 

this makes ethan’s heart ache, he takes your hand and lifts it to his lips; pressing a tender kiss on the skin on your knuckles. “don't do that, hon…” he whispers under his breath.

ethan is not the best at comfort, not knowing how to find the words to say what he wants to say to you. so instead he begins to trail playful kisses up your arm, not stopping on your shoulder and continuing up to your neck and your jaw; which earns giddy chuckles from you.

he swiftly lays you on the bed, his firm chest thats covered by the polo shirt he always wears hovering over you. one of his hands caress your sides, your thighs, your tummy, as if he wants to commit every single curve and edge to memory.

just pure, raw adoration in his eyes as if you were a goddess to be worshiped.

and worship you, he will. “...you're so beautiful…” he finally whispers

[fishfuloffist]

"yOuR iDoL iS fOr RuMi" NO you absolute CLOWNS its about how gwi-ma manipulates people AND its about sasaengs/toxic fandom

literally the first lines: "keeping you in check / keeping you obsessed / play me on repeat 끝없이 in your head" the whole saja boys scheme started so that jinu could get the memories of his colossal fuckup erased. you know, the ones that gwi-ma uses to keep him in check?

"you know im the only one wholl love your sins / feel the way my voice gets underneath your skin" hmm! i wonder who in this movie is literally a voice in your head and preys on shame and regret! you might have irreparably fucked up, and everything that went wrong is all your fault, but at least youre useful to someone! maybe if youre useful enough, he can fix you. he wont.

gwi-ma makes deals with desperate people and cashes in for his own benefit when the time comes. "living in your mind now / too late cause youre mine now / i will make you free when youre all a part of me" THESE ARE NOT LOVE SONG LYRICS. GWI-MA IS GOING TO EAT YOU.

and lets not forget that the WHOLE MOVIE is a metaphor for the dogshit way the kpop industry treats idols!! "dont let it show, keep it all inside / the pain and the shame, keep it out of sight" youre not a person, youre a marketable product, so you have to be perfect At All Times but be relatable to fans and dont even THINK about boundaries or a healthy work/life balance!

what about "빛이나는 fame 계속 외쳐 im your idol / thank you for the pain cause it got me going viral" or "your obsession feeds our connection / 이 순간 give me all your attention"? sasaeng fans stalk idols! its a disgusting violation of privacy but hey, youre famous! and those fans just love you so much. arent you popular? isnt it great? dont you feel appreciated? are your doors and windows locked?

and the last lines? "watch me set your world on fire / 내 황홀의 취해 you can't look away / no one is coming to save you" this is about The Literal Apocalypse. between the lyrics, the color scheme, how the saja boys are in their demon forms, and the fact that dies irae, the sinister motif to end all sinister motifs, is referenced at the beginning? sure. your idol is definitely for rumi.

[lezarus]

i dont rly have skin in the game here bc i live for the thrill of being baited one last time but personally i don’t think it makes any sense to be like oh the marketing is baity but the show isnt bc baby its all one whole beautiful world

[nephilejon]

a list of my rin okumura headcanons 💙

(in no particular order) (also there are spoilers)

ok smart fellas and fart smellas i have so many headcanons that i have finally decided to share today. this isnt gonna be like romantic stuff cause thats an oversaturated market. most of these headcanons are gonna about rin's life and stuff that i feel hasnt really been expanded upon :3

on that note, i love this man so much so here we go

-rin isn't used to his body after he first awakens. for the first few weeks, his tail causes him to have trouble balancing. at first, he finds that tucking it around his torso helps him find balance, but it becomes really uncomfortable after a while. basically the same feeling as one's back being hunched over for a long time, since his tail is connected to his spine. as he grows more comfortable with himself, he finds his center of balance and feels a lot better to have his tail free.

-as well as struggling with his new tail, rin constantly (and accidentally) bites his lips with his much sharper teeth. ouch

-rin's body temperature is slightly above average. he doesnt have to wear thick clothing during winter because he's already warm enough. when touched, his skin has a similar warmth to a hot cup of tea <3 or a pumpkin spice latte

-when he has leftovers he doesnt microwave them, instead he breathes a little bit of fire, just enough to heat the food up

-each time his hair turns white, his black hair ever so slightly gains white strands. when he notices it for the first time, he's insecure of it and plucks any white strands he sees. eventually it becomes too much so he starts dying his hair black.

- (this one is basically canon but whatever) rin's second awakening causes him to have 2 split personalities. like its not even demon related, he just straight up has a personality disorder now. after kurikara first breaks and he almost hurts his friends, and his big fight with yukio, he is constantly worried that his other self will come out at any time.

-hes embarrassed by his horns and doesnt like that theyre so small (go big or go home right?)

-if he practices, he can control any demonic element, like how satan fought everyone during the main fight.

-he has a strong relationship with the spirit element, due to being related to an azazel clone. he also has an affinity for time and space, as shown when he rips open the space where mephisto hid his heart

-he really loves making indian food and curries

-big fan of shonen jump, reads bleach, one piece, and tegami bachi

-pretends he doesnt, but he likes romance manga. favorites include: kamisama kiss inuyasha, blue flag, and many others

-thought his confession to shiemi would be like a romance manga

-he doesnt like wearing shoes

-since fully awakening, his body doesn't age. he will outlive his friends as well as yukio.

-he likes fishing

aaaand thats about it FOR NOWWWW! i have some other headcanons tucked away that i'll save for another post and ill also come up with some more. hope y'all like them 🦅✨

[afriendofblahaj]

so yesterday i posted this poll asking if i should write yuri based on my dnd character backstory, and while the poll isnt closed yet, last night i could see the direction it was going (overwhelmingly yes), and i started to write the yuri as a break from homework. ill be posting updates as I make progress, here is the first!

YURI UPDATE #1:

Next update

Tw: Violence, some child abuse

This is my first attempt at writing anything not for a class or application, so please be nice, but I would love any feedback, positive or negative on my writing, id like to improve.

If you would like to be added to the tag list just ask! Ill be posting progress as i write it, and then posting the finished story when i am done, so if you'd like to read it all at once and avoid spoilers, the story is under the cut, and ill make a post once its complete.

“Ding” “Ding” “Ding.” The bells chime through the town square, ringing loudly down the alleys between the small houses making up the village. The sound echoes off the stone houses and cobbled streets before coming to rest in a small blacksmith shop on the outskirts of town, knocking a bit of dust off the window sills and sending rats skittering about. As if on queue, the clouds slid to the side, and a narrow band of sun cast through the thin window up near the ceiling, the dusty beam of light landing right on the pillow of a small mattress perched in a corner. A blanket shoots up to come between the sunlight and the face resting on the pillow, but the sound of the bell arrives at Sienna’s ears as she rolls back and forth, feeling the wakefulness slowly creep into her bones. She gently props herself up on her aching arms, and slumps back against the wall, leaning her head back in defeat as the bell continues to blast sound through her ears. Her shoulders slide down again slightly as she looks over her battered arms, gently going over each wound and shrinking further inside herself as she remembers why they are there. She slowly peels back the bandage wrapped around her upper right forearm frustrated that the 5 cm gash isnt healed yet, but at least the skin had stretched across the open wound, leaving pinkish scar tissue, and keeping even more blood from leaking out of the already stained and soaked bandage. Sienna tossed the bandage to the side, leaving it on the ground for the rats to lick up the blood, and tried to find a pose at least resembling comfort, but her entire body groaned in protest, every surface covered in some kind of wound, internal or external (or often both). No sooner than she found the position most agreeable than an empty watering pail slammed into her head, giving her a gash above the eyebrow, and more insultingly (she was used to the pain) tore her favourite blanket as it got caught between the can and the bed frame. A laugh drifted from across the house, and Sienna’s mother sneered loudly “Didn't mean to be that accurate. Water the fucking turnips before you head to the ring, your father is taking them to the market next week, we need the gold after you stole that goddamn pendant.” 

Sierra, already pissed at being hit in the head, knew better than to say it out loud, but inside she was fuming. She hated the reminder that she had to go to the ring today, and besides, she didn’t steal the pendant, she simply gave the raven who flew in the window a treat every day, and looked the other way when it grabbed a bit of shiny metal from the shop. It wasn't her fault that a bird deserved a trinket more than her parents did, but it sure was her who would get blamed for its loss.

With a determined sigh, she rolled out of bed, and slowly pulled on her trousers, wincing as her hand scraped against a bruise on her knee, a cut on her thigh, a torn muscle, but she was able to pull them up in the end. Her fingers fighting the strained tendons, she tied the trousers, and began to pick through her chest for a blouse, but all of them were torn and tattered, so she grabbed the roll of bandages and wrapped them around her chest in a few twirls, besides, the bandages felt better on her wounds anyways. Once she was dressed, she dropped to the floor to do her daily pushups, combing her hair with one hand while she carefully balanced on the other, pushing herself up and down. She may have hated her strength and the damage it caused, but Sienna sure as hell couldn't afford to let herself be weak, so she continued to push herself through the strenuous workout she designed herself, pushing herself until sweat dripped from her short hair into her eyes, and running in rivulets down her back, coating her biceps. When she finally felt run ragged, she pushed herself to do 5 more sets, collapsing back onto her bed when she finally let herself be done for the morning. She knew that she couldn’t relax for long, so she pulled herself up on shaky arms just in time, hobbling to her feet and lifting the pail that was thrown at her face just as she heard steps approaching her bed from around the corner. She didn’t think anything was going to happen, but she readied her hands anyways, tensing on the balls of her feet, ready to spring into action as her mom rounded the corner, and snapped “There you are, you should be halfway out the door by now, get moving Sienna, we don't have time for you to sit around on your lazy ass.”

Sienna let her shoulders drop, the berating wasn’t fun but it was far from the worst that she expected from her mother coming around the corner after she took too long in the mornings, so she counted it as a win, and quickly hurried to the kitchen to snap up whatever food she could find, in this case some bread from dinner the night before and a bit of soft cheese she had stashed in a cupboard her parents rarely checked. Spreading the cheese onto the bread after warming the latter over the already hot furnace, she bit softly into it to hold it in her teeth as she picked up the broom leaning against the wall, slipped the trowel she made years ago into her waistband, and dropped an extra roll of bandages into her pocket. Sienna mumbled goodbyes to her father, who grunted but barely looked up from the red hot metal he was working into chain links on the anvil.

Tag List (ive added everyone who showed interest on the poll, if youd like to be removed from the tag list please let me know):

@alicethethreshershark @useless-transbian @shark-tranny @theasexualagent @bikindashyandreadytocry @toppettehat @twohundredfiftynine @spaghettihell @thesillytransgirlnova @lostshulkerbox

[eldest-daughters]

(Alright yall, baring my soul here and letting you know DRAWING ISNT MY THING (im dead fckn serious DONT LAUGH AT ME)) (i also had fun w it, montana, its ok to enjoy things yes ur right montana thank you for looking out fr me)

Buuuut I did create another visual for my rock branch/pop poppy trolls fic to help you imagine a bit what they’re wearing and some features that they have.

The rock branch takes inspo from @spooky-pop’s rock branch au (which is AMAZING, if u haven’t seen her work yet GO RIGHT NOW not joking) a bit. When she first posted it I was like “omg wait I can see it now” so I’ve been visualizing him w a vest sometimes because of their design. Although it is leather in my story, (here) because I think black leather is sexy-rocker-chic for his “Prince of Punk” persona. (I think spookypops is like a denim? Correct me if I’m wrong!!) and he’s wearing converses because of the hot volcanic rock. The scars are from his “initiation”’s from his transition into the royal family, and from his school days, and mosh pits, and general rock troll horsing around (sensitive baby skinned pop troll things). Red eyes from the eye drops he uses, obvi.

POPPYS is from the first time she dresses up in the clothes she got from the market w Val, and what she’s wearing for the first time she sings w branch onstage. The tshirt dress is ruched a bit on the sides from tie-strings and safety pins, which is more modest than regular rock troll femme attire, like crop tops and ripped tanks etc.. (bcuz she’s SHY but in my story pop trolls are a bit puritan— I made this decision based on the songs I’ve picked out that I want to include, so thematically it fits in comparison to the more bold rock troll culture). Aaaaand of course the collar—NECKLACE that she was GIFTED.

And i attached glam rock branch from trollstopia so you guys can have jumpscare flashes of him in my mind like i do sometimes. :)

Anyways thank u for viewing xoxo it’s nice to know I’m not speaking to the void sometimes, so I really appreciate everyone who has taken the time to comment and speak a little with me about this.

[nol0nger-human]

Some homes are more predisposed to mold than others. Mold is all around us in the air constantly, but if a house has the right moisture, the right damp corners, no matter how many times you clean it the mold will persist because of the inherent conditions of the house and frantically scrubbing wont work and the mold will simply come back again and again because its just how the house is. This can lead to property damage that leaves the house unable to be occupied if the conditions worsen enough sometimes even needing entire rooms to be repaired and the value of the house being significantly lowered. However, even then, the mold is likely to return because the problem lies in how the inside structure of the house retains moisture, rather than simply having old floorboards. Usually, the mold then just grows on the inside of the house then, spreading over pipes and the insides of the structure instead. Nobody can see it, but its there. Its an inherent filth a repulsive, rotting, disgusting disease that nothing can get rid of and yet what can be done because the house is built the structure is in place and you can pity that house and wish it wasnt built in a way that allowed such disgusting sin to overtake it and define its value in the housing market but that isnt going to change anything and neither is the bleach or the baking soda or the vinegar because the problem lies deeper than the skin than the epidermis it lies in the bone and the blood and the tissue and skin can be scratched off and picked at and washed and cut but you cannot reach bone and so you itch you can scratch and pick and re-do the tiles and replace floorboards but the birthing place of the filth is too deep to reach even if your fingernails are long and you have all the money in the world for renovations.

We forget we are all just nature. God may not have created all life equal in his eyes and yet we have just as much life as anything else that thrives. Its easy to get lost in our humanity, so I believe in the importance of reminding ourselves that it could have been us beneath the floorboards and perhaps maybe it is us? What separates gods creations?

[echoofasiren]

Call of a siren

Roman reigns x Y/n (though y/n isnt used)

Warnings: it's sad (I'm sorry!😭), I might make a sequel or part 2 depending on how this does, smut is mentioned but not in full detail.

"Don't touch that, it's cursed!" warned a handsome fisherman to a young boy poking at an object in the market.

The object was a small, intricately carved wooden box, its lid inlaid with a mosaic of shells and glittering stones. The boy's curiosity was piqued, but fear held his hand back. The fisherman's words painted a picture of dark magic and hidden dangers that seemed to resonate with the air of mystery surrounding the box.

The mermaid was more intrigued by the older fisherman, his scruffy beard damp with the morning dew and his long hair cascading down his shoulders.

Days later, the mermaid watched the same man from the murky waters of a nearby pond. She had stumbled upon this secret haven, a small pool of fresh water nestled between the salty sea and the land where the sailor she had fallen for lived. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she observed the mans tentative steps towards the water's edge. He was different from the other humans she had seen from afar.

The sailor, whose name she had discovered was Roman, often passed by the pond on his way home from the bustling docks. His footsteps grew familiar to her, the jingle of his keys and the rhythmic slap of his work boots against the cobblestone path. Her heart fluttered like a school of fish every time he approached, and she would swim closer to the surface, hoping for a glimpse of his handsome face.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky with fiery strokes of orange and pink, Roman sat beside the pond. He looked weary, his eyes distant and lost in thought. The mermaid, unable to resist, rose from the water, her tail shimmering in the twilight. He glanced up, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Surprise flickered in his gaze, but instead of fear, she saw wonder.

Slowly, she approached, her tail swishing gently in the still water. Roman's hand hovered over the surface, and she reached out tentatively, her webbed fingers brushing against his rough skin. The connection was electric, a silent promise of a bond forged. She sang to him, a haunting melody that wrapped around his heart like the coils of a sea serpent. His eyes grew soft, and he leaned closer, lost in the enchantment of her voice.

The mermaid revealed herself fully, her hair a cascade of emerald waves that matched the algae beneath the pond's surface. Roman's hand trembled as he stroked her cheek, feeling the smoothness of her skin, the reality of her existence. The fisherman's warning echoed in his mind, but the love that blossomed between them was too strong to be deterred by fear of the unknown.

They met every night in secret, their whispers and laughter echoing through the night air. Roman brought her gifts from the sea: pearls, starfish, and coral that she had only seen in the depths of her ocean home. She, in turn, shared her world with him through her enchanting tales of underwater palaces and the mysteries of the deep. They grew closer, their bond deepening with each shared moonlit moment.

One night, as the stars twinkled like distant eyes watching over them, Roman gathered the courage to confess his love. He spoke of his longing to be with her always, to explore the world she knew so well. The mermaid's heart swelled with joy, and she knew she could no longer deny her own desires. But the fear of her father's wrath weighed heavy on her mind. He had forbidden her from seeing humans again, especially after he discovered her love for a sailor.

Her father, the powerful sea king, had sensed the growing bond between her and Roman. His rage was a tempest that could swallow ships whole. The mermaid knew that revealing her secret would not only endanger her but also Roman. Yet, the love that surged through her veins was too potent to be silenced.

One fateful evening, as they lay tangled in the embrace of the pond's lilies, Roman whispered, "I've found a way for us to be together forever." He pulled out the wooden box the fisherman had warned the boy about. The mermaid's eyes widened with horror as she recognized the forbidden object. "A potion," he said, his voice filled with hope. "It's said to grant the drinker legs to walk on land."

Her heart raced. The very idea of leaving her home for love was both thrilling and terrifying. But she knew the risks—the human world was fraught with peril for her kind. Yet, the thought of never seeing Roman again was unbearable. She took the box from his trembling hands, her eyes locked onto his, silently asking if he truly understood what he was offering.

The potion inside was a murky concoction that smelled faintly of brine and decay. It bubbled with a life of its own, hinting at the powerful magic it contained. The mermaid could feel its pull, a siren's call from a bottle, promising a future she had only dreamed of.

Her thoughts swirled like the waters around her, torn between her love for Roman and the duty she owed her father. But as she gazed into his eyes, she knew she could not resist. With trembling hands, she uncorked the bottle and took a sip.

The potion was bitter, like the tears of the sea, and it burned a path down her throat. Her body convulsed, and she felt a searing pain as her tail began to split and change. Her scales fell away, revealing human-like legs beneath. She screamed in agony, but Roman held her tight, whispering soothing words into her ear. The transformation was swift, and when the pain subsided, she looked down to see her new form reflected in the moonlit water.

The mermaid took her first unsteady steps on the bank, her legs feeling foreign and awkward. Roman watched her with a mix of awe and concern, his eyes never leaving hers. With his strong arms around her waist, they stumbled towards his nearby cottage, their hearts racing in sync with every step.

The cottage was a humble abode, filled with the scent of tobacco and the salty tang of the sea. The mermaid marveled at the sensation of the wooden floor beneath her bare feet, the tickle of the coarse woolen rug as Roman laid her upon it. The softness of his bed was a stark contrast to the rocky ocean floor she was accustomed to. She felt exposed and vulnerable in her new form, yet safe in his arms.

They lay there, panting, their eyes locked in a silent conversation of love and fear. The potion's effects were complete, and she was fully human, if only for a night. Roman's hand traced the line of her spine, sending shivers down her body. She had never felt such tender touches before, and she arched into him, craving more. Their kisses grew urgent, a declaration of the love that had been brewing between them for weeks.

The mermaid's skin was pale and soft, a stark contrast to her usual scaly form. Her legs, though new and unfamiliar, felt alive with every stroke of his hand. Roman whispered sweet nothings into her ear, promising her a life of adventure and happiness on land. The sound of his voice was a warm embrace, soothing the ache in her soul.

Their passion grew like the tide, rising and falling with the rhythm of the waves outside. As they explored each other's bodies, the mermaid felt a yearning she had never known. Every touch, every kiss, was a revelation, a promise of a future she had never dared to dream of. Roman was gentle, his hands sure and loving as they discovered the uncharted territories of her new human form.

The night passed in a whirlwind of sensation, the moon casting a soft glow over their entwined figures. As dawn approached, the mermaid felt a pang of dread. The potion's magic was temporary, and she knew she had to return to the sea before the sun rose. Roman held her tightly, his eyes filled with a fierce determination to find a way to make their love last.

They stumbled back to the pond, the first light of day just beginning to peek over the horizon. The mermaid's legs were growing weary, the transformation already starting to reverse. She felt the scales begin to form beneath her skin, the pain a stark reminder of the price she had paid for this night of passion. Roman kissed her, his eyes shining with unshed tears.