#absolute goober of a man

[illogicallyodd]

Here’s a picture of Chonny :)

[clownsuu]

Beeble :)))

gASP THE LIL G U Y

[arrowsperpetualcringe]

Some crk doodles... and plus some scenes from a private project (it's a visual novel heheh)

[percivals-barrel]

Dr. Casper Darling - Control

[intern-seraph]

REASONS WHY A JEWISH MC MAKES SHALL WE DATE? OBEY ME! 10x FUNNIER (along with some notes on general jewish ideas relating to the game's themes and setting) (note: i am not an expert on judaism. i am a jew. and i looked at a lot of sources trying to piece shit together bc this is an ancient culture characterized by scholarly debate over interpretations of texts so there's very little that everyone agrees on):

judaism does not have a concrete idea of the afterlife. we especially don't have Hell (or at least, not a hell that anyone actually, like, agrees exists? the mentions i have found of something similar to heaven and hell are typically in the context of what will happen upon the resurrection of the dead?? it's really complicated but point being is that nobody fucking agrees and i doubt any jews believe in the Christian Hell. cause we are not diet christians!)

i should be allowed to wrestle with raphael in nightbringer it's culturally significant

the seven deadly sins? yeah that's a firmly christian concept. we have demons (although whether or not these demons are actual creatures or just metaphorical? it's debatable.) but all of this seven sins nonsense is not our style. demons honestly don't really take up a ton of our folklore either (they're mostly interpreted as metaphors). imagine mc at the start of the game getting introduced to the brothers as the Demonic Avatars of Sin and being just like. "wow that's wild. anyways,"

we do not have original sin in judaism. not even a scrap. in fact if you repent and/or try to make amends for your sins you're good. there's a lot of potential there for writing right? please i am BEGGING for some fics that address sin in a way that's not overwhelmingly christian i can't keep doing this shit

bathroom demon

"hey lucifer do you think [bizarre devildom food] is kosher"

solomon is there??? like, king solomon????? i'm pretty sure solomon obey me is supposed to be king solomon judaism?????? he has a pact with asmodeus which is consistent with the lore surrounding him but like what's up with that anyways??? what's with the nightbringer solomon lore drop?????? hELP???????

"oh my rabbi is gonna have a FIELD DAY with this"

[taviokapudding]

Gavis Bettel is so endearingly cute when he’s mad- what a goober

((Tskr chat for teasing him for 2 hrs straight about his knowledge of flowers and changing icons))

[numberonesnarkfan]

more Narrator art. I didn't intend for him to look like a troll, it just kind of.. happened.

got a lot of art built up so if you guys like it I will post more.

[trijuiceofnature]

You ever spend several consecutive hours reading the bios and lore of various kirby characters ?? Cause Uhhhhhh,,, y e a h LOL

[transgender-catboy]

I am here to say something inappropriate in the tags.

and then go the fuck to bed.

[itsthatroboguy]

collection of my beast, his name is albert

[idontlikeem]

How is the game live!!

It was super fun! They have bonkers random rules and it’s pretty clear that none of the guys are taking it all that seriously, plus there’s just something about seeing pro hockey players in a dinky little local arena! You can see them smiling when they smoosh each other into the boards! It’s very cute.

Also Jake absolutely saw my jersey so even though I didn’t get there in time to sneak around back for autographs I have that moment to cherish, lol.

[demonic-angels-inmyhead]

Why do i always get hit on when I'm at my grossest? I swear i get more offers of courtship when i look like a chewed-on log of salami than literally any time i put actual effort into my appearance.

God forbid i wear make up, the glitter with startle the suitors! Quickly! lather yourself in grease and be miserable! It is the only way to find a husband! And don't you dare think about brushing that rat king you call a pony tail either! Lest they call you a witch!

[mefilas]

he really is just like me fr ^

[lesausageperson]

tje goober. joyful litle man

[teenidlegirl]

꣑୧ ݁.﹒𝓞𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝓤𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝓐 𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 .ᐟ

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 wife!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

. ˚◞ ♡ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚⠀˖ ࣪ ༘ after being forced to take a day off, miguel ventures around the city only to bump into a familiar face that haunts his dreams, a face he never forgot.

. ˚◞ ♡ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕⠀˖ ࣪ ༘ angst, small fluff, mentions of past character death, mentions of loss, grief, swearing, lowkey stalking (but not creepily, just curious and lovesick)

( ꯭♡︎ ) ˖ ࣪ . love note ˒˒ this idea magically popped into my head while singing the song for no reason lol.

“no.” miguel grunts, hunched over the desk as he stares at the on rage screens.

“yes, miguel. you’re taking the day off, whether you like it or not.” the familiar authoritative tone of jessica makes him pinch the bridge of his nose.

jess and peter believe miguel needs a break from work, a break from the multiverse. the man has been cooped up in his office staring at those damn orange screens. back hunched over, tense shoulders, fists at his sides, the classic scowl on his face. the very noticeable dark circles under his eyes.

after much arguing, mainly miguel being stubborn as always, he agrees to take the day off. only just for one day, he tells his two colleagues. peter and jess are left in charge while miguel indulges in his day off. of course they’re capable of maintaining the multiverse. the only people he trusts with that responsibility.

clad in his famous white sweater with gray sweats, miguel ventures through the streets of neuva york with a big scowl on his face. since it’s his day off, might as well grab coffee to start off. he enters the nearest caf�� and orders a basic black coffee. standing off to the side by the small counter of cream and sugars, his eyes wander around the place while waiting for his coffee. some people scrolling on their phones or typing away on their laptops. holographic leaves and fairy lights decorate the walls, giving the place a cozy feeling to it.

looking down at his feet, miguel hears the barista shout out a name he hasn’t heard in a long time. his eyes immediately snap up and his mouth drops.

it’s you.

the love of his life.

his wife.

it’s you. it’s actually you. you’re actually here, in his universe. in the same fucking universe.

his universe has you.

with a shocking expression, miguel observes you walking up to the counter and grabbing your coffee with a small smile, thanking the barista, take a sip of your coffee then walk out of the café.

he cannot fucking believe it. an absolute mindfuck of a revelation. you’re in his universe. the love of his life in his own universe and he didn’t know this entire time. flashbacks of you and gabriella from that other universe invaded his mind. both of you cheering from the bleachers during gabi’s soccer games. him and gabi playing soccer while you’re recording them from the distance. you walking in on the two goobers making pancakes, which left a mess in the kitchen. visiting parks, museums, restaurants, amusement parks as a trio. you and miguel on date nights while gabi stayed over at your parents. the cute cuddle nights either in bed or in the couch while watching a movie. the very romantic evenings in your shared bed, being completely intimate with each other. slow dancing in the kitchen while making dinner. each flashback was a stab to his already broken heart.

the day he lost you both was unforgettable, a nightmare he’ll forever deal with. he never forgave himself for failing you and gabriella, failed to protect you both. a promise he broke and now pays the consequences. losing the only two people that mattered in his life vanished by his doing.

miguel didn’t even realize the barista was calling out his name, making him snap out of his thoughts. awkwardly clearing his throat, his grabs his black coffee from with the barista with a murmured ‘thanks’ and immediately leaves the café to find you.

panic settles in his veins when he can’t find you. thankfully for his tallness, miguel can see the tops of everyone’s head. mahogany eyes desperately searching for you, they land on a familiar figure walking away down the sidewalk. his heart rate picks up as he starts walking in that direction without hesitation. trying his hardest to not harshly bump into people, miguel’s eyes never leave your figure as he follows you. he behaves like a lost puppy looking for his owner. his heart has never beaten so quickly in a long time and only you can make him feel that way. a feeing of hope and desperation flowing in his body.

the biggest desire to call out your name consumes him but miguel knows he shouldn’t. you don’t know him and the last thing he wants his freaking you out because you’re (supposedly) his wife. not in this dimension, not yet maybe.

swiftly moving on his feet, miguel continues following your trail but stops when he sees you enter a building presumably your job. like a sad puppy whose tail slowly stops wagging, miguel stares at the building as if he waits for you to appear once again but obviously you don’t. sadly sighing, he walks away with his head slightly lowered down. miguel still can’t comprehend the fact his universe has you. now with this new revelation, he doesn’t hesitate to head back to HQ to do a little investigation on you in this dimension. correction, his own dimension.

     ━━━━━━━━ ִ  ۫   ꒰ ♡ ꒱  ۫   ݂ ━━━━━━━━

pulling an all-nighter proved his dedication to learn about you. consuming every piece of information until his brain fucking explodes. distinguish the differences between you and your alternative self. lyla called him out for being obsessed. of course miguel got defensive and scowled at her like usual. he was simply fascinated by the information he learned about this dimension’s you.

that’s when he decides to watch over you.

clad in his spider suit, miguel crouched and observes from a random rooftop across your work building. his eyes light every time he sees your tiny figure to and from work. of course lyla teased him for being a stalker, which earned her a glare and grunt from her boss. miguel just wants to make sure you’re safe. luckily you only live a few blocks away from your work but sometimes you get off late and it’s already dark outside by the time you’re walking home. he keeps a cautious eye on you, making sure no harm comes your way. miguel will beat the shit out of anyone who dares to hurt you. oh they’ll fucking regret it. thankfully, none of that has happened.

when his eyes follow you, he can’t help but admire you. that angelic face, beautiful smile, eyes, all of your gorgeous facial features. they way your hair bounces when you walk, mainly on days when you have your hair down. sometimes your face is concealed by the sunglasses you’d wear when it’s too sunny but he adores it all. his heart beats quickly just by looking at you, even from afar. the face he’d plant multiple kisses, tenderly holding in his hands. the face that makes butterflies in his stomach by simply gazing at because you’re so ethereal. definite hearts in his eyes each time. the face he sees in gabriella, resembling her beautiful mother. the face he sees before falling asleep and waking up to.

his love for you never vanished.

oh he wished he could run up to you and hold you in his arms for eternity. whisper endless sorrys and words of love into your ear as he tenderly runs his fingers through your hair. just to hold you again.

miguel knew he couldn’t and that shatters his heart a little. however, it could be a new opportunity to have you in his life again but in his own world, his own life. everything should be healthy and natural. meeting you in a normal setting, develop a connection and see how it goes. although, one thing halts him from indulging in that idea. the canon.

it’s always the fucking canon.

the canon is forever important to the multiverse and miguel obeys by that. but he wants to test the waters. for the first time, he wants to do something for himself without the canon interfering.

just to test the waters.

     ━━━━━━━━ ִ  ۫   ꒰ ♡ ꒱  ۫   ݂ ━━━━━━━━

wearing that same sweater and sweatpants, miguel wanders off to the same café in hopes you’ll be there. his eyes break away from the sidewalk when he finds some fuzzies on his sweater. as he swipes them off with one hand, he accidentally bumps into someone.

instinctively, his face forms a scowl until his eyes land on who he just collided with.

“oh shit! i’m so sorry!” you cry, frowning apologetically. a hand covering your mouth.

miguel stands there like an idiot. wide eyes and lips slightly apart in complete shock. there you are, the love of his life standing in front of him like you’re blessing him with your presence. big doe eyes staring up at him that make his knees weak. he notices the gold locket you’re wearing. the same locket he got you, well the other you, as a gift. inside is a picture of him and gabi, two most important people in your life (in that universe). he wonders whose picture is in there or who gotten the locket for you, or maybe you got it yourself. he must’ve realized how stupid he looks for staring at you for a few seconds, blinking out of trance.

“no no! it’s my fault, i wasn’t paying attention to where i was going.” miguel says nervously, heat rising in his cheek due to embarrassment.

you shake your head. “no it’s my fault. my dumbass was looking at my phone when i shouldn’t have.”

he immediately shakes his head as if he’s panicking. miguel never liked you talking bad about yourself, in fact he hated it. “no, you’re not. we make mistakes.”

a soft smile forms on your lips, a smile he adores wholeheartedly and makes his heart flutter. “well, sorry once again.” and with that, you walk away.

miguel’s eyes follow you until you disappear into the sea of people. his heart is practically pounding in his chest. he actually met you and goddamnit does he want to relive it again. a dorky smile plasters on his plump lips as the interaction replays in his mind. part of him feels sad watching you leave but at least he got the chance to meet you, even for a second.

then, reality kicks in. you don’t know him and miguel only knows you through multiple files but doesn’t actually know you. his dream to reunite slowly falters. he can’t force you to fall for him, it’s wrong. it isn’t fair to you. miguel reminds himself he can’t get everything he wants. maybe you aren’t supposed to be together and god he hates to think of that. the canon is very scary and the last thing miguel wants is disrupting it once again; repeat history.

no matter what, he’ll always love you. maybe it could happen, eventually roll out very slowly. to let it happen naturally. only time will tell.

however, in the end, you’re just a person he walked with once upon a dream.

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[uncouth-the-fifth]

i'd like to report a crime - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: anxious work stress + leon comfort!!, leon being a fucking goober Notes: when i'm at work I'm always picturing him swooping in to save me...... leon kennedy if you can hear me please protect me from 9-5 hell... and like I said before, I would LOVE requests or prompts for this fic, I have so many ideas but I can't commit to any of them lol.

Standing in the bullpen at work today, you had a thought. Maybe they called it “medieval torture” because that was a whole lot catchier than “a shitty day at the busiest police precinct in Washington DC.”

It certainly felt like medieval torture to you. Before you’d even stepped into your big girl pants this morning, you knew that today was going to suck. Plain and simple. Suck. Yet another presidential event was bringing the Secret Service’s jurisdiction into your already hectic station, meaning that big square dudes in suits were going to be breathing down your neck until quitting time. You had three huge active cases that needed your attention. One of those cases came pre-packaged with a deeply annoying lawyer, who, in your professional opinion, has his head shoved a foot up his ass. He will absolutely be showing up to bother you today.

And worst of all: in your haste to get to work (Leon had put some serious effort into making you late), you’d accidentally worn a pair of super uncomfortable shoes! So now every waking moment of your existence was bonafide torture.

Clamping your jaw, you glance up from the paperwork in front of you and check your watch. Three o’clock. Right, okay, you can work with that.

You slap your hands down on your desk as you push out of your seat, and it gets a satisfying yelp out of the man sitting cross-legged beside it. He bristles up like a porcupine and nasally complains, “Where are you going, Detective Kennedy? You said we could—”

“Coffee, Douglas,” you bite back to said lawyer.

The last thing you want right now is some of the lousy, watered-down coffee from the station’s breakroom, but taking mini-breaks at your desk is just not an option anymore. Douglas has been camped out there from the moment you clocked in, and since you both refuse to budge, he’s going to stay there. Breakroom it is. You wince the whole way there, cursing your shoes from hell.

Someone forgot to start another pot of joe, so you have the absolute pleasure of doing it yourself. A small blessing in disguise, really. You give the glass pot your best thousand-yard-stare the whole time it heats the water, and just when the outline of it is starting to burn behind your eyelids, you’re jolted out of your glazed reverie by a cheerful, “Detective Kennedy!”

The officer appears at your side like she was there the entire time, and you wouldn’t put it past her—Giana is the latest in a long line of rookies who have imprinted on you over the years. Good kid, but a little on the overeager side.

She gives you a sympathetic frown and launches into way too much bubbly talking for your aching head to handle. “Heyo! Man, it’s crazy today, huh? You look beat, detective. Hey, think of it this way—just a few more hours and we’ll be home free! Any fun plans tonight?”

The question triggers a movie-style flashback sequence in your mind, complete with black-and-white visuals and some tasteful dream fog. Leon, your husband, boredly poking around the aisles of a new Target by your place. Leon discovering the boys' toy section. Leon, your beautiful, amazing husband, going starry-eyed at the massive NERF Elite Titan CS-50 Toy Blaster, which you’re pretty sure you need a license to operate.

He’d tapped the Nerf box like a boy on Christmas morning. “150 foam bullets, baby.”

But it would take a lot of energy to relay all of that to Giana. So instead of explaining that you’re having an epic Nerf duel with Leon when you get home (no headshots, loser makes dinner), you cooly answer: “...Spending time with my husband.”

Giana hums. “It’s so weird to me that you’re married…” (Thanks.) “I can’t even picture you not grinding away at some case.”

The coffee machine burbles out its last sad spit of coffee. You pour a good amount into your mug, smiling, “Oh, Leon’s just as bad. We’re both married to our work. He’s just my favorite mistress, s’all.”

Giana opens her mouth to launch into another cheery tirade you can’t catch up with. You like the girl, but on top of being way too eager, she’s also painfully see-through. For example, you don’t even have to turn around to know that a gloriously hot guy has just walked into the bullpen behind you. It’s written all over Giana’s owlish look over your shoulder. Hell, you can even clock that he’s heading straight this way—not only does Giana cross herself to bid away impure thoughts of the stranger, but she evaporates into smoke out of pure shyness.

“Look out!” She stage-whispers.

Aw. Poor girl, you think as she waddles away. Considering who’s going to be unloading a clip of foam bullets into you later this evening, (what a strange double entendre), you’re basically immune to hot guys. You can handle this.

“Excuse me, detective, I’d like to report a crime?”

All sense of professionalism poofs off your face at that familiar voice. You whirl to face your husband, and in one swift slash, the ten ton weight of your stress is slapped clean off your back.

Leon’s resting stare has slowly been absorbed by his Serious Agent Face. But today, he’s smoldering less in the business way and more in the off-duty model way. In a white tee, jeans, and racing-striped leather jacket, he certainly looks the part, clean-shaven and dewy-skinned. Fuck him and his unblemished skin. What Umbrella moisturizer was he using back in the day, dammit?

You’re capable of joking again and fall flawlessly into the bit. “Of course. What kind of crime, beautiful?”

He isn’t really able to look flustered, but you think you get close to the impossible with the way his head tilts at that line. You notice that he’s hiding something behind his back.

“A theft,” he answers. The tiniest smirk twitches on his mouth. “My heart’s been stolen.”

…What a fucking cornball. The tragic part is that you find the joke pretty funny, and not completely in the ironic way. He waits for you to giggle and twirl your hair or what-the-fuck-ever, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction, ducking into his quick hug to grin into his shoulder.

You groan at his awful joke. “Jesus. You need a fork for all that corn, Leon?”

“I take mine off the cob,” he drawls in your ear. With that voice, he could make anything sound suggestive.

You’re about to pout at him for failing to return your hug, when you draw back and see that his hands are full. It’s then that Leon presents his bounty to you, bowing his head and holding his trophies aloft like a knight giving respect to his princess: in one hand, one of the stupid expensive coffees you like, and in the other… your comfiest work flats.

“How?” is the first thing your fish brain manages to say. Because, truly, how does he always know? The coffee, the shoes— “Did you put a tracker in me? One that tells you everything I’ve been complaining about all day?”

You go slumping down into the nearest seat, mystified by him. Leon sets the still-steaming coffee down in front of you and kneels, stooping to help you out of your shoes-from-hell. The strap around your ankle has rubbed the bone raw even through your tights. He gets the clasp loose on the first shoe with little fussing, then soothes the skin with tender brushes of his thumb.

“Mhm,” he hums. All you can see of him from this angle is the layers of color in his hair, deep browns and ash blondes blending into one another. The smug pride in his voice is obvious—he loves knowing he’s read you well. “Tells me when you’re hungry, too. Have lunch with me?”

Please god, your body begs. Just picturing it loosens some of the tension in your neck. Like last time, the two of you would play-fight over where to eat, and your cute little delivery boy would go pick up the winner. That way, you wouldn’t have to waste a single moment of your allotted thirty-minute lunch. Leon would pull up a seat at your desk (maybe scare Douglas off with a flash of his badge), and you’d get a blissful, uninterrupted dose of him. Enough to get you through the rest of your shift.

He’d be too deep in Professional Agent Mode to babble like he does at home, but Leon’s raspy chuckles and his hand on your knee would tide you over til’ five.

…But no, the universe is never that kind to you. You wince at Leon’s offer and drop an apologetic hand to his shoulder, still knelt at your feet and working on your other shoe. He’s too good to you. “M’ sorry, baby, but I think I’m gonna have to work through lunch if I wanna get home on time. Rain check?”

He doesn’t mind. He throws a squinty warning stare your way, not happy that you’re getting dangerously close to overworking yourself, but he understands.

A sly smile creeps onto Leon’s face as he helps you slip on a flat. “I could talk to your Captain. What if you were pulled away for a ‘federal emergency?’”

“Then I think me and my Captain would implode from stress,” you laugh. “He’d think I’d been drawn into some national crisis or something.”

Leon scoffs. “That’s only happened, like, once.”

The other flat welcomes your poor, aching foot like a jacuzzi hot tub, and you take a deep magical sip of the overpriced coffee he got special for you. It trumps the watery breakroom joe any day.

For a minute you’re so stupidly happy that you could easily punch a boulder clean off a cliff. Hell, you might even twirl your hair.

“One too many times!” You groan. Since he’s being all cute and kneeling at your feet, you can’t resist poking him a couple of times to be silly. In the chest. In the cheek. In the heart. Stage-whispering, you accuse, “I think you just like having excuses to work with me.”

Leon finishes helping you into your shoes, but he’s in no hurry to leave his spot. One of his rough hands finds yours in your lap and toys with your wedding band, twisting it, testing the groove where it’s been sitting for a few years now. Those big blue eyes fix on your face. You’re married to the guy, but something about being the subject of all his naked attention makes you feel like shrieking into a damn pillow. He’s the best. Judging by that mean little smile on his face, he knows it’s true.

He gives your hand a little squeeze and points out, “I was your partner before anyone else. We never got our buddy cop beat—so yes, I will shove myself into your world since I can’t pull you into mine.”

You’re grateful he still thinks that way. Getting him to talk about Raccoon is harder than pulling teeth, but this—your partnership, whether that be as cops in an imaginary second life, or as husband and wife—never fails to pry him right open.

You’d been asked before if it was frustrating, how your paths had split after the city had blown. The two of you had come from the same spot and endured the same things, but where Leon had soared up, you’d kept to what you knew. No part of you envied him for it. In his mind, the two of you were still the same unit you’d been then, endlessly loyal to one another. You watched Leon’s back and—clearly, he watched yours.

“You’re my favorite,” you tell him, sweetly petting his chin. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you at our Nerf duel when I get home.”

All the buttery tenderness wipes from his face, and in an instant he’s on his feet, clapping a scarred hand down onto your shoulder and bending to whisper fiercely in your ear. “I’d like to see you try.”

He smushes a kiss to your cheek, waves a friendly, “See ya,” and melts back into the current of the rowdy bullpen. You hate to see him leave, but by god, you love to watch him go.

A few seconds after Leon says his goodbye, Giana, your rookie, peers around the open door of the break room. Her patchy blush goes all the way down to her uniform collar. “...Nevermind. I can definitely picture you married, Detective Kennedy…”

-

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