#he's such a loser here

[gyuzgrl]

her //kmg// pt.2

pt 2 of 'her'- the morning after reveals much to y/n, and she makes a difficult decision- one that neither her nor Mingyu seem to escape from unscathed.

Dread, shame, confusion.

The morning after a night of love shouldn't leave one feeling this way, yet here you are, lying paralysed in bed, next to a man you can't seem to figure out.

Why did he find solace in another's bed? Why was it the same woman every time? Were his words from last night even true?

Questions haunt you, floating around inside your head like ghosts in an empty castle. When one fades, another takes it's place, poking holes in your rationality, mocking you for what you've done.

How could you give in so easily? After everything he's done, after the betrayal- how could you let him in? Vulnerable and exposed, you let him see you, hear you, touch you?

Embarrassment doesn't even begin to cover what you feel.

Your skin feels sticky and each spot he touched burns into you, like red-hot metal, sizzling tender flesh. The kisses, the grip marks, every point of contact feels wrong. Of course, last night was consensual- two grown adults made a decision to spend a night together- but you can't shake that sickly feeling taking over you; a thick, dark oil, staining your skin as you sink further and further into despair.

Turning over, you let your eyes scan over Mingyu's face- sleeping peacefully, unaware of the havoc he's caused in your mind. The gentle sighs of breath, the way his lashes tickle his skin, how his lips settle into the prettiest pout- it isn't fair. None of it is.

He doesn't get to sleep like this while your mind races at a thousand miles per second. He doesn't get to live ignorantly like this.

You won't let it happen.

You won't swallow your pride and pretend like everything's okay.

Slipping out from under the covers, you head straight for a shower. Silky, warm water embraces you, washing away the stains of yesterday, only for them to resurface and solidify the past. No matter how hard you scrub, no matter how desperately you scratch, the marks remain as they are- seething red reminders of how small you made yourself for Mingyu's affections.

Before you know it, tears begin to flow- tears of shame, of humiliation. All it took was for him to say he returned your feelings, and you forgave everything. You let him touch you mere hours after he'd laid his hands on another woman- god what has happened to you?

You step into your robe, the pearly white colour of the fabric mocking you as if to say- "you're the shell of who you once were."

Time passes as it usually does, and you find yourself at the breakfast table, staring into the distance. Your mind has finally settled to a conclusion.

This must end.

As you sit, unmoving, Mingyu begins to stir from his sleep. An arm extends itself out of habit, feeling for your body beside him, and he jolts awake when his skin comes in contact with cold, lifeless cloth.

Panic fills his nerves in the flash of a second and he scrambles out of bed, stumbling over to the hall. Clumsy, frantic feet thud along the ground and he calls out your name, voice hoarse as if holding back a sob.

"I'm here," you state, eyes still fixed at the wall.

Mingyu feels his muscles slump back into relaxation. You're still here. You didn't leave.

"I uh, I thought... Never mind, have you eaten?" he grins, eyes sparkling as he gazes at you lovingly, "I'll fix something up for us- what do you feel like eating? something soup-y? pancakes? eggs? I make really good eggs-"

"last night was a mistake."

His voice fades to a deathly still. The luster in his eyes dulls to a cold brown and he slumps down onto the chair opposite yours.

"oh." he says softly.

"I've had some time to think..."

"and?"

"I don't think we should live together. Or be together. No matter what your reasons were, Mingyu, the fact remains the same- you cheated on me. Nothing will change that, nothing will make that go away."

Mingyu leans forward, tears springing in the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry, y/n- I wish I could c-"

"I know you're sorry. Trust me, I know, Mingyu- but you've done this to yourself. You've been aware of every decision as you made it, you did what you did, knowing fully well that it was wrong. There's no forgiving that. Whatever our feelings are, it doesn't matter anymore."

His head hangs low as your words tear into him. You're right, after all. He did in fact cheat on you. It was his decision, his choice. It's unfair for you to suffer because of his mistakes.

"I'll come back for my things sometime this week." you sigh, moving from your seat, taking hold of your handbag, "Goodbye, Mingyu."

A few days have passed, and you've settled into an expensive hotel, gathering yourself together as other things call for your attention.

Formalities make divorces so much harder than they need to be...

While you sort through legal matters with your family lawyer, Mingyu finds himself falling into a dangerously dark hole. You've been gone all of three days and he's lost himself completely. He hasn't slept, hasn't gone outside, hasn't eaten- it's as if he's lost his will to live.

Your words haunt him, echoing in his head over and over. Desperately, he's tried to silence his thoughts, tried to chase away your voice, but he can't. What makes it all so much worse, is that he knows you're right.

This is all his fault, after all. He really has done this to himself, and he's hurt you too in the bargain.

It's late in the evening, the sky outside flushes dark grey clouds along, as a faint outline of the moon peeks through. Winds howl terribly all around, hinting at the storm that is to come.

The doorbell rings, echoing through the empty house, startling Mingyu out of his daze. Sloppily, he treads to the door, cracking it open to reveal an unfamiliar face.

"can I help you-?" he mutters, eyes skimming lazily over the suited man before him.

"Mister Kim Mingyu? I'm Miss Y/n's lawyer. I understand you've separated, yes?"

Just when he thought he couldn't sink lower than he already has, Mingyu feels his stomach drop as he descends into anguish.

He's smart enough to gauge what's happening. You're legitimizing the divorce- making it real in the eyes of the law.

"sir?"

A voice pulls him back to reality, and he lifts his head up, nodding as he motions for the man to come inside. Dull, confused footsteps lead into the living area and Mingyu takes a seat on the couch, beckoning your lawyer to do the same.

"There are papers you are required to sign, sir." he begins, reaching into his bag to pull out a stack of crisp white sheets, stapled perfectly.

Mingyu stares dumbly at the paper, back hunched, throat dry. He's frozen. There's not a thought in his head, not a sensation in his body.

A minute passes in silence, and he stays unmoved.

The man clears his throat, clicking his pen open before handing it to Mingyu.

"here, you can use mine," he forces an encouraging smile, feeling his heart break at Mingyu's disheveled state. Although he's been made aware of your situation, Mingyu's helpless state tugs at his heartstrings and he can't help but feel sympathetic towards the latter.

"th-thank you,"

With shaky hands, Mingyu takes hold of the pen, stopping at the blank spot resigned for his signature. An indescribable pressure weighs him down. His future, his love, his sanity all sit under the blade of this guillotine- a mere pen.

This pen might just be mightier than any sword he'll ever face.

Sensing his reluctance, the suited man places a hand on his shoulder-

"Forgive me for speaking out of turn, I know we don't know each other- but I've, uh, I've seen this before. I've handled cases like this before and all I can say to make this easier is that you're doing this for her. Not for yourself. If you truly feel guilty for the past, if you truly love her, this is the way you give her her pride back. This is how you can do what's good for her."

His words spur Mingyu into action, resonating deep within the latter's being. Letting you go is unbearable. It stings and burns and swells all at once, but if it lets you heal, if it's good for you, he'll do it in a second.

Scribbling his signature onto the bottom of the page, Mingyu hands the papers over.

"thank you," he says, genuinely this time, "is she-" he hesitates, "is she doing okay?"

The man smiles sadly, rising to his feet- "I'm afraid that's a breach of confidentiality, sir"

And just like that, he's gone, leaving Mingyu alone once again. He settles into bed, draping your blanket over himself as his mind floods over with thoughts of you.

"I hope she doesn't think I gave up on us..."

Then, like a soaring wave, it hits him. What if you think he's taking the easy way out and that his feelings aren't real? What if you expected him to throw a fit and come swoop you up from whatever hotel you're hidden away in?

"fuck-" he curses under his breath, digging around the sheets for his phone.

Mingyu types out a messy apology, pawing at his phone with thick fingers.

"I hope you don't think I'm giving up. As much as I wanted to fight for you, as much as I wanted to rip those papers to shreds, I know this is what you deserve- a shot at real love. Love that doesn't hurt you like I did. I love you so much, Y/n, but you're right, this is my mistake. You shouldn't be the one to suffer for it. I'm sorry for it all. Letting you go is the hardest thing I'll do, but it's what I deserve now. I had the world in my hands and I gave it up for nothing."

Your lip quivers as you read his words. There's a sense of defeat in his tone, as if realization has finally hit and he's understood the gravity of his actions.

Despite his acceptance of your decision, you feel a sharp pang of hurt deep inside your chest. You're doing the right thing. You're protecting yourself. You're being strong.

So, why does it hurt this bad?

Unfocused eyes begin to water, dripping salty puddles onto the screen below, and you realize you're crying.

Mingyu's words from that night play in your head, like a devastating melody, planting seeds of doubt where revenge and empowerment were beginning to grow.

You need to snap out of this.

Now.

Surely, one text message shouldn't have you forgetting all the pain he's caused. You simply cannot give in.

"It's late." you tell yourself, hoping that speaking aloud will give you some semblance of authority over your frenzied feelings, "gotta get some rest"

While you drift off to sleep, Mingyu's thoughts hone in on you, just like they have all these nights. Lying on your side of the bed, huddled in a swarm of your blanket and clothes, he does his best to pretend like you're still here.

He curses himself for that night, chastises himself for all the nights before. There really is no excuse, no explanation that could make what he did okay- he knows- which is why, he's leaving you alone. No matter how much pain he's in, no matter how many bottles he's downed, Mingyu doesn't let his toils bother you.

No drunk phone calls, no angry visits, not even a text. Not one attempt to try and beg you to change your mind.

Ironically, the respect he extends now, by leaving you alone, makes you feel worse somehow. Guilty, even.

Taking a deep inhale, Mingyu lets your fading scent flood his senses, and instantly, the memories come flooding in- how you kissed him so tenderly, how your skin tasted, how you came alive under his touch.

"fuck," he whispers, voice trembling, "if I knew that night would be the last time I could touch you-"

Oh, he'd worship you.

Mingyu pictures it- clear as day.

He would've held you tight in his arms, pressing his forehead to yours as you share one breath. He would've kissed you so deeply, making sure to commit your taste to memory, pushing further, harder, until his own mortality forced him to pull away.

When your face fell at the sight of her marks, Mingyu would've kissed your eyes and placed your hand on his heart saying- "you hear that? that's all for you, my love- no one else, just you". And if that didn't do the trick, he'd be more than willing to dig those marks out of his skin, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it bled.

Most of all, he'd savor you.

As he crawls down your body, he would kiss every inch of your skin, thanking you for letting him. No God could give him this power, no divine force could allow him to touch you- only you had that authority.

And that, makes you greater than any God he's ever prayed to.

Each kiss would be deliberate, slow. He'd close his eyes, brows set in a deep furrow as his lips take you in greedily, like Jesus' first disciple eating at the Eucharist.

Mingyu feels himself grow hard at the thought- being so close to you, kissing you, feeling you. He takes in a shaky breath to compose himself, but in vain.

It has no effect.

No number of breaths, no volume of alcohol, no hours of sleep will ever be enough to push you away.

So, he gives in.

A hand sneaks down under the blanket, beyond the waistband of Mingyu's sweatpants, ghosting over his cock. He hisses as his fingers graze the reddened tip, hips jerking up to chase that feeling.

Letting his thoughts resume, Mingyu works himself in time with his imagination.

His hands explore your skin, soothing their way down to where you need him most. You tremble under his touch, back arching when he puts his mouth to your cunt.

Eagerly, he laps at your slit, taking in your sweet-salt taste- so addictive he's sure this is all he needs now. Not food, not shelter, not money- just you.

You writhe under him, slipping your hands into his hair, tugging at his locks, and his eyes roll back. The sting of his scalp only spurs him on, and his tongue prods your clit in rapid bursts.

"Mingyu-" you choke out, his name like a plea on your lips.

He sucks harder, pushes you further, and dips his tongue inside you, nudging into your pulsating core. It takes you by surprise, and you can't help the cry that escapes you-

"Mingyu!"

As you tighten around him, Mingyu devours you from the inside out, swallowing every last drop you have to offer, coaxing as much as he can from you until you're spent.

"Mingyu," you moan, clutching his hair tighter as you feel your release mere seconds away, "Min-"

"Mingyu"

A sticky white pool of shame sits at the groove of his thumb, collecting in the dip between his fingers.

"shit."

Stupefied by disbelief, Mingyu stays deathly still. It's pathetic, honestly. He's aware of how he must look, aware of how wrong it is to use you for his own pleasure, but he just can't help himself.

He really can't.

[martyrbat]

hate when a batman artist isn't committed to bruce's lame bat schtick... give that man a bat insignia on the bottom of his boots rn

[vaggieslefteye]

HAZBIN HOTEL SEASON 1 FINALE ↳ 1x08 - "The Show Must Go On"

[riaki]

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

[cozylittleartblog]

valentines newsletter ???? ?? HELLO ???????? ?????? ? ????

[hwatermelon]

"is aegyo a joke to you?"

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More random Nimona headcanons

Bal is one of those people who isn’t allergic to anything except one random medication that no one uses 

Ambrosius calls him a lucky bastard every time it’s brought up because he’s allergic to everything 

His allergy list is at least three pages long and he doesn’t remember a single thing on that list 

Whenever they go out to eat Bal has to remind him “No you can’t eat that it has olives” “Not that either love it’s got lemon” and so on 

Most of his allergic reactions are pretty tame so he’ll eat it anyway

And it gives Bal and Nimona so much fucking anxiety 

One time Bal walked in on Nimona chasing Ambrosius around the kitchen yelling “Spit out the carrots Nemesis you don’t even like them that much!!” 

Whenever he eats alone he refers to it as a game of Russian roulette 

Bal refers to it as the reason he has high blood pressure

Because Bal and Ambrosius grew up in the limelight (for very different reasons) there are a million pictures of them through the years 

And they use those videos to bully the hell out of each other 

Bal can quote the video from the beginning of the movie not because it was an important moment in his childhood 

But because Ambrosius will quote it at the most random times throughout the day

Bal will do something small like kill a bug or chase out an animal that Nimona brought in

And he’ll hear Ambrosius mumble “I’m here to slay monsters and protect our kingdom”

He was a little worried Nimona would react badly to this habit but he started joining in 

One time he killed a spider and Ambrosius asks “Are you slaying monsters moonbeam?” Nimona yells from the other room “I’m so proud of him he’s truly protecting our kingdom” 

There are a million photos of baby Ambrosius on the internet 

And Bal made a PowerPoint presentation ranking their cuteness factor out of 10 (100 was the lowest score he got and it was a picture of him with the ugliest bowl cut you’ve ever seen)

And made Ambrosius sit through it 

That was the most loved and mortified he had felt in a long time

Nimona uses low-quality pictures of them as reaction photos 

There have been times when Nimona asks “Can we eat out tonight” and Bal tells her no and she sends him this 

He’ll text back “Is that my fucking wanted poster?!” 

She asked Ambrosius if there was any ice cream left and he said no he expected her to call him and complain he didn’t expect this 

He calls her yelling “When the fuck did that happen?!” 

And she hangs up immediately to let Bal deal with it

[dykealloy]

small aside but y'know how luffy's stupidity is usually met with physical abuse of some kind? anyway. here's law's worst in response to luffy being manipulated by his arch nemesis

[miku-meeku]

haha chat you wont believe what i got myself into haha

[citycrows]

At least my rage is red, it's the closest to love that you'll ever get.

Yuuji is more than a ray of sunshine. He burns with a hatred that's just for Sukuna. A hatred just for himself.

How terrible, this side of him he can never share with anyone but Sukuna. How fitting, since Sukuna made him this way.

[bertoyana]

charles and erik with each other: oh dear, oh dear. gorgeous 🥺👐 charles and erik with the villain of the week/the x-men: K1LL YOURSELF 🔥🔥🔥

X-Men: First Class (2011) | X-Men Apocalypse (2016)

[lovesickeros]

zhongli and neuvillette fighting over their reader 🤭🤭

scary dog privilege wherever you go, draconic courting gestures that would scare any regular person, they send each other deadly glares the moment you turn away,

stealing your clothes to just get a whiff of your scent, marking their territory all over your house - making it a battlefield basically, neuvillette (in my hc) is cooler and zhongli is warm so the cuddles are always so comfy ☺️😍,

they give you anything you want - you don't even have to lift a finger, they make you travel between the nations a lot though 😒 sooo clingyyy, extra gentle in their dragon forms as to not squish you, don't even get me started on the size difference 😍😍

just a little thought 🤭☺️

- 🐈‍⬛

Neuvi being colder is so real and canon. I see him as being colder + a lot more lithe, kinda lanky with smaller but sharper canines versus Zhongli who's warmer and a bit shorter then Neuvi + bulkier with bigger but not as sharp canines.

They've also got very different habits – Zhongli is very prideful not just of himself but his nation. He'll personally give your a tour and purposely drag it out as long as he can. Complimenting Liyue is basically complimenting him, checkmate Neuvi. Especially if he convinces you to try on some local Liyue fashion. Harmless and just a nice gift to anyone else but Neuvi sees it for what it is (since your wearing something from Liyue, technically wearing something of his. He loves his technicalities when it comes to staking a claim over you). Adds salt to the wound by touching you in totally innocent ways like to adjust you towards something he wants to show you or accidently brushing against you when he takes the bags of spoils he's practically drowning you in but really he's just making sure his scent sticks. He's just a sweet, nice gentleman with absolutely no ulterior motives trust.

Neuvillette does love Fontaine, but his habits are more about himself then the nation. He'll take you around if you ask or if the idea strikes him, but you'll probably stay around the making city area or the opera house specifically. He enjoys more personal time with just you and him then anything else. He values the immaterial to the material. Zhongli spoils you with gifts, but Neuvi tries to offer quality time irregardless of physical gifts (though he still gives them just not to the extent of Zhongli). He'll take you to see different operas if that's to your fancy, or leverage a bit of his authority to maybe see a few films since those seem to be hitting off in Fontaine recently. Bet that creaky old archon doesn't have those huh. He feels awkward if you want to watch a trial, but he'll reluctantly agree because. well. it's you. just don't wave or anything he's trying to work and he just Really wants to see you smile at him like that again and it makes him lose his train of thought. gets custom clothes designed by Chiori to replace your clothes from Liyue because they smell of Zhongli and it makes him sulky + he likes to match.

G-d forbid these two are in the same room as you because it's a war of attrition at that point. Constant accidental brush of the hand against your shoulder or elbow but it's just them trying to get rid of the others scent. they are side eyeing each other behind your back while being all smiles whenever your looking. If it's hot and you lean into Neuvi more he's practically GLOWING. not even smug he's just absolutely smitten and happy to be of service. immediately takes off his gloves and presses his hands to your face asking if your okay and if you want to go back with him. if it's cold out and you seek out Zhongli more hes smug as hell beneath the calm veneer. Offers you his coat and stay as physically close to you as he can under the pretense of being worried you'll catch a cold if he doesn't warm you up.

don't even get me started on your house either because you probably have tons of gifts from both of them accumulated everywhere. if Neuvi sees you use a tea set from Zhongli suddenly he had a fantastic gift idea he thought you'd like. he even got some tea included with it so why don't you let him make you some? Zhongli sees you using a goblet Neuvi gave you (totally a coincidence it's similar to his) and suddenly you have 27 square cups in your cabinets that you have no idea where they came from. if the goblet is mysteriously missing oh well. who knows :]

[yangjeongin]

HYUNJIN BIRTHDAY COUNTDOWN (2024): hyunjin in every letter... ↘ D-10 | UNFORTUNATE EVENTS

[beif0ngs]

Buggy the Clown || Anime vs. Live Action comparison shots 

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … DON’T SMILE ♡

track twelve of the short n’sweet series. pairing: toxicex!johnb x reader. based loosely on the song don’t smile by sabrina carpenter. this is the final drabble of the series! i hope you enjoyed reading as much as i did writing! ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

there you were again. lying next to your ex boyfriend john booker routledge in the nude, having succumbed once more to seeing him. you said it was the last time. this had to be the last time.

you’d practically dragged him through his house to the chateau when you’d arrived, only having dropped him a warning text of ‘i’m coming over’ ten minutes prior. you didn’t care to alert him any sooner, john b had no life outside of tormenting you and treasure hunting — what the fuck else would he be doing?

“have you been with anyone but me since we broke up?” you gasp between kisses as he had unhooked your bra.

“psh, yes.” he’d shrugged, pulling away to not only avoid eye contact but to focus on that fidgety hook that just wouldn’t unclasp.

“no you haven’t.”

“no, i have not.” he admits, a little too gleefully with a grin as he closes back in to kiss you once more.

that moment swirls around in your head as you lay on his bicep, still able to feel his release leaking from you. thank god for birth control, or else you’d have been knocked up by now.

john b watches the ceiling fan continue to spin overhead, barely blinking as he thinks of what to say. you break the silence first, rolling over to loom down on him.

“if you ever stop loving me i’ll kill you.”

“noted…” he presses his lips together in a awkward yet polite smile like he truly believed you might. “does that mean we’re… back togeth—”

“nope.”

you flop back down, this time on his chest — making yourself comfy. you knew you’d have to move in a minute, clean up and see yourself out, but you could enjoy this while it lasts. you didn’t need him… not really, not… all the time. you were sure you could find someone to do the job just as well, make you cry just as hard — but for now he’d have to do. you’d gone too long without begging him to be a boyfriend, why throw away all that pride now?

[cardi-c]

31/∞ ghovie gifs