#convos with llama

[lavalamp-juice]

I think Minnesota's new flag should have been chosen by a Splatfest-

[tsvbavsa]

☽ [ @crisalizmo ] Avanza a pasos agigantados y rápidos pero siendo cuidadosos al tiempo, pues un mal movimiento haría que terminara hundida en la nieve. Busca a sus hermanos que decidieron esconderse de ella luego del almuerzo y pupilas acababan de distinguir por uno de los ventanales de restaurante la figura de uno de ellos ocultándose tras una de las mesas externas del lugar. ❝ ¡Es de mala educación levantarse de la mesa sin haber terminado de comer! ❞ reclama aún a la distancia, pero siendo capaz de escuchar las risitas "¡Bora, en guardia!" escucha la voz de bohwa que se asoma con una bola de nieve, siendo capaz de agacharse en cuanto la lanza, esta impactando en la persona más cercana tras ella ❝ ¡Ay! Lo siento ¿Te encuentras bien? ❞

[itoshiabi]

RED or Green Flag? (ft. Bllk boys)

Pt.1- Isagi, Bachira, Sae

PT-2- here

Isagi Yoichi (Certified green flag boyfriend)-

Green Flag tendencies:

Emotionally mature: Isagi's one of the most grounded guys in Blue Lock. He thinks things through, communicates clearly, and doesn't act on impulse—basically the dream in a world full of emotionally constipated strikers.

Supportive as hell: He's the kind of guy who'd hype you up on your worst days and celebrate your smallest wins like they're championships.

Loyal to the core: Once you have his heart, it's yours. No games, no sketchy behavior—just honest, steady love.

Empathetic king: He actually cares about people, even his rivals. He'd care deeply about you, your feelings, and your dreams.

Hardworking & humble: Isagi never lets success go to his head. He's all about teamwork, growth, and being better together—whether on the field or in love.

Rare red flag tendencies:

Slight obsession with evolving: When he's locked in "ego mode," he might disappear into his own world for a bit. But he'd always come back to you after the match, probably sweaty, glowing, and ready to collapse in your arms.

!Final verdict!

95% green flag, 5% "I'm-in-my-zone" red.

Isagi is that rare mix of emotionally intelligent, passionate, loyal, and down-to-earth. He's the kind of boyfriend you could talk to for hours and trust with your heart. So yeah— a huge green flag boyfriend material.

Bachira Meguru, (a walking green flag):

Green flag tendencies:

Emotionally open & expressive: Bachira feels things and isn't afraid to show it. He'd tell you he loves you in the most creative, heartfelt way—and probably draw a weird but adorable picture of you too.

Funny and adventurous: Every day with him would feel like a spontaneous road trip or a cute fever dream. He's the kind of partner who dances with you in the kitchen at 2 AM.

Supportive and non-judgmental: He loves weirdness—especially yours. He'd never try to change you and would actually fall harder the more authentic you are.

Communicative: He wouldn't ghost or play games. If something's wrong, he'll just say it (probably while clinging to your back like a koala).

Slight Red flag tendencies:

Lives in his own world: Sometimes it might feel like he's more emotionally connected to his "inner monster" than to reality. You might have to remind him to actually text back or to remember important dates.

Impulse-driven: Bachira follows his heart in the moment, which is romantic… until he spontaneously buys a llama plushie instead of groceries.

Might avoid serious convos: He's all about joy and expression, but when it comes to deep emotional pain or trauma? He might try to distract you instead of confronting it head-on.

!Final verdict!

70% green flag, 30% whimsical chaos.

Bachira would love you fiercely, playfully, and freely—but you'd need to be okay with a little unpredictability and a whole lot of weird. If you're into creative, emotionally open, affectionate partners who might kiss you in public while talking about bugs… he's your guy.

Sae Itoshi (A walking red flag):

Red flag tendencies:

Emotionally unavailable: Sae's cold, blunt, and doesn't sugarcoat anything. If you're looking for affectionate texts and heart emojis, forget it.

Career first, everything else second: His entire life revolves around soccer. You'd probably play second fiddle to his ambition, and he wouldn't even feel bad about it.

Blunt to the point of pain: He's not trying to hurt you, but he will say something that stings just because it's the truth.

High standards: He doesn't settle—for anything. If you don't match his intensity or intellect, he'll probably get bored or annoyed.

Possible green flag tendencies:

Secret softie: If (and that's a big one) you manage to break through his icy exterior, you'd get loyalty, honesty, and someone who'd believe in you as hard as he believes in himself.

No lies, no games: Sae doesn't play mind games or beat around the bush. If he likes you, it's real—and rare.

!Final verdict!

90% red flag, 10% green

The green's a rare emerald. If you're into emotionally distant geniuses with god-tier ambition and hidden softness? Sae Itoshi is your heartbreak waiting to happen… or your once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. Depends how strong your emotional armor is.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife #10 : Snack Time

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Momma bird hungry for all the snacks in the world. Takes some time and frustration before Joel figures out the exact kind of snack you really want.

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Angry!Joel, oral M!receiving, face fucking, throat bulge, throat-pie, dumbification, junk food binge, eating meat, bossy reader as always

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel didn’t know he married the Hungry Hungry Hippo, Galactus the planet devourer, Garfield the tabby cat.

You’re on your phone texting while cuddling Joel. He’s more interested in the movie than you are, but that doesn’t stop him from tracing his finger along your arm, occasionally kissing the top of your head and nuzzling his nose. He loves the scent of your shampoo after a wash, damp and cold against his warm chest. Sometimes you protest how closely he wants to cuddle you, all smushed up on the couch. Your body temp skyrocketed with the baby changing everything. But since he’s keep the AC on full blast, your warm heavy body keeps him from being a popsicle.

The landlines chimes in from the kitchen.

He rolls his eyes. Of course, something to interrupt the comfort that took 40 minutes for you to settle into. "I'll get it,” He grumbles quickly and hoists himself up off the couch. He wants to make whoever the fuck is calling at such a late hour a quick convo. If it’s fucking Tommy needing bailed out again, he thinks begrudgingly, I’ll just hang up on him. 

He clears his throat and answers: “Hello, Miller Residents.”

"Can you get me a bowl of Cap'n crunch while you're up?"

He glances back over at you sitting up on the couch, your cell to your ear as you wave at him. you point to your belly mouthing I T S  F O R  T H E  B A B Y.

It’s for the baby, my ass. You’ve been a hungry hungry hippo who’s been snacking like crazy and ignoring the doctor’s warnings. 

But cranky Momma is way worse than a scolding doctor. 

He grits his teeth and slams the receiver a little too hard down on the desk.

You can hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, a clash of a bowl on the counter  and the jingle of overly processed cereal filling it up. 

He walks back into the living room. You’ve taken up the whole couch now, with no inclination to move over to let him back on.

You shove a fist into the bowl and pop a bunch of the crunchy orange squares into your mouth “f’anks” you mumble, eyes not once making contact with him as you stare ahead and much away. Crumbs fall onto your chest and down to the floor and sofa, as if Joel hadn’t just cleaned all of it this morning.

.

The next night, Joel's cooking some steaks. You weren’t really a meat-crazed person, having maybe one or two helpings of poultry or occasionally red beef a week, but normally ,you could go without it for a few meals without thinking about it. 

Pregnant momma? She was a fucking carnivore. He had barely set the sizzling steak down before you snatch one onto your plate. He turns around to slice into one, checking its temp before serving, only to see it was a bit too red and bloodied on the inside.

"Oh babe I gotta cook these a little longer; they're too rare--"

You were hacking away and tearing a large chunks of the red, near pulsing meat, juices pouring out your lips, a vampire gorged on a fat blood sucking meal. Despite its tenderness, you chew endlessly and stare off into the table like a Llama enjoying its food on the field. 

"Maybe...we should—slow down a bit,” he suggests with uncertainty. His fork and knife frozen in midair, still in each hand. He hasn’t shifted view or blinked, but clear worry (and maybe a tad bit of fear) stretch across his face.

"Uighgrrfmggmmdeeofxsw,” you reply with gargled cow remains sloshing in your wide open trap. 

 “Right. That."

You swallow what’s left. Joel’s does a double take: your steak is somehow gone, juice licked clean off the plate in front of you.

“Can I have yours???"

He had only sliced 4 cuts  for himself so far. But the hungry look in your pupils, licking your lips while watching his dinner, it’s clear you’ve answered for him. He sadly sets his cutlery down and slides his plate to you. 

Its even more interesting when you douse it in salt and throw a slab of butter on top of it, watching it melt before slicing a big chunk off.

"You gotta watch the salt intake—“

“—Can you make chicken? I want chicken now.”

“N-no,” he shakes his head, whiplash from the conversation. Maybe you’ve gone def AND blind AND lost your taste buds. “I made steak. You've had 2 steaks now. Why do you need chicken?”

“That second one was for the baby. The chicken is for me.”

“What about the fist one?”

“….We split that.”

“Awfully hungry baby,” he says with a dead tone, straight faced as he eats the one roll left in the basket that hasn’t been devoured by you. 

“Well she’s yours, isn’t she?” 

-

You wipe your face with a napkin, a fried chicken leg and wing now securely packed tight in your tum tum along with the famished baby.

"What's for dessert?" You chime eagerly.

Joel turns to wash the dishes, hiding his smirk. He’s got you now, no surprise cravings will catch him short on this one: He boasts proudly, “I bought you apple pie--"

"I want cupcakes. Whip cream icing. Chocolate.”

His grin quickly deflates into a frown. “No.” He says sternly, a little aggravated. “I bought you pie—“

"Did I say I want pie? L I S T E N,” you snap, slapping your palms together with each syllable. 

He puts his foot down with tense sudsy hands going to his hips. “No. I'm not going out again.”

You raise your eyebrows threateningly. One look.

30 minutes later Joel is shuffling into the house with a pack of 12 cupcakes he bought at the bakery.

-

You’ve managed to prop yourself up on the couch after some heaving. “Ha! The baby is making me workout get strong! Obviously that’s why I’m so hungry.” You shrug it off. “Oh! I want raw cookie dough.”

Joel was on his phone the entire time, but the second you said I want, his brain queued in and he quickly retorts, “No.”

He goes back to replaying the voicemail he missed, settled and focused on the opposite couch.

Of course he Doesn't realize you’ve somehow lumbered up past him and now waddling back with 4 chunks of raw cookies in your hand, popping them in your mouth one at a time.

His eyes dark up to watch you, transfixed on the screen as you bend your knees, hardly paying attention to the way you’re about to fall on the couch. He has half the mind to help, but what’s one lesson you need to learn the hard way?

Regretfully, you bounce down successfully and pull your legs up.

And then, as you dust your hands off from the chocolate stains melted on your palms, Joel’s lips part in a o as you reach behind you and pulling an entire gallon container of animal crackers. 

"Babe"

"Wha?” You don’t turn around to look at him, still shoveling them into your mouth. “Yuu wan wan?"

"You need to stop eating every damn thing in the house.”

You gasp incredulously, your hand over your heart in painful offense. “The baby is very hungry! She's related to you and that belly.”

He only remembers to stop himself from reminding you that your belly is much bigger than his now. 

"The baby—“ (that was the new thing now: the baby  this baby that. The baby is why I need this shirt in blue and green. The baby is why I need the ice cream layered horizontally not stacked vertically. The baby —)

"No. Not the baby,” he snaps. “You."

You start to cry. "I thought I AM your baby!!!" 

He gives you a “seriously” look and you stop the fake tears.

“So how about it?”

“I don’t want you getting salmonella.”

“ugh fine. You can bake them I guess.”

He’s about to protest the idea of any dough going into your body, cooked or raw, but knows its going to be a lost cause.

Joel makes you a platter of Assorted cookies: chocolate chip, fudge, triple chocolate, sugar, and oatmeal raisin.

You clap your hands as he carefully places the little plate atop your bump. Humored by the custom “mini” table you’ve got going on now. Maybe his baby doesn’t like her head being used as a countertop, but with the way you close your eyes and moan after biting into the chocolate chip, babygirl must be pleased too.

He goes to the bathroom quickly and then comes back only to glare down at you. You've taken exactly one bite out of every single cookie, leaving crescent shapes for him to scathe.

Every cookie, except oatmeal raisin. You clearly did take a bite ,but spit it out and put the lump back near the undesirable #1 cookie.

“These mine?” Joel asks bemused.

You nod happily. You felt very proud to have enough control and leave him some this time! 

-

It’s about 9:30 pm. You're acting drunk and woozy even tho you're just a new level of tired and achy

"Woopppoooooo!!! Paaartttaaayyy!" You shout with fists in the air, drinking down a shot glass of sugar water. 

“Alright party Momma. It’s bedtime.” 

"Ppfffttt! No old man! Dont steal my fun.”

Joel stands over the couch, blocking your view from the TV, his hands on his hips. “You're being difficult "

“YoU’rE bEiNg DifFicUlT,” you mock and wave him off. "Oop I need to pee. Help me up.”

Joel” grabs both your grabby hands and hoists you up to your feet. “Now up the stairs, you.”

You waddle towards the stairwell, one hand cupping your lower back. Joel is right at your heel. you up at the treaturous journey ahead, all 8 steps to the top floor. Cracking your neck side to side, you wave your arms over to the handrail and begin: “Left foot. Right foot. Left. Fuck. Fuck stairs. Who invented stairs. Left foot…”

Joel’s so sleepy that he nearly falls forward. And he knows you would not take too kindly to him ramming his face into your ass as you battle your worst enemy.

Finally to the top, you scurry over like a penguin to the bathroom. He fears the long night ahead, with all the sugar swirling in your system undoubtedly going to keep him up.

He rubs his wears eyes. Startled when a moment later you’re right next to him by your side of the bed, patiently waiting for him to help you up.

"Get in the covers,” he hums with exhaustion.

But you don’t move. “No"

"Now.”

"I want an orange.”

"No. You—you just had your snack."

"That was the baby's snack. I want MY snack”.

Dear Christ almighty, bless me with a boy next time so that I have a fighting chance against her and mini her. “If I get you an orange, will you go to bed?" He asks irritably, his voice enunciating each word to ensure the contract that he’s making with you right now is solidified on both ends of the bargain.

You think it over before nodding with a little innocent beam. 

You crawl into the covers just as Joel descends the stairs once again. It takes the entire time for him to grab some oranges, a peeler, and paper towel just for you to rotate your middle and sit your ass in bed.

You sit up against the headboard and clap your hands, so excited when he reappears with the goods. He puts the towel on your mini-table bump and plops one orange atop.

Joel sighs and begins to walk towards his side of the bed, but is haunted when you clear your throat for his attention.

“Yes?”

"Peel it.”

He tries not to visibly roll his eyes before he's opening the round orange with his large fingers and clubbed nails. Everything smells like nectarine now.

Picky as can be, you peel off the extra dried white veiny bits and suck on each pod of the orange.

You expect a sweet simpleness to squirt on your tongue, but instead, a sour, bitter, unripe taste floods your mouth. “Ugh these are gross, now I want—“

Joel closes his wardrobe drawer, his shirt off and only halfway down to his boxers. “NO. NO means fucking NO. I’M TIRED. YOU’RE TIRED. WE'RE GOING TO BED. NOW,” he barks sternly into the mirror. His shoulders huffing from such aggression without being able to look at you.

You throw the covers off, orange skin and slices flying everywhere.

“Fuck you! I want ice cream! I want bananas and steak and potatoes and tacos and—!" 

-

He bares his teeth in a snarl, deep angered eyes casting downward with each poignant rut. “You're so annoying, so goddamn spoiled,” he grunts. His huge hands are wrapped around the top of your head and  cupping your jaw and bulging cheek, keeping you in place as he pushes his length into your mouth over and over again. “You’re gonna do shit when I tell you, the first time I say—shit—fuck there we go—gonna listen—unnggghhfff—listen ta me from now on. Just be my good little silent. Slutty. Pregnant. Wife.”

Your teary eyes are fixed upward at his imposing figure. Feeling each time his tip nudges the back of your throat has you gagging but you can’t pull away to breathe—not that you want to.

“You get—what I give ya—and you be grateful bout it.”

You gargle a moan in agreement. His balls slap against your chin with brutal punches. by this time tomorrow, there will be Joel-finger prints bruising your face and neck.

You love it. You love it when Joel forces you out of the hormonal phase of bossing him around, the endless need to want more and more, no end in sight to your greedy gluttonous desires, until he’s blowing up and blowing off steam using you instead. And it becomes very clear to you how much you just really wanted him this whole time. 

“That’s it—that’s it—you were hungry for my cock weren’t ya? Yeahhhh. Just begging me all night for it. Wanted all that meat for dinner, huh? Couldn’t just come out n’ say it? Your little brain didn’t know what ya truly needed. S’okay, Momma. I’m takin’ care of ya, aren’t I?”

The gluglugglug sounds mixed with strained pitchy whines echo in the master bedroom.

You grip his thighs with your hands to steady yourself, allowing him to abuse your throat. Maybe your knees hurt. Maybe the baby is settling uncomfortably against your lower back, and maybe it’s going to be really difficult to get up from this position in a few minutes. But each thick throb of his length filling your mouth over and over again, the spit slick strings dropping from your lips to your swollen tits, and the dent in your throat from his cock stretching to accomodate his size has your swollen pussy dripping into the carpet for more, more, more. 

It’s been at least a week since Joel drained himself. No wonder he’s been so on edge with each demand. Usually marveling how cute you are, but tonight he was at him limit. You were about to get a hefty, Joel Miller sized load filling your belly, and it’s going to be better than any cookie, steak, or orange in the entire world.

He feels the way your lips suction tighter. Your eyes are leaking tears, and he smirks as he brushes his thumb over to collect it. Briefly bringing it to his tongue and sucking on the salty taste before holding your head in place. 

“Shhh-shhhhhhhh. You gonna take it? Shit—shit—fuck yeah you are. Gonna fuckin take what I give ya, that’s right. My sweet wife. Bossing me around. Shit. Love when ya get like this. Known I’m gonna wreck that ass or that pussy or that mouth—all belongs to me. Fuck—fuck—fuuckk—“

His mouth drops into an o, brows drawn tightly together as slams his pulsing member balls deep into your mouth one final time. You choke, eyes wide as the tip of his cock breaches the deepest part of your throat, your nose suffocated by his pubic hairs and the fat of his lower belly surrounding your cheeks. His balls twitch against your lower lip, and you feel it coming. The travel of his seed from his sack, up his shaft along your tongue—a generous spurt of cum finally shooting from his tip and down your throat. You gag with each fat load that he pumps down your esophagus, too much to swallow at once yet having no other choice but to gulp it down quickly. Your face feels hot. He’s cumming endlessly, your mind blanking and eyes feeling blurry.

“Take it, take it, take it, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

You nod just a little, hugging your arms around his thick thighs tighter. He grins, humming “That’s my good fucking wife, and throws his head as the last of his pleasure makes its way safely from his sated balls to your full womb.

Joel pulls you off his length gently. You sputter out cum and saliva onto his feet, sucking in air through your lungs like a newborn. 

Joel gets to one knee, his thumb pressed gently under your chin so you look directly at him. He’s got such softness in his eyes again, the ones that just switch on a dime the second he’s satisfied his aggress out on you. 

You’re completely wrecked: snot spit connecting to your nostrils and swollen lips, cheeks warm and eyes puffy and hazy with exhaustion and tears.

“That—mmffffgg!—was—definitely—my—snack,” you rasp with a hoarse voice. A lazy grin spread across your face only briefly as you continue to suck air.

Joel shakes his head before planting a long kiss atop your forehead. his hands glide along your body, and just in time as your knees give way and you’re falling into him. 

If you had half the mind right now, you’d curse him out for scooping you up and carrying you to bed like his once youthful bride, too concerned with the size and weight of your new body putting unnecessary stress on his aging knees and back. But Joel doesn’t protest once. Just watches you with loving eyes as he settles you into the soft bed. His tongue dips to your chest and breasts, kissing and sucking away any remnants of his rough face fucking. His cum, your spit, and fuvk it, even the little snot specks—all of it he cleans up before coming up to your lips. He kisses you softly with gentle pecks, enough to ensure you can still catch your breath. He sucks your lower lip into your mouth before wiping his own with his thumb. You’re calmer now, sated and drifting so close to sleep.

Joel clambers into bed next to you, wrapping his arm under your head and swaddling you close. You instinctively roll into his embrace. Kissing his peck and rubbing your face against him dreamily with soft breaths. “Tha hit ther spert juss rite. Ur da bess, Jol.”

“I know. So are you.” He waits for a reply, but nothing comes from you. “Are you goin’ into a food coma, baby?”

Your gentle snores answer him, along with the drool now pooling on his peck.

He chuckles and pulls your head into his face, inhaling your scent. Strong, secure, graceful hands caress your big belly. Your very very full belly, the one that he’s not going to envy when it gives you a the tummy ache tomorrow from stuffing it with so much junk food tonight. 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[mouse-fantoms]

…wait omg you just blew my mind tho👁️👄👁️

My JATP days were always super fun and chaotic 'cause one day, I would make a really thoughtful post analyzing the lyrics of a song and the next day, I would be babbling incoherently about how they all wear long sleeves when bad things happen.

[dangermousie]

What the FUCK! Stepmom and her relative the royal concubine are going "aaaaah, what if we get FL raped during the palace banquet honoring her, she will no longer be a virgin, that would totally wreck her rep!"

Joke's on you, she's already not a virgin anyway. You have been long OBE. And a certain Drama Llama of a Duke is gagging for her in full knowledge of that fact.

More importantly, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!!! Both in terms of morals (none) and logistics (in the palace? IN THE PALACE? Really? I know you are going for high risk high reward but you are gonna end up headless.)

Earlier convo between the Lis confirmed that the Lis (who the Duke is gunning for (twirling for?) probably because he believes them responsible for his father's death) are in with Princess Crazy (who is the impetus for FL being shoveled in the head); and now after convo between stepmom and concubine it seems royal concubine and thus stepmom's birth fam are in one group. It would be quite useful for the Duke and FL to unite and spend some quality time taking them all out wholesale.

[quarzy]

Mephinite having the llamas with hats convo

2WHG?1?1??

[jjunho]

asiente ante palabras ajenas, una sonrisa llena de gracia formándose en sus labios. "no me gustaría descubrir las consecuencias de llevarte la contraría." responde en tono bromista, aunque ciertamente no tiene intenciones de molestarla. "además vas a tener que ser mi guía en esto del anarquismo." lo dice en un tono ligero, cual fuera parte del tono bromista que uso anteriormente pero lo cierto es que realmente desconoce mucho del ambiente. "eso no es muy punk rock de tu parte." renace su tono bromista al usar palabras parecidas a las que uso ella. "¿mi cara te lo dice?" cuestiona con diversión. "escucho algunos." confirma pero luego se le ocurre algo; "¿cuáles crees que me gustan?" decide poner como un juego de adivinanza. / @nayerimz

' sabia decisión. no te gustaría llevarle la contraria a una anarquista en su ambiente ' amenaza es vacía y completementa broma sólo porque el chico le cae bien, palabras cargarían honestidad de ser lo contrario ' no fumo, de igual manera ' añade con una sonrisita, porque sólo lo hace cuando le ofrecen, nunca podría vivir de manera constante con sabor amargo del cigarro en la boca ' ¿y cuál es tu estilo? ' curiosea ' tienes cara de que te gustan las canciones de grupos independientes británicos, pero puedo estar equivocándome ' ✩ @jjunho

[lavalamp-juice]

I have my driver's test the same day the Spy x Family Movie comes out.

If I pass, I shall celebrate by watching it.

If I fail, I shall heal by watching it.

[faes-elytra]

q!Melissa being q!Roier's drag sona and accidentally ends up dating both q!Bagi and q!Cellbit because he thought Bagi was Cellbit's drag sona. (We also have the Cellbit doesn't recognize Roier as Melissa, and Roier not knowing Cellbit doesn't know he's Melissa.)

He originally thought it was Cellbit doing a bit with him during his work hours. Which later ends up on a date with Bagi as Melissa and him not realizing for while they're different people. He has no fucking clue how to tell her the situation he's in and why he can't date her, and just kinda ends up dating both of them for a bit.

I don't know if I want Cellbit and Bagi to have been friends before this started or just started being friends in the middle of this.

So Roier gets put into the position that both of his partners want to introduce him to their new friend. He ends up going with Cellbit and guess who his new friend is, Bagi. Bagi unlike Cellbit instantly recognizes that Roier is Melissa. The introduction is so fucking awkward because Bagi and Roier are trying to fake not knowing each other. Bagi is questioning how good their(Cellbit and Roier's) relationship really is in her head, Roier trying to tell her he is just a pendejo. Roier starting to hint at the truth to Bagi while trying to make sure Cellbit doesn't find out what the hell the two of them are trying communicate to each other. Her slowly piecing it together over the course of the convo. Roier hinting that the two of them look similar, that he has a job he dresses up a lot for. The constant calling of himself of pendejo and little estúpido. Bagi almost reaching the correct answer trying not to laugh every time she thinks of the possibility of what Roier is implying. The one minute of time that Cellbit is not with them to clarify things. Bagi just NOT comprehending that Cellbit has zero clue he's Melissa. Roier saying he thought it was bit for months that he just kept reinforcing it. Bagi going we should tell him, Roier saying that he'd probably need to get into drag piece by piece in front of him to convince him that he's Melissa. Bagi just not believing that, ok we need to tell him. Cellbit comes back before they can plan how to tell him. The silence is deafening. The immense cry/laugh threatening to burst from Roier and Bagi.

C: Why the hell aren't you guys talking?

The side eyes given in the span of a second.

B: You know what Roier's other job is right?

C: of course I do, He's a psychologist.

R: (No soy un psicólogo.)

B: (You told him it was psychology???)

R: (Used to be one, then got, a better job *audible wink*)

B: He's not a psychologist

C: WHAT.

R: Nononono, si FUE un psicólogo, ahora no soy

C: You lost your job guapito??? :<<<<<

R: Si y No,

C: Que, si y no pendejo???

R: Tenía un nuevo trabajo y fue del otro.

C: Oh, well that's good.

B: You're not gonna ask him what it is?

C: Why should I, I mean as long as he's ok I don't have to know. Unless he wants to tell me then he can. But he doesn't have to.

B: (*outrageous side eye at Roier*)

R: I mean, si quería saber, si puedes gatinho~

C: Only if you want me to~

(This flirting probably goes on longer.)

R: Soy un stripper.

C: HUH. QUE, WHAT, WHEN.

R: Yo voy a un lugar, se llama "Casualonas", y yo baila.

C: But I've never seen you there, you're not in their employees list???

B: He goes by Melissa when he's there.

C: Nononono, no he doesn't, wait WHAT.

(I can't keep writing this post because my nose is bleeding super badly but I hope you understand my vision by this point. The situation is resolved peacefully. True gamer move is Roier still being able to date q!bagi and q!cellbit with bisexual swagger.)

[jjunho]

presiona sus labios en una linea en un intento por suprimir y ocultar la sonrisa que se quiere formar en su rostro. le causa gracia que quiera usar sus palabras en su contra. agacha la cabeza por un momento hasta que logra desaparecer cualquier rastro de diversión antes de volver a alzar la mirada para hablar. “¿cómo puedes estar seguro que el que yo dibuje el ritual no forma parte de este?” suelta en cambio en una mentira que se permite (y un poco le cuesta) decir. que este dibujando no tiene nada que ver con el ritual si no con su propio interés en el arte y su recurso para mantener su sanidad mental en este tipo de cosas. “no te vas a convertir en pollo rostizado si eso te preocupa tanto.” bueno, realmente no puede asegurar que va salir ileso de entre el fuego. “te vas a ganar vendas para las heridas y unas palmadas en la espalda de mi parte.” es decir no va ganar nada. “¿estas diciendo que me viste aqui y decidiste buscar tu guitarra para dar una serenata con la canción más trillada del mundo? ¿o llevas tu guitarra a todos lados?” cuestiona, aunque sigue creyendo que todo esto es para molestarlos pero no quiere darle la satisfacción de lograrlo tampoco. “ah,” parpadea un poco tomado por sorpresa por interés pero no intenta evitar que vea lo que ha hecho. “solo son garabatos.” le resta importancia al paisaje detallado que ha dibujado de todo lo que puede ver desde donde esta sentado. incluye el fuego, otros vástagos en la distancia y graciosamente también al que tiene a su lado con la guitarra.

respuesta muere en su boca. y no porque no tenga nada para responder, más bien, su atención tuvo un nuevo y único foco. ' estás dibujando ' puntualiza lo obvio, y una nueva sonrisa se va izando levemente con dejes de gracia. ' aunque aprecio los dibujos... ' toma robadas palabras ajenas, inclinando su cabeza también para susurrar en una renovada distancia. ' es un ritual, no una clase de dibujo ' retoma la distancia inicial, el entretenimiento brotó en su mirada. ' ¿me invitan a convertirme en un pollo rostizado y también debia traer los malvaviscos? vaya... ustedes son unos pésimos anfitriones ' responde, virando irises con gracia. ' ¿al menos entregarán algo que diga felicidades por sobrevivir o algo así? ' es sarcástico, atisbos de gracia chispeando en sus ojos. ' disculpe, señor dibujante, pero tú no estas ayudando mucho a que esto no parezca una clase de arte libre ahora mismo ' lo acusa. solo faltaba que aparezca alguien para hacer un número de baile contemporáneo. ' por cierto — ¿qué estás dibujando? ' su cabeza se mueve para buscar husmear un poco, preso de la curiosidad.

[mvacts]

𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐋𝐎 𝐃𝐎𝐒 . . . 𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙎𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙑𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙀

Los fatídicos sucesos del festejo del aniversario de Arcadia Bay no pasaron desapercibidos. El pueblo, chico como es, no dejó de hacer correr rumores y teorías conspirativas sobre lo ocurrido. ¿Quiénes eran esos encapuchados? ¿Qué querían? Y, lo más importante, ¿por qué se llevarían a personas aleatorias dentro del gran abanico de asistentes? Cualquiera pensaría que un ataque como tal estaría dirigido a secuestrar a alguna gran personalidad de Arcadia Bay, como la alcaldesa Laroy, el receloso padre DeVries —— incluso hasta Mira Lundevall o Rafe Shepherd.

El rápido trabajo del sheriff Trahan dio con las identidades de los secuestrados la misma noche del atentado: Brenda Phillips, humana, y Patrick Dunne, vampiro, han sido declarados desaparecidos. La familia de la primera, conmocionada, echa las culpas a un grupo de vampiros, que sería liderado por el mismo desaparecido, y les achaca el secuestro como una nueva forma de imponerse sobre los seres humanos. Una cacería para comer sangre fresca y dejar de lado la controversial, y tan criticada por algunos, Tru Blood. Esto no es noticia, ya que existe un grupo de vampiros extremistas, los sanguinistas, aquellos que se consideran superiores a los humanos y a cualquier raza. Piensan que el mainstream es blasfemia, lo mismo que caminar bajo el sol, por eso no lo hacen. Son los vampiros más acérrimos a los mitos y leyendas urbanas que todavía existen alrededor de esta especie.

No obstante, la comunidad vampírica local asume que se ha tratado de un atentado por parte de grupos anti vampiros, que han estado aumentando en el último tiempo, y que buscan señalarlos como los culpables de cualquier desgracia que involucre humanos. Las acusaciones que los vinculan a los sanguinistas no tienen fundamento alguno, según ellos: los vampiros que se han acercado a Arcadia Bay solamente buscan una comunidad dispuesta a aceptarlos y jamás se involucrarían con grupos radicales de este tipo.

Todas estas dudas no hacen más que alimentar los rumores y las vibras de incertidumbre que invaden a Arcadia Bay, antaño un pueblo apacible y libre de conflictos de mayor importancia. La tensión entre humanos y vampiros nunca se había sentido tanto, al menos no en este pequeño enclave de Louisiana, pero con dos presuntas víctimas de cada bando y sus partidarios avivando las llamas, retomar el ritmo de antes es una hazaña imposible. 

Tú, ¿de qué lado te pondrás?

INFORMACIÓN OOC

Como pueden ver, Arcadia Bay y sus habitantes están lidiando con las consecuencias de lo ocurrido en el aniversario del pueblo mientras intentan retomar la rutina diaria. Cabe destacar que ningún personaje activo del grupal es considerado un sospechoso. Al menos, no por ahora...

Esta actividad se roleará a través de SENTENCE STARTERS, que publicaremos en unos segundos.

Tienen la opción de continuar con un máximo de DOS (2) convos de la actividad anterior a modo de flashback si así gustan. Sin embargo, no está permitido limitar las convos activas solamente a uno o dos de estos flashbacks. Recuerden que la selectividad y el rol burbuja están estrictamente prohibidos.

Siéntanse libres de compartir ediciones de los atuendos de sus personajes (o de cualquier cosa) en el blog de edits (@mvedits).

La duración de la actividad es de OCHO DÍAS; el tercer capítulo será publicado el día sábado 27 de julio en este mismo horario.

Sin mayor preámbulo, ¡que se diviertan! No olviden que estamos a un solo mensajito de distancia ante cualquier cosa.

[flowerbuni]

°•*⁀➷ ʚ 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 ɞ

ᥫ᭡ This is an agere/SFW blog! :3 I like to post and reblog agere/wanda maximoff content <3 εїз I write hcs, I make agere moodboards, and in the future I will start posting fics! (maybe..)

「 a little about me :3 」

You can call me bunny <3

I am an age regressor, my little age is 2-6 :D

I do not have a cg, but I am kind of looking/waiting around :( !!

Likes: coloring, listening to music, making new frendz, marvel, mlp, stuffies, cows, llamas, capybaras, sharks, hello kitty, sanrio, video games, blind box toys, stim boards!!

Dislikes: Bugs (specifically spiders.. yucky..), crowded areas, uncomfy convos, uncomfy pillows and blankets, loud noises.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ

My DMs and asks are always open to anyone that wants to be frendz or talk!! :3 please keep in mind that this is an SFW blog! no no's: meanies, very personal questions! ૮₍ ˃ࡇ˂ ₎ა

[soup-maiden]

Got curious after a convo with some friends:

Feel free to put your rhyme variations or unlisted games in the tags!

[devilmarshact]

ÚLTIMO MOMENTO: HURTO Y ESTATUS, ¿VAN DE LA MANO?

Luego de que una de las entrevistas policiales al joven recientemente resurgido de la muerte, Alan Brown, haya sido filtrada se ha desatado la indignación en las redes por lo que el joven Brown le revela a la policía: que uno de los miembros de la familia Lazard padece de lo que se llama cleptomanía - es una condición psicologica que obliga al individuo a hurtar objetos sin ninguna razón aparente -. No se sabe a ciencia cierta de quién se trata o si la misma familia ha decidido ocultar esto, pero la desconfianza hacía los Lazard está creciendo y hemos encontrado testimonios que afirman haber extraviado relojes y collares al encontrarse en la misma habitación que Augustine Lazarad ( @auguvstine ).

Por Anthony Abrams

aclaraciones ooc:

esto es un articulo del periódico de devil's marsh, es decir que todo el mundo ha podido leerlo.

en cuanto al contexto, se han filtrado algunas de las entrevistas policiales que le han hecho a brown y el periódico está publicando parte de estas de la manera que han leído arriba.

la inclusión de este plot-drop en sus convos actuales es meramente opcional.

estén atentxs porque a lo largo de la semana estaremos soltando más plot-drops.

[obigem]

"Well, I guess I'll just go ahead and say it. Cordelia, I like you."

"I like you too, Jai. But you already know that. That isn't what you needed to tell me though, is it?"

"No, you don't understand. I don't just like you," Jai sighed, "what I'm trying to say is Cordie, will you—"

"Are we setting up this table, or what?" Matthew interrupted them as he walked up.

"Matthew, you're late!" Cordelia turned toward him.

"It's not my fault! One of those teachers held me up, lecturing me about my hair. It was uncalled for."

"It's the rules. All boys with hair longer than ear length have to wear their hair tied up and out of the way. You're lucky you didn't get suspended"

"Please, my mother is chief of the school board. They wouldn't dare."

"Whatever! You have to wait. Jai was telling me something."

Matthew turned his attentions onto Jai. "Oh he was, huh?" He glared in his direction. "Go on then, 𝘑𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘰. What is it you had to say?"

"Oh, um, could you maybe give us a moment? It's kind of a private conversation."

"This is a pretty public hallway for your private convo."

"Matthew! First you're late and now you're being rude to Jai." Cordie was the one glaring now.

"I told you already I couldn't help being late this time! And I'm not being rude, I just asked an obvious question."

"Well it came off rude! You won't be mean to my friends like this."

"Hey, you two, it's fine. You don't have to fight about it." Jai tried to keep the peace but Cordie wasn't having it.

"It isn't fine. He's being a llama's behind! Apologize! Do it right now! You won't be mean to Jai."

But instead of apologizing, Matthew grabbed Cordelia's wrist.

"Come on," He tugged at her, "It's this way to the storage shed with the tables, right?"

"Matthew, what are you doing?"

"I said I'd help, so I'm helping. So can we go?"

"Don't pull on me so hard!"

As Jai watched Matthew pull Cordelia away he couldn't help but also see his chances with her going along with them.

He wished he could just get it together and actually tell her how much he liked her and ask her out straight forward. Like Matthew was able to be. He just couldn't.