#may he never let me go!

[canisalbus]

you say machete has to be closeted then why's he always wearing them little heels

Maybe he thinks he's a tiny bit nicer looking in them.

[spigobath]

feeling generous heres a old Gillion thought:

his favorite color is brown. we all know this, and maybe judge it slightly. but i think theres something beautiful in that. i think about the first thing he sees that isn't blue is brown, the ship next to him, a hand reaching to him. and that starts a chain reaction for him.

Gillion loves brown because it's the color of Chip's hair, and the color of Jay's freckles. And before he knew what orange was, brown was Jay's hair and Chip's eyes, something that would remind him of the final burn of a fire, as embers flicker off into dark. And brown is the color of dirt on Chip's hands, and oil on Jay's clothes, and the color of all the ropes on the ship and somehow, such a mundane color is his to enjoy.

And when Gillion reaches land for the first time- Brown is the color of wet sand that used to look so blue. and Brown is the color of dirt and mud and trees, and is the color of houses and copper coins and rusted metal. It's the color of barrels and beer kegs. It is the color of tanned skin and he is hesitant to say he sees brown in peoples laughs, just as he saw blue in tritons.

Brown is the color of withered leaves and wilting flowers and drying grass, it is the color of dead and dying things. It is the color of Kuba Kentas stripes, and it is the color of dried, human blood, and he finds that infinitely beautiful. He sees those all as signs of life, that there once was something, and he knows that they once were something. And he will stubbornly keep those things alive to him, in his memory of browns.

When he learns what Chip and Jay's favorite animals are, their favorite flavors, he guesses that they are brown. They must be, because brown is such a beautiful thing, and his dearest friends deserve that.

(In the black sea, as he is staring at the hollowed, he can't help but try to find brown. There is none. It's ugly. And when Chip dies, he looks for brown, and when that tree dies, he looks for brown, and it's such a comfort to him.)

[thefrogdalorian]

I think on this fine Saturday afternoon it's a good opportunity to take a breather and remember that there are really no ethical paparazzi pictures. Every single one is inherently exploitative.

Just because photos were taken on a movie set, when someone is 'working,' does not make the practice any less invasive and creepy. Imagine just going about your day, doing your job and having some weirdo snapping pictures of you to sell without your consent for others to endlessly repost online.

There are thousands of pictures of your favourite actor online already. Plenty taken with his knowledge and consent. I'd really like to see more of them on my dash, rather than the creeper shots.

And don't get me started how disseminating these pictures directly leads to people going to said sets. What starts off as admiring how good someone looks has real world implications.

No, hanging around a movie set and disrupting people doing their jobs is not harmless fun or a way to show your appreciation.

If you hang around a movie set, you are a stalker.

Don't tell me that it's okay to take your online admiration for someone offline. You may admire him but he does not, and will never, personally know you. He will never be your friend/boyfriend/daddy. He is a stranger.

The only way meeting your favourite actor is going to happen is at a convention or maaaaaybe a movie premiere if you're incredibly fortunate. You know, places they appear specifically to meet fans (or not in the case of premieres, where the purpose is to promote a movie. Which is also completely understandable if actors don't stop. You are not owed an interaction).

Of course, you cannot help it if you randomly run into someone you admire in the wild. Even then, consider that they probably won't be all too thrilled to be approached in public by a complete stranger. It's up to you to gauge the situation, but remember there is a person at the heart of all of this.

Boundaries and respect are a kindness which deserves to be extended to each and every human being regardless of their looks/talent/fame/wealth.

Fandoms blur those lines a little too often for my liking and I think just scrutinising what you're interacting with, or what behaviour you could be possibly falling down that slippery slope towards is nice to do every once in a while.

I mean no malice with this post and it is not directed at anyone in particular. It's something I cannot help but feel strongly about because I've seen this destructive cycle time and again in fandoms over the years. It's not healthy and it makes us all a little bit more disconnected from our humanity for it...

[aroacewxs]

hey everyone do you ever think about how much of rui's love for nene is stored inside nenerobo

[good-beansdraws]

Mutual left this tag on one of my Fuuta analyses and yeah...

Part two of "Fuuta’s central theme is invasion of privacy and he has extreme anxiety over being watched, so it's interesting that we get to pick him apart and see all his worst, most private thoughts" :(

[moeblob]

What Deacon thinks: what did that mean? did he want me to wear a collar too? why else would he mention my neck? i mean, if he /asked/ me i would wear one but he didn't so would wearing one be weird?

What Ymber meant: It's nice to be near someone who isn't tethered to this world to serve it with a physical reminder for all to see.

[impossibledial]

i’m so intrigued by dannyclara despite not shipping them. i think that relationship is an interesting addition to clara’s character arc and i’m still trying to to figure out it’s purpose.

[justafriend-ql]

run me over with a truck; it would hurt less.

[hi-i-just]

What if Crowley kisses Aziraphale gently, gently. Soft. Reverent. Like he is a pleasure to be savored, adored, to be treasured as long as possible.

What if Aziraphale kisses Crowley passionately. Savage. Carnal. Half-starved, mad with thirst, unsatiable, like he could never have enough of him. What if God killed me then

[billys-mullet]

To say Steve's life was a little strange would be an understatement.

Completing tests and juggling the trials and tribulations of high school was one thing. To do all of that while also fighting off inter-dimensional creatures reminiscent of dogs was another.

It's a good thing he's a cat-person.

—

"You sure do eat a lot."

The dim glow of the light overhead sent a grungy yellow over the concrete of his front porch. It was a little after six and the sun was in the midst of setting. Steve was crouched, weight leaned back on his calves, while tired eyes took in the furious chowing of the stray before him. It was a mangy thing; fur matted and eyes wild, more plump than it had been when they first met. It was cute despite its ragged appearance: fluffy and feline, whiskers curled at the ends, coat the color of sunshine with eyes like the ocean. Kind of unusual for a cat. He hadn't seen anything like it before.

They'd been playing this little game for weeks now. Steve had found it rummaging through his trash can during the last bit of this month's cold snap and had called animal control at his mother's urging. The poor worker had been flushed with exertion after an hour of attempting to get it trapped and handled.

He's smart, the man had panted, cheeks ruddy and sweat beading beneath the brim of his cap. He had wiped over his forehead before continuing, but not smarter than us. I'll set up a trap, give it a few days, and then I'll be back. He's sure to slip in there if you make sure to bait it right.

And Steve had. Diligently — to not get any part of himself stuck in the metal cage — he had placed some treats in there, had even gone out to buy a couple of cans of wet stuff that smelled metallic and meaty. Each morning, without fail, he would come back to see the trap undisturbed… and the food missing. He had even made eye contact with the stray once while he had been setting everything up. It seemed to be taunting him from its perch high on the one of the barren oak trees in his backyard. Its eyes had been too wise and too knowing, like the Cheshire Cat leering over Alice.

A week went by without trapping him. Steve didn't have the heart to tell the animal control worker that their efforts had been useless, so he made up some lie: yeah, I came out the other day and the door had snapped shut on its neck. It was gross so I put it in a bag and threw it away. The man had shrugged, gave him a it happens and then had collected his trap without any other questions. Fast forward a few weeks and Steve seemed to have built up some trust with the thing.

Had even given him a cute nickname despite his feral appearance: Billy the Kid, after a character in the Westerns he sometimes saw his dad watching on the rare occasion that he was home. Mother had never been a fan of animals, much less cats. They smell, she complained in her heavy accent, and the hair, Stephano! The hair will get everywhere in my home! Do not bring them here, I will not like it. Steve hadn't ever questioned her rules because he had felt the same. Growing up without pets did that to a person. But something about this cat…

Leaning his cheek against a hand, Steve continued with his fruitless efforts to befriend the stray, "it's supposed to get cold again, you know. That's probably why you're eating so much, huh? I think I heard somewhere that animals have a sixth sense for that kind of thing. Nancy said that birds will leave their nests and travel far away if they sense a storm coming. Can cats do that?" God, he probably looked so lame sitting here, trying to strike up a conversation with an animal that wanted nothing to do with him if it didn't involve food. The cat licked its lips, easing away from the mostly-empty bowl. Steve sighed, a long and low sound, before pushing himself up to his feet.

"Are you done?"

Ocean eyes stared up at him wordlessly. He reached down to collect the bowl, only to snap back when it hissed at him, revealing its delicate and needle-like teeth. Both of Steve's hands came up in surrender.

"Fine, I'll leave it."

The cat grumbled a displeased noise before sitting back on its hind legs. One of his front paws came up, pink tongue lolling out to lick over it, and then he used it to wipe his face. Well, at least he was attempting to clean himself. Kind of a pointless effort when it rummaged around in his trash can every other evening. Steve leaned against his front door, arms crossed over his chest as he took in the darkening evening. Billy peered one ocean eye at him. Always watching. Waiting. Probably thought he was trying to trap him again. The smart thing would be to do that, but…

Steve was lonely. And, as pathetic as it sounded, this was one of the few things he looked forward to every evening.

"It's nice and warm inside," he said offhandedly, nonchalantly, like it was no big deal. A move like that usually worked with the ladies, and they could be finicky like a cat, so why not give it a shot? "And there's a lot more food inside. Water, too. Milk? Can cats have milk? I think Nancy also said--"

Fuck, was he really talking to himself like a loser? This was so lame. Had Steve Harrington really fallen so far from grace that he found solace in a cat of all things?

"Whatever," he sighed before turning the knob and pushing open the door he'd been leaned against, "What I'm trying to say is that you can come inside if you want. As long as you don't pee on anything. Mom'll kill us both."

Billy watched him silently, tail twitching side-to-side behind him in an interested jerk. There was an obvious language barrier but the light spilling out from the interior of the Harrington home looked inviting against the twilight of the evening. The promise of shelter and food was universally understood, and the cat took a tentative step forward. And then another. And then he was pausing to stare up at Steve. Apprehension was written all over its face, but Steve jerked his head and shrugged with a well, what are you waiting for?

That seemed to seal the deal; Billy stepped inside and the door was shut behind him.

—

To say Steve's life was a little strange would be an understatement.

And it was only about to get stranger.

[3vocatio]

solomon really is the devs' favorite, huh. not once have they disappointed with a solomon-centered event, dialogue, or scene (save for the change in his last birthday event). they just... carve him out so meticulously compared to everyone else because his thoughts and actions have flowed so smoothly compared to when we first met him?

when we met him, you could view him as arrogant or a bit odd and eccentric, because the basis of him greeting you seems to be out of curiousity. during his hdd card, he even admits that he didn't pay much mind to mc other than being curious of what they were going to do, but his affections slowly grew the more his eyes were opened to new experiences and perspectives.

now, we get a solomon who doesn't solely focus on his experiments or ancient texts, but also confronts people when they step out of line or cross a boundary because he maintains his ability to be kind. he never insults others, he makes sure that everyone's needs or wishes are met, but not to the point where he sacrifices his own wishes. his recent birthday in which he gifted everyone their modified trinkets & gadgets on his own birthday is proof of that.

if someone treats him with contempt, he normally doesnt hold it against them because he's perceptive enough to note where that bitterness is coming from.

there aren't many people caught up with the hard mode lessons, but (s4 spoilers) he's highly aware of how lonely thirteen is, and comes by to visit her on the rare occassion as though she were a neighbor, much to her disdain. he caught onto simeon's doomed fate far before it happened when he noted how 'different' simeon's philosophies were from the collective behavior that is associated with the celestial realm. once simeon dealt with the consequences, solomon was the first to confront him. again. and again. and again. no matter how much simeon denied it or rejected everyone around him, solomon was the one to understand how lonely it can be to deal with something all on your own.

and it's why we see him agreeing to play cards with mammon although everyone else believes it to be a waste of time, allowing leviathan to be himself when no one else can keep up with his passionate rants, always responding to satan's endless inquiries and gathering cats for his birthday every year, indulging in asmodeus' invitations to go shopping or do spa days when everyone else believes it to be draining, checking on beelzebub when others fail to note his subtle sadness or struggle, inviting belphegor to overview his experiments he needs help with when no one bothers to invite him anywhere because they're under the impression that belphegor will turn them down.

for the less notable people, solomon also cleverly checks on lucifer's state by asking for a pact every time he sees him as a greeting, he constantly works with diavolo to ensure that they both meet compromises for the program, he is the person that barbatos entrusts his own life to (grimoire), he is someone that luke can trust without fail, and as i've mentioned earlier, someone who makes sure that simeon doesn't harm himself or the people around him and visits thirteen's lonely cave even when he isn't wanted there.

i haven't seen much interaction with raphael and mephistopheles when it comes to solomon, but solomon is always happy to finally share his cooking with someone who adores it and makes sure that he helps raphael with chores around (albeit horribly..). if i remember correctly, too, he regularly speaks with mephistopheles behind the scenes.

and as for mc? not once has he stepped over their boundaries. he is confident in himself, but he never assumed anything of mc--in fact, he was the first one to ever show faith in them being able to reach their fullest potential by sharing his own power with them for a few hours, just to see what they could do. he is confident when sharing his affections, but he always humbly backs down when he's unsure of how mc will react. prime example is during the planetarium event where everyone spent time with mc and solomon chose to give mc some space instead of selfishly hoarding them to himself because he noticed how tired they looked, and wanted them to focus on relaxing.

bottom line, though, i think that if you pay close attention to solomon throughout the story, whether it be in devilgrams, events, daily chats, or the main story itself, you'll notice how consistent and well-written he is compared to nearly every character. i enjoy him very much and thought of sharing this with all of you to see what you think :] i'm aware that i'm biased, though, haha--very much so.

[ox1-lovesick]

hi

[bredforloyalty]

the last few years have been a nice detour* but i think it's time to get back to being cringe

*: not that i wasn't cringe recently just that i need to crank it up and lose followers also

[tokyoteddywolf]

Urgh

I'm debating posting The Fic, the fixit for the Teal Mask arc of Pokémon Scarlet/Violet. I've already written a sort of self insert slash fix it for the main game, and I was working on the second part, the Kitakami first part.

See, the problem is the fact that me and the guy who edited/helped/has a main character in the story are... no longer friends, to put it plainly. Ended badly, too, which I regret, but not like there's much I can do about it.

So do I rename the character? Leave it to rot in my docs? Keep everything and finish and post it? I don't know. And I can't exactly ask him. Like I said. We ended it very badly, and I regret it some, but the damage is done with no way to fix it, so we shrug and move on with our lives.

But anyways, my main deal is I don't want to leave my lovely labor of love to stagnate in my Google docs. I want to finish and post it. I want to make the story mine again, since it was my idea in the first place. Regardless of dead rotting friendships still freshly murdered and cooling, burned bridges and all that.

I'm gonna leave a poll then, yall decide what I should do. But I do plan to finish that fic and post it to my AO3 account. Peace.

[parvuls]

still on my no graduation kiss au's bullshit:

where jack and bitty kept in touch for a while but eventually drifted apart. before they did, though, bitty filmed a silly baking video with tater for his youtube channel.

bitty's channel takes off and the video with tater grows into a series of baking videos with increasingly well known celebrities. it leads to occasional offers to do red carpet interviews for movie premieres, and as more and more celebrities praise how respectful and easy to talk to he is, eventually a regular gig at a widely popular online magazine.

years later, jack zimmermann comes out, and when bitty finds out his heart does things it hasn't since college.

it only takes three mini pie deliveries to get dibs on jack's first ever interview about his sexuality and mental health.

[respectthepetty]

Do you think that maybe Palm took the alcohol away from Nueng not just because of his allergy but because he was afraid Nueng would lash out again?

Because that night started out exactly the same as the dance night with Palm happily watching Nueng play the piano only for Nueng to publicly belittle Palm.

Do you think about how Palm probably asked if Nueng had been drinking partially because he was worried but mostly because he believed Nueng would never touch him so tenderly if he was sober and clear-headed?

Because up until then, Palm had initiated most of their touches, and the times Nueng did touch him, he did so begrudgingly.

And do you think because of these previous experiences, Palm, who already loves Nueng, will always doubt that Nueng could like him let alone love him?

That Palm will never believe that Nueng would willingly want to be with a dog, a lackey, a servant who he didn't even want to be around before?

Do you think that's why Palm will easily believe Nueng when he pushes him away and yells this at him?

Or are you normal?