#i will reblog this with Two's ^_^

[evenmoreofadisaster]

Hi hello :3

If you're still looking for writing requests, I have a couple loose ideas. No pressure ofc ofc 🙌✨!!

But!

I think it'd be really cool to see a little sparring bonding sesh happen between One and Casey. I dunno if that's applicable to the story at all, but I thought it'd be interesting for the duo nonetheless. Admittedly, I am a sucker for that trope and for those two.

Also, I guess I'm in the mood for comfort cuz my other idea was just Two having a good day. Just Two getting the break he deserves, or maybe being really pleased with an experiment or project of his. Maybe even Two getting a chance to be silly or monologue or something of that sort :)

Sending over some good writing vibes 🤗🌟!

hello ace hello 🌟🙌

Here is Casey and One train-bonding :)

--

When her senseis finally dismiss the clan recruits, Casey leads the newbie to the Foot Clan’s training area. One trails behind her quietly and Casey doesn’t bother to make any sort of conversation with him. There are a few rookies in the training area when Casey walks in, sparring like newborn ducklings learning to walk. There’s a neatly placed stack of wooden training swords lined up against the wall. Casey grabs one of them off the rack. 

“Hey!” she yells, smacking the concrete floor. A loud echo reverberates to the farthest corners of the room. The newer recruits freeze in their places. “Everyone out!” Casey orders. “Now!” 

Casey faces One and shoves the bokken into his chest as the rookies scurry away. “Oof— hey! What the hell are we doing?” 

Ignoring him, Casey walks over to one of the training swords that were left on the floor. She turns around and points it at him. “Training. What does it look like?”

One huffs. “Screw you, I don’t need any more—” Casey leaps forward, striking swiftly at One’s neck with the wooden sword. THWACK! 

The slider stumbles to the side, grabbing the base of his neck, where Casey had hit him. “Ow! Hey!”

She doesn’t stop there. While One is still surprised, Casey kicks his legs out from under him and pins the bokken into One’s shoulder, holding him down. “You are distracted,” she admonishes. “Distractions will get you killed.”

Suddenly, Casey’s falling on her ass. One had jammed her in the knee. He strikes at her chest, but Casey rolls out of the way, stands on her knees, and whacks One’s shell. The slider falls on his plastron. “You can fight better than this,” she scoffs. “I’ve seen it. Something is clearly bothering you.”

“Even if there was, how is that your business?” One snaps, turning on his back. 

“Your performance affects everything this clan is working for!” Casey retorts. “Right now, you are nothing but dead weight. If this continues, you will be cut loose.” 

One’s jaw tightens. “Why do you care about what happens to me? You don’t know me.”

Casey studies him carefully. While that’s true, she’s seen the way he fights and though she hates to admit it, he’s pretty good. He could be a great asset to the clan… that, and One’s ambition reminds Casey too much of herself. She’s been in this position before, where she was too uncontrolled— even more than she is now— and alone. Nobody really gave her a chance which is why she’s in the same place she was when she started. Years of hard work has only just gotten her senseis’ attention. She just wants to push One in the right direction. For the good of the clan.

But how does she do that? Casey knows she’s not the greatest at emotions but she tries to think about what she would’ve wanted to hear from someone she looked up to. “But I… see you.” 

“What?”

Okay, that was awkward.

Casey clears her throat and rephrases. “I mean I can see your strength,” she huffs. “You are driven, but you are angry. I know. I’m angry all the time. I’m still working on it.” Casey takes a deep breath. “You are putting your anger in the wrong places. I don’t care about what you’re going through, do not feed your anger into your emotions, let it be your motivation.”

She waits for a response. Maybe even a comment about how wise she sounds. But there’s nothing. 

Casey’s head snaps in One’s direction. “Are you listening to me, Junior?!” she cuts herself off when her eyes meet One’s strict and newly focused gaze. 

“Yeah,” he says evenly. “Let’s train.”

[frownyalfred]

actually the idea that Dick, the eldest, the only one who ever wore the cowl long term, the only one who raised a Robin on his own, is also the only one who can successfully, perfectly replicate that barked ROBIN! in Bruce's voice? the only one who can pull that exact tone from the depths of his soul, to the point where his voice is identical, so identical that old Robins like Jason are obeying before their minds even realize their bodies are moving? that Dick is the only one, has always been the only one, who can channel Bruce's voice? can channel Batman himself? I am going feral

[palettepainter]

In my heart Doey is thriving with his little adopted Bobby Bearhug sister

For anyone new I based this OC off of that one Bobby Bearhug we see in Safe Haven after the bombs go off and the Doey chase starts. I am in denial and emotionally invested in these doomed found siblings

[starlight-shadowbanned]

I've mentioned before that antisemites, to varying degrees, imagine Jews as lacking interiority, and what I am using that word to mean is "an interior emotional and mental experience." This often comes in the form of antisemites imagining that Jews make decisions and choices in order to trick or deceive them (or God), rather than for our own reasons. They see all of our actions as performative -- not in the sense of empty or fake, but in the sense of existing for the sake of their perception.

This shows up in many different contexts. One, which I've spoken about before, is the way some people view Jewish legal "loopholes." Take for example Shabbos lamp, which is a lamp with a wooden or plastic cover that can be rotated such that the lamp can be left on for all of Shabbat but can be covered when the user wants darkness:

This is because many Jewish communities hold that it's forbidden to open and close electrical circuits on Shabbat, so this enables people in those communities to be able to choose to lighten or darken their room without breaking Jewish law.

However, a lot of people who are not part of these communities do not realize that the prohibition is on opening and closing circuits, and believe it's about "using" electricity more generally -- and thus see a Shabbos lamp as "cheating." Those with a penchant for antisemitism take it a step farther and see this as an attempt by Jews to "trick God" into believing that we are pious and following all of God's rules when in "reality" we are breaking them. Some also believe we are trying to trick them.

Rather, it is our attempt to put into practice that the commandments are to enrich our lives, not make us miserable; we find approved ways within the laws to meet our needs. The laws are not for asceticism or proving piety, they are a system of holiness, and so finding solutions that the law approves of is not cheating. And God cannot be tricked.

That is to say: we have reasons for doing things based on our own spiritual, religious, and practical needs, not based on how it looks to others. And we are not trying to trick anybody.

[benevolenterrancy]

A man needs a hobby while he's waiting for his beloved disciple to return from the dead and torture him!!!

(SQQ is a complete fucking freak and I love him so much)

[flippfopp]

Sorry i haven’t posted lately been dealing with life stuff

but for now I rummaged through my computer files and found some unfinished Leo as link from botw art I did a year ago

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?

[opikiquu]

iknow my comics are ugly please just hear me out

[gomzdrawfr]

beach episode

[confettishake2]

UGHH TPOT 14 KILLED ME i love twogaty & now theres angst... great 💔

[ricky-yaps]

[tawnysoup]

the fritter (frin critter)

[after-witch]

A Snowy Interlude [Yandere Illumi x Reader]

Title: A Snowy Interlude [Yandere Illumi x Reader]

Synopsis: You play in the snow--a rare treat.

Word count: 1418

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of past abuse

“Are… you… sure this is… allowed?”

Even if it weren’t cold, your words would have come out slow and almost stuttered. But the cold air doesn’t do anything to help the eloquence of your speech, which comes out haltingly, words carefully chosen and accompanied by puffs of your whitened breath. 

Illumi’s face remains, as almost always, impassive.

“What do you mean, allowed?” He asks, finally, watching as you take each piece of winter clothing from the standing butler and slip them on. Gloves, a scarf, a hat, all fitted perfectly to your form. 

It would have been nicer to put them on before stepping out into the winter air, but you hadn’t been outside in months, and you weren’t going to complain about a thing. He did have you step into winter boots first, at least, and a winter coat. 

“I just mean,” you reply, watching as the butler gestures for you to step into a pair of thick, puffy snow pants–the kind you used to wear as a kid, “I haven’t been outside in… a while.” 

Your voice warbles as you hold onto the butler’s arm support and step into the puffy pants; butlers were the only other people you were allowed to touch, besides Illumi. Even then, they knew to never touch first; you could touch them like furniture, like a useful thing. 

Illumi hums. “No, you haven’t. I felt it inappropriate for you to be outside.” 

You don’t comment–you don’t want him to elaborate and change his mind. Or worse, decide that it is inappropriate for a newly-minted Zoldyck wife to step outside the mansion looking like an oversized marshmallow.

Once you’re dressed, the butler stands aside, and you let your gaze wander across the garden. 

It had really been snowing. Illumi had let you sit at the window watching as the flakes fell, thin and almost rain-like at first, but then gradually getting thicker and fluffier as the day went on. It snowed for almost three days straight and now the entire estate looked like something out of a pretty winter story–the roofs all covered in white, the same pretty sparkling white that covered the ground and went up past your knees.

It was all waiting, just beyond the cobblestone path leading back inside the estate. It had been neatly shoveled out and you tried to picture the butlers shoveling it bit by bit, as your neighbors were no doubt doing back home. Well. What had been home, before all this. 

Illumi doesn’t make to move, and you give him an awkward look. 

“Um. So. Can I… go out there?” It’s a silly question, you realize. Why get you all dressed up for being outside if you were just going to stand on the shoveled path? Oh. Well. Actually. Maybe it's not so silly, and Illumi was just being irritatingly over-protective about the cold.

And perhaps you’re right to question it, because Illumi’s eyebrows furrow. Just a little. Just enough to notice.

“Oh,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered it. He pauses, and you wonder if this is it, your time outside will just be spent standing at staring. “... Yes. I suppose that’s all right.”

Something like happiness prickles your chest and you step away from the shoveled cobblestones, boots sinking into the deep snow. The sound of each step is so familiar, so nostalgic; the swish of your snow pants with every movement, the soft crunching of the snow, the way it yields underneath your boots.

Your smile grows without you realizing it as you make your way into the garden, arms out at your sides for balance. How long is it since you’ve been in the snow like this? Even before Illumi took you, it wasn’t like you had the time for it. 

You were a kid, surely. Maybe 12 or 13, the last time it was still considered cool to dress in bulky outerwear and trudge your sled up to the neighborhood sledding hill. 

A sense of wonder overtakes you, and it feels like the past few months are left behind you, standing alongside Illumi and the butler–the training, the pain, the burns, the bruises, the broken arm and fingers. The instructions and etiquette and rules, rules, rules. 

How could they come with you, as you begin to trudge–happy then happier–through the snow? 

It’s so thick you feel like if you fell down, you’d be lost in it. Maybe you’ll sink to the ground. Maybe you could make a snow angel–or a cave. The urge to fall overtakes you as it so often did in childhood and you simply plop backward in the snow. The thump hides the sound of Illumi rushing forward, though perhaps he would have known how to run through the snow silently anyway.

When you look up, you see Illumi, of course. But beyond that is what you’re interested in: the sky above you, all blue and lovely. There’s whiteness, too, the sparkling prettiness of the snow all around you. Some of the cold has seeped underneath your coat and scarf, burning your ears. But you don’t mind.

Of course, you’re eventually forced to acknowledge him, and you finally let your gaze focus on Illumi. He’s leaning down, his hair almost becoming a black curtain.

“Why did you fall?” He looks–almost concerned, you think. “Are you having a heart attack?” It’s funny, really, the way he phrases his so calmly. If you weren’t becoming somewhat decent at reading him, you might think he was joking. 

He’s not. So–

You blink up at him.

Then you move your arms and legs up and down, up and down, making a snow angel underneath you.

Illumi blinks back.

“Perhaps you’ve had a stroke.”

You grin, then, and clutch a handful of snow underneath your gloves. 

“I didn’t, to both. Haven’t you ever made a snow angel?” You ask, curling the snow together, beginning to form a ball and idly wondering if you’re brave enough to do it.

Illumi straightens his back, and looks at the impressions of snow you’ve left behind your arms and legs. He doesn’t seem impressed.

“No. I haven’t.”

Something pangs inside you, and a question floats up: what kind of childhood did Illumi have, anyway? Maybe he never played in the snow. Never made a snow angel, never spent hours digging out a snow cave with friends. Never slid down a hill and bashed into a tree and it hurt but it was fun all the same.

It must have been hard. 

Your fingers curl around your newly made snowball and instead of chucking it as his face, you sit up, and start pulling in more snow to make it bigger.

“What are you doing?”

You don’t answer. Instead you keep going, scooping, gathering, and rolling until you’ve got the makings of a fantastic snowman butt.

“Are you going to answer me?” There’s enough of a sharp pin in his tone and you hoist yourself up, using the round snowman butt as leverage.

“I’m making a snowman,” you answer. “But all I’ve got is the butt.” You gesture to your creation, stalling for the time needed to create the words, to ask the question. Surprising, how hard it is to ask Illumi to do something like this.

“If you want, you could… get some gloves and join me?” 

Illumi looks around you, at the disheveled mess you’ve made of the pristine fallen snow, at the clumps of snow clinging to your snow pants, your gloves, your hat. At the large round ball you’re proclaiming is a snowman butt.

At your face, beaming, carefree, in a way he’s never seen you look since before he took you.

“I don’t mind the cold,” is all he says, before he leans down and begins to mimic the way you scooped snow together. 

It doesn’t hold. He’s awful at it. And you do something you’ve never done before, at least, not on your own initiative–you place your gloved hands over his and curl your fingers in the right way, so that the snow gets packed together properly.

Illumi goes still, and you pretend not to notice, because you think he’d rather you didn’t. 

Instead, you keep on making your snowman, as Illumi slowly but surely gets the hang of it.

“I’m glad it snowed so much,” you say, quietly, cheerily, wondering if a butler could run inside to get carrots and something for the snowman to wear.

Illumi, in response, hums.

It’s as close as you’ll get to agreement. 

[trollochkonst]

@oddarette made me hungry with that meatsicle so I had to make a 3D render of it.

[gh0sdae]

Kristin: "Now kiss"

Whenever phil has a gay relationship on smps where his giant death wife is also canon, this is what's happening

[eliduck]

TW: Excessive yapping Mentions of greatness (Zote’s).

(I've had this stupid long Zote yaps on my notes for months, so it's time I unleash it.)