#and I have to admit

[softquietsteadylove]

I'm rewatching The Hungergames right now and thought it must be possible to imagine Thenamesh in this kind of situation.

"You can't hide in here forever."

Gil nearly yelped, but he couldn't help it. He had been all but trembling since they got on the transports, and now things were really setting in. They were really here, they were really going to be competing with each other - to the death - in a matter of weeks.

He really had volunteered to go in Phastos' place.

Her name was Thena, he remembered from their briefings. She was from District 2, and a favourite to win the whole damn thing. She was smart, she was strong, she was trained in blades and deadly from head to toe. And she was really pretty.

"Well?"

"S-Sorry," Gil murmured, creeping out from the solace he'd found in the equipment room. Everyone else was in the training room already, showing themselves off (or just trying not to look like a walking target).

"Don't apologise," she said immediately, crossing her arms at him. "Your decisions are your own from here on out. You have to be prepared to live with the consequences of every one of them."

"Right," he murmured, not entirely sure how to talk to the career driven girl. He fidgeted with his hands in front of him.

She paused, though, tilting her head at him. Her hair slipped over her shoulder. His eyes followed it. "You volunteered to compete in place of your brother."

Yes, he had famously volunteered as tribute, the first example of it in years, supposedly. They were from District 4, not the worst off, but not the best either. They had grown up swimming and fishing, but Phastos was a nervous kind of kid. He was better at inventing contraptions than wrestling with his fellow man.

Gil had heard his brother's name called, looked over and seen Phastos crying on Ben's shoulder, and ran forward.

"I admire you for it."

Well, he hadn't been expecting that. He looked up at her, finding a rare smile on her face. It was so beautiful it made her seem almost human. "Uh, thanks?"

She dropped her arms and her rigid stance all together. More and more she looked like a girl close to his age--a girl he could have known were it not for this shit show. "I volunteered for my brother."

Oh! He didn't even know that was allowed.

"Druig is smart, but he isn't strong," she admitted quietly, looking down at her feet. "He isn't a Fighter. But I am."

He knew that. Everyone around them knew it--Kingo had even told him that bets were passing hands in her favour. "What about the other guy?"

"Ikaris," she muttered, looking up at him again. "He's a Fighter, and I suppose I can't blame him for being angry with me. Because I volunteered, they had to re-raffle the boys' names."

Yeah, that was a pretty good reason.

"Be careful," she advised, "around him. I mean it--I may be at the top of his list, but Ikaris is vicious. I think he's the only one here more capable of a kill shot than I am."

Gil winced. He wasn't sure he wanted to see that. He wasn't going to be able to keep his promise to Phastos at all.

Thena stepped closer to him, though. "But he's not invincible--none of us are."

She seemed almost excited by that.

"Ikaris has a terrible temper," she continued telling him lethal information on her temporary teammate. "He's easily baited. And his form and technique aren't really that good, he's just strong. If you find yourself in range of him, play dirty."

Gil almost scoffed but Thena stepped in closer again. His jaw clapped shut, his cheeks flushing as he caught the scent of fancy shampoo off her hair.

"I mean it, Gil," she pressed, and he barely had to time to ask how she knew his name. "Taunt him, tease him, do anything necessary to make him lose his cool. It could end up saving your life if I'm not there."

"If you're not-"

"And stop cowering during the training sessions!" She was back to ordering him. She stepped back though, placing her hands on her hips. "I know how strong you are. You thought no one was looking but I've seen you re-rack the training weights like they're scraps of paper."

Yeah, it was from a lifetime of hauling fishnets onto the boats. It was a core workout if ever there was one.

"We might have to play their game, but I refuse to believe that our only allies are ourselves," she stated outright, gripping her fists as if she had her signature dual blades in her hands. "My advisor is sweet--maybe a little too sweet for all of this. But Ajak knows how the games work, how to get sponsors and how to poll well so people want to keep you around."

Well, that was easy for her to say, Gil couldn't help thinking. She was cool, beautiful, had that kind of unattainable don't-talk-to-me charm that could drive guys nuts. Of course she would be popular with the audience!

"I've got my eye on you, Gilgamesh," she concluded, stepping towards the door again. She looked at him over her shoulder. "Just...remember what I said when you're out there."

He didn't know if she meant in the training room or once they were really out there in the field. But he nodded, newly convinced that yeah--maybe he could make it through this. Just maybe.

[sabertoothwalrus]

modern au laios

[cowardlycowboys]

girl who needs to ask for reassurance would rather be stabbed than admit they have needs

GIRL GENDER FUNNY‼️ POST MADE BY MOST FEMININE HE/THEY SHUT UP‼️

[adjit]

I think we need to get more comfortable with the idea that sometimes shitty, racist, homophobic, bigoted people are still incredibly talented.

I feel like every time I see a post addressing someone’s shitty behavior the post also takes the time to mention that they’re not even good at [x] anyway. And that’s just not always true? Equating being good at a skill as being morally good is just not necessary. Someone can be a fantastic writer, can have a beautiful singing voice, can create breathtaking artwork, and still be a horrible person.

I know part of this is probably just the instinct to dislike everything about a person when you dislike them, but I also think this mindset leads to people defending creatives way past where they should, because if bad people create bad art, then if this person creates art that I like and resonates with me, then they can’t be a bad person!

And you know. That’s just not true. Those two things are simply completely unconnected and I think it’d be healthier if we all started disconnecting them in our heads.

[sillyahhchana]

Hi fnaf movie dump but it’s mostly bonnie and abby

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[utilitycaster]

"why should I get invested in shows if they'll just get canceled" I was deeply invested in Heroes (2006) and it was not canceled, it just got really terrible. I also got really invested in the sandwich I had a few weeks ago despite it only lasting like 15 minutes. You must embrace the ephemeral. You must be willing to love things that may not love you back, that might betray you, or that may die an untimely death. As the great philosopher Mr. Mitchell Lee Hedberg said "I'm not gonna stop doing something because of what happens at the end."

[kedreeva]

Trying to play Monster Hunter: Rise and SOMEONE could not stand not getting attention and was repeatedly scaling me with her sharp feet and launching herself from furniture until I put her big soft blanket in my lap and pet her.

[gotstabbedbyapen]

It's always "Hades isn't bad or cruel, his deeds are just metaphors of the inevitable death" or "Hades kidnapping Persephone represent the premature death".

But when the argument "Zeus has numerous affairs and many children because he represent the fertile rain" is brought up, all nuance is suddenly out of the window and Zeus is just a womanizer who can't keep it in his pants.

[evilwizard]

never has there been a series with more underutilized background lore than the Chronicles of Narnia. book one establishes that there exists a world-between-the-worlds, an infinite glade that can be accessed only via ancient Atlantean magic, fractaling in all directions with infinite crystal-clear pools of water representing the various dimensions of the multiverse—dimensions which contain realms of gods and technology, and magic of various types, and different magical systems for each dimension, and dead worlds, and worlds that have not yet sprung to life, and a million other wonders. book two has a talking beaver

[puppyeared]

renaissance dogys

characters belong to @canisalbus

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF 4 nightmares haunted all the Afton kids..

[alfheimr]

the L in law stands for LOVED...its his birthday:)

[sanatomis]

cw. none except satoru being disgustingly cute (part 2)

satoru isn’t used to people calling him anything other than his surname. gojo-san to most, gojo-sensei to others. it’s simple, and gets the job done.

only a handful of people stick to calling him by his given name. to them, he’s satoru. it’s easy, and rolls of the tongue, and he greatly prefers it over the sound of his surname. it makes him feel like an actual person.

satoru never entertained the possibility of being called anything else other than those two names. he didn’t think it would ever happen.

for once, he was glad to be proven wrong.

“tough day, pretty?” you ask gently, and he sighs with a nod as he throws himself into your opened arms. his body moulds easily into yours, and he lets out a heavy groan as he settles onto the couch with you. the groan is loud, and over-exaggerated.

it’s so satoru.

you have to stifle a giggle.

“everything went horribly wrong,” he grumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “the higher ups were up my ass again, my students laughed at me again, and when i finally made it to that bakery you liked they were out of your favourite pastries so i couldn’t get them for you—again!”

“oh, my poor baby,” you coo, and gently push his bangs out of his face. he nods in agreement, faking an immense amount of sympathy for himself. “‘s okay, at least you tried, hm? i think that’s very sweet.”

satoru hums, as if he’s deeply thinking about your words. “’m still your baby?” he mumbles, deciding that’s the most important thing right now. his eyes briefly flutter shut, consumed by utter bliss as you play with the hairs on his undercut.

“mhm, still my baby.”

“yeah? what else am i?”

this time you do giggle. he does this sometimes. you aren’t exactly sure why—but on tough days, satoru likes to crawl into your arms and listen to you call him every cheesy nickname under the sun. it’s easily providable and makes him so very happy, so you always indulge him.

“my honey bun.”

“and?”

“my boo bear.”

“mhm.”

“my sweetheart.”

“yes?”

you laugh softly. “my mochi,” you coo, and pinch his cheek. it’s a little squished because he’s laying on your chest, but it emphasises your point.

he grins under your touch. it’s adorable.

“keep them coming, please?” he asks, and you do. you always do, unable to refuse him. especially when he asks so sweetly.

“my sugar cookie.”

“my muffin.”

“my baby cakes.”

“my angel.”

“my love.”

“my husband.”

“h—huh?” satoru stammers, looking up from your chest. he lays his chin on your sternum, baby blue eyes blinking up at you. they’re filled with awe, surprise, and utter glee. “that’s, i’m not. . .”

“just testing the title, baby,” you tell him, and continue playing with his hair. he bathes in your touch and you smile softly as he grabs and kisses the palm of your hand. “what do you think, hm?”

“i think you should call me it again.”

“oh?”

“mhm,” he mumbles.

“my dearest husband.”

“again.”

“my handsome husband.”

“again.”

“my sweet husband.”

“again, please?”

you hum, impressed. “my well-mannered husband.”

satoru chuckles, and lays back down on your chest. his white hair tickles against your skin, and he sighs in content.

“i think i want to be your husband for real.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he mumbles and nuzzles further into your hold. “y’ve got the same ring size still, right?”

“i sure do,” you say, a content smile on your lips as you watch him slowly doze off to sleep.

“hm, good to know.”

for satoru, those nicknames make him feel as if he’s something even greater than a person—it makes him feel yours.

he’s not just gojo, the strongest. he’s not just satoru, the at-times somewhat immature adult with the sweet tooth of a child.

he’s yours. your baby. your honey bun. your boo bear. your mochi. your boyfriend. your love. and for satoru, there’s no greater thing in the world than that.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)

[mothgenes]

Part 3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3