#and how nostalgic I get for my early twenties

[quill-of-thoth]

Letters from Watson, catching up

Study In Scarlet part 1: 1880 I’ve been neglecting my correspondence (emails) and decided to start my Holmes reread today, with some good old fashioned deductive speculation and some context, in case anyone else is also reading along a month late. Please bear with me as I neglect to commit to either a Watsonian (these are real people who we can learn biographical data about) or a Doylist (remember this is just a book and we should just relax) point of view. If your mental image of Holmes and Watson are either Robert Downey Junior and Jude law, or Jeremy Brett and David Burke, you will probably be surprised at how young these two probably are.

Preliminary evidence: Our Friends’ ages

- Watson was wounded at the battle of Maiwand, fought July 27 1880, ill for months, plural, and the journey back to england took a month. At the very earliest he started looking for lodgings in November 1880 - He would have been at medical school for at least two, probably three years before finishing in 1878. It is unlikely, though not impossible, that he would have started his course of study significantly before reaching his twenties. For historical comparison, Dr. James Barry, also an army surgeon with a degree from a British medical school, started his course of study at the age of approximately twenty, and became an army surgeon at about 23. (Although Dr. Barry died in 1865 it’s unlikely that there would be a huge difference in how long their courses of study took.) People seem to have gone directly to medical school instead of doing other university courses first.  - While he could be older, could be slightly younger. Watson is probably around twenty five. - Holmes is still taking university courses, erratically, and although we don’t get any timeline of his studies, he’s probably not older than Stamford, who was a surgeon’s assistant when Watson worked with him at St. Bartholemew’s Hospital, and presumably still works there given how much he knows about Holmes’ use of the chemical labs. “Young” Stamford is likely a few years younger than Watson.  - Like Watson Holmes probably started his studies in his very late teens or early twenties. The age of getting a degree could and did vary during the 1800s from our current conception of who’s the right age to be in college (with people somewhat more likely to be sent off to secondary education slightly younger than seventeen or eighteen than they are now, and also plenty of instances of people starting college later than we usually expect from someone who is headed directly there after their childhood studies and before their first adult career) but the important thing here is that Holmes appears to be in charge of his own finances, and the age of majority for Victorian men was 21.  - Holmes has pretty much got to be somewhere between 20 and 25. My money is on him being 22-23 (because he does already have a reputation, as we shall see, he has completed at least a year of study during the time he was friends with Victor Trevor, and because he appears to complete, or give up, his coursework between the end of Study in Scarlet and any other case Watson witnesses) and on Watson being 24-26. - For context, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote this story at age 27 in 1886. It’s not unreasonable to assume that, despite timeline weirdness (He was born in 1859, as Holmes might have been, but he will obviously always set his writing in the past), Holmes and Watson are going to age more or less with him.  - I have only vague memories of the Baring-Gould chronology for this series but I think it agrees with me in that regard. Baring-Gould thinks Holmes is about two or three years older than I think Holmes is, though. 

Conclusion: My sympathies to Mrs. Hudson, these boys are going to be the death of a decent amount of your furniture. 

#letters from watson #hey when I imprinted on these books at 13 I did not know I was going to be a disabled recent graduate at their approximate ages #So like my especial sympathies to watson #You get shot for your country and ACD can't even check the first paragraph over to make sure he recorded the right limb #anyway let's continue on and see what I missed seventeen years ago #and how nostalgic I get for my early twenties #considering that when I was thirteen twenty five was ancient #and now both thirteen and twenty five are prime I was a dumbass ages #A Study in Scarlet

[radioisntdead]

If I may, I kindly request a small crumb of some Rosie x Reader? Where reader is a living human talented with the arcane arts, accidentally summoning the cannibal and becoming enamoured with her? We send her genuine human meat as gifts, trinkets from the living world and all sorts of cute little letters and stuff.

Good evening my dear! I'M SO EXCITED SOMEONE REQUESTED SOMETHING WITH ROSIE, I ADORE HER [as seen by my pfp] I'm gonna go with headcanons here because I can see this going very very chaotically.

Warnings: cannibalism, demon summoning, which I should probably mention, PLEASE DON'T SUMMON ANYTHING?? Does this count as a long distance relationship??? This is shorter then my normal headcanons

No idea what you were trying to summon in the first place but you managed to summon Rosie who was in the middle of her tea break,

She went from drinking tea in her emporium to I assume your room, she's startled

It was love at first sight,

For you anyway, Rosie just wanted to finish her tea and fingers,

"Salutations?"

"YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL!"

And thus began you seducing courting Rosie,

You aquire human flesh, either by murder insuring you'll end up the same place as Rosie or I don't know the dark web? Grave robbing?

Please don't rob graves,

She quite likes the fresh meat, because human probably tastes somewhat better then Sinner? Like no added claws, flavors etc etc,

It gives her a nostalgic feeling of being alive and having her husband for supper, but better because he tasted disgusting.

With every delivery of meat you send what she can describe as a love letter, like I'm imagining you got a whole stationary kit to make the best letters ever, like if you have horrible handwriting [Like I do]

You invest in a typewriter, awesome stickers to put on the envelope, the letters are wax sealed.

You begin summoning her on a bi-weekly basis, at first you summoned her at VERY inconvenient times,

She's doing overlord stuff? Not anymore she's in your room with you on one knee holding a plate of fingers

She's giving advice? Well they better hold off on that advice because now Rosie is wherever you summoned her from with you reading her poetry or something,

She's having tea with Alastor? Poor Alastor is left alone and confused, with Susan approaching,

Alastor now knows of your existence, and Rosie gives you a schedule on when you can summon her.

Also she requests that you send her more meat because now she's sharing with Alastor.

With trinkets Rosie is more picky,

You give her cheap jewelry from Amazon? She's politely ghosting you, no offense but she's from the early 1900's according to the wiki, she has standards for courting.

Doesn't have to break the bank but at least something that's more expensive then twenty bucks.

However you give her stuff she can't get down below? She adores it, like GOOD tea? Aren't you a charmer? that good ol' expensive wine? Well if you insist! Give her fresh fruit, fresh flowers, you know how HARD THAT IS TO GET DOWN THERE???

The gift giving isn't one-sided, you want something like demon horns? Next time you summon her, she has a box of different types of horns, she'll give you little treats

You weren't a cannibal before? Well you are now.

She'll tell you about the ongoings in hell, Alastor, the townsfolk, the tea, SUSAN, you don't like Susan.

Now after you've perished and ended up below because you were fraternizing with a cannibal,

You immediately go find Rosie, you know she runs a place called Cannibal town you managed you find Rosie's Emporium,

You swing up open the doors, startling several cannibals

"ROSIE I DIED!!"

She's not the happiest that you died, or that you almost broke her doors but your there now so yay!

She shows you around cannibal town in a musical number, introducing you to the tight-knit community, you avoid Susan the best you can but she catches you and threatens you to be nice to Rosie or else.

You should fear the old lady.

Anyways you get moved into cannibal town, helping out at the Emporium, Vibing with Rosie.

You get married eventually but I hope she likes you enough not to eat you like her past spouses.

The wedding is very classy though, the whole of cannibal town was in attendance, along with a couple of overlords!

Good evening folks! Thank you for tuning in! We hope to see you again! Also ROSIE SUPREMACY

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin rosie #rosie x reader #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel rosie x reader

[reve-writes]

—i didn't know where else to go; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 1,6k words. ʚ kaz brekker knocks on your door after your abrupt departure from the dregs. ʚ injuries; angst. ʚ a/n i'm impatiently waiting for season 2 to air. here's a little something because everyone needs more kaz brekker in life.

You are not a healer, nor do you make a habit of opening your door to anybody who knocks, bleeding through their shirt early when the morning is just starting to crack over the horizon. The hustle bustle of Ketterdam is starting to die down. The streets are steadily getting less and less crowded and the city starts to feel less like a living, breathing thing actively trying to suffocate you.

But it's Kaz Brekker.

“Brekker, why are you here?” You're still rubbing the sleep off of your eyes as you open the door.

He looks as if he's as confused as you are. His mind went on autopilot after he was jumped on by a group of thugs disillusioned into thinking they were a match for the Dirtyhands. While he emerges victorious in the fight, it doesn't mean that he's unscathed. The confrontation was a little too close for his comfort. His legs have somehow carried him to your door.

He heaves a deep breath and he thinks there's a bruise over his ribs. He croaks out, “I didn't know where else to go.”

That is a lie. Kaz Brekker owns more safe houses than you care to know, but you open the door a little bit wider anyway for him to brush past you, into your one-room living space. It isn't much. It's hard to have much of anything when the second you have a little bit of something in the Barrell, it's already taken the next second. You have a cot in one corner of the room, separated with a small divider you've found discarded and repainted. In front of it, there are a couple of chairs and a short square table.

“Have a seat,” you tell him. He immediately plops into one of the chairs with a big sigh of relief. His cane clatters to the floor. “How bad is it?”

He leans against the back of the chair, tilting his head upwards with his eyes closed. “I'm fine.”

He is clearly not fine. You were concerned from the moment you opened your door. Kaz Brekker's face is smeared with blood. Whose blood, this part you have yet to know. When he inhales, he puts more effort than one normally does. Not to mention, there's a sheen on his black shirt and you'll bet twenty thousand Kruge that it's his blood.

“You wouldn't be here if you're fine,” you retort. Your hands are already digging into your box of medical supplies.

He is silent because he knows you are right. Before your departure from the Dredge, he used to have no problem knocking on your door at ungodly hours. You had no problems letting him in, disinfecting and dressing whatever wounds he had. Saints, those moments when Ketterdam hadn't stirred awake yet but the two of you were—they were some of the most vulnerable moments shared between you.

Then, there's after. After you decided you had enough of Kaz. He's the type of person who would say things that'll leave a bruise for a couple of days in your heart, but never acknowledges it. It's partially your fault, mistaking his visits for anything other than convenience. He needed someone to patch him up and you were readily available.

You told him your feelings. He said something that both humiliated and rejected you. You packed up and left.

“How bad is it?” You ask once again, irritation apparent in your tone. “Don't make this a habit, Brekker. I'm not a public hospital.”

“I wouldn't be able to tell the difference,” he says airily.

You don't reply. Whatever Brekker's playing at, you want no part in it. If he thinks he can walk into your home to have a little nostalgic chat over tea then he's sorely mistaken.

“Coat off. Shirt as well. Stop bleeding out on my chair,” you reply, already pulling out a moderately-sized box with medical supplies.

You swear he looks as if he's about to run his mouth and say something witty as a joke, but he decides against it. There's a rustle as he takes his incredulous layers of clothing off. He's as lean as ever with scars littering his body. There are a small gash on his side and bruising all over him.

“I'll clean up the cut,” you tell him. Before, you would ask what happened and he would tell you the details of the fight. Now, you can't seem to bring yourself to ask. There's a line that you drew when you left the Dregs. Inviting him into your home is already tiptoeing around it. You don't want to blur the line by pretending that you're alright.

“A knife grazed me or a dagger. I don't think it's poisoned,” he says anyway. His dark eyes are boring into yours while you keep your gaze solely focused on the wound. He follows your movement, as if trying to come up with a sketch of you in his mind.

“Dagger,” you tell him based on the shape of the wound. “No poison.”

You clean up the cut wordlessly before covering it with bandages. As you work, you wonder why he didn't go to Nina instead. A Heartrender can do your job ten times better with less scarring and less pain. Then, you wonder why he comes to you at all—all those nights ago when Nina is always there.

“How have you been?” He asks as you're digging through a bag of salves for his bruises.

You scoff. “Never been better.”

You would've stayed if he had said no like anyone else would. A simple no, you would understand. A whole speech about how pathetic you are that you're clinging to the only person who comes to you for aid is uncalled for. A long paragraph about how replaceable you are, how easy it would to leave you behind if something ever goes wrong on a job—or as he likes to call it, an acquisition.

Brekker could've said no and left it at that, but he's never satisfied. He is the type of person to ram a knife into you and twist it until you remember every second of the pain. You left because if he considers you so easily replaced then he can do it.

Thinking about it makes your blood boil, but you keep it together. You hand him a small container and he takes it with a gloved hand.

“For the bruises. You can take it with you.”

Then, you're packing everything back into the box. Your job is done anyway. He shrugs his clothes back on, occasionally hissing. Kaz is still wondering why he's decided to knock at your door after desperately making sure that you're going to walk out of his life three weeks ago when he finally stands up. The small container is balled up in his fists.

“Thank you.”

His presence in your room is already suffocating enough, but as he stands there, staring at you when he should've been leaving—that takes the air out of your lungs. Everything he said then floods back into your mind. Word by word. You think you want him to leave. You know you want him to stay.

“You can go now. There's nothing else I can do for you. Ask Nina to look you over,” you say, pulling the door ajar.

He watches you as he walks towards the door. He lingers by the doorway, his cane is tracking blood on your flooring. Don't come back. You want him to come back anyway.

“Nina misses you.”

You almost laugh. “I see her every other week, Brekker.”

He doesn't know why he said that. He should leave. He has things to tend to: a revenge to plan, another acquisition to conduct and a club to run. What is he trying to do exactly? He remembers every word he uttered that night. Every single word is chosen carefully to drive you as far away from him as he can muster. All of them are personally tailored to you. They're all things that push on your buttons.

So, why did he come knocking at your door, as if he wasn't the one who kicked you out in the first place?

When he pictures Pekka Rollins begging at his feet, more Kruge than he knows what to do with at his disposal and a quiet, content day when he's finally done everything he set out to do, he realizes you're always there, too and he doesn't know what to do with that.

Before he can think against it, the words spill out of him. “I want to apologize.”

Kaz Brekker never apologizes. He can poke someone's eyeball out of their skull without so much as batting an eye, but he can't apologize without feeling like he's just been punched in the gut.

You're still angry but you relent because Kaz Brekker never apologizes. “Water under the bridge. I've been told worse things. Just, go home, Kaz.”

He's looking at you. Saints, he's been staring at you since the very moment you opened your door for him. You don't know what to do with all that intensity, especially after he's made it verbally clear that it's one-sided.

“Jesper wants you back on the team.”

You know what he's doing then. First, Nina. Now, Jesper. You roll your eyes at him. “Since when do you care about what anyone else wants?"

He is silent for a moment. “I tend to care if their wants align with what I want.”

“Say it, then. What do you want?”

He doesn't reply and as per his style, he walks out of your door. You sigh, ready to close it behind him, but he tilts his head back.

“Crow Club. 8p.m. Don't be late,” he says, taking a few steps forward before he stops again. “If it's what you want as well.”

Then, as quickly as he came, he's gone, leaving you to wish that you can read Kaz Brekker's mind.

[ ]

#kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #—ki writes 🍯

[wolfavens]

ghost car of barna road

track 3 - liberty belle 1/2

my manager greeted me in irish.

i blinked at the screen in mute panic. i couldn’t remember how to reply. words and languages collided in my brain. it was a car crash, baby, and in the end all that came out of my mouth was a prolonged aaah with no end in sight. a perfect visual representation would be a multilanguage tsunami, pouring out of my ears and pooling around my slippers on the dusty rug of my childhood bedroom.

i used to write those words down into a black notebook, watching you mock me from that dusty rug. you and your smug gaeltacht born grin. who would’ve thought i will forget them all by the time i’m 30.

“how did the move go?”

move. to galway. my hometown. i found my voice again and rushed out: “oh yeah! the move went okay. got here late last night. drive was smooth. not many cars around after midnight.”

“hehe, don’t get used to it. it’s a totally different story after 8am.”

we chatted for a while, arranging to meet in dublin next month when i was all settled in. won’t take long. all i needed was to get a flat, a car - did i need help with the flat? there are probably relocation programmes for employees available. no. i think i got it. did i tho?

we finished the call twenty minutes later. the fact i managed to scrape by enough words to at least tell him goodbye in irish seemed to cheer him up a bit.

i finished up some minor work tasks, sipping at the remainder of my mother’s disgusting herbal tea and took a short break to open the dusty unused storage areas of my childhood bedroom. i needed to clean up the old junk before moving in the new junk. i had to give one thing to my mother; she did an excellent job of preserving this place. if ever i managed to do something worthwhile with my life she could start charging fucking entry for this museum of fiadh kavanagh.

shaking my head i started pulling out old clothes and creating a pile on the floor. if she believed i still fit into these jeans i should be worried about early onset neurodegenerative diseases.

i was done with the columns and moving on to the hangers by the time she stuck her head in and quirked her dark eyebrows at me. “need any help?”

“mom, why the fuck did you keep all this?” i asked, showcasing fist-full of short gothic dresses. “aren’t you worried about clothes moths?”

ignoring my point she sat down on the bed, smiling. “oh, i though you might still like to keep some of it. it’s not like we need extra storage.”

“mom, look at me!” i threw another armful onto the pile, lifting my arms to indicate my age ravaged body. “how could i possibly fit into size four?! some of these are from the children’s section!”

“you look like a string, you could easily fit. it’s the cigarettes. they are not good for ya.”

i rolled my eyes. “i’m not even fucki…”

the feel of a familiar soft fabric beneath my fingertips made me stop midsentence. i pulled it out into the light with shaking fingers, heart racing against my ribcage. it looked huge in my palms. the faded graphics were barely visible in the shadowy light of my room. if you tried hard enough you could just barely make out the name of the band. distantly i heard my mom echo my name but i was stuck in the past, standing in the cold autumn rain by the open driver’s side window of your car.

“ooooh, i remember this one,” my mother said with a nostalgic smile.

i made a small sound at the back of my throat.

“it’s the donovan boy’s, isn’t it? i remember teasing him about it. i told him: young man, this is not a free laundry i run here! you know what he said to me?”

i nodded, whispering, “it’s not my fault yer daughter is a stinkin’ thief.”

she laughed. “little bastard. he was the worst influence on you. funny how he turned out. would never expect a son of deirdre donovan to make something of himself. i guess we owe it all to the wife. she…”

my body snapped back to action. i was moving away before she could say her name. putting the sweater on the bed next to her, i brushed my hands against my sweatpants and mumbled: “right, look we need to get rid of all this before i can unpack. do you know someone with skinny teenage children? ideally with a questionable fashion sense?”

“we can drive to the clothes recycling point.”

“grand! let’s do that after work.” i told her, kicking my way through the discarted clothes toward the closet and dumping whatever was left on top of the rest. “i need to get back to work now. i have a meeting in 20.”

“oh, ok. sorry.” she chuckled, standing up. “i will bring some bags to put all of this in.” she reached for the sweater on her way out and i jumped in to block her path on impulse.

“uh… where are you taking that?”

she blinked up at me, brown eyes surprised. “downstairs. i figured i could return it to the rightful owner rather than donate it to charity. although,” she giggled, pulling it apart for scale, “i doubt it will still fit him.”

she was gone before i could open my mouth, taking the sweater with her. my clenched fists unclenched with effort as i pushed the door closed and leaned my back against it. i was breathing too hard. the way you handed me that sweater through the driver’s side window on that rainy, a blast from the past; a ghostly memory. just enough to make me shudder.

#simblr #ts4 story #s:gcbr #oc:ann marie #oc:fiadh #it's adorable how gorgeous fawn believes #she looks old and ugly #hell i wish i looked like fawn #also join me in appreciating stolen garments #the best possible sweater is one you don't own #amen

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 20/10/2023

SING A SONG ABOUT HOPES AND DREAMS

Season 7 Featured on: SGFR Presents: RIP²

Ripped by BobTheTacocat

20-RIP CELEBRATION DAY!!

You may be a little confused reading the bottom of that metadata - What's so special about today that's worth celebrating? Well, its more of a personal milestone, something I've been keeping track of in anticipation of this day, and it just so happened to land on the perfect date.

See, here's a little behind-the-scenes peek on how I manage this blog: I actually keep track of how many rips per season I've covered in total as to ensure I don't run off-track, and always keep the blog fresh. Without any sort of regulation like that it'd quickly become evident which periods of the channel I favored more, and it would no longer be a celebration of the channel in its entirety. I love SiIvaGunner - ALL of SiIvaGunner - but sometimes I forget just how far reaching that is, and this restriction helps keep me on track with the blog's goals.

I specify this, because as of this post, I've reached Twenty Rips Covered For Each Season on the blog. That's right - Twenty rips from Season 1, twenty rips from Season 2, Twenty rips from Season 3, and so forth, a perfect balance attained on the twentieth day of the month. That adds up to 160 rips covered in this blog's history, which is quite frankly a ridiculous number! I never thought I'd reach this point upon starting up the blog, but I'm so so happy to have finally settled into a groove of posting, and getting to hear the thoughts and gratitude from so many talented rippers I've long looked up to.

I want this blog to celebrate the entirety of SiIvaGunner. It is not a simple obsession with the nostalgic days of old, but a look into every single nook and cranny, no matter how under or over-appreciated, where everyone gets their due respects. And funny enough, a certain project on SiIvaGunner that released just recently has followed almost that exact same mission statement - RIP², the album of my fucking dreams and the latest effort from the SiIvaGunner Fusion Records project. Its entire mission purpose is to remix and rearrange pieces of every single part of SiIvaGunner's history.

Season 1's early days of Epic Flintstones and Stickerbrush State of Mind are paid respects to with arrangements like Super Grand Dad Bicycle Arrangement To Make Your Head Crumble Away™ and 7 YEARS LATER AND WE STILL JAMMIN', while the lore and holiday celebration of Season 2 as seen in voiceless and Follow μ’s receive love with jazzless and Winter Holiday at Route 216 -HQ Edit-. For Season 3, its joy, mystery and beauty as shown in :D and a certain storyline in the Christmas Comeback Crisis are reciprocated with the hilariously titled :3 and LD. Memories of Season 4's fierce tournament brawls and sincere, pure-hearted festivities as seen with Vote Responsibly!! and A love letter to this wonderful community and my amazing friends come flooding back with Yearning for the Tournaments of Yesteryear and Welcome to the Gaylord Resort!, while the quality tinged with sadness that defined Season 6 with rips like Fell From a High Place (Reprise) is rightfully honored with The Knight Sees Sunlight for the First Time. Finally, of course, there's the sheer unpredictable chaos of Season 7 as discussed in Hidden Headtoilets (skibidi toree 2), highlighted in all its absurdity with The Raft Ride of Terror. Its as if every rip on the entire channel, either with direct arrangements or indirect tributes, is paid respects to in one giant 96-track long loveletter to every single SiIvaGunner fan. It is impossible to not find at least one track in the setlist that clicks with you.

I did, however, deliberately exclude one season from the above rundown: the pure, unfiltered joy of Season 5, shown in rips like Story of Undertale, Field of Love and Cringe, or indeed, today's rip.

After a long, long process of going back and forth on which rip to highlight for today, I've finally landed on SING A SONG ABOUT HOPES AND DREAMS. The rip its arranging, Field of Love and Cringe, is immensely important to both SiIvaGunner and this blog - it was part of the initial first month of posts I ever made on the blog and was the first post to ever reach double-digit notes back when I hosted this project on my own personal blog. For SiIvaGunner, the impact that Antonymph Noelle has had on SiIva is hard to understate - its infiltrated the Undertale/Deltarune fandom in a way that next to no other SiIvaGunner rips have ever done, and possibly even influenced the direction her character was to be written in other canon material released past Deltarune Chapter 2. In the YouTube upload above, you'll find me under my YouTube account - YouMelTube - as the top comment reminiscing on this specific phenomenon, she's effectively singlehandedly become the face of the SiIvaGunner artwork tags on sites such as here on Tumblr and on Twitter, at this point only rivaled by Wood Man. Field of Love and Cringe, and all the work that went into it by all of its different talented artists and musicians, is absolutely legendary, and shows that SiIva is well able to continue being impactful past its initial Season 1 channel ending.

With all of that in mind, SING A SONG ABOUT HOPES AND DREAMS is as perfect of an arrangement, as perfect of a celebration as one could ever dream of. BobTheTacocat understands what drew people to the original rip to a mesmerizing degree and remixes it into an equally captivating hyper-pop style, which feels almost like the modern-day equivalent of the 2000s-core nostalgia that Antonymph so successfully evokes. The rip's core vocals remain, yet the arrangement's lead melody as carried by its synths goes in wholly new directions, many times feeling completely disconnected from the Field of Hopes and Dreams track its based on: its a reimagining in the truest sense of the word, channelling the spirit of the original absolutely perfectly.

No matter where it goes, though, its always happy - always celebrating, always proud of what SiIvaGunner has become and is. I'm not ashamed to admit the raw emotions that this arrangement made me feel upon its premiere, and the further emotions the album as a whole gave me. It's the loveletter I never knew I wanted but am now so, so eternally thankful for.

Thank you. Thank you to the SiIvaGunner team, and to the SiIvaGunner fans, the SiIvaGunner discord, and anyone else who has followed this blog, or interacted with it at any point of its 160-rip run. Let's never stop loving rips of the highest quality.

<3

#todays siivagunner #season 7 #siivagunner #siiva #BobTheTacocat #sgfr #Youtube #Bandcamp #deltarune #undertale #utdr #utdr music #noelle holiday #girelle #antonymph #vylet pony #my little pony

[fairyofthehollow]

pls someone tell me how to deal with not being a teenage girl anymore i don’t think i can do it. i always drift between feeling excited and okay that i’m growing up and being utterly terrified / panicked and wanting so badly to be 16 or 12 again that i feel physically sick. and then feeling so horrible about not enjoying my teenage years and wasting them away that i’m about to end up doing the same for my early twenties. i know 20 is young but it also feels so old and like i should have everything figured out already. i know i have my whole life ahead of me but it doesn’t feel that way at all. society viewing women as ancient beings from -2 billion years ago when they hit 30 doesn’t help either. like? do i seriously just have 10 years (or will it be 5?) before people don’t see me as young and free or whatever the hell but then it’s like who caresss what people think agghhhhh. idk idk idk. i look at my mom who’s fifty this year and she’s as bright and active and smart and fun and youthful as ever. she’s going to the gym and she’s gonna start school again. i don’t see her as old, like at all. idk why i have such a hard time with me though. it also doesn’t help that ive never ever experienced any sort of romantic attention / interaction / intimacy :’) & it makes me think ooh boy the clocks really ticking. BUT ITS NOT WHY CANT I UNDERSTAND THAT!!!!!! but time moves so so quickly and it petrifies me into not even wanting to do things bc what if i end up wasting my time? what if i fail? why even try.

like im so excited bc im finally getting to know myself. high school was actual dookie water and i was a shell of a human but now im starting to feel alive again and like the world is actually big and not super tiny. im so excited for the summer bc i plan on trying new hobbies and reading a lot and doing a ton of crafts. i finally found clothes i love and feel comfortable in!! but what if my hobbies and interests end up seeming childish. do i have to retire those things when i get older? i just want to be able to be older and still wear converse and silly graphic tees or wear cute hairstyles and read fantasy novels (EVEN MIDDLE GRADE BOOKS BC THEYRE NOSTALGIC AND THEYRE REALLY GOOD) and idk rewatch phineas and ferb every once in a while if i feel like it without seeming crazy. idk :|

ugh. ive never felt so split in my emotions.

#turning 20 in like 4 days is really freaking me out #LIKE DUDE ILL BE GRADUATING COLLEGE IN THIS DECADE OF MY LIFE #I SHOULD BE EXCITED FOR IT!! #but im not #but also i kind of am? #but no #guys help 🥲 #♡ fairy speaks ♡

[teaberrii]

Chapter Twenty-Six: The President's Delinquent (END)

You and Cyno can’t be more different. He’s Akademiya’s perfect student council president. You’re a labelled, cursed delinquent who changes into a cat for eight hours when kissed.

When Cyno gets a complaint about you, he’s forced to take action, only for it to lead to unexpected circumstances.

Cyno/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Two months later

“Congratulations!”

You'd invited Cyno inside after he drove you home from a date that evening. The last thing he's expecting is to be greeted by the sound of party poppers going off and his friends gathered at the front entrance. You also look just as surprised.

It's a week before graduation, and the best news Cyno has ever gotten throughout his entire student career at Akademiya is that you and he will be going to Liyue… together. Cyno learned about his accepted application first; you were among the first people to know.

You also got your acceptance letter into Liyue's graduate program a few days later. When you gave him the tightest back hug of his life the day at school, Cyno worried that something had happened. But his worries immediately vanished when he turned around and saw your large smile.

“I’m surprised you managed to keep this a secret,” you say to Rahman when everyone is together with drinks in the living room. Everyone has wine, while Nahida and Jebrael’s son has orange juice.

“Well, I can’t have everyone’s efforts go to waste!”

“Okay, okay,” Candace says, raising a glass, and everyone else does the same. “Here’s to Cyno and Catnip on their next chapter in life together!”

“You make it sound like they’re getting married,” Tighnari laughs.

“I have one.” Everyone turns to you as you clear your throat. “Here’s to the good news that everyone got in recent weeks! Tighnari, on his acceptance into Sumeru’s graduate forestry program. Candace, on her new job in the Sumeru government. Professor Alhaitham, on his promotion. Kaveh, on his new job as a lead architect!”

"How come Haitham always gets Professor before his name, and I only get—"

Nahida lifts her glass higher. “Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

Kaveh raises his glass with a deadpan look but drinks his wine regardless.

Soon, the room is filled with laughter, conversation, and squeals and screams.

“Hey.”

Cyno turns around and sees Nilou. “Hey.”

Over the last two months, Cyno and Nilou have slowly repaired their friendship, and he's glad they are finally back on good terms. No more hard feelings. No more awkwardness.

“What are you doing standing here all alone? You should be celebrating! Or… is something wrong?”

“I guess I can relate to how you felt when you decided to leave Sumeru.”

“Ah…” Nilou chuckles. “Are you feeling nostalgic already?” She nudges him. “You have it better, at least. Catnip is coming with you.”

“I’m thankful she is. But there’s also everyone else.”

“Well, we can’t have everything we want in life.” Cyno looks past Nilou, and she turns around to see Tighnari. “If I could have everything my way, all of us would be together forever!”

“Cliché.”

“I think we’d get tired of each other pretty fast,” Candace says.

“Geez, we’re supposed to be celebrating!” Kaveh sighs.

“I have an idea.”

No one would’ve thought Alhaitham would be the one to suggest a game of Twister.

“Get your ass out of my face!”

“Ow! You’re stepping on me, Tighnari!”

“Ack! I can’t! I can’t!”

Cyno's glad he dropped out of the game early. Now, it's a battle between Nahida, Candace, Tighnari, Kaveh, and Jebrael's son. Each of them looks determined to win. Cyno looks around. It's been a while since you left for the washroom. What's keeping you? So, he steps out.

“If you need anything… anything at all, don’t hesitate to call us.”

Rahman's voice makes Cyno look around the corner, and he sees you, Rahman, and Jebrael in the garden.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you so emotional,” you say.

Rahman sniffles. “It’s just… you’ve always been with us! Like… without you… it’s like a part of us is gone.”

“You’re taking it too far, Rahman,” Jebrael says. “Ojou will be fine.”

“Well, I know that! But… it’s always been the three of us!”

Cyno suddenly remembers what Nahida said a few months ago: It’s always been the two of us! He’s about to walk away when he hears Rahman say, “Well, at least you’ll be in good hands. The kid will look after you.”

Jebrael turns to Rahman. “That doesn’t mean she should rely on him.”

That’s when Rahman sees Cyno. “Hey, kid!”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Cyno says, coming out from behind the corner.

“You were probably looking for Ojou, huh?” Rahman asks with a grin.

"She was gone for a while."

“It’s going to be her first time away from home for so long,” Jebrael says to Cyno.

“I’ll look after her,” Cyno says seriously.

You gently nudge him. “Don’t you mean we’ll look after each other?”

Rahman suddenly takes out a list and hands it to Cyno. "If she gets sick, we found that these usually help. Oh! And…"

Cyno listens intently as Rahman and occasionally Jebrael chimes in with taking care of you and the like. Now that Cyno thinks about it, who are Rahman and Jebrael? As in... what's their connection to you? Your relationship with them is like family, but Cyno doesn't think you're blood-related. You've also never mentioned it either.

“Hey, kid?” Cyno turns to Rahman. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

Would it be rude to ask? 

“I was just thinking”—he looks from you to Rahman and Jebrael—“how did the three of you meet?”

“Ah…” Rahman smiles. “Yeah, not surprised that you're curious. Well, to start… we aren’t related by blood.”

“But our families are connected,” Jebrael says. “Her family is the leader of the Eremites, and we work under them.”

“Our families were quite close,” you also add. You glance at them, and they nod. “Their parents died young… so my family took them in and raised them like their own. I wasn’t even born yet.”

“I see,” Cyno says. “No wonder you’re so close.”

“When we found out her parents were pregnant with a girl, it was like we were getting a little sister!” Rahman says. “But… I was hoping for a boy.”

“Rude,” you say jokingly.

“What are you four doing out here?” Your grandmother appears from behind the corner. “You shouldn’t be missing out on your celebration.”

"Ah, well, we were just talking…." Rahman says.

Your grandmother has a bag in her hands, and Jebrael takes it from her. "I bought you some things to take with you," she says. Then, her eyes land on Cyno. "I'm glad you'll have each other. It'll make things a little easier while abroad."

You hug your grandmother, and she immediately returns the gesture. “You’re taking a big step forward, child,” she continues, gently patting your back. “You’re finally stepping out on your own and going to have the life you always wanted.”

“This was the life I’ve always wanted,” you say. “Being with you… Rahman… Jebrael… Going to Liyue is just another chapter.”

Rahman sniffles. “I… I think I need a tissue.”

"No, you don't," Jebrael deadpans.

“Hey!” Nahida peeks around the corner. “There you guys are! Are you coming to eat or not?”

“Oh! Y’all better have saved me some chicken legs,” Rahman says, following Nahida back inside the house.

“You better join them before they eat everything,” your grandmother says.

You take Cyno’s hand and walk back inside to overlapping conversations, laughter, and smiles.

After all the craziness, Cyno couldn't be more thankful that he's starting a new beginning with one of the most important people in his life. Liyue will be another challenge, but if you and he can handle Scaramouche, it feels like you can handle anything. Also, Cyno hasn't told you yet... but no matter where you go or who you become, you will always be his delinquent.

…

…

…

The door opens, and Scaramouche walks inside the dreary-looking room.

"You have five minutes," the officer says. Then, he slams the door.

Scaramouche sits in the chair and lazily looks at the ginger before him.

"Orange is really not your colour, Balladeer," he says with a slight smirk.

“Get to the point, Tartaglia,” Scaramouche says. “Don’t tell me you came just for a fucking visit.”

Tartaglia laughs and leans back. “So much for getting rid of the girl. Your plan failed miserably." Scaramouche glares at him. "I'm sure you already know she and her little boy toy are heading to Liyue."

“And?”

“Those two will be on my turf now. You should know what that means.” Tartaglia leans forward. “It’s time to get rid of them once and for all.”

“She’s not worth the time anymore.”

“Don’t tell me you developed a soft spot for her.”

“If you kill her, they’ll come after you. You will have accomplished nothing but become their most wanted person.”

“I’m not talking about just the girl,” Tartaglia says. “I don’t know what kind of grudge or beef you had with her, but I’m looking at the bigger picture… I’m talking about her entire family.” He smiles coldly. “They are a disgrace. It’s time for a new era of delinquents.”

Scaramouche gives Tartaglia one last look. “It’s not that easy.”

“You underestimate me.”

The door swings open, and the same police officer walks in. "Time's up."

Scaramouche stands as the ginger says, "It's time for freedom, Balladeer."

Just before the door closes, Scaramouche turns around. "I guess I'm counting on you for once, Tartaglia. Don't let me down."

Something about that small, wicked smile on the ginger's face tells Scaramouche that everything will go according to plan.

End notes:

Did I really just end this on a cliffhanger... Yes, yes, I did. XD...

Also, I'm running a poll on what I should write next. Take a look if you are interested :)

Some fun facts about this story:

1) This was originally a Xiao/Reader. I thought about making Xiao the delinquent and the cat while you're the school president. But, I thought that was too typical. Somewhere along the way, I thought Cyno would be a better fit, and eventually, it became a decision on who to make the cat, the delinquent, and the school president.

2) You and Cyno's careers/characters are loosely inspired by the characters in Gokusen, a Japanese drama. Except, the female lead in that show is already a high school teacher, and the male lead is her student.

3) Nilou was supposed to be Collei. I originally had you rejecting Cyno's confession and having Collei come in as an old friend/junior who Tighnari, Candace, and Cyno used to mentor. But, I thought you rejecting Cyno didn't really have a point. So, it turned into a bonding moment with Rahman and Jebrael instead.

Thank you to those who stuck around until the very end! Y'all are amazing <3

Tag list: @lxry-chxn @suoshiii @lordbugs @seirenspinel @iwishitwas @sketcheeee @thetwinkims @ch0c0shortiie @sakiimeo @ashtree-and-the-cats @whorerificstuff @chaimkko @bennytheghost @riylvx

#cyno x you #cyno x reader #cyno x y/n #cyno x yn #cyno fluff #genshin impact cyno #genshin cyno

[giritina]

I can't relate to people who are nostalgic for their childhood and miss it. No disrespect to your experience I am just always amazed how much better I have it. Having had intense OCD and ptsd schizoneurotype where in 1st grade I was stuck imagining my terrible future and ruled by my compulsions. Then teenagerdom where it got worse and I had no freedom or control of myself. Then late teens to early twenties where I was RULED by the compulsions and the paranoia. Oh my God now I can just write stories or watch media and feel like wow this is not real and I'm not evil for putting gray morality in something or having a thought inside my brain. Literally interacting with people and not playing 4d chess. My life only gets better my childhood was nightmariesh even without the ongoing trauma like I was just in mental warfare at age 5 or whatever

[lesbienneanarchiste]

Not to get nostalgic about physical media on main again but gd truly unparalleled to go to Blockbuster in my teens and early twenties and feel like there were so many things for me to explore and discover. We had two in our town, a big one and a small one. The small one was limited but had more Displays of the "Nikki's Favorites of the 90s" type. When it died, they put a wall down the center of its corpse and turned it into a driving school and a vape shop. The big one was one of those places you could just wander around for a while and look at all these movies you've never heard of. A lot of my favorite movies as a kid/teen were things I picked off the shelf randomly bc I liked the look of the spine. My spine was not so happy from me being bent sideways at the waist to read the titles but sacrifices must be made. That Blockbuster got turned into a surf and turf restaurant that was too expensive for my family (and tbh most of the families in that town) to eat at. You used to be able to walk into a big warm yellow room and see your friends, enemies, and countrymen renting the most unpredictable shit possible, for the low price of a couple bucks a DVD. They even had video games after a while so you could play stuff kids at school were talking about even if you couldn't afford to buy it brand new. You could find out about new movies coming out bc the trailers would show on the mounted tvs in the days before youtube. The big Blockbuster even had music CDs you could rent for a hot minute when I was in high school. If you liked a movie enough you could buy it for half cover price bc it was used. Sometimes much less than half cover price if it was something that didn't get rented very often or they had a ton of copies they needed to shift.

Like yeah, Blockbuster fucked over smaller independent video rental stores and that sucks but I still mourn it's demise. The way I can hate how Borders kicked all the indie book shops out of the malls and still be pissed the fuck off that they shut down and all became forever 21s.

Don't even get me started on CD shops and FYE 😭😭😭😭

#disgruntled octopus #slams fists on the table with tears in my eyes #I DONT WANNA CONSUME MEDIA. I WANNA HAVE AN EXPERIENCE.

[captain-lessship]

The Poetic Lovers Pt. 1/2

All was beautiful with the wonderful world. It was a peaceful morning for Hotch. 

You walked into the kitchen, happily bobbing to whatever was in your earbuds. You took one out when you noticed your dad.

“Hey dad, you alright?”

“Just enjoying the view out the window.”

You laughed, “We’ve lived here for years.”

He looked at you, small smile, “And over that time I found this was the best view.”

You rolled your eyes as you grabbed the jug of orange juice out of the fridge. “Oh, do you need me to get anything from the store? I can get some stuff after my classes.”

“Ah, I think we’re almost out of peanut butter. I will pay you back for it.”

“Nah,” you unscrewed the cap off the jug, “You bought my shampoo last week.” 

Hotch looked at you, an unfamiliar look on his face.

You took a swig from the jug, “What?”

“Twenty three years… and that’s the first time I’ve ever traded you shampoo for peanut butter.”

“You’re getting nostalgic, old man,” you screwed the cap back on, “Oh! So my boyfriend’s birthday is toda-“

“Still haven’t met him.” 

“Yes,” you put the orange juice back in the fridge, leaning against the now closed door, “Anyway, I am going to be back late.”

“After you drop off the peanut butter?”

You rolled your eyes, “Nah Dad, I am going out for a birthday dinner like this.”You gestured to your lab clothes.

Aaron was extremely proud of you. Through long nights and genuine talent, you graduated highschool a year early, you were going to pursue a career in the field of forensics. You knew it would take a lot of time and dedication but you were a Hotchner and the apples don’t fall far from the family tree.

“Alright but call me if you need me. I got to go into work.”

“I will,” you grabbed your bag from it’s usual spot on the hall chair. “See you later tonight.”

After a long day of classes and paper writing, You were back home, getting ready for the date.

“You look like a office cowboy.”

You turned your head to see your younger brother.

“The hat is too much?”

The boy nodded, you looked in the mirror. “Well, hats are my staple.” 

Jack walked beside you, “But your hair looks good.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Do we like the red shirt?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Of course, you’d like it,” you picked him up and spun him around, pulling giggles from the boy. “Red is you favorite color.”

You put him down, “Alright, so we look good, right?”

“Right.”

“Thanks wingman,” you looked at your phone, “I better get going.”

Aaron walked in from the door, getting the attention of both of you, “Dad!” The two of you said in unison.

“Hey, you two,” he looked at your outfit, “Looking fancy.” 

“Yeah, I am also about to be fashionable late! Love you two,” you grabbed your coat and rushed out the door.

“Hey!” Aaron called.

You opened the door again, “Yea?” 

“Keys.” 

“Oh,” you grabbed them off the key hook, “Thanks”

Aaron sighed before looking at Jack.

Jack mimicked the sigh, “They’re hopeless.”

“In ten minutes, we’re gonna follow him.”

“Dad! The cat!”

Jack did that whenever you or Aaron got nosy. 

“Fine. Did he at least bring the peanut butter?” 

You were simply enjoying the live poetry, snapping after people finished. 

“I find it amazing that we went from clapping to snapping, who knew A hand movement as simple as clicking one's index finger and thumb together would became a symbol of rebellion among countercultures.”  He simply took a drink of his tea after saying this.

You laughed then whispered, “I didn’t know you were such a big fan of poetry.”

“It’s a predetermined pattern of words that lets people get out their feelings and thoughts on a subject. It’s a artistic form of a rant.” He whispered back.

You smiled, “Is it a good birthday so far?”

“Yeah, it’s up there with one of the best’s. What are you going want to do for yours?”

You thought for a moment, “Be on a tropical island drinking from a pineapple and watching the blue water from the white sandy beaches.” 

This sent Spencer into a long discussion on why the water looked blue and how alcoholic beverages that don’t taste that alcoholic are tricky to drink in warm environments: the hotter it is, the more you drink.

“So you don’t want to get drunk in the Bahamas with me?” 

“I will take mine without the alcohol, but I would enjoy the beach.” He said, smiling.

He was happy he found someone who would let him ramble and never get agitated by him. 

#spencer reid #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #gender neutral reader #romantic relationships #established relationship #hotchner!reader #x reader #series #date night #happybirthday #reader x spencer Reid #romance #fanfic writing #fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction

[curejiraiya]

So my current running theory is that Waccha PriMagi didn't hit anywhere near the sales figures they wanted, but they weren't exactly ready to launch into full PriPara 2 mode for the main pretty series, so they're stalling for time by using all the ideas they had for the second season that got cut because of the lack of sales in the arcade game and the upcoming script read.

Sales for this kind of show are down across the board, and I think they and basically every other company around the world are coming to this conclusion that focusing on bringing back titles that are nostalgic for people who are now in their early twenties and hold lots of buying power is a better financial investment than making new shows for kids. Which on one hand I don't exactly mind because I do like being catered to, but on the other hand Waccha PriMagi was an amazing show, and it not getting renewed for a second season feels like a true stiffle of innovation for the magical girl / idol genre.

I don't know all the facts, but it feels like we saw the same thing with Aikatsu, They cut its newest show because of lack of sales, pivoted to doing an anniversary movie for the first and most popular season, and then canceled it outright. The target audience of Aikatsu is too young to have seen the original series when it aired, so why did it end this way?

Another example of this is the Sailor Moon reboot pivoting from being a one-to-one rework of the manga as its own new standalone anime, to being heavily referential of the original '90s anime because that was higher selling and more popular. The target audience of magical girl anime shows wouldn't know about the 90s anime, so why do we keep seeing this happening?

I could bring up many many examples of this happening in Western media. To be honest I complain about this all the time, we are in an era where studios aren't allowed to make new work, they're required to work with existing IP because it brings in more money, and the anime that I watch are not in a different world, they're facing the exact same dilemma.

And sometimes it can be endearing, I like that we're getting another season of PriPara years later because I think it's a good show and with the right team good can be done with it. But I don't like how the Sailor Moon anime is changing to be against what it originally stood for. And the target audience of both of these shows wouldn't understand the significance of any of this because they didn't grow up with the original.

Sorry for how long this rant got, but basically I think there's a place in the world for both shows, there's time to pander and there's time to make shows for the target audience, and it feels frustrating that one type of show is being killed off for another for the sake of profits, and it's equally frustrating that this is an around the board issue. I want PriMagi season two, I think the show is genuinely good and the best work that studio has put out in years. It stomps on the entirety of PriChan. And in our current post COVID media landscape it feels like we'll never see a show like it again.

#ramblings #waccha primagi #ig

[thewertsearch]

Asks Compilation 25/07

[ god I wish this was true 😂 we don't get any deliberate ones really, but a lot of accidental ones I have to catch lol - C ]

People have spoiled future Aspects, but that's OK, I told them to!

As far as I’m aware, Hiveswap is one of the few Homestuck tie-ins which is actually canon to the comic. 

I’ll probably liveblog it - after I’m done the comic - but I’m not sure if I’ll do it immediately afterwards, or wait for the whole thing to release first.

It's fun - the more Homestuck lore I get in the liveblog, the more I can expand the lore of the adventure! 

The charger sword sounds sick, actually. I wonder if Sahlee uses chargerkind, or if she had something else to hand when she was assigning her Strife Specibus?

I like the idea that she’s really into Troll Star Trek. Since it was produced in a military empire, it probably has a very different tone to Human Star Trek...

“Space. The final battlefield.”

In other words, Life finds a way.

AA, the kidsona, pirated the game and just started messing around with it. Unbeknownst to her, TT, the trollsona, connected as her server player and deployed her starting gear.

TT hasn’t entered yet, and is currently still on Alternia. Let's hope she can get in soon!

Oh what? That's cool. These guys seem less and less human as we go!

Oh, I can definitely see it. 

It’d be nice if she got Rei’s 'I am not a puppet' arc - although hopefully it won’t end with her turning all of trollkind into Faygo. 

I can understand the Mind and Doom associations. Coding is a pretty cerebral task, and the most prominent programming language in the comic is Doom-themed.

Dunno about Light, Space and Time though. I guess you could say coding = computers = electrcity = electromagnetism = Light, but that’s very tenuous. 

But... whatever about its paradoxical status,  Davesprite's timeline is still canon, right? It was depicted in the comic, and its consequences are driving the plot. Seems pretty cut-and-dry to me. 

I’ve picked up a lot of Classes and Aspects over the summer - twenty-one, in total!

The known classes are the Heir, Seer, Knight, Witch, Rogue, Sylph, Mage, Page, Maid, Bard, and Prince. 

The known Aspects are Breath, Light, Time, Space, Mind, Rage, Void, , Doom, Life, and Blood. 

I think the coolest-sounding title I can come up with is the Witch of Void.

Interestingly, this would imply that your Class can change over time. If it’s based on your life experiences, it sort of has to change, since you keep gaining more life experiences. 

Would baby Players even have classes, in this case? If you made a second clone of John the Player - one not destined to play Sburb - would he develop a Title, too?

[ anything that builds Vriska hype is approved - C ]

Oh, I'm so ready.

[ https://youtu.be/U0m-k6qZMx8?t=150 they know... - C ] 

Screw it, let's check this out.

...heh, this is all very early 2000s. It’s weirdly nostalgic to go through, even though I never watched these as a kid - and even though I wasn’t even on the internet in 2000. I started in about ‘04, with Runescape. 

Yes, and it's fucking great. 

I love how it means there's a small chance that Undertale and Homestuck were started on the same computer.

Of course. Just like in every universe, the great visionary, John Cusack, is destined to develop Linux. 

Thanks!! It’s actually really nice having asks to point out stuff I missed, so I can fully understand what it is I'm seeing.

We won't know for sure until the Homestuck movie comes out in 2035, and we can hear their canon pronunciations.

Oh, ok, that actually makes a lot more sense than my interpretation. All the prototypings we’ve seen so far would then conform to the rule, and a kernel with nothing dead in it would be as rare as it’s supposed to be.

Sollux didn’t even release Vii on Alternia. 

Fuck all those other trolls, this editor is for himself and himself alone. 

Nah, AA's is just as easy. I think I'm just starting to remove quirks a little overzealously, lmao

Prototype them both in a sprite together to create The Ultimate Player.

Glitches as horror is so underrated. 

What if this happened to Future Rose and Dave? What if their broken session started to yield broken items?

I'd love to have seen some of this early speculation. Cat mentioned the Homestuck forums have been irreparably destroyed, which really fucking sucks. Hopefully at least some of it got archive.org’d. 

Ayyy!

Oh my god, do you think AG is the type to be like...

“It's all in your head!!!!!!!! Mental illness isn't real, you just need to fight it off with willpower! ::::)”

#asks #full liveblog #act 5 #classpect

[useramor]

your fall out buck post is awesome do you have any other thoughts on what music you think buck would listen to ?

for some reason my mind interpreted this as eddie not buck and by the time i noticed when you meant i had already compiled a list for eddie so you get both! under the cut because, as usual, this got pretty long.

also here is my fall out buck post if you haven't seen it :)

buck—

i think aside from fall out boy, he was very into green day up through his early twenties. he was 21 in 2013, so there's no way he didn't also go through an arctic monkeys moment, blasting flourescent adolescent in his earbuds all the time.

"flicking through a little book of sex tips / remember when the boys were all electric" was a lyric that'd get stuck in his head constantly as he bartended

also, the chance of buck not being an imagine dragons fan is zero.

i definitely also headcanon he had his white boy rap phase. i mean, c'mon, the guy was 26 in 2018. between 2016 (24) to 2018 (26) we had blond, coloring book, the life of pablo, starboy, damn, flower boy, astro world...you get it. and buck in LA during this time, going through the academy in southern california? yeah, he listened to drake.

i think he has his soft pop favs now. i think he's mostly past the rap, still listens to his pop punk music but more in a nostalgic sense. i do think current buck is a big fan of noah kahan, walk the moon (specifically what if nothing, though he found them through shut up and dance), some hozier, a good bit of sufjan stevens and phoebe bridgers on a sad song playlist he has set to private.

he's definitely the type to listen to one song on repeat for days, and i think that happened with some of the songs off melodrama by lorde to the point that they were his top songs on his spotify wrapped, even if she wasn't one of his top artists.

something about buck listening to supercut as he drives around LA late at night you know?

"cause in my head (in my head i do everything right) / when you call (when you call, i'll forgive and not fight)"

or

"i'll be your quiet afternoon crush / be your violent overnight rush / make you crazy over my touch / but it's just a supercut of us"

when he's pining for eddie??? come onnnnnn

eddie—

eddie listens to classic rock, country music, and has a spanish songs playlist sophia made titled "canciones favoritas" that he has downloaded on his spotify.

he loves pink floyd, i think he's a big eagles fan, no doubt in my mind he listened to a LOT of the beatles growing up, and if you think he doesn't know every word to rumours by fleetwood mac, you've got another thing coming. eddie hums rhiannon under his breath as he cooks, a gentle rhythm that fills up his kitchen.

(buck's a little bit in love with his voice, always tries to bug him into singing out loud, and usually ends with them duetting queen loud enough for christopher to complain from his bedroom.)

but he's also from texas! he's got his classic country faves, privately listened to dolly parton whenever the house was empty. definitely a big george strait, willie nelson, rascal flatts fan. loves a good carrie underwood song, and he'll say it's because of his sisters until the day he dies.

(it's really not. there's just something about female country that eddie loves.)

his favorite song, though, now that he's older and in love and a huge sap is still the one by shania twain.

"looks like we made it / look how far we've come my baby / might've took the long way / we knew we'd get there someday"

"you're still the one i run to / the one that i belong to / you're still the one i want for life / you're still the one that i love / the only one i dream of"

he plays it for buck one night and they slow dance in the living room and eddie feels more love in his body than he ever thought possible, thanks.

now, the spanish song playlist. it has a truly absurd amount of selena.

like.

so much selena.

also gloria estefan, celia cruz, and enrique inglesias' 1995 album that he used to hate as a teenager but that, admittedly, grew on him.

i've included this in a fic, but i stand by it. i think one of eddie's favorite songs is algo contigo by rita payés and elisabeth roma.

"what is missing is me telling you that I would die to have something with you / and it is that you have not given account of how much it costs me to be your friend / now I can not get close to your mouth without wanting it in a crazy way"

(^ the lyrics are in spanish but this an english translation)

also every time eddie listens to baila esta cumbia or bidi bidi bom bom he subconsciously starts dancing to it and the way he sways his hips drives buck crazy <3

okay i hope this is good!!! i've been thinking about eddie's a lot lately, i could probably do a more in depth lyric analysis like i did with my fall out buck post if anyone would be interested :)

#bia gets mail #buddie #buddie music analysis #anon

[fwtomura]

Breathe Into Your Hungry Appetite

cw: modern au, ghostsoap, mentions of drugs, alcohol, ghoap drug dealer au, smut

CHAPTER 1, CHAPTER 2

haiii guys i’m back :3! sorry this chapter took so long, i’ve been busy as hell!

Simon wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep the night before, but he knew that he’d gone to bed pretty soon after he’d finished himself off. It wasn’t the first time that he’d gotten stoned, jerked off, and passed out. He was almost certain that it wouldn’t be the last time either. He’d made himself dinner the night before, the dishes still set on his bedside table. He’d take care of them in a moment. He also needed to find his phone, but that was still a problem for later.

He went about his regular routine of brushing his hair and his teeth before heading downstairs for breakfast. He’d been debating buzzing it and it seemed more and more appealing as time went on. He brought his dishes downstairs and left them in the sink and placed his breakfast dishes in the sink along with them after he’d finished eating. The fridge was looking more bare than it normally did, and he knew that they’d need to make a grocery trip sooner rather than later. Yet another problem that he’d deal with later. At the very least, it would have to wait until he had a shared day off with Roach. 

He trudged back upstairs to his room, shutting the door behind him and heading back towards the attached bathroom. He quickly gave the piece he’d left soaking the previous day a decent scrub and dried it quickly with a few paper towels, making sure to blow out any residual water and rubbing alcohol still left in the pipe. He left it out to air dry the rest of the way as he opened up his stash box. 

The pungent smell of flower immediately filled his nostrils as soon as the box opened, and Simon couldn’t help but to deeply inhale the scent. It was nearly comforting at this point, bordering on nostalgic. 

He loaded his pipe as soon as he was sure that it was dry, still using the strain that Soap had given him a few days prior. He sat back in his beanbag chair and lit the bowl, sitting up and leaning forward until he could get the bowl lit up properly. The first hit was harsh just like it had been, but he’d grown to adore the almost burning feeling in his lungs. He did end up coughing a few more times than he’d like to admit, however. He finished his bowl in silence before cracking his bedroom window open.

His phone chimed from somewhere in the tangled mess of blankets in his bed, reminding him that he still hadn’t found it. He’d apparently forgotten to put his phone on do not disturb before he fell asleep. He shook out one of his blankets and his phone immediately tumbled out onto the mattress. He had… twenty two missed texts from Johnny. The first one he’d gotten from him had been a couple hours after Johnny had left him on read.

Johnny🧼: fuck im so fucking sorry

Johnny🧼: my phone died at the worst time

Johnny🧼: I would’ve been coming over as soon as i saw it

Johnny🧼: sweetheart, im sorry

Johnny🧼: i really did want to come over

Johnny🧼: i still can

Johnny🧼: i can be on my way over right now

Johnny🧼: i can be there in 10 minutes, please si

Johnny🧼: do you still want me over, baby?

Johnny🧼: i can’t get you off my fucking mind

Johnny🧼: those pics n vids you’ve sent me are driving me insane

Johnny🧼: simon?

Johnny🧼: please tell me you’re still there..

Johnny🧼: I promise i didn’t mean to leave, si

Johnny🧼: I fucking want you so bad

Johnny🧼: please

The messages trailed stopped for a moment after that, and Simon almost felt bad for falling asleep early the previous night. Almost. The messages did however continue at around midnight the night before.

Johnny🧼: fuck, i keep looking at all the shit you sent me

Johnny🧼: i can’t stop fucking thinking about you, si

Johnny🧼: im dying to get my hands and mouth on you, touch you and kiss you all over, make you mine

Johnny🧼: do u even know how badly i want you, how much you fucking turn me on?

There was a picture attached to the last message, It was Johnny seemingly sprawled out on his bed, laid back fully. He was only visible from the chest down. He was wearing his staple white tank top that he always wore, his chain lazily draped over the collar of it. The hem was pulled up just slightly, leaving the dark trail of hair leading down towards his boxers fully exposed. Simon nearly thought his heart stopped as he continued looking at the picture. 

Johnny’s hand was resting on his hip, his thumb hooked into the waistline of his boxers and pulling it down just enough to expose his adonis belt. There it was, clear as day even in the dim lighting of the picture. He was fully hard. It looked almost painful. The thin fabric of his boxers left almost nothing to Simon’s imagination, a clearly apparent damp spot visible from his pre-cum. Fucking hell.  

Johnny🧼: can’t you see what you’re doing to me, love?

Johnny🧼: i want to fucking ruin you.

Simon knew fully well that Johnny found him attractive and had known that for quite some time now. He didn’t exactly try to hide his attraction, but that wasn’t the point. He hadn’t entirely expected to wake up to Johnny sending him a suggestive picture, but he liked it. Seeing just how deep he was under Johnny’s skin, how badly he wanted him… it had more of an effect on him than he’d openly admit.

Simon💀: sorry, fell asleep

Simon💀: good morning to you too

He wasn’t at all surprised to see Johnny immediately starting to reply, plugging his phone in as he waited patiently for his response.

Johnny🧼: jackass

Johnny🧼: “fell asleep” FOR 14 HOURS?? more like a fuckin coma!

Simon💀: call me names all you want

Simon💀: you started typing as soon as i texted you

Johnny🧼: I thought u fuckin blocked me or smth idk

Simon💀: and u still tried to hit me up late as hell??

Johnny🧼: u miss 100% of the shots u take idk

Simon sighed softly as he rolled onto his back, not entirely sure how to respond for a moment. John’s ego hadn’t really taken much of a hit, and he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t knkw for a fact that he wasn’t going to apologize again for falling asleep.

Simon💀: if your phone didn’t die, i would’ve let you come over, John

Johnny🧼: yeah?

Johnny🧼: if my phone didn’t die, you wouldn’t be able to fuckin walk rn

Simon💀: cute that you’re so sure of yourself.

Johnny🧼: i know what i’m capable of.

Johnny🧼: i could just come over n show u

As much as Simon wanted to invite him over right then, he didn’t feel like he’d earned it quite yet. it wasn’t the worst idea. Plus, Roach wouldn’t be home until much later that day anyways. He still wanted to see how much he could push Johnny before he’d snap.

Simon💀: you could. 

Johnny🧼: i haven’t been able to get u out of my head

Johnny🧼: i keep looking at everything u sent me

Johnny🧼: you’re driving me fucking crazy, simon

Simon💀: cute

Johnny🧼: i kept thinking about you last night

Johnny🧼: came in my hand wishing it was inside you instead

Simon💀: and you didn’t send me a video?

Johnny🧼: you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

The mental image of it was still just as appealing as it had been the day before, and Simon almost did wish he’d gotten to see a video of it. He wanted to hear how Johnny would sound just before he released, to lick the sweat dripping down his forehead and watch the crease in his brow worsen the closer he got. His hand had slipped into his boxers before he’d even realized.

Johnny 🧼: show me what you’re up to, doll

Simon 💀: is your phone gonna die again?

Johnny 🧼: fuck off that happened ONE TIME

Johnny 🧼: it’s fully charged.

Simon sat up fully, getting onto his knees and arching his back down towards the mattress. He dipped two of his fingers inside himself briefly before starting to slowly stroke over his cock. He made sure that his hand being in his boxers was visible in the picture before sending it off. The slight hesitation before Johnny started typing again nearly made him giddy. He knew that he’d be saving that picture and that sent a zip of arousal down his spine.

Johnny 🧼: fucking hell i just want to ruin you

Johnny 🧼: i want to take you just like that, have you sobbing into the mattress

Johnny 🧼: have my hand on the back of your neck, keep you pinned just like that. exactly where i want you

Wouldn’t that be nice? He knew that the angling of that would be brutal and deep . He’d have no choice but to lay there and take it, pinned down with nowhere to go. It certainly sounded like fun at the very least. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been like that. He needed it more than he wanted to admit.

What the hell did he have to lose? He hastily kicked his boxers off and tossed them to the side, sitting up properly to face the mirror at the foot of his bed. He lifted his legs slightly and spread them open as he corrected the angling of his phone. He reached his free hand down and spread himself open with two fingers, knowing that he was already soaked from arousal. Once he was happy with the picture, he sent it off along with a brief message.

Simon 💀: come over?

Johnny 🧼: be there in 10.

Knowing Johnny, he’d be there in a bit less than ten minutes. He had a tendency to drive like a bat out of hell if there wasn’t anyone in the car with him. Simon grabbed his boxers and put them back on along with a pair of joggers. He doubted he’d have them on for very long, but he wasn’t going to open the front door half naked.

While he was at it, he managed to send a text to Roach so that he knew not to head home right away if he finished his shift early. He knew that he’d get an earful about it later, but Simon didn’t want to get cockblocked two days in a row if he could help it.

As he expected, he could hear Johnny’s car pulling into the driveway roughly eight minutes since he’d received his message. He left his phone on the bed as he walked downstairs. Johnny was standing right outside as soon as he opened the door. He was wearing his typical ensemble; a white tank top, his usual gold chain, gray joggers hanging low on his hips, and slides. Simon could just barely smell his cologne from where he stood. It was strong.

“You got here quickly.” He stepped to the side and motioned Johnny in, closing the door behind him. He could hear Johnny shuffling out of his slides as he turned back around.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He stepped in closer, bullying Simon back against the door with his usual cocky smirk on his face. Despite Simon having nearly a head’s worth of height on him, it didn’t seem to diminish Johnny’s confidence one bit. “Why? Disappointed I got here so fast?”

“Didn’t say that.” He watched as Johnny pressed further into his space, tilting his head slightly as Johnny rested his hands on his hips. He wasn’t guiding him in any direction, but his grip was sturdy. He placed his hand over Johnny’s mouth as soon as he tried to lean in for a kiss. “I don’t kiss for hookups.”

He let his hand fall back to his side, fighting the urge to laugh at the pouting expression on Johnny’s face. “Not even for me?”

“You’re not my fuckin’ boyfriend, Johnny.” Simon hummed softly when Johnny’s second hand slid beneath his hoodie, gently gripping onto his waist. “Marks are fair game, just no kissing.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice…” His touches were gentle at first, slowly rocking his hips against Simon’s and sweet kisses placed along his neck. Before Simon could complain about it, Johnny’s hand slid up the back of his neck. His head was tugged back harshly before he could process that Johnny’s fingers were in his hair. He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth and could feel Johnny chuckling more than he could properly hear it.

The kisses to his neck quickly turned to more teeth than lip, Johnny’s tongue barely soothing over each mark before he made a new one. He kept Simon pressed against the door, not allowing him to move anywhere other than exactly where he wanted him. His hands wandered back towards Simon’s hips as a thigh slid between his legs. His lips didn’t move from Simon’s neck for even a moment as he pulled Simon’s hips closer to him, encouraging him to grind down onto his leg. Who would Simon be to say no?

He slowly rolled his hips against Johnny’s leg, panting softly and biting back a whine at a particularly harsh bite to the side of his neck. Normally he’d be appalled at the idea of rutting against someone’s leg like a horny teenager, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop. Johnny’s hand stayed planted on his hip, the other sliding beneath Simon’s hoodie. His nails gently dug into the skin of Simon’s lower back, pulling a soft sigh from him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just relax for me.” He spoke in a near growl against Simon’s jaw, gently pressing his thigh up further each time Simon rolled his hips down. “You look so good riding my thigh like that.”

The pressure was absolutely divine, making him feel pleasantly dizzy as he leaned back further against the door. Johnny’s touches felt burning against his skin. Each squeeze to his hips and gentle scratch against his back felt maddening. He hadn’t been with anyone in a while, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d craved more from someone this quickly. He could feel Johnny panting against his neck, nearly fully hard against his hip. Each biting kiss placed against his neck felt maddening. He needed more.

He pushed Johnny back just slightly, separating him from his neck and making him take a few steps back. He looked almost shocked, concerned that he’d done something wrong.

“Quit looking at me like that. I’m not letting you fuck me in the entryway. I have a flatmate.” Simon hooked a finger around his chain as he spoke. “Come on.”

He kept his finger loosely hooked into the chain around Johnny’s neck as he walked towards the stairs. He swapped to be guiding Johnny by his wrist towards his room as they went up the stairs.

As soon as they’d made it to Simon’s room, Johnny was back on him like a magnet. He could feel Johnny untying his joggers as he was walked back towards the bed. He barely managed to shuffle them off before Johnny was pushing his sweatshirt up and off of him.

“Didn’t realize you were that fuckin’ desperate for it.” He mumbled softly as he tossed his hoodie to the side. Simon did enjoy watching as Johnny took off his own tank-top and joggers, however. The picture he’d gotten didn’t do his appearance justice. Johnny was well built, a dark layer of hair trailing over his abs with a defined trail leading down towards his boxers. Johnny was incredibly well built, and he knew it.

“Forgive me for not bein’ patient. I spent all night thinking about you. Can’t exactly blame me for being eager.”

Simon sat down on the bed and leaned up on his elbows, tilting his head to the side as he watched Johnny crawl between his legs. He looks even better on his knees , he thought to himself. He lifted his hips as soon as Johnny grabbed onto the waistband of his boxers. What he didn’t expect was the almost pleading look on Johnny’s face as he leaned in closer.

“Can I?”

“Quit fuckin’ staring at me like that, jesus christ…” He spread his legs a little more as he laid back fully against the bed. “Yes.”

“Thought about doing this all night.” His looped his arms beneath Simon’s thighs, tugging him just slightly closer before trailing kisses down his inner thigh. “I’d spend all day right here if you let me.”

He couldn’t tell if Johnny was being serious or exaggerating, but any complaints he wanted to lodge at him died in his throat as soon as he felt Johnny’s tongue against his cock. He panted softly as he let his head fall back against the bed. He felt Johnny’s tongue trail along the underside of his cock as he took it fully into his mouth, the metal of his tongue piercing teasing along it as he suckled onto it. He didn’t pull back to breathe until he absolutely needed to, his tongue trailing down to lap between his folds before two fingers slid inside of him with ease. He crooked his fingers just right and pulled a soft whine from Simon.

Simon panted softly, reaching down and tangling a hand into Johnny’s hair. He rocked his hips up slowly as Johnny continued moving his fingers, alternating between teasing drags and slowly working him open. He was good. Much better than he expected him to be.

“Fuck, Johnny…” Simon lifted his head briefly, his heart leaping into his throat as he looked down at Johnny. His eyes didn’t leave his face for a moment, his head bobbing slightly as he worked his tongue over Simon’s cock.

He pulled off just briefly, his lips slightly glossy from spit and Simon’s arousal, as he slid a third finger inside of him. “Good?”

“Do you have to fucking ask?” His voice was more strained than he wanted it to be in that moment, but he forgot about it as soon as he felt Johnny’s mouth back on him again. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Yet another thing he hadn’t expected.

He let his head fall back with a broken moan, tugging harder on Johnny’s hair as he kept rocking his hips up. His head was nearly spinning, his limbs feeling heavy as the coil in his stomach wound tighter with each passing moment. He could feel Johnny staring at him even though he wasn’t watching him. Knowing he was watching only made everything worse. Knowing he wanted to watch him fall apart, committing that image to memory just to replay it later sent him tumbling over the edge with a soft whine. Johnny didn’t pull back until his thighs started quivering from overstimulation.

“Jesus fucking christ…are you trying to kill me or something?” He leaned up as Johnny was standing up, his stomach fluttering as he watched Johnny meticulously lick his fingers clean.

“Can’t help myself around you, sweetheart. Didn’t hear you complaining about it either.” To Simon’s surprise, Johnny was still fully hard in his boxers. “What? You can take it. I know you can.”

“Never said I couldn’t.” He watched hungrily as Johnny dropped his boxers, his eyes staying for a moment too long before trailing back towards Johnny’s face. “Didn’t think you’d get much out of that.”

“You thought wrong.” He leaned forward slightly, placing his hands on top of Simon’s thighs and gently rubbing them. “You still want to keep going? I brought condoms, I’d just have to find my pants to get them.”

“I’m fine without. I’m not seeing anyone else.” Simon could see just how much Johnny’s eyes lit up as he spoke.

“Was hoping you’d say that.” His hands shifted and grabbed the underside of Simon’s knees. He pulled him closer before flipping Simon over onto his stomach, turning him to be facing towards the foot of the bed before coaxing his knees up beneath him. He quickly kneeled behind Simon, his hand bracing on his lower back as he slid his cock between his folds, teasing across his hole and against his cock. “The pictures you sent just don’t do you any justice, doll. Looks like you’re fuckin’ made for this.”

He pulled his hips back briefly, the head of his cock just barely catching against the rim of his entrance before he rutted forward against Simon again. Of course he’d be a fucking tease. “Are you gonna keep talking or are you gonna fuck me?”

Johnny’s hand tangled into Simon’s hair and he pulled hard , forcing Simon’s back to arch further as he got pulled up. “Just knew you’d be fucking mouthy. You’ll take what I fucking give you.”

This side of Johnny wasn’t something that Simon expected, but it didn’t entirely surprise him either. If anything, he’d hoped for it. He kept his head lifted up, holding eye contact with Johnny in the mirror as he slowly rocked his hips back against him. “I’m not gonna beg for it.”

Johnny gripped harder onto his hips, leaning back for a moment before lining himself up. “Not gonna make you. Not this time, at least.” He slowly pressed inside him, stopping for a moment as soon as he felt Simon tense up. “Breathe, sweetheart. Relax for me.”

Simon nodded, leaning his head back down and pressing his forehead against his forearm. He rocked his hips back as soon as he was ready for more. The stretch was intense, still just barely burning despite being worked open earlier. Johnny’s hands were soothing over his hips and lower back as he kept slowly pressing in. He swore he could feel Johnny up against his fucking lung.

“There you go, take all of me. Good boy.” He whimpered as soon as Johnny bottomed out, feeling the head of his cock just barely nudging against his cervix when he hadn’t even properly moved yet. “Do you need a minute?”

“Quit– stop being so fucking nice to me. Move. ”

Johnny’s grip on his hips tightened slightly as he started making slow, shallow thrusts into him. He was gentle and cautious at first, still wanting to give Simon time to adjust. Simon rocked his hips back in time with him, but he was quickly growing impatient with his pacing. With how Johnny had texted him, he didn’t expect or want princess treatment. He lifted his head up for a moment.

“Fucking hell, Soap, fuck me like you mean it.” He locked eyes with Johnny in the mirror, the look on Johnny’s face sending a zip of arousal down his spine. He knew he was practically poking a sleeping bear, but he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that he’d get what he wanted if he pushed just enough .

“Couldn’t be patient, could you? If you’re that fucking desperate, I’ll give it to you.” He pulled almost all of the way out before slamming back in to the hilt, forcing the air out of Simon’s lungs in a rush. “Is that what you wanted? Want me to treat you like a slut? All you had to do was ask, doll.”

Simon arched his back further towards the bed as soon as he felt Johnny leaning over him, nearly moaning as soon as he felt his hand at the back of his neck. He kept his face hidden in his arms and the mess of blankets at the foot of the bed. It muffled him just slightly, but he didn’t mind that.

He could hear Johnny panting heavily behind him, the hand still on his hip gripping him more than hard enough to bruise. He maintained the brutal pacing of his hips, not faltering for even a moment. It was almost suffocating. He was deep, almost too deep, but Simon didn’t want him to stop. He let himself get lost in the feeling, reaching his hand back and slowly starting to stroke himself off. He stopped as soon as Johnny leaned back, lifting his head up as he got pulled up by his hair.

“You had all this talk about wanting me behind you earlier…” He leaned down slightly, licking a bead of sweat off Simon’s neck and nipping at the skin as he held eye contact with him through the mirror. “Said all that and you won’t even watch?”

He’d slowed down significantly, his thrusts becoming much more shallow. Each movement rolled the head of his cock against Simon’s cervix, his jaw falling open in a silent cry. Johnny’s hand moved down, keeping his face held up by his jaw instead of his hair. It wasn’t comfortable, but Simon could deal with it.

“Driving me that fucking crazy and you won’t even watch.” He tapped his fingers against Simon’s jaw, still slowly rolling his hips against him. Simon could hardly think straight, his eyes growing hazy. Each roll of Johnny's hips hurt but he wanted more. It was suffocating. He had nowhere to move, trapped and pinned with Johnny slowly grinding against his cervix. He could easily get off from this if Johnny asked him to. “Look at me.”

Simon obliged, holding eye contact with Johnny until he pointed towards the mirror.

“I want you to watch. Can you do that for me?” He nodded quickly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment on a harsher thrust. “Use your words, doll.”

“Y-yes– fucking hell-–” Simon looked as wrecked as he sounded, a dark flush stained over his cheeks and down his neck. His eyes were blown out and watery, he was fighting to keep himself held up properly. He wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer, but it didn’t look like Johnny would be able to either.

He was panting hard, his mouth slack and open as he picked up his pace again. His chain was dangling over Simon just out of reach, swinging slightly with each thrust. Simon almost wanted to bite it, but wouldn’t be able to move to do so.

Johnny’s hand left his jaw after a few moments, trailing back to his hips, but he kept himself propped up with one of his arms. His free arm trailed back underneath himself, slowly jerking himself off. Johnny’s thrusts were growing much harsher and out of rhythm, his breathing just as shaky.

Simon came with a soft gasp, but was sorely disappointed as he felt Johnny pull out just to cum on his back. He let his chest fall down onto the bed once again as soon as Johnny stood up. He wasn’t going to be moving until he came back in with a towel. He could faintly hear the water running in the bathroom, feeling Johnny’s weight causing a divot in the mattress a few moments after it stopped.

“Fuckin’ asshole. If you got it in my hair I’m gonna fucking kill you.” The washcloth was cool on his back. He let himself relax a bit more as Johnny cleaned him off.

“Back to complaining that quickly?” He teased softly, giving his back one final wipe down before easing Simon down onto his side. “I don’t think I did.”

Simon tensed for a moment when he felt Johnny laying down behind him, his arm gently resting over his waist. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it. He just hadn’t expected it. He relaxed and leaned back against Johnny after a few moments. “Didn’t think you’d be a cuddler.”

“Didn’t think you’d let me either.” He could feel Johnny pressing his face against his shoulder. He was used to his hookups leaving once they’d finished up, but Simon could get used to this.

“I normally don’t. You’re the exception, I guess.” The silence went on for a moment, but Simon didn’t feel awkward or like he needed to say anything. It was comfortable. Different.

“I had fun, but was that good for you too?” He looked back over his shoulder when Johnny spoke, almost confused.

“If you’re trying to ask if I want you to come over again, the answer is yes.” He rolled over onto his back, still staying close to him but not directly cuddling against him. “I had fun.”

The silence lapsed between them for a while longer, neither of them saying very much. They split a joint Johnny brought before cleaning up properly and getting dressed once again. For once, Simon was almost disappointed when he realized that Johnny needed to leave. He didn’t miss the disappointed look on Johnny’s face as he walked him out of the house. He stood in the window, watching Johnny’s car speed off until he couldn’t see it anymore.

—

thanks for reading :333!!!?.!!!$:/88384$

#fwtomura #cod smut #john soap mactavish #simon riley x john mactavish #call of duty #cod mw2 #ghost cod #john mactavish #cod mwii

[chriscdcase95]

(We are in a radio station, witnessing Art the Clown over power and wrestle a radio DJ to the floor, while the Little Pale Girl looks on with her wicked grin.)

(There station is adorned with Halloween decorations and the DJ is dressed in a red devil costume. Art is in the process of crucifying the DJ to the floor; his muffled screams indicate he's either gagged or had his tongue removed, but he is unfortunately still alive.)

(The Little Pale looks to see the station is getting calls in. With a click of the button, the Little Pale Girl takes her seat and starts speaking in the DJ's voice.)

Little Pale Girl: “Caller, you're on! How can we, at W.616, help you tonight on this All Hallows Eve ?”

Caller (a young man, early to mid twenties): “Uh hi, I'm just calling in to see if everything's alright. Y-you guys cut off for a minute there.”

Little Pale Girl (still mimicking the DJ's voice, though there's a slight nervous edge about it): “Uh, we had a slight weapons malfunction, but uh... everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you ?”

Caller: (sighs reluctantly) “I’ve...I've been better.”

Little Pale Girl (still mimicking the DJ): “Well, tell me what's up, Tom ?”

Caller: “I never said my...Okay, there's this girl. We go way back in high school, y'know ? We used to be an item, but we're still friends.”

Little Pale Girl: (still mimicking the DJ) “Aaaand ?”

(As she's speaking, Art takes two other nails, lining them up with the DJ's nostrils, readying his hammer.)

Caller: “She's engaged, with another friend of ours. And I want to be happy for them but-”

Little Pale Girl: (mimicking the DJ) “Are you feeling nostalgic ?”

Caller: “I just...I can't help but feel something's great slipping through my fingers.”

Little Pale Girl: (Still speaking in the DJ’s voice, presses the tips of her fingers together, nodding) “Mmhmm, mmhmm, I see. I see. Tell me Tom, have you heard about the Lonesome Loser ?”

Caller: “I-I don't think so.”

Little Pale Girl: (as the DJ) “He was beaten by the Queen of Hearts everytime. He's a loser, but he still keeps on trying. And that's why he's a loser, Tom; he doesn't know when to quit.”

Caller: “I...I-”

Little Pale Girl: (As the DJ) “Tell me Tom, are you still friends with her ?”

Caller: “Yeah ?”

Little Pale Girl: (as the DJ) “And her fiancé ?”

Caller: “I mean we both met him in college, but it's like-”

Little Pale Girl: (as the DJ) “You care about them both, but you're starting to miss the good old days. Now Tom, take it from someone who knows-”

(As she's saying this, Art is using a pair of pliers to yank at the DJ's teeth. Art, apparently listening in on the conversation, nods in agreement with what she’s saying.)

Little Pale Girl: (as the DJ) “It's easy to get caught up in the past, and grieving the past as our lives begin to change. Now we all miss what once was, but by clinging to it, and trying to pull others with you, it keeps things from going forward. Today is a gift, that's why it is called the present. The best thing, for your friends and yourself, is for you to be supportive of them moving forward. They clearly want you to be part of their lives.”

Caller: “I...I guess.”

Little Pale Girl: (as the DJ) “No. You know. Guesses are assumptions of what we can’t be unsure of.”

(The Little Pale Girl regards Art, having yanked out the DJ's teeth, passing her a golden tooth. The two share a clap together, as Art begins pouring gas on the DJ's still living body.)

Little Pale Girl: (puts on a record, speaking over the initial instrumental, still speaking in the DJ’s voice) “Now you're listening to BL. Z Bubb, and I'm gonna be keeping you company right here, on the midnight shift.”

(The Little Pale Girl leans back in the chair with a relaxed expression on her face, taking a drink from the DJ's mug.)

Tracy Chapman (playing on the record): “You got a fast car/I want a ticket to anywhere/Maybe we make a deal/Maybe together we can get somewhere/Anyplace is better/Starting from zero, got nothing to lose/Maybe we'll make something/Me, myself, I got nothing to prove...”

#terrifier 2 #inocrrect quotes #art the clown #little pale girl #sienna shaw #jonathan shaw #david howard thornton #amelie mclain #horror #slashers

[wulvert]

Do you have any information about mouse and mits? Random question but how old is mits? She's really short and very adorable. I'd give her a hit even at the price of my eyes being hacked out :,)

i dont have thaat much but theyre probably mid twenties to early thirties- mits being older than mouse maybe. I think theyre super cute, when i eventually get around to ripping triptrack apart and putting it back together to be more the way i want it, I def wanna give them more screentime.

I think in an earlier post i said after quitting they make and sell handmade masks together! I think their current entrepreneurial ecapades are much more fullfilling than their old minimum wage ( sunscreen provided (mits prefers to be a catgirl) ) jobs at mt. co. I also think i said theyre married which good 4 them

mouse & mits are rly nostalgic 4 me now even though it was only 2021, they remind me of getting my first 10 readers on tapas ahah. webcomics felt more cozy and less intense then.

#asks