#FUCKING BOMBER THO

[swordmaid]

I think ina is very family-oriented… being able to protect her family (and her community) is a really big thing for her…!!! she’s willing to stand up against a human lord and kill (prob her first kills tbh now that I think abt it ….) to save her cousin and she’s like what … 16…!!!! and she loves her family a lot and I think she feels bad that she had to leave them behind even though it wasn’t her choice. she’s doing her heroic stuff and getting recognition for it, and she’s experiencing things she would’ve never experienced if she still lived in the alienage (like being able to afford fancy clothes and proper food, etc.) and she feels bad that she can do all that stuff knowing that her family is still back in the alienage, living off of rats and whatever they could find. and even though she had that encounter with that spectral shianni in the temple of sacred ashes, she still hasn’t reconciled with the fact that she did leave them behind, and her life will continue without them. like I think throughout the origins plot she gets sooo homesick and she misses her family a lot..! like that was her whole life you know, and she’s still young despite everything that has happened. and I think tabris would’ve wanted children too — obvs not in her current age, but some day in the future she would’ve wanted her own kids and I think she would’ve grown to love nelaros too I mean I make her wear the wedding ring you can loot off of him until zev gives you his earring, but now she can’t have them bc she’s a grey warden, and she can’t even look out for her own family bc she’s a warden and she’s not supposed to have those ties anymore…. like it’s so bad for her! but she has to make her own peace with it … and I think she has enough sense of responsibility to take up that mantle of being a warden, and she’s willing to save these people (the very people who looks down on her bc she’s an elf) but it doesn’t mean she has to like it, or she’s happy about it, she just has to do it, u know…. but if such a choice was possible I think she would’ve wanted to go back home. but she can’t go home anymore so it is what it is … 😮‍💨

[teethpaste]

Sometimes you have sex with a person you shouldn’t, just to do it. Because of the lust or how badly you crave the feeling of being wanted. Because there’s a tiny voice screaming in the back of your head that THIS time will be different (when there’s zero proof to validate that thought). But it’s an important reminder that lust and like are different. Every time I do this I’m able to convince my swamp skull of a brain that MAYBE, just MAYBE it will be different. And it never is. I say out loud ohhhh I knew this would happen. That we’d text and talk like crazy for a few weeks to build it up. We’d have sex and then you’d leave again, vanish into thin air because having my body is another game to you.

Convincing me to let you in again - you’ll say all the things I want to hear. The things you know make my walls crumble. That even when you say you miss ME… we’re not thinking of missing the same things. Or maybe we are. But I miss when you slip from holding the small of my back to holding my hand when we’re walking around in public or when you rest your head on my shoulder for a cigarette on the stoop or even when I gently slip off your glasses for you when you fall asleep piss drunk on the couch. You miss slapping me in the face and choking me while having sex with me until you cum. We aren’t the same and I wish we were. Why can’t you want both? My delusional ass just rationalizes it in my head like “ohhhhhh he’s avoidant I’m sure he does miss you, he just doesn’t know how to express it”. But no. You do know how to express it up until you get what you came for. You’re a taker. And you took something again. And I’ll get over it, because it’s important to learn these kinds of lessons the hard way. And I let you do it. But damn.

The grossest part is I’m not even offended he used my body for sex I’m like oh god is it bc he saw me naked AGAIN and realized he’s not attracted to me??? Body dysmorphia is truly a mother fucker lol.

Even writing that out I find myself second guessing “was it worth it to let the love bomber back in. Cut him out. Then back in again to the point where you stepped over all your own boundaries, fucked him when you made accountability statements with friends and across social media platforms, and now you’re in the same position as before”. And at some level yeah it was. We had a fun evening and at some level it’s worth it to exist in fantasy land where I imagine us in a relationship. Because he’s the only person that has matched my level of weird/banter since I broke up with my last bf almost 2 years ago. But I also hate the fucking guilty gross feeling after when you realize that someone just wants to fuck you not love you and their words don’t match their actions. Even worse when it feels like they’re incapable of loving .. not just you, but anyone. Oh well. Back to the drawing board!

Also the funny thing is like, he told me he would disappoint me. And I told him I knew he would, but I wouldn’t be mad this time. And it’s true that I’m not mad. Old me would send a text now to be like SEE this is why I told you to leave me alone, because you come back in and you take and then you leave. But I knew he was going to do that. And he knows that I know that. Deep down I knew it would be the same. And I let him anyway. And that doesn’t need a conversation between the two of us to clarify. But I still find myself dipping my toe into a bit of delusion thinking “because I’m not gonna say anything this time, that will almost hurt him more”. And maybe it will. Or maybe it won’t. It probably won’t. If it ain’t the consequences of my own actions.

[chimerahyperfix]

SIIIIGHHHHHH dusting off some not-so older refs 2 put on artfight

[my5hiningstars]

dude. aussies in the 5sos fandom on tumblr? i can count us on my hand, you're one too? a melbourne afl fan as well?

haha, yeah i have noticed there are surprisingly few of us around here 🥺

not so much an afl fan tho, as much as a person who was born in a part of the country that likes afl,, so seeing luke picking the correct sport gave me weird state pride that i don't generally have ^^;

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Goodbye, Fourth of July (18+)

pairing: lee chan x fem!reader

genre: college au, best friends to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), hints of crack?

description: it's the fourth of july when you realize you're in love with your best friend. unfortunately though, it seems that he doesnt love you back, and this knowledge sends you spiraling. you push him away, but chan just wants to know why you're so upset

warnings: v v sad, pining, brief mention of s/a, chan is kinda dumb in this fr, reader is dramatic af tho, unprotected sex, desperation, praise kink, finger sucking, titty sucking, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, sweet heart, good girl, cumslut once), mentions of alcohol and weed, irene is chans gf in this but shes not a villain shes mother fr

quotes from my proofreader: "my soul left my body", "no this is too personal", "i feel like im having a panic attack"

wordcount: 8.2k

Fireworks exploded across the sky the night your life was ruined. 

Down the gray, dim corridors of your campus where room after room was ablaze with idle lights, daring to imitate the stars above them. Every crevice of the left wing was filled with the noise and decorum of a college frat party, where people lived out their own lives simultaneously to yours - yours, that was shattering into millions of pieces onto Yoon Jeonghan’s kitchen floor. Every moment of teasing, of lingering touches, of adoring smiles, of secret memories and exchanged glances came hurdling onto you on the 4th of July, red solo cup long forgotten in your hand. You were in love with your best friend. 

“I’m in love with Chan,” you whispered, looking blankly across the room to see him leaned back against the couch, flashing a bright smile at Mingyu beside him. His blonde mullet - the one, that he had been so terrified to get, and only did so, when you told him he would look great - was tousled and spiky across his neck. He was wearing a red bomber jacket over a white tee, and he looked so good you thought you might cry. 

Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard your confession - was it a confession? Admittance? Defeat? - had he not been standing right beside you. He thanked God that your words were not lost to the music and to the ambiance, to lay and die in the sticky, hardwood floor. “What?!”

He was yelling over the music. You turned over to him, mouth cracked into a frown. “What?! You’re in love with Chan?! Seriously?!” He started bouncing and giggling, ignoring your hands coming to grab onto his forearms. He had predicted this exactly five months ago. 

“Shut up, Soonyoung, seriously!” You were yelling too, barely overcoming the booming voice of Kesha on the speakers. Bathed in pink light, letting your nails trail over the kitchen counter, you felt your heart becoming soft and trembling.

Your life was ruined. 

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” you cried, feeling Soonyoung spin you at your shoulders until he was right in front of you, alcohol dampening the air between you.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna confess to him. You guys are literally in love with each other” He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been best friends since freshman year; as if you didn’t know his favorite animal cracker shape and the exact model of his everyday sneakers. 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Yes, you can.” 

“I can?” 

“COMINGGG THROUGHHHHHHHH!” Frat-house dork Seokmin pushed between you and Soonyoung with a sky-high Vernon on his trail. Vernon shimmied apologetically, eyes sunken and red. “Getting cross-faded,” he supplied helpfully. 

“As you should,” Soonyoung mumbled, slightly peeved in his tone, but Seokmin and Vernon seemed too intensely high to notice his disdain. You were too floaty to be offended by their sudden intrusion. The party, the floor, the music, the stench of sweat had become distant and you felt very alone with your heart. And Kwon Soonyoung, of course.

“You can! Right now! I’ve been telling you for months!” He shook you by your shoulders, apparently sensing your distance. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, tugging at the strapless end of your short, glittery dress. “But he’s-” you inhaled sharply. “He’s not gonna love me back, Soon.” Soonyoung cut you off with a scoff. “He’s so in love with you! He looks at you like you’re the only girl in the…” 

Soonyoung trailed off, eyes peering past you into the crowd. “Oh shit,” His eyes widened, settled on you, then flicked back up. What the fuck was he looking at? “Uh, as I was-” you moved to look, struggling against his suddenly deadly grip on your shoulders “- no, don’t look!” He moved to stop you, but it was too late. You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes, finding yourself confused as to what he’d been crying about. That is until you saw him. Red bomber now discarded, Chan had removed himself from the couch and was currently grinding on your biochem-classmate, Irene. 

Oh. Okay. 

You felt like cold hands grabbed onto your throat from within, as it contracted and tears stung your eyes. There it went, your heart and all its pieces on the floor, and weighing you down like an anchor, was the knowledge that you’d spend the rest of your life picking them up. 

”God fucking damnit. This is awful, I’m awful,” your head was spinning, and you could barely make out how your fishnetted legs started moving, let alone how the tips of Soonyoung’s fingers brushed against your bare back to pull you back to him. You needed to get out. Out, out, out. 

You squeezed through the tight crowd, avoiding the gaze of your classmate Seungcheol, who tried to smile at you from where he stood. This had to be some sort of mistake. Some sort of illusion brought upon you by the rhythmic movements and the loose slip of alcohol. Maybe you were hormonal? You didn’t know, but you couldn’t think while some bass-boosted playlist built dams of pressure on the sides of your head.

You finally squeezed through the door, closing it behind you and locking away that cursed, wretched memory. The further you got, the fainter the image of him. By the time you were slipping out of the hallway and into the yard, you could almost convince yourself that it was a mistake. A foolish moment, that you would tuck away and keep in a locked chest. 

God, you were cold, shivering in your scrappy fabrics, as you slid down the brick wall by a flower bed, staring into the sky. It was the fourth of July, and your chest had exploded in fireworks while looking at your best friend. Every line had simultaneously been crossed and uncrossed. 

You had realized it just a few minutes ago, just standing in the kitchen, when Wonwoo from history had asked you for a lighter. It had just been a graze, but you’d still felt it, in the faraway reaches of your purse. Amongst crumbs, concealer, a couple unraveled cigarettes and wired earphones with only one working side. What was that? You’d handed Wonwoo the lighter and then dug around for it again. A little slip of paper, edges soft and worn. You pulled it up. 

It was just a drawing. A little scribbled dinosaur. God, you couldn’t even remember when he’d given it to you. But there you were smiling at it. And then looking at him. And then you knew. 

You started crying. Hot, fat tears dripped down your cheeks, and your lips were trembling, and suddenly your body was stuttering and convulsing against the wall, and you were in love with your best friend and he was obviously not in love with you. 

“Y/n?” 

You snapped your head towards the door and the person you wanted to see the least in that moment (that thought made you cry even more, because when had you ever wanted anyone but him by your side when you were upset?) was peeking his blonde haired head through the door. Chan had such a heavy frown, looking down at you from the wide opened doorway. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was immediately crouching down, hand burning hot on your back, stroking the muscles. Another hand on your knee and it was all too much, so you pushed him away. He backed off immediately, and you wished you missed the flash of hurt on his face. He looked at you with so much worry. “What happened?” 

He was sitting across from you on the pavement and you couldn’t bear to see him, lit geometrically by the moonlight and the explosions in the sky, brows creased. Averting your eyes, you fiddled with the edge of your dress and sniffled. What were you supposed to say? It was hard to say anything. You fought down the tears pressing at your eyes again, swallowing your emotions before you looked at him again, almost robotically.

“I’m fine,” you said, nodding, and only adding more when his face twisted in confusion. You were always honest with each other, he thought, why were you lying? “It’s stupid, I’m.. I’m on my period and my hormones are just.. Bleugh.” You found it in yourself to giggle.

Silence, only decorated with the constant stream of fireworks and distant laughter of drunk college kids. Chan studied you for a moment, legs crossed and arms slung over his knees. “Cheol said you looked upset.” 

“Yeah, I, uh, I was thinking of that sad dog movie.” 

Another pause. “Old Yeller.” 

The distance between you had never felt wider and you were certain Chan could feel it too. 

“You know you can tell me anything right?” You wished your laughter hadn’t been so heart-achingly bitter. He looked so confused. All he wanted to do was make you feel alright, why wouldn’t you let him?

A nod. “Yeah,” you breathed in deeply, tear-streaked makeup drying from the gentle wind. “I know.” 

The air had become so thick, you had to gulp down breaths. Chan cocked his head to the side and looked at you soulfully. You were staring at your knees, nervously playing with your fingers, and a flush had crept up your neck to the very tops of your shiny cheeks. He sighed. “I can get, uh,” he hesitated for a moment, “I can get Soonyoung down here. If you want.” You nodded before he was even done talking. Anything was better than sitting across from him - not now. This time you knew better than to look at his face, because you knew your entire facade would break down the moment you’d catch the frown on his face at those words. 

The moment Chan left, you sighed so deeply, relief and despair coming in a pair to crash over you like a wave. Soonyoung came not two minutes later and, ever the great comforter, immediately tried to make you laugh, sitting in the grass right in front of you.

“Oh my god,” he put on his best Jennifer Coolidge voice, “you look like the fourth of July!” _____________________________

Your first instinct was to hide - to turn over a stone and lay under it without breathing. Maybe then, if you separated yourself from him the feelings would simply dissipate, like perfume throughout the day. But you and Chan had a ridiculous amount of classes together, - something you used to enjoy and cherish - and every interaction had become half-awkward. 

What also didn’t help is that him and Irene did not seem to just be a party fling. You were walking the halls with him, backpack slung across your shoulder, and listening to him drone on and on about a date.

“I think it’s the blonde,” he explained, “I think she likes the blond.” He peeked his eyes over to you, as you walked and you nodded. “It looks good,” you smiled, heart crushing when his face lit up, that sharky smile playing on his lips. “Right? But I don’t know what to wear. I don’t think she liked my jacket. You know, at the party.” At the mention of the party, his giddy expression faded a little, eyes flicking back to look at you again.

You’d been different since then. A little quiet and every word a little strained, every breath a huff, every smile somewhat unable to reach your eyes. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. For the life of him, Chan couldn’t. You’d told him when you got a tampon stuck a couple months ago, you’d told him about your awful dates, about your most embarrassing moments in your life. Something had to be serious, he thought, watching the way your eyes had become darker and sunken, for you to shut him out completely.

“Y/n,” he said and his voice was abruptly so, so soft. His hand came to cradle your own, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyebrows cinched together when you looked at the way his thumb caressed your knuckles. “You are okay, right?” and all of a sudden he was so close to you, head bopping downwards to catch your eyes, a little breath becoming humid on your cheek. For just a split second, he saw how scared you were, an emotion that took up all the space in your head, widened eyes darting up to his. Then it was gone. You smiled a tight line, ripping your hand from his. “I’m good. I’d be better if we actually made it to class on time.” 

You were bouncing away and for a few moments he stood still, watching you. 

“Alright,” he whispered to himself.

_____________________________

 You and Chan met through Seungcheol. It was your first year and you were fresh-faced, young and a totally different person. It was your first biochem project and the teacher had paired you with Seungcheol - Seungcheol, who you just so happened to know was amongst the most popular guys at school. He was sweet though, if not a little slow, but he was excited to get into the project and had invited you to his place to study. You had graciously accepted, seeing as your roommate-situation at the time was less than ideal. 

You had just hunkered down with stacks of books and laptops open on his desk, when Seungcheol got a call; to this day you’re not sure about the specifics of it, and all the information you’d later been able to pry from Seungcheol was that “Jeonghan was in trouble”. Whatever the case, the man had taken the phone and immediately taken on a crease in his forehead and a small frown on his lips, before apologizing profusely and promising that he’d be back in 20 minutes or so. 

And there you were, wearing a dress and hairclips and sitting idly at his desk, while his roommate sat, just a few feet from you, on his bed with a controller and a headset on. That was the first time you saw Lee Chan. He had sharp eyes that you found intimidating at the time - especially with the focused grimace he wore, something you later found endearing. And, of course, you knew he was popular as well. How couldn’t he be, when his muscles were showing through his t-shirt, and he looked beautiful even in the domestic state you found him in. Maybe especially in that situation. 

“D’you wanna see me play?” he’d asked, eyes not even leaving the screen. “Um,” your voice was meek, “sure.” 

Seungcheol didn’t come home for another three hours. The sky turned from a bright blue into an orange hue outside the campus-curtains, and you sat cross-legged beside Chan on his bed, watching him play Overwatch. Had it been anyone else, you were sure this would’ve been the longest, most awkward three hours of your life. But for whatever reason, you and Chan just clicked. It was all laughter and smiles, and it felt like you had known each other forever. Fate had whisked the two of you together with a gentle push. That was two years ago. 

Chan defied all your expectations. Surely, a young man who was attractive and popular would be an asshole, you’d thought, but he was so sweet, something that was most apparent when he smiled and laughed, eyes becoming crescents and toothy grin becoming sharp at the upturned edges. 

Maybe you’d always liked him. You’d started reflecting on your relationship after that party, and came to realize that there’d always been a faint mist in your chest. A soft hum that drummed within your ribcage, when you saw him. It was warm, pleasant and constant when you felt his warmth at your side. 

And sure, your relationship had had its moments. You distinctly remembered sitting between his legs while watching a movie once, and how you’d been so uncertain if he was okay with the skinship. His face behind your ear, you heard the smile in his voice, as his hands ran along your arms: “It’s okay, N/n. I’m cool with this if you are.”

You found yourself thinking about that often, but now there was a distinct pain to the memory. It was especially painful, when the gap between you and Chan was widening with every day. He tried to reach out, tried to catch you in the halls, but you were always “busy”. 

Chan caught on to the fact that you were avoiding him when you started showing up late to classes, just so you wouldn’t have to walk with him; hear him talk about Irene, while that once soft drum had become a marching band in your chest. So you scrambled inside 5 minutes late, much to the dismay of your professors, and found a spot with some random classmate - far away from Chan. You’d have your eyes turned to the board, but you couldn’t focus, not really. Like a constant thorn in your side, you felt Chan’s sharp eyes across the room, boring into with such an intensity you thought you might catch on fire. Scribbling useless notes and focusing your energy - what little energy you had - on the class, you determinedly avoid his eyes. Had you seen them, never once darting astray from your form, you’d see the tenderness they held. “Why are you avoiding me?” His eyes said. 

And then: “Why are you avoiding me?” his mouth said, out of breath from chasing after you in your hurried exit. You turned to him, almost bleeding into the blue of the accented-wallpaper. His eyes softened at your wounded expression. You were gently ripping apart at the wish to see him and be around him, with simultaneous urge to ignore him and become free from his scrutinizing gaze. He would never not know that something was wrong.

He scanned the crowded hallway, and gently, almost as if testing the waters (which he hadn’t felt the need to do in years) placed a hand on your upper arm. “Come on.” 

You gave in. God, it was so easy to give in. You missed him. You missed him like a fish might miss water, had it been taken away from it. You missed him like a priest misses God, when his presence ebbs away and the sky is suddenly so very empty. So it was so easy to be led on, to sit down in the passenger of his car and just close your eyes and enjoy how it felt to be beside him. Chan scanned you as he drove, laying there with closed eyes, willing yourself to not look at him again, and realize you had to throw this all away. 

He said nothing that entire car ride. Maybe he sensed the desperate need you felt to just have this silence. You clung to it as if it were tangible, as if someone would take it away. He would, once you entered his apartment. Seungcheol was nowhere to be seen. You placed yourself on bed and played with the fraying edges of his IKEA duvet cover.

“I miss you.” he said. You sighed, pursing your lips and looking at your fingers. “I miss you too.” 

“You’re avoiding me,” he said, only a faceless presence in your peripheral. 

“I’m not avoiding y-...” you trailed off when he crouched down in front of you, your entire vision cursed (or blessed?) with his frustrated face. “You are,” he said, eyes boring into yours. You trembled. “I’m not, I’m just busy.” He backed away, sulking, and you tried not to make it obvious that you heaved in a shaky breath from the proximity.  “I can tell when you’re lying, you know?” 

You laid down on the bed, arms crossing over your chest as if you were a corpse. Was there a way out of this, you wondered. Every glance, every touch, and every word that dropped from his mouth poked and prodded at you sadistically. 

“I’m not lying.” 

You heard fumbling and raised your head to see Chan, having discarded his shirt, putting on a new one and you cringed at how your heart sped up, seeing his toned stomach, before it disappeared under a sweater. “What are you doing?” you asked. He sighed. He glanced at you before studying himself in the full-length mirror Seungcheol had stolen from Mingyu. 

“I’m going on a date with Irene in, like, twenty minutes.” 

A pause. You sat up.

“Oh.” 

He went on, throwing around scattered clothes and grappling for a cologne in his bag. “I’m sorry, I can’t cancel this, I don’t think she’ll really appreciate it,” he laughed a little. Throwing his head over his shoulder, his smile faded when he sensed your sorrow. His heart hurt then, so he moved, freshly spritzed with the cologne you bought him last Christmas, to stand in front of you on the bed. Your breath hitched when his hand found your cheek and he was suddenly dripping with sincerity and an emotion you really hoped wasn’t pity. “I just- I really wanted to talk to you, Y/n. I’m really worried about you.” You leaned into his hand pathetically, almost whimpering against it. You missed how his embrace felt. His thumb brushed over your cheek and he lingered there, eyes trained on you for just a moment - perhaps a moment too long - before he pulled away.

Suddenly he was putting on a jacket and ruffling his hair in the mirror again. “If you want you can stay here until I come back? It’ll only be, like, an hour and a half, two hours. Cheol will be home soon, he can keep you company.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” your eyes were huge, when you willed yourself to stare at the floor. Chan must’ve sensed the meekness in your voice, because he looked over at you through the mirror, a frown on his lips. “I promise we’ll talk, I just- I don’t wanna disappoint Irene.” 

It ached when you responded: “There’s nothing to talk about, Channie. I’m fine.” 

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” you only nodded half-heartedly. 

“Bye, N/n.” 

“Bye, Channie.” 

He left with a rustle of his keys, and when the door was closed, your body contracted, muscles pulling inwards until you were hugging your knees in his sheets. And you were crying because it smelled like him, and because he had held your cheek with such care, only to leave moments later for another woman. Everything you held dear, every moment you lingered on was just one-sided. Your tears were crystalline confinements for your most treasured memories with him and you were bleeding out on his bed, sliced in the heart.

It was Seungcheol who found you there like that, curling up in his roommate’s bed with painful sobs squeezing your whole body. You told him. Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did. “I love him,” you cried, and Seungcheol stroked your back, as he listened. “And he doesn’t love me back.” 

You apologized abashedly when you had calmed down, but Seungcheol only tutted and shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he’d said and patted your hair, and you giggled even though you felt all silly with your red face and your puffy eyes. The older man promised not to say anything, and you found yourself trusting him completely. You bid your goodbyes and felt a little lighter.

When Chan came home a heavy duvet of regret settled in his stomach. You were gone, only the faint mist of your perfume left behind in his room. When night fell, he slept on a bed stained with your tears. _____________________________

A week passed and you spent every moment alone in your dorm room, ignoring papers and deadlines in favor of lying completely still under the covers. Soonyoung came over with food every once in a while, and always left devastated at how completely disarranged you were. He felt powerless and if there was one thing Kwon Soonyoung didn’t like, it was feeling powerless.

That was how you found yourself in a very John Mulaney-like situation on a monday afternoon, sitting before Soonyoung and, surprisingly, Seungkwan, Soonyoung’s roommate, in a nearby café. 

“What is this?” you asked, arms crossed and leaned back in your seat, unimpressed. Soonyoung smiled sheepishly, sliding a paper across the table. It read “Intervention” in big, bubbly letters, colored with cheap highlighters. “An intervention?” you said incredulously. 

“Yes, we’re worried about you!”

“He’s worried about you. I’m skipping physics for this,” Seungkwan butted in.

“The community is worried about you,” Soonyoung gave a harsh glare to the younger boy, who was mirroring your distaste for the current situation. “So we’re hosting an intervention.” 

“This is bullshit,” you said. “Agreed,” came Seungkwan. 

“Alright, you two! Let Daddy explain,” Hoshi waved his arms in outrage and the two of you groaned at the word choice. “Y/n. I am sick and tired of watching you cry and cry and sit at home over a boy who is fricken’ in love with you!”

“Did you just say ‘fricken’?” 

“Unimportant. The point is get your act together and tell him or get over him!” Soonyoung was determined. While you felt his point of view was certainly unfair to you, your demeanor gave way a little. He was right, you knew. This was ruining you more than you’d care to admit. “You are worth so much more than this.” 

“As much as I hate to contribute to this, Soonyoung has been telling me all about.. Your situation, and I have to say I agree. I thought you and Chan were dating until Soonyoung told me this,” Seungkwan said, smiling sympathetically at you. You frowned. “It doesn’t matter what you guys think, you know. He doesn’t see me like that.. It just fucking hurts.” 

“If he doesn’t see you like that, then fuck him--”

“Don’t say that, Soonyoung--” 

“You need to put your energy into a man who will know your worth!” Soonyoung sassed and Seungkwan snapped his fingers once for emphasis, face totally blank.

“I know you’re right, okay?” you reasoned, sighing. “It’s not as simple as that. I know you want to help, Soonyoung, but.. I just need time.” 

Soonyoung deflated, but he understood. I guess he was a little powerless in this situation. Even Seungkwan, who definitely was not thrilled about missing physics, smiled sorely. You watched them and hated yourself for bringing worry to everyone around. Like an oil spill in the ocean, your black mass infected everything around you. They’d done nothing and here you were, parading your sadness like My Chemical Romance in 2006. 

“Thank you anyway.”  _____________________________

Chan was theorizing. There were only so many things that could happen so suddenly, that could make you push him away like this. He hadn’t seen you in a week and he’d begun biting his nails again. Every waking moment had become consumed with this question: why? Why were you acting like this? Irene would pointedly comment on how quiet he was being, and his lies came like flowing water. 

Chan was certain that he’d never experienced anything harder than watching you unravel everyday. Every morning more disheveled than the last, every smile more dull. Let me help you, he’d think, watching you slump in your seat on the other side of the room, running an unsteady hand over your face. You’d even found a way to avoid him after class. Day after day he’d run after you when you sped out of class, and when he reached the hallway where students were pouring out, you’d be gone like a faint ghost. 

Irene ended things with him over a text. “I just don’t see us working out anymore,” it’d read and lying in his room he’d sighed quietly. He couldn’t bring himself to care. The text diverted his attention for only a minute, before he was staring at the ceiling again, thinking of you. It had to have something to do with him somehow. But no matter how much he scrutinized every interaction you’d had, he came up blank. 

“Are you okay?” It was Seungcheol, standing in the doorway and hanging his jacket on their clothing rack while eyeing him. He’d hardly heard him come in. Chan heaved a sigh, long lines of worry oozing out of him. 

“Y/n’s been acting really weird with me. I can’t figure out if it’s something I did,” Chan squeezed his eyes shut. “I just want her to be okay.” 

Seungcheol frowned sympathetically. “Maybe you should just leave her alone.” Chan’s eyes sprung open and he grimaced, before ruffling the sheets where he sat up on the bed. Seungcheol was settling himself onto his bed, phone in hand and head against the headboard. “Why are you saying that?” 

For a moment, Seungcheol flashed his brown eyes with a hint of ‘oh shit’ in them, before they relaxed and he regained composure. “I don’t know, maybe she just needs some time away from you.” 

A pause swallowed the room. Chan studied his friend with furrowed brows. “Did she talk to you?” 

“Uh-” 

“You know why she’s acting like this!” Chan raised his voice, weeks of frustration crackling in the pit of his stomach. He stood up, so he could tower over Seungcheol’s bed. “Relax, man, I don’t know anything-” 

“You do! Tell me what’s going on, Seungcheol-” Only a few words had been shared, but they’d tugged at the right strings, and suddenly Chan’s muscles were tightened as they buried into Seungcheol’s collar. The older man scowled and wrapped his hands around his roommate’s wrists in warning. Chan’s hold untightened and unscrewed and he slumped in on himself like a piece of paper, “please, Seungcheol, please. I’m going crazy.” 

Seungcheol’s gaze softened. He pushed the boy’s hands away and sat up on the bed, voice a low, solemn grumble. “I can’t tell you.” 

“Fucking please, Seungcheol. What if something happened to her? At that party. I keep thinking about it, how I wasn’t with her, and what if some asshole harassed her or something. I googled it and Google said women can feel lost, lonely and embarrassed over stuff like that,” Chan started pacing. “And then I was thinking what if it was a friend of ours? And maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell me, but, of course, I’d support her in anything she told me.” 

Chan stilled in his wandering across the narrow floorspace. “Can you at least tell me she’s okay?” 

All sharp eyes and blonde hair and panted breaths Chan stood in the middle of the room and waited for Seungcheol to tell him that you were okay. Chan would’ve even been at peace with Seungcheol telling him that you never wanted to see him again, fuck, as long as you were fine and you still laughed and smiled, even if it was with Soonyoung and not him.

But the answer didn’t come. Seungcheol frowned and fiddled with his watch. “I don’t think so, man.” 

Whatever ties had held Chan back before snapped. He stood still for maybe three seconds in the unlit room, before his body burst into action and he was scrambling for his jacket and keys.

“Fuck this.” 

Sprinting down monotonous corridors, a hard-headed Chan let wisps of blonde hair flow behind as the air kissed his cheeks. He wore the crease in his brow that had become permanently etched onto his features. Chan had a one track mind; maybe that’s why things didn’t - wouldn’t - work out with Irene. Currently, the record spinning was you and he’d gone damn near insane, so this time he’d made up his mind. He was not leaving until you talked to him. Whisking past door after door in the quiet nighttime, catching Wonwoo exiting some random dorm and smiling sheepishly, he ignored him and braved forward. 

It was not until he was standing right in front of your door that he hesitated. The door framed his figure entirely, trapping him within its confines. What if Seungcheol was right? What if he was making things worse? 

But for Chan, he wasn’t sure that he could go any lower. Every day had become a new rock bottom, every day that you avoided him, every moment wondering what he could have possibly done. He missed your smile. So then he was knocking at your door.

“Fuck off, Soonyoung, I’m not going to anymore interventions!” you yelled, voice hoarse from beyond the door. Intervention? Had you developed a drug problem? He knocked again and heard you groan, before heavy footsteps thumped towards him. 

“What do you want, Soonyo-” you paused, door half-creaked open. Your eyes were two moons, and your nose and cheeks were red. “Chan,” you breathed, voice nasally from a stuffy nose. Chan said nothing, only pushed past you to get inside. You sniffled.

Your heart was a bomb, or maybe a firework. Chan had lit the fuse and standing before him, where he was half lit in the middle of your room, you knew it was only a matter of time before it exploded, chest blazing with a parade of colors for the fourth of July. Because it was him, a greek fucking god in your toy-decorated room, in his sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and it was you, wimpish and thoroughly out of order, in pyjama shorts and a pink sweater. 

“Come. Here.” He wasn’t asking. You nodded and took two steps, and the moment you were within arms reach he enveloped you in his chest. His arms were so strong and warm, one wrapping around your waist and the other bunching up your hair to keep you pressed into him. Your cheek bunched up against his heart, you closed your eyes and heard how fast it was beating. He was scared. 

“Talk to me,” you could hear it, too, the fear. His voice was trembling and even though you couldn’t see his face you could imagine his brown eyes glazed over and lips in a pout. The thought squeezed at your heart. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut at the raspiness in your voice. “Don’t be, just talk to me. Please,” his voice was a wavering breath. He pulled away, head ducking down to peer into your eyes. Your cheeks burned and you looked away, becoming completely enamored with the white of his shirt, just for the sake of not seeing his eyes. Then both his hands were on your cheeks, a little harsh at first, but then softening. “Look at me.” 

He leaned closer, one hand straying from your cheek to hold you by the back of the head. “Look. At. Me.” he gritted his teeth and you felt the warmth of his face hitting yours. You did. You looked at him, saw him again, really, the guy you’d been avoiding and simultaneously praying closer to you standing before you like a kicked puppy. Suddenly you were crying. It felt like he’d turned you inside out. 

“No, no, no, don’t cry, pretty, talk to me, talk to Channie, okay?” he frowned before he was pushing your face closer, nosing your cheek and hair, just a big baby in front of you, with hot and humid breaths on your freshly wetted skin when his lips brushed over it. His hand on the back of your head was only urging you closer, and his back was hunched in a long arch just so he could be with you, as close to you as possible. 

And while his touch was bliss for a moment, the reality of it came crashing down, and your hands waved him off, taking a step back, which Chan followed with a step forward. He looked so hurt, hands held out for you to take but you shook your head.

“Don’t- Don’t do this to me, Chan. Not when-” you were shaking when you reached up to rub over your eyes. “Not when- Not when you have Irene to go back to.” 

“Irene?” He asked incredulously, almost in outrage, almost as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It spurred you on. “That’s what this is about?” 

“No!” you cried, “Or- yes, I don’t know.” 

Chan was silent for a few moments when you began pacing, hands over your eyes. “You were jealous?” 

“No- That’s not the point!” your lip trembled when you removed your hands and looked at him again, his arms at his sides, now that he didn’t have you to hold.

“We were never going to stop being friends, you know-” his voice was quiet and yours overpowered his easily, when you screamed at him to say: “I didn’t want to be friends!” 

Boom goes the dynamite, indeed. Fireworks filled every crevice of your ribcage.

“Because I love you,” you paused only to flick your eyes over to his, and you sucked in the fear. Your voice shook when you continued: “And I think I have for- for, like, a year? And I only realized on the fourth of July and there you were with Irene, and I just… And I thought if I backed off these feelings would go away, because you obviously don’t-” 

“Irene broke up with me,” his voice was much quieter than yours. You wanted to scream and cry and yell, because what did that matter? Why did that matter when it changed nothing? But then he spoke again: “She broke up with me because I kept thinking about you.” 

Silence. It hit you that Chan was not informing you, he was telling himself this.

“Yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck and chuckled dryly, “I kept being quiet on our dates, ‘cause I was thinking about you. I guess she sensed it.” 

You were looking at each other in the dim lights. He was so beautiful, cheeks shiny and soft lashes curling over his lids. You sniffled. “Does that mean that you-” 

Yes.

Yes, it did, because before you could even finish your sentence he was taking a step forward and his hand was on your cheek again and this time his lips were on yours and fireworks, fireworks exploded in your chest and on your lips like bursts of static, but this time it wasn’t pained, it was beautiful, and you’re melting into his hold, just as he was yours. Lips moving in perfect unison, he tilted his head down and you tilted yours up, and grabbed his neck, and his other hand slid onto your waist, resting there, as the two of you rocked under the artificial light of your overhead lamp. 

Everything you yearned for was in your hands and you didn't dare to pull away, only whimpering when you ran out of breath, and chasing his lips when he pulled away to breathe. He chuckled, mouth curved upwards in that beautiful smile that you love. You love it, and there’s no point in hiding it. He pressed his forehead against yours and you’re panting into each other’s mouths.

“I love you too,” he said. You grinned, a perfect blush spread across your rounded cheeks, and his heart soared so much that he had to kiss you again, pecking and mumbling it again and again against your lips: “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

His tongue slid over your lip and you opened your mouth with a squeak. His tongue was wet and warm in your mouth and his hands were suddenly on your hips, pushing them into his. Then he pulled away, blushing himself when a string of spit connects you. “Is this okay?” he asked, so softly, so gently, and you nodded, flushed and out of breath and pathetically desperate.

“Yes,” you whined, “need you so bad.” He cooed when you pressed your hips into his, long fingers brushing hair out of your face. “Channie’s gonna take care of you. Channie’s gonna make it up to you,” and yet again it's almost like he was saying it to himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he lowered the two of you onto your bed. Hair strands stretched from their roots in your head, when you hit your plush pillow, and you were all shiny and sparkling eyes, laid out before him in a way that he never dared to imagine. “Too pretty,” he whispered, kissing you again. 

He was grinding into you, anchoring himself on your waist and whimpering into the corner of your mouth at the feeling of your warm center through your shorts. “Baby, need you so bad. Can I take this off?” he tugged at your shirt and you nodded, unable to get anything out but whines. He pulled off the pink fabric, marveling at your bare chest before him. Of course, he’d seen it before, in tight shirts, on days where you’d decided to forgo a bra, and he’d always cursed himself for imagining the real thing. “You’re so beautiful,” he cried, as he hit your core just right and he stared at your tits’ slight jiggle. 

“Such a pretty baby, so ready for me, can I touch them, please, please?” he was babbling, somehow already pussydrunk, but you were no better, eyebrows cinched together in pleasure, nodding without even an ounce of hesitation at his request. He groped at your chest, thumbs brushing over the hardened buds, before he ducked his head down to suck on one. You’re gasping, as his tongue flicked over you, hands tangling themselves in his hair, moaning his name into the air. He hummed loudly, and you felt a thick glob of wetness escape your pussy at just the sight of him, hunched over you like a wild animal, panting into your chest.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered and he let go of your tit with a small ‘pop’, lifting his head to look at you. He was grinning ear to ear, face still hovering over your chest. “Am I?” and suddenly he was so cocky, hand cupping your heat through your shorts, and watching as you buck into his hand with a strangled moan. “Needy girl, need pretty Channie to touch you, hm?” He teased, fingers gently rubbing over the fabric of your damp shorts.

“Please,” you whined, thrashing in the sheets, desperate enough to cry. He cooed and shushed you, hovering over you by one, strong arm: “Shh, sweetheart, shh, I know. I got you, I’ll make you feel good.” As much as Chan wanted to make you beg, he was desperate too, and he couldn’t help the slight guilt of what you’d been through. The thought almost made him frown, but he pushed it away and peeled off your shorts and underwear in one swoop. 

You cried out when his fingers were finally sliding through your folds. Your eyes, half closed, flicked up to see him, gaze trained on your core in amazement. “You’re so wet, baby,” he purred, spreading the warm slick up to your clit to start circling it with two fingers. “Just for you- Mngh!” 

He plunged two fingers into you with ease, wetness coating his fingers to let them slide in. You were panting and thrashing and moaning his name, and he just watched with the biggest hardon he’d ever had, how he made you feel good and how pretty you were, and how much he never wanted to pull his fingers out of your sopping wet heat. 

“Do you want my fingers in your mouth?” he asked, and you squeezed your eyes shut and nodded vigorously. “Hey, hey,” the fingers that weren’t plunging in and out of you and curling into your pussy’s sweet spot, squeezed your chin. Your eyelashes fluttered open, and you stared at him with blown out eyes. “You gotta look at me while you do it.” 

Then his fingers prodded at your lips, and you opened them with a whine, willing yourself to keep them open, to see how he smiled adoringly down at you. They were filling you just right, one hand stuck in your pussy and the in your mouth, teasing over your tongue. Your orgasm was approaching, knotting in your stomach, embarrassingly fast. 

He groaned at the sight of you, looking up at him with huge, adoring eyes while sucking his fingers. “Fuck, fuck, good girl, such a good, appreciative girl, taking my fingers wherever she can.” You clenched around him at that, and he chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, you like being my good girl? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.” 

You released his fingers only to moan - almost scream - his name, as you came around his fingers, curling into you and working you through your orgasm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum on Channie’s fingers. Look so pretty when you cum.” 

You were still dazed on your bed in the glimmering aftermath of your post-orgasm, when you heard Chan shuffling beside you, and then he was leaning over you once again, shirt and pants discarded and cock proud and stiff and leaking precum onto your stomach. You groaned at the sight, hand trailing over his exposed stomach, where abs dipped and rose, glistening softly. Then your thumb caressed and pressed against his slit and he hissed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. 

He nosed at your neck, pecking a little, before speaking, voice too strained and too pretty: “Can I fuck you, baby? Please, please, I need to feel you around me so bad.” He had shut his eyes tight, fighting the urge to grab hold of your back and press your tits into his chest.

“Please,” you came back equally as whiny, writhing in his hold, where his thumb was rubbing soft circles in your hip bone. “Please, wan’ your cock. Need it.” He smiled into your neck, grabbing your head and kissing your cheek. “So cute.” 

You felt the head of his cock slide through your still impossibly wet folds, then pressing against your entrance. You were murmuring his name over and over and he was panting into your neck and licking a stripe of wet glistening saliva onto it, as he began to push in. 

You were writhing so much he had to place his hands on your hips to still you, whispering soft reassurances until he was pushed all the way, clit pushed into his abdomen. You’re so full, you can’t stop the wanton moans at the feeling of his pretty, red cock, every bulge and vein pressed against your gummy walls. “You’re so fucking tight,” he spat, fearful that he’d spill his load into you immediately from the way you were clenching him. Then, slowly, he was rocking into you and the both of you were clambering onto one another. Your hands found his neck, his hair, his flexing biceps, and his your hips, waist, boob, and then clambering up to hold your face and look into your eyes. 

“Look at me,” you almost didn’t catch the way he repeated those words from before, but you looked into his brown orbs, blonde hair curling over and tickling your forehead. “So fucking pretty, so cute, my little cumslut. Say you want my cum, baby, please, say it.” 

“Wan’ your cum!” you cried, as he angled his cock inside you to press into that spongy spot. He was giving in to all his wants at your words, pulling you up by pressing his arms under your back, so your tits pressed against his chest, and he was nosing at your face again, trailing kisses everywhere he could reach. “So good for me, so pretty, all mine. Fuck, sweetheart.” 

“All yours,” you babbled mindlessly, when his hand snaked between your bodies to rub circles into your clit. “Cum for me, cum for me, baby.” 

His thrusts were growing sloppy, and you felt the knot tightening in you once more, pulled tight and ready to snap. “Cum, cum, come on, my pretty darling. Fuck, Y/n, I love you!” 

At those words you came, pussy pulsating around his cock and clenching so tight, he was unsure if he could even pull out in time. He did though, pulling out just in time to see his seed spill all over your soft stomach. 

Panting and out of breath, his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of you, body covering yours. “Ugh,” you groaned and looked up at you, laughing softly. “Chan, you’re heavy,” you complained. “I’m a weighted blanket,” he countered, but climbed off of you anyway, lying down next to you. You looked at him, with the side profile of a god, and his blonde hair tousled and chest rising and falling.

“You are pretty,” you said, and you could almost cry when he looked at you and blushed. 

“You should’ve just told me,” he whispered, turning his head to gaze at you. You frowned and nodded. “But it doesn't matter now,” he reassured, one hand climbing from the sloping, bunched up duvet and running his hand through your hair. He tilted his gaze towards your cum covered stomach, some of it having smeared onto himself, and he pushed himself off the bed. "I'll get a towel."

Naked and divine, he disappeared into your small bathroom.

“Oh, God..” you groaned suddenly, face morphing into anguish.

“What?” Chan called from the bathroom.

“Soonyoung is going to be the most insufferable person on the planet when he finds out about this."

[girluimfailing]

This comic was so bullshit. They mischaracterized and ruined his character (along with making him smth like a fucking suicide bomber, and my guys is half arab chinese like wtfff) All just to justify beating up a kid. Idk if Jason was mischaracterized too tho. But this is absolute trash... bro is beating up a literal child...

[random-ideas-artblog]

Just finished watching the first detective Conan movie!

So I just finished it, and I was taking notes as I went through. I’m just going to post them below. It’s pretty rough because I typed while watching so these are real time thoughts. Overall I enjoyed it though.

Conan’s adorable when he gets the letter (blushing is cute)

Can’t believe the dork forgot his own birthday but remembered some Holmes trivia instead lol 

Ran is a such a sweetheart omg 

Mori really read through the dudes whole Wikipedia page lmao

Never mind I mean biography I forgot this was like 1997

Does this dude have OCD is that supposed to be the implication 

Garden party is cool but where are the bombs and skyscrapers what I sup 

Damn he can cook wow

I feel like the do everything myself is going to be Important

Ok he’s kind of sinister know idk why  

Yo why is he so interested in this teenage girls love life??? 

Conan you are so screwed 

Oh ok I see where the bomb and skyscraper are coming into play now 

Grudge against the architect maybe 

Wow that was a big explosion

Ok this whole situation is very weird why is he helping Conan 

What is the cat the fucking bomb???

There better not be any cat death in this movie I will cry 

How did the old woman not notice the bomb???

That old woman and driver are having very tame reactions to this insane kid 

Oops and he’s passed out. In the hospital too uh oh

Aw that cute Kogoro is by his bedside 

Wow Conan without the glasses really looks like a  shinichi copy  how has no one noticed 

You can’t use phones in hospitals what is this common knowledge I never learned 

Ok this looks really bad for Shinichi I pity him a bit lol now Kogoro things he’s scum 

Ok I have a theory: For whatever reason  architect is bombing stuff for an unknown reason. The guy shown has a beard but that’s probably just a disguise, architect said he likes to do things himself so that’s why I think it’s him. He doesn’t what there to be casualties or just wants someone to stop him.That’s why Shinichi was contacted he’s a well known detective. The password thing was a test for Mori to see if he can replace shinichi, but Conan figured it out and got a tour of the gallery. Which, COINCIDENTALLY, has buildings that have been bombed before (the mansion) and will be bombed (presumably the skyscraper based on info so far). It’s a deliberate clue. That’s also why the bomber is accepting Conan as a legitimate detective because he passed the test, but also giving hints because this js a kid he doesn’t want to kill him. It’s also just occurred to me that the architect was implied to have severe OCD or perfectionism. He could be bombing past builds because he thinks there’s some thing wrong with them and can’t stand to have their design be under his name. Something like that idk. I’m only 36 minutes in so we’ll see

Wait a minute maybe the reason architect was interested in the birthday date was because he wanted to know when and where Shinichi would be so he could plan the bombing around his schedule! Ran provided practically all the details too 

That’s cute the kids drew a picture (I know it’s a suspect but still)

He’s happy with it??? Damn Conan can’t draw at all 

That was a lot of damage to the car wow 

Rare Kudo shinichi appearance I missed you!!! Conan’s cute but shinichi as himself looks pretty cool haha 

Damn that’s a strong father son bond 

Laughing then hating that’s kinda of funny

Genta is going to shout out the word bombs isn’t he

…I knew it 

Wait no ones noticed these kids screaming bomb on the train?

I am so confused by the motivation pretty sure this means my theories are wrong damn 

Sick burn Ran lol 

Wow this whole diverting sequence is seriously dramatic and I love it 

Poor Ran she’s getting stood up 

The bridge! The architect doesn’t want to blow up that bridge because he’s actually happy with that work! That would fit with my previous theory 

Ok shiratori is being kind of suspicious. Kinda confirms my theory tho 

Conan dude that suggestion was not subtle at all  

Ok now what Mori has said it’s someone else I’m more convinced than ever it’s the architect 

Ok there’s a lot of emphasis being placed on him lighting the pipe same as the beginning 

Ok did the dad steal his kids designs or did he steal his dad’s?? Probably the latter 

Was I actually on to something with the pipe????

Uh new theory he’d bombing all the architecture that doesn’t fit the New Tama symmetrical city to try and get the building approved after the Mayors arrest 

Just saw the architect has a painting of a horse above the fireplace I don’t know why that’s amusing to me 

Mori you are so wrong it’s funny as hell 

That reaction was funny as hell 

It’s kind of creepy how the architect is just standing and staring down 

Go after him Shiratori hell yeah 

So the skyscraper in the tile only shows up in the last 20 minutes 

I was actually right with my theory?? Kind of. I got the reason he wanted Kudo to take the case wrong(it was revenge) but the motivation behind the bombing and who was bombing them was correct. 

Ok but now that it’s been proven it had nothing to do with the case, why was he so interested in the date it’s a little bit creepy ngl 

Oh damn the bombs actually went off that’s a lot of power 

Ok wow this dude is an asshole 

Wait he wanted to know about the date so he could plant a huge bomb that would kill Ran and Shinichi wtf 

Ok Ran is taking this very well wow she’s cool 

I wonder what everyone else in the lobby is thinking right now 

Wait did they do it wrong. Wait nvm that’s someplace else 

Seeing Kogoro so worried about Ran is kind of heartwarming, although the circumstances aren’t great 

Oh god it’s the classic red wire blue wire 

My bet is on red wire. It’s Ran’s favorite color and the couples lucky color for the month 

Bruh wtf is with this edgy commentary from the architect about love you’re such a loser Christ.I’m getting a bit heated haha 😅

Not the happy Birthday this is really sad 

We’ll be together when we die??? What the hell this is depressing but kinda sweet 

I just realized I started off a bunch of my comments with ok so. It’s not important or anything I just noticed that while reading through. I��d give this movie a 7/10. There were some interesting parts and it was fun theorizing but there are still some things I’m confused about. Why did he accept Conan as a detective? Why did he provide clues to the bombs??? If the motive was revenge wouldn’t it be better to have Shinichi fail? Maybe I missed something idk.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Shell 4.8 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

I’d discovered facing down more than a dozen gunmen, thirty or so people with improvised weapons and a mad scientist with a fetish for bombs made me really, really appreciate what Bitch brought to the team.

:Cackle: Understandable, tho. She's really a 'I'd rather have her and not need her' sort of teammate, isn't she?

She rested her hand on the head of an ABB member standing in front of her jeep with a pistol in his hands.  He flinched at the touch.  “If the blonde opens her mouth again, open fire on their entire group.  I don’t care what the others have to say, but she stays quiet.”

Someone did their homework.

 “You’re the only one I don’t get.  Don’t know your powers.  But seeing how you and the skinny boy baited my ineffectual mercenaries, I think I’m going to play it safe and have you be quiet.  Maybe it’s a subsonic thing, altering moods as you talk, maybe it’s something else.  I dunno.  But you shut up, ‘Kay?”

Okay, not her homework, but she is improving the test not half-bad, I guess.

.  Enough fear, and they stop worrying about their own interests, stop wondering if they can usurp you, and they dedicate themselves entirely to making you happy.  Or at least, to keeping you from being unhappy.”

It also makes people happy to betray you the moment they think they can, and makes people not give you important news if it's bad news. Fear must be tempered.

What gesture would be effective enough that it would have their people running for the hills when they see me coming?”

Nothing? I mean, E88 has fought Lung before, I'm sure. The capes at least.

She didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything, didn’t offer any tell or signal.  There was a sound, like a vibrating cell phone on a table, and Park Jihoo liquefied into a soupy mess in the span of a second.

*shudder* Gyagghagah. That kind of shit is always a horrifying mental image.

“The six-eighteen!  I forgot I even made that one!  Perfect!  Better than I thought!”

But for me it was Tuesday?

If her job was to terrify, she’d succeeded.  With me, at least.  I wanted to throw up, but I’d have to take off my mask to do it, and I was afraid that if I moved, I’d get shot.  The fear of the guns was enough to override my welling nausea, but the end result was that I was shaking.  Not just trembling, but full body shakes that had me struggling to keep upright.

Yeah, I really can't blame Taylor for this one.

“I’d be too lazy to do that, even if I had your powers,” Regent said, “Can I approach the body?  Get a better look?”

Oh Regent, I'm sure this is you playing her, but also like... it's believable he'd just be that into it. Just a little. But I love that she was so sure she needed to shut Tattletale up and now she's letting the Master (even if his mastery doesn't involve his voice) who got raised by Heartbreaker chat it up.

I can think twelve moves ahead before you’ve even decided on your first. 

Anyone who unironically says that is about to get their ass handed to them, right? That is how it works, right?

Give the lunatic bomber a little respect.  I quietly voiced what Tattletale couldn’t. “Tone it down a notch, Regent,” I whispered.

I dunno. I think Regent has the right idea, actually. Sociopath to Sociopath and all that.

The camera-guy answered in an accented voice, “Good plan, Bakuda.”

I mean, is anyone ever gonna tell her that she has a bad plan?

I feel like she wouldn't react well to that. And we know how she handles not reacting well.

I saw a glimpse of chaos, of screaming people running from the place the explosion had happened in the midst of Bakuda’s own group.  The fleeing people were obstructing the view of the people with guns.

So she just blew one of her own people up just to be unpredictable?

Finally, there was Bakuda, still sitting on the side of the jeep.  She was either shouting something or laughing.  She was letting us slip from her grasp, her people were on the verge of killing one another in mindless panic, and she’d just killed at least one of her own people on a whim.  From what we’d just seen of her, I was willing to bet she was laughing as it all happened.

Honestly feels just a little bit contrived, tbh. Though maybe it will feel less so once I've read the next chapter

[februaryschopin]

(audience booing track) okay hear me out before you guys throw your tomatoes at me because i killed off a previous chara i had just HEAR ME OUT… as always i’m 9688385 dms behind but trust me i will get back to you all one like at a time :-) it’s me anwar (not hadid) + thank u! yapping below on a particular visitor from allara!

liam fanning-ngoc, 25 / general (footnotes wip if i ever get to it lmao)

ENTER the life of a former weird boy (still is actually) from the allara server and more specifically from boston, massachusetts, usa where finding a wasian of irish and hoa vietnamese chinese descent is as easy as 1-2-3. his parents had a meet-cute back in their college days so whenever liam tells people how his white dad and asian mother met he’s always met with dreaded questions alluding to his dad going out of his way to find an asian wife (you know what i’m talking about don’t play with me) and liam’s like “yo dude what are u talking about lmao my dad met my mom on accident in boston college’s dining hall”. SO the now berklee college of music professor marries his long time girlfriend, a vietnamese chinese immigrant woman from terra who’s a musical therapist for children

all was technically well until some unaddressed hiccups concerning their marriage tho? as in cultural differences and backlash on the mother’s end who refuses to fully assimilate to allaran/american society which didn’t translate too well for the white side of his family that are “pseudo true” americans as far as having more than 4+ grandparents who were born in allara. so plenty of misunderstanding stemming from xenophobia and liam’s dad is a deadbeat emotionally especially bringing up the fact that liam is very visibly mixed looking and not at all white passing (more on that with his first cousin on the fanning side of the family *side eyes emoji*) which made him the butt of the joke for shitty “stinky lunches” and anti-viet/sinophobic sentiment while growing up overweight and as a continual afterthought

his dad is an amazing lover, a wonderful husband, a love bomber to infinity which is probably what convinced his mother!! BUT.. the downside like we mentioned above is having an emotionally neglectful/deadbeat dad who simply filed an app to terrascape for a kid by the expectations of his wife (lowkey to shut her up hahahahshafjgj ah shit) and the same shitty tired ass excuse of being “married to his work/career” comes into question. bro can’t name any of the 2 childhood friends liam grew up with, but his mother can. after a certain age his father ends up not knowing a damn thing about his kid and i think. at the end of the day. it’s because he’s unable to fathom his son’s biracial identity and refuses to help confront his son’s difficulties.. with such? especially considering that his wife raises liam with a strong arm because she REFUSES to have a useless whitewashed child that embarrasses her so.

this is the part where liam’s dad starts to hate his wife who is a person outside of being an object of his desires which is fucked as we all know and spoiler alert: he doesn’t have the fucking balls to break up/divorce her because men love making their problems everyone else’s so :-) but do keep in mind that liam’s mom isn’t emotionally avail either, very much the “here’s some fruit i cut for you” immigrant mother after she emotionally abuses you because she always thinks what’s best for her is what’s best for You so no she’s a mother who never apologizes but will. cut up some damn fruit or cook his fave northern viet dishes for him and it’s probably why liam was a fat lil boy

he’s def that weird kid you shared an honors class with that people just left alone after making shitty jokes about? but you feel kinda bad for him despite not knowing much about him? liam grew up on making friends from rpg games, forums, aside from the 2 buddies he’s known all his life. he was a band kid and was fairly good at playing the upright bass, but didn’t have aspirations to pursue music the same manner his parents did. instead he’s working on his 20th-21st century comic book/manga collection and can flawlessly imitate the voice of bruce lee speaking in english (and LOVED play fighting with his loser friends after binge watching 1970s hong kong martial arts movies).

tho eventually he stops feeling bad for himself (which honestly partial to blame is america’s amazing job at emasculating asian men which is totally a conditioned culprit!!!) and ends up losing the weight upon sophomore year of college, gains an interest in fitness and attempts to finding a personal style which honestly still he’s not really fashion conscious. painfully looks like a frat boy and is used to the allegations but the fuck ass loser in him hasn’t left, but he realizes how people treat him in the last recent years due to being relatively conventionally handsome(?) and only hot people get to be weird and have niche interests apparently

AND ALAS it’s been three years since he graduated from umass boston with a vietnam + ireland flag sash draped around his neck lookin like a goof but reppin hard for both sides lmfao and rn he lives in the megabuildings with a roommate (plot? anyone?)! a bachelor’s in communications + marketing with a minor in digital arts. since he was a kid he used to mess around on a hand-me-down terra-esque-photoshop-based-software and since then i’m afraid we having the coming of herb lubalin except in the year 3024. bro was making his family homemade birthday card graphics, eventually websites and now is working on prototype designs for apps, etc. he works for the gaming company that has launched the ever so successful iron fist which has been his latest project atm and man is he psyched, so much that he was offered to position in their physical office in terra’s server so long as he migrates with the proper visitation/work documents AND YEAAAH i’ll quit yapping here bg-wise but i can happily :-) expand if needed be. i fucking love expanding..

personality

truthfully and i know i always say this but he’s definitely leaning towards the ambivert side of people, give him a topic that he’s well informed on/interested or if you guys have a common interest then BOOM. it’s all over, i fear that you have a yapper in him. but that aside genuinely quite friendly aaaaaaand keenly leans into his intuition too a lot of the time? naturally curious about people and things so believe me when i say he just Has to fuck around and find out or else it’ll kill him to not? want to do that? very trustworthy, almost just as reliable, enjoys being someone’s rock or pillar to lean on because he didn’t have that as much growing up so it’s really the least that he can do. half a strategic planner, half a “fuck it we ball get up everyone today’s the day”, one hundred percent hypocritical and conflicting and very much a social/emotional chameleon. despite being a yapper also do trust me when i say that his yapping is purposeful (the aquarius mercury is doing so much heavy lifting in his chart). uh also is pro-terra bc bro is not tryna die out he just would like to enjoy his time in this simulated reality so!! idk man people hate him for his boyish whimsical nature but that’s neither here or there

[hildegardladyofbones]

okay final thoughts on disco elysium (post-first playthrough). major fucking spoilers ahead.

This run took me 38 hours and I did it in 6 days (both irl and in game). Today was the day where I played the least, only 5 or so hours

My main strategy for picking options was: 1. what would *I* do? this lead to most of the boring and centrist answers because I don't want to take a stand on politics of a world I don't know shit about. Will definitely make other choices in the future now that I've gotten a grasp. 2. What would Kim approve of? disappointing Kim makes me physically sick. 3. Which of the options has the name Kim in it? I just wanted to say his name as much as possible.

In the future I will definitely be picking the silliest options. I also plan on picking the thinker archetype (i picked the sensitive one because i liked the addition that he might begin to lose his mind.) and that one says that he's very bad with people, which logically would lead to out of pocket things.

Most importantly: I didn't do shit in this game. I didn't even disco. I thought I had an other opportunity to finish that quest, because I could have never thought that the killer would be on the island. There's also the deal with Cuno. Idfk what it is. Will get to that next time. And what was it that Joyce had to say? And how would've the tribunal gone had I not failed all but two red-checks?

Other shit i want to rant about. Kim. Oh my fucking god, Kim. Hands down the best character in any video game I've ever played. (Oh yeah that reminds me- I'm certain I didn't find out all there is to him). I've talked about it before (Wayyy too much) how he was so kind and patient and down-to-earth when he didn't have to be. How he doesn't fuck around. Usually. One of my favourite traits of his is that he is so willing to do random shit for the fun of it. He also doesn't take anyone's shit, like, he has effectively shut people's mouths up. His voice was also way too soothing and enjoyable to listen to for absolutely no apparent reason. I cheered and clapped when he spoke. I am a total kim-freak and I am Definitely kimfected. I can go on. about the fact that he smokes? absolutely obsessed with that fact for no apparent reason. And he's gay! I never would've thought they'd go there. I will be needing an orange bomber jacket and round sunglasses moving forward, thankyouverymuch

I should also talk about Harry. The reason why I didn't fuck with him *as much* is because to me, his characterization was very inconsistent. I'm sure I'll grow to like him even more when I actually know what I'm doing. I absolutely appreciate the constant angst he was in tho, especially after the tribunal, but *that* deserves it's own post. He is one of the more believably fucked-up detectives in fiction and definitely one of the most well-written. What absolutely seals the deal for me is the addition of his skills (?)(idk what to call them). Not only was it a wonderful game mechanic, it also made the game so much more interesting. And the fact that it's canon, there *are* voices in his head also adds to it. The narration was also on point, they picked the right actor for it. Speaking of game mechanics, the dice roll was also a needed addition. That's what made the game hard. Too bad it took me so long to figure out the logic behind it. I think I did that at like the second to last dice roll in the game. It's also, obviously, a nod to ttrpgs' that were an inspiration for this game. That also appears in the gameplay itself. Most of the time the characters are standing still while the narration tells us what's happening. That's neat as well, idk, i've never played an ttrpg

And then there's the ending. I will skip the middle parts, mostly, because they're just great and I love the story and that's pretty much all i have to say about it. The ending fucntioned as a review of how/what we did this run. Kim pretty much laid out exactly what kind of cop we were, what we believed in, how well we did the investigation, etc. and for that fact alone I don't know if I could ever stomach doing a playthrough where I don't solve the crime to near-perfection. I cannot stomach letting that man down. I will most likely be missing out on a considerable chunk of the game that way, but as about everything besides DE lately, idgaf. Kim is the blorbo of all time. Anyway it kind of pains me that the ending came so suddenly, mostly for the afore-mentioned reasons. It also kind of hurt me mentally because of how we're forced to confront how much of a shitshow Harry is. And the fact that it's so heavily hinting at a sequel that never came. The world is against me specifically for not giving this game a sequel. For not letting me see more of Kim. That's right, I will never shut up about him. I am superbly annoying about that guy it's unbearable even to me. FUCK i digress, the main reason why the ending left me with the heavy feeling is the feeling of loose ends. (I didn't fucking disco, remember?)

HOLY SHIT I HAVEN'T EVEN TALKED ABOUT THE WORLD !! I was *absolutely* *positively* astonished the more I learned about the world. I love history as much as the next history freak, but what I love more is *intentionally* mixing up the decades. The cars looked a century old, they had computers, they had ttrpgs', the year was '51 and they had disco, obviously. I live for that shit. There's also the thing that I do with my own fictional world and that is mixing made up shit with our world shit. I am beyond elated when I figured out that's what they were doing because i've never seen anything else do that. Their world mostly looks like and acts like our world, except the cultures, geography and history are all original. it's what I did because I didn't want to learn about the london tube system. And of course there are some super-natural elements (what the fuck is the pale? who is the paleworker? huh???) as well. The similarities between their and my world go on, but I digress. The worldbuilding done here was superb and so fucking impressive. Honestly stuff like "oh why would they call *their* months march, april, etc when the guys that named the months didn't exist in their world" and "oh why do they have communism if that was invented by Karl Marx" doesn't bother me at all. That is the shit i live for. It pains me that there most likely won't be a sequel, but luckily I am estonian so I can read the novel. The game being so heavily estonian-made was another reason why I bought it. (the others being: it was 4 eur and it said the artstyle was inspired by oil paintings)(had i known how life-changing this game would be for me, i would've gladly paid the 40 eur)

There's still more i could talk about, actually. This game also did some pretty insane things to me as a person, but I won't divulge the details here (also my mother thinks i should go to sleep? fuck her, i am staying up until 4am. again). For the time being it altered how I interact with the world, possibly permanently, but it's too early to tell. I am still knee-deep in the brainrot. If you really want, I could elaborate if asked, I don't care that much about privacy.

Anyway thank you for reading this rant? idk why you'd do that, i literally didn't proofread anything i wrote here. Most of it is about Kim anyway. I still have no idea what drugs they put in that character. Literally addicted to him. I think he's not just the 57th's best (or 41st's i guess) but he's just the best. in general. in every category. never figured out what the deal with the gloves was tho.

[janeturenne]

Hey so I'm that weirdo who turns up on the internet once every two years and then vanishes again into the ether...

Okay, first things first: I'm gonna be at Big Finish Day in London tomorrow. If you're there, please say hi! I'll be in CIA-Ace cosplay, complete with Docs and bomber jacket.

The big thing, tho, is that, after 15-odd years of ficwriting, I have finally gone "...these literal millions of words of fiction that I've written probably at some point began to constitute the kind of thing that even late-stage capitalism would recognize as Labor, huh." So when my husband and I started toying around with a premise based on our RP characters, I went - fuck it. Imma polish this up, put it on Wattpad and see if I can't take a crack at actually making a living from my writing. I've only wanted to be a writer since I was, y'know, five. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, yeah?

And so I've posted the first two chapters of a new original novel - not the one that some of you may have heard me talk about before (which I'm still being a bit precious about and trying to save for a publisher), but one that, if you've read and enjoyed anything else I've ever written, I hope you might like. It's Victorian and fluffy and romantic and, I hope, sexy, but it's also full of literary allusions, banter and female characters who absolutely will not be fucked with. Mostly it exists, in fact, as a giant middle finger to Leo Tolstoy, because I hate Anna Karenina on such a visceral level that it takes 60,000 words to say how much. Also, if you look at some of the characters, squint and go "...they look familiar," you're probably right. The main stately house is called Longbarrow Hall, that's all I'm gonna say about that.

So! If you've ever read and enjoyed anything I've ever written, can I please ask you to at least take a look, and consider sharing this post? Even if you find it's not really your thing, it would be so helpful to me to get eyes on it, especially early on. It's 100% written at this point, and is posting in 20 chapters. The first two are up today, and the subsequent ones will post every Friday hereafter.

Thank you very much! If you'd like to learn more, a full description is under the cut below.

No Doom But Bliss, by Jane Turenne, on Wattpad

A story of hard-won second chances, No Doom But Bliss is for fans of Bridgerton, Downton Abbey and Outlander, or anyone who likes their bodice-ripping grown-up, feminist, and a little messy.

Lady Tess Keighley has long since realised, too late, that her husband's interest in her is political rather than personal. Edmund got exactly what he wanted from marriage into her family: the office of Prime Minister. Tess, on the other hand, got a decade of neglect and cruelty that has left her believing herself wholly undesirable.

But that isn't what Kantor Mamblestone - Scotsman, ex-soldier, and currently her husband's secretary - sees when he looks at Tess. Her beauty, brains and sweetness are enough to leave his previously respectable Victorian soul in no little degree of torment. And, sweet though she may be, Tess has more fight in her than it seems…

[we-drank-too-much-bleach]

CAN WE GET SOME HEADCANONS FOR THE BAMBIS? (all of them together!)

Of course of course we love the femritters on this blog

MORE FEMRITTER HCS >:3

-they tried to start a band once and only got one live show which they were booed out of because they were soooo bad

Candice was vocals/guitar

Bambietta was backing vocals/keyboard

Meninas was bass

Giselle was drums

Liltotto didn't want to join in but sometimes she'd just be like tambourine or something

-they were mostly punk rock but sometimes did like… soft rock

which sounded better than the punk stuff

-Candice kept ruining stuff with her guitar solos…

-whenever they watch comedies Candice cackles like a maniac every like 3 seconds and Giselle just talks through the entire thing so everyone else can't understand what's happening

- Giselle talks through every movie ever cause she’s just like me

-they also could never decide a name for the band but several ideas that were thrown around:

Candice & The Electrosuperdeath Girls

The Bombers

All Quincy Rejects

Dead On Arrival

Guys I Don't Think This Will Last Longer Than A Month At The Highest Do You Not Remember When We Tried To Make A Movi-Wait Meninas Stop Copying This Down This Isn't A Fucking Name You Dumbass

- on Bambietta's birthday once everyone thought it'd be a genius idea to literally just put a bomb in her cake

- Giselle wanted to be in the cake but they wouldn’t let her (they didn’t understand her genius smh)

-For christmas everyone got each other coal, this wasn’t planned, they all individually thought of it

- Giselle also put a bow on her head and said she was the group’s gift, and only Meni thought it was cute

- Candice once considered showing up entirely wrapped in bows and literally nothing else but she realised that would not help her against the slut allegations so she chose not to

- Christmastime is always the most chaotic for the girls

- Meni is the only one who buys thoughtful gifts

- Giselle once gifted Liltotto a rotting arm

- halloween they usually do nothing for because last time they dressed up bambi and candice argued for hours over who was sexier in their costume

it ended with a group vote which resulted in zero votes for both of them

- for an experiment Giselle once faked her death to see what the others would do and after a week she came back and literally nobody noticed she left

- Meni like… noticed but she wasn’t worried

- Liltotto got a snack stash everyone is aware of but she doesn't know they're aware of it and thinks she's kept it secret

- Giselle keeps taking everything grape and blue raspberry flavored

- Lil plays gacha games, like.. it’s an addiction

- Meninas plays cookie clicker games

- Bambi speed runs anything and everything

- Candice plays yaoi visual novels

- She picks bad routes to see men suffer and plays good routes to giggle when the men kiss

- Giselle does the same but for yuri visual novels

- Giselle plays games like ddlc so often.. like the most fucked up ones you can find.. like you and me and her. And corpse party

- Candice listens to punk rock

Bambietta listens to classic rock

Giselle listens to breakcore (and idol music)

Liltotto listens to idk

Meninas listens to folk and pop music (another idol music enjoyer)

- Giselle has literal skeletons in her closet (The animal ones are sourced ethically but the human ones…)

- during blackouts Candice uses herself as a generator but ONLY for the stuff she uses regularly and nothing else

Jeez that one was long! Sorry we haven’t posted in a while, we’ve both been a little occupied. I hope you like the hcs tho! :3 - Giselle

[chris-continues]

College AU Vash headcanon’s

Vash Saverem <3

-he can swallow multiple pills at once. Wolfwood thinks it’s freaky (it’s the result of Vash having to have multiple medications due to his health conditions). He used to be super freaked out about it but went “fuck it we ball” and tried it. Nai was worried he’d choke.

-Vash hugs a pillow to sleep (soon to be you heheh)

-He has StarWars posters in his room

-he’s been saving up for a Lego Death Star but ends up blowing his savings on smth like donuts (AUDHD impulsiveness). Nai has been wanting to get it for him but doesn’t have the money and figures him learning more financial literacy doesn’t hurt. But he still doesn’t want Vash to go without :( (he loves his brother very much. They’re happy.)

-He has Nai shave his hair like once a month because it grows fast and too long for his liking, so Nai fixes up his undercut while Vash rants about something that’s caught his eye, like how his DND campaign with Wolfwood is going or how a professor has been. (Or.. you).

-He likes the feel of fingerless gloves and owns a few fun pairs. And he has kandi bracelets he likes to fidget with. He lowk wants to be scene but doesn’t really know where to start, so he just has a few small little things he adds onto outfits that give a scene vibe

-Whenever having neutrals, I believe Vash would flock to denim or khaki for a base, giving his clothes more life. The darker clothes he has are sweaters Nai thrifted for him that uphold well in winter. I do believe he’d flock towards a more “vintage” style and would like a 70’s vibe w/ cuffed jeans, but would like more contemporary things added in, like chunky sneakers. He likes a fun silhouette with baggy pants. Also he enjoys patterned button ups + colorful 90’s typa windbreakers and bomber jackets and loves thrifting them even tho Nai says he has plenty (it’s never enough)

(Photos for reference)

-He loves taking craft paint and doing cool little doodles or patterns onto his clothes (when he has time of course) he got Nai into painting/bleaching clothes (since Nai is secretly goth)

-Vash likes movies like Back to the Future, something comforting and easy to watch.

-He loves fun patterned socks- whenever he goes to like a museum gift shop he gets cute socks. Like Coca Cola labeled socks or something with a fun pattern. Speaking of which, he sometimes mismatch’s socks and it drives Nai insane

-He likes street food a lot. Like corn dogs, pretzels; etc. I think he avidly enjoys going to food trucks and eating at a picnic table with friends.

-His vocal stims consist of quotes from StarWars and listening to documentaries on something like: “How 3D printers work”

-He likes video essays on random stuff on YouTube (look at last HC)

[lamialamia]

Weird Asks!

43, 63, 65, and 98!!

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

ok so. you got me. jackets are one of my weaknesses. I can wear the same shirts or jeans over and over and over but I have to change up my overcoat every time. In the context of this ask, I'm choosing leather jacket. It's very very cool.

Hoodie is super convenient but not my style, neither is cardigan. Jean jacket... I still haven't found one that I love; and bomber jacket swallows me lmao. That being said, those sheepskin leather jacket in MOTA is insanely attractive. Holy fuck I want one, even tho I might look quite bad in them haha

But the real jacket fav is longcoat! I have one in light blue and it's the love of my jacket life.

63. five songs that would play in your club?

OOOhhh. Ok club, means dancing. I'm not playing jazz here, alright.

Black Eyed Peas' Pump It, Let's Get It Started, Don't Phunk With My Heart and 2ne1's I Am The Best and Falling In Love.

65. any permanent scars?

oh yes, a small one at the end of my right eyelid where it touch on my eyebrow. I fell down my dad's motorcycle when I was very little and nearly tore out my eyelid.

98. favorite historical era?

as some one who is deep in the HBOWar fandom, obviously I really enjoys the 40s aesthetics. But I'm not into the past haha Seriously just enjoy the aesthetics and looks of things, I wouldn't have a favorite historical era (for my own country or anywhere at all, for clarification)

Thanks for the ask ☺️

[seariii]

Rambling a bit about an... Oc I guess? Self insert??? Not any lore nor coherent thoughts tho

When- .... not me about to slip up and drop irl name lmao- when self insert/oc/character!me (her "official" name is c![irl name] lmao, she's from an old rp) owns a song and it's difficult to assign it to another character because I just think of everything about that....

That one was having such a beautiful life and a single mistake of the writers fucked her up, poor girl... She deserves better ngl... At least I'm planning on helping her find a bit of happiness and hope in friendship

Look this is her

And that's the song I was talking about, that's HER song...

Also that girl isn't exactly me, since it's from an old rp, there have been crucial moments that deviated our lives and made us different people... Which is interesting, thinking if my life had gone a different way I'd be a completely different person... Well, the base is the same heh but she has way less emotional intelligence *pat pat* not that I'm an expert, but I'd deal with things differently from her, if that makes sense....

[raindropbouquet]

a group of friends' and i's cats as crime. ..

description of what each of them do (bonus drawing below as well!):

beetle - bomber / sidekick

cricket - leading in carrying out crimes slash whacking people with metal pipe, takes on the main obstacles while beetle tends to just beat up the slightly less tough guys

keaton: hacker voice: im in ; steps on keyboard to type bc it's easier for her?? somehow????

espurr: organizes all the crimes, essentially the mob boss. also gets into fancy parties in order to fucking STEAL

cheesay: honorary ransom note writer ❤️ lets beetle help her sometimes. cannot quite spell correctly- both of them. beetle will correct a word that was spelled right even. they do arts and crafts together but the arts and crafts are We have your son give us two thousand forty three dollars or else.

tigger: slaps oppositions with 6 foot tall subway party sub. gets condiments and toppings all over them. leaves them in shambles. overall pretty chill tho, does more lazy crimes like tax evasion and tends to help keaton target bank accounts sometimes. if hes bored.

rocky: wears disguises depending on the situation and does the dirty work of "Cleaning Up" after the crimes. (he has to pick up stickers and wipe glitter off the tabke)

ALSO espurr as a mob boss: