#lots of talk about throwing stuff

[lixenn]

Xanxus and throwing stuff

It’s my time to chuck some random KHR headcanons into the wild!

For context: I wanted to write this scene, but during the process several questions came to mind which somehow spiralled into even more questions and now I have a whole new headcanon that’s taken over my brain because of course I do.

I won’t bore you with all the nitty gritty background details. I will just jump right into the good stuff, which in this case is me wondering about Xanxus and his habit of throwing stuff.

Especially I was focussing on Xanxus throwing alcohol.

Because look: We all know Xanxus loves throwing stuff at people be it alcohol, food or whatever else is at hand, but have you ever wondered if there’s some criteria on what he throws? Again with the alcohol, does he just randomly throw bottles on peoples head? Does he just use what is in his immediate vicinity?

And you know what?

NO! I DON’T FUCKING THINK SO!

Because that would be too easy! Where’s the drama? The unnecessary detail? Why think that Xanxus just throws random alcohol when we can make things complicated and develop a whole alcohol throwing language for the lols.

So here we fucking go:

Disclaimer: I don’t drink, so I know shit all about which different types of alcohol would fit certain criteria. So, I’m just going to use vague descriptions for now. If anyone who has a clue about alcohol wants to throw in their two cents and tell me what alcohol would actually fit certain descriptions, PLEASE hit me up so I can add it.

Anyone who interacts with Xanxus for more than 10 minutes will immediately notice his compelling urge of dousing people with alcohol at the slightest provocation. What people don’t know is that Xanxus actually uses different types of drinks for different groups of people.

If you’re just a random minion that pissed him off, he’ll throw the cheap stuff. Not something that’s really horrible but it wouldn’t taste great either. Just generic alcohol you could easily get at the local supermarket, basic shit for basic people, y’know?

Now, if Xanxus absolutely hates someone’s guts (looking at you there, Iemitsu) they will get hit over the head with the most vile alcohol that’s available. Stuff that tastes like horsepiss, something that’s barely fit for human consumption (and might actually be just rubbing alcohol with a shitty disguise) but people buy it anyways because it’s a quick and easy way to head straight into lalaland.

But if Xanxus likes you… hoooo boy, that’s a different matter entirely. Of course, he will still throw stuff because this is Xanxus we’re talking about here, however now he will throw the fancy shit, like expensive wine that’s been handed down for decades in the family (showing my lacking alcohol knowledge here). And if he really reaaalllly likes you *sideeying Squalo* he will reach for his favourites because he shows affection via violence and deeply obscure gestures that no sane person could ever comprehend.

He also has a go-to alcohol of choice when he’s in a really bad mood, so it doesn’t matter what alcohol category you were originally in, if Xanxus is grumpy he will only throw this specific type of alcohol and nothing else. As for what type it is: I’d say it’s just alcohol he personally can’t stand, like there’s nothing really wrong with it per see, but he either has a bad memory associated with it or he just hates the taste so he will never drink it.

That’s it from me and my super specific alcohol throwing headcanons. Any questions, comments and incoherent screams are welcomed with open arms.

Have a nice day and keep being awesome!

[sableprince]

doodlin again i guess ??

scraps under the cut

[licorishh]

so uhhh happy valentine's day i suppose !!

shoves this in your face and runs away

so. uh. yyyyyeah. when i said i liked all interpretations of their dynamic equally i uh. i lied. and to be totally and completely and 100% honest with you it speaks volumes to the state of the internet that i have been legitimately afraid to say that like i've genuinely been debating and turning it over in my head and arguing with myself about it for days because i don't want people frickin' YELLING at me and telling me to off myself because i like a dadgum fictional ship but it's valentine's and my friend has been hyping up the crap outta me so i'm past the point of having a reasonable excuse to chicken out (and i know myself and if i don't do it today then i likely won't do it at all)

anyway words actually cannot express how obsessed i am with post-o66 aus in which they stay together (largely because i so completely refuse to believe they'd be willing to split up after THAT, ESPECIALLY that soon) so yeah shoutout to the softest fluffiest gut-punch-iest pair in the galaxy to whom everything bad has happened but who stay silly despite the horrors

[shortcakelils]

Commissions are open 👇

[aroaceleovaldez]

what do you think about the charters (Nico, Percy and others) using mobility aids? (Especially after all the wars, fights, and other general injures they've probably got over the years)

I may be biased as someone who uses mobility aids, but I definitely think more demigods should have mobility aids in general. Nico in particular definitely could use it with how often he collapses and with how he generally exhibits some symptoms of low blood pressure at the very least if not POTS or EDS. I'm particularly biased to drawing him with my own crutches, lol (they have knee rests!!!!).

Also I always love seeing Grover with crutches. He was introduced as having a muscular disease - i know that's implied to be just cause he's actually a satyr, but also he's the only satyr to be described as "walking like every step hurt." So give him crutches!!!! He needs them!!!

I dont have any particularly strong opinions for other characters, except maybe usually giving Leo a prosthetic leg so he can thematically match his dad and sometimes crutches alongside that, and my friends and I have talked about Jason using a rollator before, particularly in Jason Lives!AUs. But regardless I always love discussing comorbidity between various other conditions and disabilities with ADHD and dyslexia and a not insignificant number of those comorbidities may require mobility aids. Functionally demigods are kind of more like intensive athletes with magic healthcare, and very few are on the level of like Nico where they've been through the wringer so much that it has lasting effects on them - actually very few in general seem to get a lot of physical damage that doesn't get healed quickly (i think in part cause most campers don't actually go on quests). mostly just psychological damage - so i don't think every demigod would need mobility aids, but like statistically there should probably be more just given the comorbidity stuff to begin with. Everybody who's come back from the dead should probably have more going on with them though imo.

[toothplant]

Sammick Soulmates/Fated mates (a/b/o) Pt. 2

Sammie yearning for something since birth, maybe even since before he was even born. But for as long as he could remember, he’s always felt a strong connection stretching far beyond the fields, beyond the town, beyond the Delta, beyond time itself. As a child this confused him, made him odd, made his parents worry. This connection, this longing, felt like steady, old, deep, as if God has recycled the bones of an old lover and with it made his, torturing the pair with a distance felt across the land and the heavens. He didn’t understand the meaning of it, this soul-deep yearning, but he also understood in every other sense. 

Sammie always had a strong fondness for the night. When he got older, It became a bit of a joke between him and his mom. She recalls countless times when he would get fussy as a baby, but could always be lulled to sleep under the blanket of the stars, and once he got old enough to see, he would gaze up at each and every pinprick of light with wonder unseen like anything she’s witnessed before, resting his head on her shoulder until his eyelids got too heavy to ignore. He’s never been able to go to sleep when he should, even when he spent long, grueling days out in the scorching heat, back sore and fingers blistered from picking cotton. He always had to indulge himself, take in the atmosphere of the night: calm, quiet, cool. It tugged at that constant in his heart, in his bones. Plucked at his soul until the notes of a tune left his dried lips, but he took it further. At ten years old, a few feet into his backyard, he sang in the moonlight.

He loved singing. Was humming ever since he was little, would stretch his ear to the Blues musicians playing on the street as he tended groceries with his Momma, would beat rough rhythms into whatever surface was sturdy enough and would make noise. Music was his escape, his life, his soul. His father was indifferent and his mother tried to act the same, but he caught her tapping her foot to his rhythms a few times. Some people around the neighborhood said he was like his uncle, though he was never around the man enough to know if that was true. Regardless, it also gave him a way to voice the hardships he faced, the yearning in his chest, the aching pull to out there. He wondered what’s out there waiting for him. He wondered if it’s a who out there instead of a what. If they felt this same pull, however many miles apart they are. He sang about it.

He did that a lot, wondering and singing. 

Then a few years later, word gets out that his cousins killed their own daddy, and they skip town. Sammie was a good boy and had good friends, but he felt lonely all the same. Lots of things changed. His cousins left a hole in his heart, one he didn’t know how to deal with. This added to everything he was feeling, all the wishing that things would go back to how they were. He sat with it one night, thinking about how he could turn it to words, to rhymes, to song. He was frustrated that nothing was coming out right; it just wasn’t the right time. He instead decided to feel the hole, to face his yearning. His yearning for his cousins, for how things used to be, for the great world beyond the town, for his soulmate.

His soulmate… his soulmate…

His soulmate, it’s what he calls it now (yes, because what if!), ebbs at daylight and grows under moonlight, but never quells or overwhelms. He doesn’t know what that means, so he chooses tonight to investigate why. He focuses on it, feels the warmth in his chest, really feels it. 

It feels like… a tug? A pull somewhere up north. Far northwest. Faint, but there. Lil’ teen Sammie almost jumps from his place on an old bucket. He’s mindful of his excitement (he shouldn’t be out at night) but progress! He can sense it!

If he had doubt before, then he’s definitely sure it’s a soulmate now.

His long-time suspicion is confirmed a few months later, when Smoke and Stack return one last time before going up north. They leave a guitar in his care, a beautiful black guitar with an intricate silver disk in the middle. Said they’ve had it for a while and ain’t got no taste for music, not like he does. It looks almost brand new, hardly a scratch to be found. He strums his fingers across the strings for the first time, excited but inexperienced, and feels something unlike he’s never felt before. Like the whole world opened up before him. Like it wasn’t just his guitar that was plucked, but the pull connecting him to his other half was turned into a string and plucked, forming a otherworldly chord that, for an instant, lit up his soul like nothing before. 

He chased this feeling all day and that night when he went to sleep, he saw him.

He didn’t know if it was a terrifying man, a handsome beast, or a weird mixture of the two; all he knew is that he wasn’t fully human. Moonlight highlighted his pale skin, showing planes of muscles and fat; his eyes black beautiful pools he could get lost in; lips lifted in a charming smile that makes Sammie feel guilty for finding attractive. Every part of him was solid and strong. He carried a banjo, the instrument kept on his person with a strong twine string. A musician, like him. This feeling of silent adoration didn’t last long. He transformed into something much worse.  

His ears elongated, his eyes burned blood red, his teeth sharpened to daggers, tongue lay long and thick. His fingers grew sharp claws. Sammie watched in silent horror as his body morphed into a grotesque creature he’s never seen walk the Earth before. It scared him. It enamored him. 

But he was confused. This man is old as dirt! Almost as old as his father! No way is his soulmate supposed to be an old man. An old White one at that!

He continued to be plagued by these… dreams? Nightmares? as he developed his craft as a Blues musician, practicing on his trusty guitar whenever he could. When he did, his body sang and the connection to the creature got clearer. He could feel him, feel his desperation, his anguish, his longing, much deeper and intense than he’d ever known, but emotions he understands perfectly all the same, strangely enough. He’s incredibly lonely, and maybe he is too. The beast could feel what he felt too. Sammie felt him through the pull, basking in all of him almost always. He didn’t know how to feel about it most days.

So he sings about it, these feelings. Does that for years. And every night he lays his head down to rest, he hopes that when they finally meet, it’s as sweet and romantic as he, albeit hesitantly, imagines it to be.

On the grand opening of the Juke Joint, after his performance, right after his time with Pearline, he feels it. A tug so strong he almost feels his bones rip out of his skin. It’s him! His soulmate! He’s quick to make himself look presentable, body strumming with an emotion he can’t determine as he made his way over to the door. 

Staring him down inside his cousins Juke Joint, unease pooling in his stomach and alarm blaring in his head, was never a situation he conjured.

Now for the A/B/O verse {: >

He’s always been attracted to the smell of petrichor. Since he was a baby he loved rain, loved the smell of it on dirt. Zooming out the house to play in the muddying ground before quickly being snatched back into the house by his Momma, opening the doors however much he could to take in the strong scent of “rainy dirt” or “smelly soil” or whatever his endearing name for the wet land was, wandering the woods after the storm was over just so he could be surrounded by the smell. Finding a good place to lay down at so he could bask in it for as long as he was allowed. The smell would reach the deepest parts of him, in some odd way — reach into his head and overtake it like fog over a swamp, like it belonged there, like it was natural. It brought him comfort and notes, little notes forming a harmonic, happy hum as he took in the scent that reminded him of… of…

He could never name it, but it was something great, perhaps he’s been needing his whole life. Maybe… maybe it was connected to the ever-present pull in his heart, which was made more known when he surrounded himself in the aftereffects of rainstorms. 

He loved it so much, there was just something about it that made him think he wouldn’t mind having a wife or alpha husband who smelled like that. Wouldn’t mind sharing a heat with them. Letting their scents get all mixed up, combining candied nuts to petrichor. He knew that they were out there somewhere, he could feel it in his bones. In his bones, it told him that that soulmate, that lover, was not here. 

The omega felt odd in that way, the instinct rejecting his peers and suitors caused some pretty hard times for him. Sure he had crushes on people — alphas, betas, even other omegas — but when he they would get close, let their scents get all thick and flirty, he couldn’t stand it; it just didn’t feel right. It was easier to ignore with people born with earthier scents, but it was still there.

His heats were worse. Spending the few days of pre-heat hot, bothered, and sensitive — not just all over, but to the pull in his chest. It’s harder to ignore it, threatening to overwhelm him, but never does. He spends the following week glued to the uncomfortable bed inside the heat house, calling for someone he doesn’t know to quell the cramping, the pain, the ache felt all the way to the center of his soul. 

 It’s like something, some higher power like the Lord, was stopping him, telling him “no, not this one.” It frustrated him as much as it saddened him. Scared him too, once he swears he sees the man, the creature, in a dream.

He was a man and a beast, or perhaps a beast wearing human skin. He looked like a White man. Old and handsome, yes, but that wasn’t all. He had blood red eyes, a mouth lined with bloody, sharp teeth, and inhuman claws that could tear skin like paper. Hell, he was more monstrous than that. He kept changing until he looked like…

… like the Devil.

Sammie didn’t know what to make of this.

The teen never told his Pops about this problem, too afraid of confronting the shame of being repulsed by other’s scents, the guilt of having a monster parading as a White man as a mate, and what those meant for him, so he went to Annie. It was in the hoodoo practitioner’s house that he learned about soulmates, people destined to be together. He was both elevated and horrified. Elevated, because there is a perfect mate hand-crafted by God Himself just for him out there, waiting for him. There is someone out there who feels this pull, someone out there who feels just as much age-old yearning in their chests as much as he does, and it’s all for Sammie. Horrified, because he does not know who they are at all. The warning Annie gives him that not all soulmates are good mates, that they can bring suffering just as much as they can bring happiness, leaves Sammie shook to his core on his way back home. 

He doesn’t know what the outcome will be, doesn’t know what plan God has set out for him or why he chose such a creature as his mate, and this makes him scared, petrified even.

But… if the feeling of desolation within his lover, the unadulterated grief and desperation and need that wracked his form nearly all the time, was anything to go by, then Sammie thinks he needs the him just as much as Sammie needs the beast. He’ll take that chance.

So he sings to him, under the moonlight. Hopes that his tunes of a lover and life imagined makes their way to his ears and if even for a moment, assuages his anguish. Almost every night, he travels with his guitar and a lantern to his own little spot deep in the Delta woods, a sizable shed left abandoned, and plays just about anything he can think of. A recollection of his day, a song he’s been working on, regular old practice — all sung out into the moon and stars and comets, making the distance over people and towns and land to reach his lover wherever, if not to find their way to him, then to find comfort in his songs.

Years later, it happens on one starry night. The pull had been strong for the past few days, making him ache, making him excited. He has his head on a swivel for the past few nights, keeping an eye out for any pale man coming his way because he hopes to God they have the sense to not come to him anytime during the day. He felt them get close once, called out to them, smelt the scent of copper and petrichor permeated throughout the air, but they were gone. So he tried again the next night (a little desperate, but can you blame him?) and felt it again. He finished his last song, let the last chords fade into nothing, and opened his eyes. 

Candied nuts and coppery petrichor, the scent Sammie has spent his life loving, mixed in the air between the shed and the outside world. The source clad in causal wear and a face that could sweep Sammie off his feet if he isn’t careful. 

There stood his monster, his creature, his soulmate. The source of all his yearning, the other side of the pull he’s been living with for years, the one hand-crafted for him by God. The alpha picked only for him. 

His alpha, his mate, his…

[rathayibacter]

any updates on ⬇️?

hey, thanks for asking! for those who don't know, 🔽 is a little game about kids using their school's elevator to explore an infinite expanse of procedurally-generated dungeon basements. ive done a bunch of work on it, but it's not quite where i want it to be. the generation as-is is fun and creative, but i wanna build it out to be a little bit deeper before i put the game out. particularly in the loot for each floor.

really, all this is to say i need to teach myself more funny math tricks to squeeze variance out of a single number lmao

[mustfindcreativeusername]

(maybe scroll past if you love love bbc sherlock)

Me: honestly i fucking hate bbc sherlock by this point i mean yeah i loved the first two seasons loved loved loved them but then it haaad to get so complicated but still i could live with season 3 but wtf was s4??? And why did they have to... Do. That. Why make me hate even one John Watson i love my Watsons why did you make him a piece of shit in the last season, texting another woman to the point he considers it cheating is one thing i mean depends on the texts but that's forgivable it was just texting after all, anyway that's one thing but he blamed Sherlock so much for Mary's death when she!! She!! Jumped in front of the bullet to save him. It was her decision (why did she have to be a mega spy? Why did she have to surgery-shoot Sherlock. It wasn't as safe as she thought he literally died and came back and if the ambulance had come a couple minutes later he would 100% be dead wtf and he forgave her too) it was Mary's decision to sacrifice herself for Sherlock and he blamed him to the point where he basically internalises that Sherlock killed her. And i understand needing time alone or whatever but mrs hudson said he's sick, john, pls come see him and he was like yeah whatever sure if you insist ig.

Oh and . Yeah. He fucking. Beat. Him .Up??? Not punch him -haha funny- not hit him once, or even twice. No. He fucking beat him up. With punches and kicks and stuff. While he was looking at him like. Not quite believing. That his friend, "best friend" would do that to him. And yeah him being on drugs would have contributed but he ended up in the hospital?? After john beat him up. I didn't watch that episode in a while but i don't remember john being extremely remorseful or worried afterwards. He saw that cd from mary and only then he was like, "oh no my friend". Your friend. Your friend who would do literally anything for you. Your friend who a couple days later hugged you while you were crying. Did you even hug back? Did you ever apologize? I don't remember. He might've. But i dont remember it. And sherlock forgave him. Just like that. Worse even. I don't really think that he was that mad at him in the first place. Heartbroken, yes. Did you see his face? When john was beating him up? He wasn't even in his right mind, mega on drugs and stuff, and he'd just had a 'that is not the person i met' moment, tma fans wink wink, he was not well and you beat him up. You're a doctor too. Ha. Your best friend, the one who would do anything for you, die, kill, make himself sick to save your mental health or whatever was going on in that episode. In the following episode, days later really, he's made to choose to kill either his brother, HIS BROTHER, or John, and both Sherlock and Mycroft immediately, instinctively know that he's not gonna kill John. He loves him too much. I never really got it the first time around, the first time i watched. It's insane - Sherlock's devotion to John. He literally loves him above anything else, including himself. And I'm not a shipper. Oh i am usually a johnlock shipper but not them. I do still think they belong together but man oh man i hope john groveled. Why did they have to do that. Make us, make me hate john watson. I loved him. In the first two seasons, i really really loved him, he was my blorbo, well, the word blorbo didn't exist yet but he was. And i have a list somewhere titled 'heartbreakingly raw lines' and it's honestly mostly about the delivery of those lines and  "no, he's my friend, he's my friend, please" is right there, nr 1. Nr 2 is close, it's from good omens, bookshop fire, also about a friend, you get it, and after these two there's a biig big big gap before the third. Those two are supreme, nr 2 is so so so heartbreaking but it did not even compete with nr 1. To this day if i recall that scene, those lines, "let me come through please, no, he's my friend, he's my friend, please " i feel sick. My stomach is twisting right now, as i write. I loved john. I loved their relationship. Friendship, whatever, autocorrect asked me if thats what i wanna say. Why ruin his character? Just to be edgy? Why would you make him beat up his best friend, that!! friend. Oh and then, once they did make him do that,  just gloss over the fact. I'm not even saying make Sherlock be mad at him. That bitch loves him to the point it's almost pathetic. But there are other ways. How can you just gloss over that. He punched him several times, he kicked him while he was down. I'm sitting here thinking "what a piece of shit, punch a wall if you're that angry, i get being heartbroken about your wife, and feeling guilty, and overwhelmed, but that is no excuse". Why do i have to call any John Watson a piece of shit. Hell, why do i have to call this one a piece of shit, i fucking loved him. 

That's the one thing i do really really hate about that show. They did a lot of other stuff, all the characters were edgy-ified and made a little worse, as opposed to the ones from the books (lestrade is fine actually) but it doesn't upset me too much, i just see it as its own show instead of an adaptation adaptation and yeah, really not that upset. And i didn't really notice at first but there was queerbaiting wasn't it. I mean there were just a little too many jokes. I guess. I did see it when i rewatched it. Still. I never really saw them together, yk? Like yeah, together forever, but not as a couple. Needless to say i was very happy when like two years after i first watched it i learned about QPRs. Like yeah yeah that's what i meant. So it had a lot of flaws i guess but stuff you could get past, yk. And the first two seasons really were amazing, i wanted to snort them. But i am glad i was only vaguely familiar with the stories when i watched it, i think i would've liked it a lot less. I mean acd Sherlock Holmes is such a nice man, he's a sweetie honestly, he giggles and rubs his hands together when there's a clue, and yeah he's got some 'get to the point' moments but he's not an asshole. He monologues about flowers at some point. I love bbc Sherlock (the character) too, i really do, but he can be a bit of a prick. Intentionally, not bc he doesn't realise it. Did he just decide one day he was a sociopath and leaned into it or what. That high functioning sociopath thing was just him being dramatic, we're not actually supposed to believe he was, right? God i haven't thought- really thought - about this show in a while. And i can't believe i thought for so long we were getting a s5. After how s4 ended? That was a "soo they had many more adventures but this is where we part ways with them, byyeeee" ending. Did you know, tv time had it listed as "to be continued"/ a running show for so long after s4 ended. So so long. After like 4 years i made my peace and I'm pretty sure even then it was listed as running. I checked on it again some time ago, a year or two ago and it was finally listed as finished and i felt both disappointed and relieved. Like if your loved one has been missing for years and years and you finally find out they're dead. You kinda knew that but.. deep down... But still, you're relieved to know. Well maybe not exactly like that. Tv time isn't the ultimate authority, but. No, you know what it felt like? Passing a corpse every now and then and one day seeing that they've been layed to rest in a grave. And maybe it's for the best. S4 did so much damage, I'm not taking good, owie my heart, damage, i mean ruining John, and... making the dog a boy??? I'm not gonna talk about the whole Eurus thing bc i did like one aspect of it (horrible labirinth with really fucked up decisions to be made. I never saw any saw movies [lol. Saw saw] but that's what they're like right?) but yeah just make her an actual supernatural force at this point. The fuck. So maybe it's for the best. Not getting a s5. I've made my peace a long time ago and as i said, I'm starting to feel like i harbour some sort of hate for this show. Not the "i wish I'd never watched it" kind, not the "tf what did i ever see in it" kind either (s1 and 2 my loves) but it is a hate nonetheless. I'm glad I've moved on from it.

People on the internet: omg they're talking about making bbc Sherlock season 5!

Still me: omg omg no wayyy yess pleaseee maybe everything will be fixed and nice and cute yesss gimme gimme 

[queen-scribbles]

High-key annoyed at Dad right now. He forgot to feed the dogs last night while I was at the pottery thing bc he got too wrapped up watching youtube. :)))) and this morning he put out the kiddie slide we had for Starfish with the recycle.

First off, I don't think they take things that big on regular pick up days.

Second, it's still a perfectly good slide! Even if he doesn't think she'll want to use it when she's six(#DOUBT) and she's not over as much now that bro's family moved out of state, let me clean it up and donate it!!! There's a buynothing group, a Salvation Army, and THREE Goodwills in easy driving distance of our house ffs

Like, I get not wanting it as clutter in the backyard, but don't just throw it away.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Listen man– I know the whole "formality / casual speech" thing and "familiarity / first names" thing in Japanese can be a bit hard to localize sometimes, but these translations decided to resolve that issue by having Sakura call Syaoran "bestie" instead and it took me out by the frickin kneecaps

[spark-circuit]

wait actually adding onto my other Blue Prince post. how well would "Twitch Plays Blue Prince" work in theory. i assume there'd be some issues with stuff like the darts game but. i mean. shrug.

[busterbby]

am I really about to be the first nsfw request on this blog... sorry for being a whore. can you write general ichiro nsfw headcanons pretty please 🙇✨️

lol dw anon. I too am an abolute whore for Ichiro. though who can blame us 😔 but I shall try !! This is my first time ever posting nsfw, so I hope it works!! haven't actually written much nsfw on my own, but I want to get better~ (and also I'm horny lol). but please enjoy!! and lmk how it goes!

— general nsfw hcs.

nsfw. gn!reader. ichiro. 18+ only ; minors do not interact!!

Ichiro . . . is a gentleman, in and out the sheets. a very sweet and attentive sorta lover (though at times a tease)

sorta like candlelight or rose petals on silk sheets. like moonlight that kisses you tenderly. a cute lover through and through; he wants to pleasure you first and foremost

(really though, he's still a dork deep down. still a nineteen year old loser with a huge crush)

he’s definitely a little awkward at first since Ichiro hasn’t had much experience in the past with these sorta things; most — almost all — his knowledge comes from hentai and adult visual novels, Ichiro embarrassingly admits

(and he definitely learns that some of the stuff in porn does not translate well to real life; but it's fun and you guys have a good laugh about it)

his hands seem hesitant when they roam up your shirt — heavy as they are on your skin, gentle yet. his dimples your hips or thighs, sweet; he fumbles a bit with the condom as it slips from his grasp a few times, Ichi a little (a lot) embarrassed; and, Ichiro seems to waver, when he pulls back from a kiss. his warm hands up your shirt, hot breath tickling your lips; and, as much as his eyes say, they still shake uneasy. are you sure?

but he only wants to reassure that you want this as much as him! and- man, trust him. Ichiro wants it very much. He just.. doesn't know; it's your guys' first time after all! and he wouldn't want to make the first move if you weren't entirely ready yet

but he’s a quick learner! there’s definitely more confidence later on, when Ichiro takes off his shirt so swift and smooth, when he shoots you that handsome smile — softness in his gaze

(and he gets cutely proud of himself when you cum like three or four times)

he’s a giver, first and foremost; Ichi is attuned to your needs. it’s just- he loves taking care of the ones he love!! call it his older brother instinct or whatnot. and he’d try to not cum until you do so first

you don't have to go down on him, Ichiro insists. but well, he's not opposed either. he's a little filthy inside, and he hates that he loves the look of you down in between his legs oh so much

very attentive to all your little sweet spots and what makes you cum. though sometimes, he can be a total tease with that too

he’s gentle too!! his little touches are so tender yet hot — never too harsh. especially if you're smaller than him. he could never be too rough (unless you're into that sorta thing)

more of a switch, really; ichiro doesn’t have a particular preference, and he’s more than happy to try out new stuff, especially if it's something that you're excited about (what can he say? he loves to please)

he’s not very loud since Ichi tries to contain himself. Sure, the house is usually empty — that, or Ichi makes extra sure to lock his bedroom door. but he doesn’t think he can ever look his brothers in the eye if they accidentally heard anything

(which is highly unfortunate since he makes the prettiest of sounds

but sometimes, a particularly load moan will slip through, and the flustered look on his face, the red blush to his cheeks, is the sweetest thing. God- did that really just come out of him??)

he does that sappy thing, where Ichi will trace his fingers up your arm and then hold your hand sweetly; he'll give it a little squeeze too, and somehow, it always makes his heart skip a beat each and every time

and he grunts your name underneath his breath during climax. a little raspy, a little rough; he says it with so much love. your name rolls like velvet off his tongue

he never does moan too loud though, but it's just enough for you to hear and make your heart tremble. they’re hushed, like a secret meant only for your ears

always mindful not to leave hickies anywhere too visible! maybe a bit lower on your collarbone, or on your inner thighs, but Ichi would never want to embarrass you or make it too showy. Unless he's feeling a bit more confident that day, of course. perhaps a little jealous too

but, ichi does get a tinge flustered, mostly very dork-ily happy, when he sees the marks on your skin. they're very pretty on you.. ( and hickies look quite good on him too! so make sure to give him lots and lots. they just suit him so )

and he likes to cuddle afterward, always. you’re just so warm in his arms, within these sheets. and it almost feels like your heart beats are entwined, breaths too; that's the romantic in him

[fvckw4d]

The concept of queerbaiting annoys me. I was told that it refers to a work of fiction pretending to cater to a queer audience but then pulling back from it to avoid alienating homophobes, which is an incredibly specific thing. But a lot of people seem to think that it instead means "any time there's any gay subtex, metaphor, or ambiguity" or "whenever something from 1995-2012 was being a normal amount of homophobic for the era."

[sodapopcurtis-dx-asks]

There's a St. Christopher necklace wrapped around a tightly folded note. You can see for Steve written in a handwritin the scratches at somethin in Sodas brain. like he's seen it before.

for the kid. (though fat lotta good it did me huh? ha.) figure it's the most help I can be. don't bug soda with who it's from. man. God knows he's got enough to worry about. Just know that. me n Johnny are lookin out for Pone. best we can at least. sorry 'bout. we'll. everythin.-

DW

Onto Steve's perspective after just running off, he took some labeled with his name, and others that were completely random. This one being labeled.

He pulled apart the note, and stared wide-eyed at the necklace. He didn't even have to read, he already knew who's it was— the letter and the necklace.

He couldn't help but be surprised though.

Ah, jeez, Dal.

It's safe between us, okay? Really. And, thank you.

I'll give it t'him. Just gotta make sure he don't freak or ask where I found it. God forbid they think I'm over here grave robbing. HAHA... eek.

[batsplat]

casey is obvs funny with this rivalry stuff because on the one hand he's very 'well I don't care who I beat' (lie) and 'I don't motivate myself using my rivals' (also a lie) and then he's also repeatedly emphasising that valentino was ONE of his biggest rivals and he only competed against him a few years... like a lil side quest in the story of his career. Those Few Years where valentino was his big rival. whereas dani and jorge were his cohort so he did compete with them for a greater span of time... and this is technically true and does MATTER but it is also extremely noticeable in his output which rivalry he has the most thoughts about. and yes casey would say that this is because everyone ELSE cares the most about That One Rivalry the most and also his opponent being an annoying dickhead means it's the one he has the most complaints about... but at a certain point, it doesn't really matter, because there's still one rivalry you're talking about way more than any other. you can tell that he's at least given jorge's interiority a bit of thought, kinda went 'well he was arrogant but also Learnt From The Error Of His Ways and was maybe misunderstood so' -- but also he's not going beyond that, he's not examining jorge's soul, and he's not even doing any of that with dani. it's very much a rhetorical commitment to those other two rivalries. ultimately the point is that he's doing what he can to not talk up his biggest rivalry TOO much, because, you see. he Did Not Care That Much. (lie.) now objectively speaking this kind of framing literally does not matter, who cares which one of these was the most meaningful rivalry, but it's interesting that it matters to him!! casey's problem is that he is extremely sensitive and cares deeply about what other people say about him, but one of the things he's most sensitive about is the idea that he could let himself be mentally affected by ANYTHING, worst of all his rivals. they cannot be granted that much power over him. and all of this has kinda funny consequences in that he has pretty rigid patterns in how he talks about this stuff that are at times quite convoluted because he has to simultaneously emphasise that a) none of his rivals massively mattered to him, b) That Rival didn't matter more than the others, c) what That Rival did to him was completely beyond the pale, and d) none of that affected him mentally whatsoever. at most one of these is true. there are so many things casey wants so badly not to care about but it keeps spilling out of him anyway, this oozing sludge of resentment and repressed hopes and desires and frustration and longing and bitterness. he keeps giving himself away... he cares so much and he can't stand it

[mbat]

basically i was trying to make a post talking about the theme of family and the humans in steven universe and how basically all the humans are parents and their children and like, never one or the other, and how we can literally talk about the relationships all the kids have with their parents and stuff

and it was supposed to be how that reflects on stevens life and his human half since gems dont have families and blah blah blah

but holy shit i dont know how to say all that in a smart way and i kept going in circles and triangles and squares