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chososdiscordkitten · 4 months

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Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 7

artist: @/drakyutown on twt

pt 6 here

content: lots of lingering touches, more mentions of kidnapping, brief manipulation, Choso reads ur diary, he STEALLLSSSS, mentions of wine, Choso has various piercings, mention of a tattoo (a.n)...... I had to step away multiple times because I kept blushing taglist: @eristi @sunaumei @ex-ria @just-pure-trash @kha-0s @iluvreinah @iamboredowo @integers @waytootiredforthisss @broccocrab @ziklope @tojicvmslut @mochipip @tojisworm-5 @animechick555 @makingtimemine @keepghostly

Obsessive!Choso who saw you yawn as he spoke. “You tired?” He asked, picking up the two plates from the table.

“Yeah-” your fingers rubbing your temple. “I haven't been able to sleep all that great these past few days.” you smiled, remembering what happened. Making the uneasy feeling form in your stomach again. Seeing him place the dishes into the sink.

You stood up, walking to the living room coffee table. Picking up the yellow envelope and placing it onto the table, seeing Choso back in his chair again.

“I got home the other day to this on the door mat.” You exhaled, sitting back down in your chair. Looking over at you as his hands reached for it. Almost asking if he could pick it up. Nodding your head yes, opening the top flap of the envelope. Pulling out the stack of photos, individually scanning each one.

Raising his eyebrows in fake surprisement. Looking over at you when you recited what he had written. “Be careful who you let into your life.” His eyes snapped to you, “He told me his wife died. And how he was always busy with work. But the time stamps on the pictures-” You defended, feeling goosebumps form on your arms.

“And I've been terrified to leave my house- I feel like I'm constantly being watched.” You smiled, trying to make it sound like no big deal. Choso’s face feigning concern. “I'm scared- that if I leave. Someone will hurt me.” you continued, ‘Someone. But not me. That's why I'm here, to protect you from the potential stalkers you could have.’ he thought, placing the photos down onto the table.

“I mean- this has to be someone close to me or to him. Close enough that they know my address and what school I go to.” you rambled, seeing his face go unchanged from the concern he plastered onto it.

“And I know it's someone nearby. This-” you picked up the yellow envelope. “It has no postage, or return address. Someone came to my house to deliver this in person.” You finished, sighing as you opened your mouth to speak again.

“I sound like a paranoid crazy person-” you laughed, seeing him crack a smile. “All I'm missing is the foil hat and I'm set.” You joked, shrinking into your seat, seeing his eyebrows furrow in thought.

‘Intelligent, aren't you? I didn’t think you'd catch onto such small details.’ he thought, opening his mouth to speak, “No- No, you have a point.” He started, spreading the photos onto the table.

“The fact that someone-” mentally he was smiling. “Someone watched you with him.” he started, looking over at you as your face churned with anxiety.

”Watched you close enough to see your relationship with him-” his mouth let out words that made you shiver at the thought. “Someone who knows where you live, when you're not home.” confirming the thoughts you had tried so hard to push to the back of your head.

Obsessive!Choso who hoped you remembered when he told you he worried about you getting kidnapped. You laughed, “This is like one of my worst fears.” rubbing your forehead.

“I have no idea how I'm gonna leave my house-” You smiled. Choso struggled to keep his face stern. A small grin threatened to form onto his lips when he saw you cover your head in your hands. Pulling them from your face and pressing prayer hands against your lips. Looking over at him, a smile forming on your lips in disbelief, scoffing before speaking.

“You were right.” raising your eyebrow and dropping your hands flat onto the table. “I'm going to get kidnapped and sold-” you started, half joking but trying to hide how scared you really were. “You won’t get kidnapped.” He promised, smiling and taking one of your hands into his. Looking down and seeing how large it was compared to yours, eyes catching on his chipped nail polish.

Choso’s eyes widened, pulling away from yours and apologizing. “M’sorry- I shouldn't have-” he mumbled, feeling you reach your hand back to his. “No-” you smiled, “It's fine.” feeling his hand rest beneath yours.

“I was just looking at how your nail polish is always chipping.” His eyes looked down at his hand, squinting when he saw the polish. Feeling your fingertips drag down the top of his, gulping when you picked his hand up and examined his fingers closer. Making Choso’s cheeks flush, brushing your thumb against the nail of his pointer finger.

“It’s c-cheap-” he stuttered, feeling you brush against each finger. “It was a dollar i think-” he kept going, hearing you hum. The ridges of the chipped polish against the pads of your thumb and index finger. Grin on your face when you heard him. “I can tell.” You laughed, letting his hand go and looking at him. Now he was the one looking away from your gaze so you wouldn't see the warmth on his face. “I could redo them if you want?” you asked, seeing him pull his hands below the table.

“I just don't wanna be alone right now.” all smiles as you saw his ears turn pink.

“You're not tired?” he asked, looking to meet your gaze, seeing you nod no with a closed mouth smile. “If you want-” he murmured, seeing you exhale through your nose. Sliding the chair back and going upstairs quickly.

Obsessive!Choso who saw a gold halo around you when you came downstairs, cotton balls, small bottle of acetone and black polish in hand. Smiling when you set everything onto the table, rolling your shoulders back when you looked at him.

Raising your eyebrows, waiting for him to present his hands. Damp cotton ball in your fingers, the other holding the palm of his hand as you rubbed the acetone in gently. Choso’s eyes going from seeing your hand hold his, to your face. Noticing how cute you looked when focusing, accidently letting his thoughts fall from his lips, quiet enough to not understand what he said, but evident enough to hear he said something.

Looking at him through your eyelashes, ‘Hm?’ you asked, stopping your motions. “Nothing.” He replied quickly, making you smile and look back down to his hand. Wincing when you reached his thumb, seeing a deep hangnail on the side.

“What happened here?” You asked, hissing as you examined it. “I get nervous sometimes-” he started, seeing you look into his eyes, “It's practically instinct now.” He smiled.

“It's gonna hurt.” You warned, holding the blackened cotton ball in your hand. “It’s okay- I’ll live.” he joked, seeing your hand hesitate to press the cotton to his thumb, eyes looking up to see if it did hurt. His face went unchanged, feeling you swipe away the cheap polish from his nail. Blowing gently onto it in hopes it wouldn't sting too much.

For the first time in a long time, Choso didn’t think about what he'd say to you. Not conversing with you mentally, his eyes looking at you with pupils in the shape of saucers. Seeing you open the small bottle of black polish, painting it on one stroke at a time. Making sure not to get any on his skin.

Letting go of his pinkie and looking up at him, seeing he was staring. “Choso?” You murmured, eyes on his ring finger as you delicately held his hand. Hearing him hum in response. You didn't know if it was exhaustion making you speak or you just wanted to tease, “You're staring.” you hummed, not looking up from his hands but feeling him tense up.

“Sorry.” he mumbled, seeing you look up at him. His eyes unmoved from your comment. Letting go of his ring finger and dipping the brush into the bottle again.

Moving to his middle finger, a small smile on your lips as you hid the warmth that rose to your cheeks. Painting his index finger slowly as he felt your knuckles brush against the center of his palm, brushing off the excess polish into the bottle before moving onto his raw thumb.

Painting gently, making sure not to cause him any unnecessary pain. Choso let out a sharp wince, making you flinch and look up at him. “You okay?” you worried, face full of fear making him let out a stifled laugh. Your face fell when you realized he was messing with you. Mumbling a quiet, ‘jerk’ before finishing his thumb and blowing gently onto the tips of his fingers making him grin.

Moving to his other hand, picking up his pinkie before speaking, “When you told me you've seen me walking home-” you started, making Choso look at your face, to see if your expression changed.

If you were interrogating him or just trying to make conversation. Finishing his pinkie and dipping the brush once again, “It really made me think.” You hummed, coating his ring finger and moving to his middle.

“About?” he asked, gulping his nerves as he felt your breath against his hand. Smiling as you swiped down his nail, “Made me rethink walking home alone.” You grinned, playing coy to what you were insinuating. “Oh?” he hummed, seeing you flash a toothy grin, ‘Mhm’ You smiled, looking at him and pursing your lips as you waited for him to say something.

Obsessive!Choso who felt like he'd stutter if he asked you what you wanted to hear. “How dangerous it is-” you smiled, painting his pointer finger.

“You-” he started, feeling his heart thump in his chest, “You want me to walk you home?” He asked, making you look at his face. He let out his internal monologue for the first time.

Letting out a stifled sigh, looking back down to avoid the eyes he was looking at you with. “Only if you want to.” Making sure to keep a playful tone, painting his thumb before looking back up to see him. Blowing at them gently while he struggled to find the words to use, dark circles under your eyes as you fought off the need to go to sleep.

Knowing that when you woke up you could blame your insistent flirting on how tired you were. Placing his hand flat on the table, mouthing a quiet, ‘All done.’ keeping your eyes on him while you waited for him to reply.

“If it makes you feel safer-” he started, “And if you'll let me. I will.” Seeing his bottom lip tremble the tiniest bit, cheeks flushed and his hands turning clammy against the table. Thankful you weren’t holding them anymore.

Batting your eyelashes at him, smiling before telling him ‘thank you’. The fatigue eating away at you, feeling your brain pound in your skull. Not knowing if it was from how hard you were blushing or if it was from how nervous you were asking that of him.

“Why are you so nice to me?” You asked your voice daring to slur the words, resting your head in your hand and seeing him blink rapidly.

“Cause you're nice to me.” He smiled, feeling like he could die at any moment from how hard his heart was beating.

“No- I mean.” You started, scanning his face. “Anyone else wouldn't have come here. And I don't know anyone who would cook me something to make me feel better.” you smiled, seeing him scoff playfully, trying to look away from you.

You laughed, realizing what you were saying aloud, “I don't know- What I'm trying to say is- you're different.” You smiled, seeing him nod his head and grin as he heard you slur your words. “In a- in a good way-” you sighed, noticing your eyelids suddenly felt very heavy.

“I don’t even know what I’m sayin'- please say something.” You smiled, feeling like you had just confessed your feelings to him even if you didn't know what feelings you were confessing.

“I think- you're exhausted. And you need to sleep.” He smiled, making you sigh at his words. Nodding your head slowly, knowing if you had to sleep it would mean being home alone again.

“I don't wanna be alone.” you hummed, sounding like you were already half asleep.

“I could stay. If you want.” Choso started, hearing you exhale in relief. “I'll clean up.” He continued, seeing you nod your head.

“You don't have to-” You started, feeling embarrassed.

“I want to.” He retorted, reaching for your hand. Making you sigh as you felt more at ease, mouthing a quiet, ‘Thank you.’ before standing.

“Wake me when you wanna leave- okay?” You asked, walking towards the stairs, hearing him mumble a small ‘Mhm’, seeing you left the nail polish at the table. Smiling before standing up and walking to the kitchen sink.

Choso wasn't going to make you wake up simply because he wanted to leave. He would stay here for as long as you'd let him. ‘I will be here when you wake,’ he smiled to himself, washing the dirty dishes. Picturing a future where this was your life. He was your life.

Obsessive!Choso who finished washing the dishes, walked around your house to see if there was anything he could find.

Pocketing the black nail polish on the table, finding himself standing at the end of the staircase that led up to you. Debating on whether or not he should go up there. Thinking up excuses if you caught him snooping.

Before he knew it, he was taking quiet steps up the stairs. Noticing most of the doors were closed, walking to the one that was slightly cracked open.

Pushing the door handle slightly. Seeing you in your bed, sleeping.

‘You feel so safe around me that you leave your door open. So comfortable that you let yourself be vulnerable.’

Quietly taking a step inside. Eyes scanning the walls of your room, finally being able to see the bedroom he's pictured you in for so long. His eyes noticed you left your curtain open- again.

Closing it quickly, mentally scolding you for that bad habit. His eyes trailing down at your desk. All your small trinkets.

Taking his freshly painted fingers and moving the curtain slightly to look outside, seeing the usual spot he'd stand at when he would come see you. Smiling at how if you ever did look outside, you wouldn't see him from this view.

Looking to the wall where your bed was. A large painting hangs above it. Noticing it was crooked, taking a step closer and seeing it was slightly pushed off of the wall.

Looking down to see you sleeping soundly, taking a minute to look at your sleeping form. The urge to brush the hair from your face was strong, but the regret he'd feel if he invaded your personal space, and you woke from it; was too great. S

canning your wrist that was adorned by the bracelet he had given you earlier, almost clutching his heart at the sight. Eyes looking back to the painting, scanning the side of it and seeing the spine of a notebook. ‘A diary? I didn't take you for a person who had a diary.’ he thought, gently lifting the side of it and taking the notebook. Opening the first page and seeing the date, two years ago.

First day of college. Reading how excited you were- the first few entries were like that. Full of excitement and passion for going to school. Standing above you as he flipped the pages, finding one 5 months after starting school. ‘

I left home to start over.- but I could stand in a room filled with these so-called ‘friends’ and feel more alone than I've ever felt in my entire life-’

He read, looking down at your face, ‘I understand. I know how hard living the life you live must be’ Spending the next 20 minutes silently skimming through the pages.

Eyes snapping to you anytime you sighed in your sleep. His fingers grazed on the small wrinkled circles of smeared ink. Showing him you were crying whilst writing.

Seeing the date of the day when he first saw you, scanning your messy writing trying to find himself in your words. ‘

There was only one person who looked interesting.’ He read, with a smile on his face when he read that you were describing what he wore that day.

‘This is fate. I know it is. Love at first sight.’ he thought, turning the page and seeing you continue to mention him more often. The last entry you wrote was a week after they had paired you together.

The words he read almost made him jump in excitement. ‘I've never met anyone like him, he's different. I think we met for a reason.’ Choso wanted to desperately take your notebook, scan each and every page before returning it to you.

He wondered why you hadn't written in so long- thinking that his friendship was so important to you, you didn't need to write anymore. That you already knew you could talk to him about anything. No judgements or need for embarrassment.

Obsessive!Choso who got caught up in his own string of delusions that he began to mumble to himself, letting out the questions he thinks of when you'd talk.

Almost carrying out a conversation with you. Seeing you start to shift under a throw blanket, freezing still when you turned to face away from him. Closing the notebook and sliding it back behind the large canvas, making sure to straighten the painting before he left.

He was one step away from the door when he heard you stir awake, mumbling his name when you cracked your eyes open to see a Choso shaped blob at your door.

Freezing when you asked him what he was doing, “I came to see if you were sleeping; I know you told me to wake you.” He smiled, seeing you rest back into the pillows with a small sigh.

“You leavin?” you asked, voice groggy as you tried not to fall asleep again.

“Nope. It's okay. Go back to sleep.” he whispered, hearing you hum in response. He was mentally scolding himself for almost being caught. Stepping out of your bedroom and silently closing the door. Feeling like his search wasn't enough, he walked down the hall to the door at the end. Wanting to see who you lived with.

Opening the door knowing there wouldn't be anyone behind it. Scanning the bedroom, seeing their photos of their families. ‘Boring.’ he thought, his eyes catching a frame of you, and what he assumed was the rest of your roommates.

Smiling at how you stood out in the photo. How everyone looked so fucking boring next to you. His fingers grazed against your face as he admired the photo behind the glass.

Placing the frame face down onto their desk. Closing the door to the bedroom before making his way to the other rooms, not finding anything of interest.

But in the last bedroom he checked, Choso found they had a huge frame on their wall filled with polaroids. Scanning each row trying to find you.

His eyes catching a photo of you, smile on your face as someone kissed your cheek. Written at the bottom was ‘New Years 2021’ in red ink.

He felt a certain pain in his heart when he saw how happy your face was. Remembering back to every time he's made you laugh- not once making you smile as hard as you were in that photo.

Not being able to see this person's face clearly, the flash from the camera hid their identity well. ‘You haven't brought this person up. And they're not on your social media.’ He thought, scanning the other photos to see if they had any more of you.

But not seeing any, turning around and looking at their tv stand, a small stack of multicolored polaroids wrapped in rope sat at the corner. Thinking how this was fate, picking up the hefty stack and untying the bow that held them together. Noticing the tops of them were dusty, showing him that they didn't go through them recently.

Obsessive!Choso who slowly went through them; mostly photos that were taken with the wrong exposure or blurry ones.

But he saw how there were 5 of you. On your birthday, of you in your pajamas in the morning, of you petting a stray cat. He smiled looking at them, thinking of how destiny put these photos in his hands.

Taking out all 5 photos of you and wrapping up the stack again, placing it in the same corner he found them in.

Taking out his wallet and sliding in the polaroids into one of the card holders. Smiling knowing he'd have actual polaroids of you to show off to his brothers the next time he saw them again.

Walking back downstairs and seeing that the sun had fully set. Opening your fridge to see what you had, nothing but an old rotisserie chicken and ketchup.

Opening the freezer and seeing the pizza you had told him about previously. All he found were just frozen meals, scolding your roommates for not leaving you decent ingredients to cook for yourself.

Sitting down on the sofa, not wanting to turn the tv on incase he woke you. So he sat in silence, thinking about all the times you had interacted with him, replaying them in his mind.

Watching every smile, every word you mispronounced, everytime you muted yourself on FaceTime- like a movie.

You know in those movies where the spouse dies and they remember them laughing the whole time, in white bedsheets or at the beach? Yeah, that's how he was thinking of you. If anyone peeked inside the window they'd just see him sitting on the couch in dim lighting, hands on his knees as he waited for you to wake up.

Trying to remember what he'd do in his spare time before he met you. Furrowing his eyebrows when he realized he genuinely couldn't remember, ‘Study? No that's not it.’ he thought.

Hearing light footsteps above him, signaling you were awake. Smile on his face when he heard you close the door to your bedroom. Straightening his back when he saw you come down the stairs, grinning when he saw you.

Lips puffy and eyes squinty when you laid eyes on him. “Hiii” you croaked, walking to the opposite end of the couch he was sitting on. “What were you doin?” you asked, seeing him look over to you and think of his answer.

“Nothing…?” he asked, his face grimacing as he looked at you. Causing you to let out a stifled laugh.

“Totally not suspicious at all.” you joked, folding your legs onto the couch to face him.

Obsessive!Choso who felt the need to actually tell you about what he was thinking. “I was trying to remember what I used to do with my spare time.” he murmured, so quiet you could hear crickets outside.

“What do you mean?” You asked, brain still muddy from your sleepy state.

“Before I-” he started, knowing he was saying too much. “Never mind.” he murmured, leaning back into the couch.

“No, tell me.” You smiled, scooching over the tiniest bit to convince him. Seeing him nod his head no, “Before you…?” The tone you took made Choso crack a smile.

“Before we were friends.” he mumbled, looking away from you in hopes you didn't see the blushy look on his face. Making you laugh,

Choso knew what he did before he was friends with you. He'd watch you, and scroll through your social media. Find old middle school pictures of you. Scroll through the abandoned twitter account from sophmore year of highschool.

What he was referring to was what he did before he saw you, what he did before he fell in love with you.

“I didn't think I took so much of your time-” you joked, seeing him turn back to you with a smile.

“No- that's not what I meant.” he laughed, seeing you smile at him. “I mean I don't think I have any hobbies or anything like that.” seeing your smile fall.

“Any? At all?” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Not even like regular guy stuff?” you laughed, seeing him exhale with a smile.

“What is ‘regular guy stuff’?” he turned his head seeing you laugh through your nose.

“I don’t know-” you looked away from him, looking up trying to think about it. “Video games, sports, parties, pot…” You started, looking back at him. “A partner.” seeing his face go unchanged.

“Well let's see-” he started holding five fingers in front of him, “I don't like games-” putting down his thumb, “i'm not a jock- parties are stupid- “ putting down two fingers looking over at you smiling.

“-and pot makes me anxious.” He smiled, seeing you look down to see he still had his pinkie out.

“And… ?” You smiled, seeing his eyes flicker back down to his hand.

“Nope. Not that either.” he let out, almost making you fall back against the couch in relief.

“I'd be a little concerned if you did have a partner and you were here with me-” you grinned, “It being so late and all.” seeing his eyebrows wriggle at your words.

Looking away from you to face the black tv in front of the couch, silence filling the air as his hands fiddled with each other, seeing his pointer finger pick at the already raw gash on his thumb, “You wanna watch a movie..? Or something?” you asked, trying to make him less nervous. Not knowing this would only make his heart beat faster. Seeing him nod his head yes and let out a small ‘Mhm’

Now standing in the kitchen waiting for popcorn to finish popping, leaning against the counter as he stared at you.

“Wine?” he asked, seeing you walk to a specific cupboard above the stove, “You read my mind.” You mumbled, standing on your tiptoes and opening the cabinet door.

Seeing the tips of your fingers barely reach the dark green bottle. Hearing him take a step to help you but mumbling a quick, “I got it-” with a sigh when your hand wrapped around the bottom of it. Holding it in both your hands in triumph with a smile on your face. Placing two glasses onto the counter and telling him to say when. Seeing him open the bag of popcorn and dump them into a light blue bowl, taking a sip from your glass.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, tossing popcorn into your mouth.

“I don't know- action?” he asked, seeing you nod your head no.

“Horror?” you asked, seeing him nod his head no quickly.

Obsessive!Choso knew that if you put a horror movie on; you'd see just how much he hated them. He knew the whole ‘watch a horror movie to comfort you when you're scared’ wouldn't work. In the end he'd be the one asking you to tell him when the scary part is over.

“Comedy?” he asked, seeing you grimace.

“So called ‘comedy’ films are never funny.” You smiled, looking up to think.

“You into superhero movies?” you asked, seeing him look down with a smirk.

“God no-” he laughed.

“Oh I know-” You smiled, making him look back up at you. “Ratatouille!” You smiled, making him laugh.

“Phenomenal movie-” he started, making you grin. “One of my-” he said, placing his hand on his chest. “Personal favorite movies.” His tone was full of sarcasm as you picked up your glass, muttering ‘Shut up-’ with a smile with the bowl in hand.

Walking back to the couch. Sitting at the end, turning the tv on and scrolling to find the streaming service. Seeing Choso eye the couch before sitting. Looking at the opposite end and over to you, looking up at his face.

“What?” you asked, seeing indecision smeared on his face.

“Nothin.” he smiled, sitting at the opposite end and feeling how tense his shoulders were. Hearing you let out a laugh before taking a sip from your glass. Placing the popcorn bowl between you, knowing you’d have to reach over quite far if you wanted to get a handful. Pressing play onto the movie and feeling his eyes flicker to you.

It didn't take long for you to pause the movie to tell him about a memory you remembered from your childhood.

Wine in hand seeing him take in every word you spoke with a smile. Soon the film became annoying background noise as you heard him speak about how the red haired guy reminded him of his brother, his glass becoming more and more empty with every time he spoke.

Telling you stories of how he would have to pry them from each other growing up, and much they'd fight with each other. Soon the tv dimmed, eventually turning off from how long it had been paused. Showing you a scar one of his brothers made on his forearm.

“Growing up- Kechizu was a biter.” He smiled, seeing you move the bowl onto the coffee table and scooch closer to him. Noticing the light veins on his arm as you scanned the scar.

“And this one?” you asked, seeing a light scratch between his knuckles, “I was trying to break up a fight- and they dragged me into it. I don't even know who scratched me. But from then on I made sure that they all had short nails.” he smiled, noticing every time you asked him about another one you'd scooch closer to him.

Now sitting a few inches away from him, smiling while you reached your fingers out, grazing the light scars that littered his upper forearm, Choso’s cheeks now light pink as he watched you.

Both wine glasses now empty as your eyes flickered up to look at him. His short sleeve rose, making you notice the bottom of a tattoo on his bicep. Sliding the tips of your fingers up slightly, pushing the hem of the sleeve up. Making a chill run down his spine.

“Did it hurt?” you asked, looking at the tattoo on his pale skin. Looking up to his face, eyes half lidded as he nodded no.

Pushing his hair behind his ears with his other hand, your eyes now scanning his heavily pierced ears.

“And your ears?” you whispered, “Those hurt a little more.” He whispered back, seeing your hand hesitate to rise to his ear before pulling it back down.

Eyes locked onto each other as Choso felt his brain empty. Moving your eyes to look at his eyebrow.

“Did the ones on your face hurt?” you whispered. Scanning his face piercings.

“Some of them.” he whispered back.

Taking his free hand and grazing the barbell on his eyebrow. “This one hurt a lot-” he mumbled, his lips curling into a small smile. Dragging the tips of his fingers down to the hoop on his nostril, “And this one felt like a pinch-” he whispered, seeing your eyes follow his unchipped nails.

Dragging his middle and ring finger down to his snake bites, “And these only hurt after.” he smiled, seeing you look at his bottom lip. Humming in response, eyes blinking back up to look into his.

“I never noticed you had a scar there.” you whispered.

Looking at two small bumps on either side of his nose bridge. “That one-” he started, “Felt like I combined every piercing and every tattoo ive ever gotten, into one.” he smiled, seeing how dilated your pupils were.

“Why’d you take it out?” you whispered, your thumb rubbing circles on his forearm made his brain fuzzy and found it difficult to think of what he was saying.

Obsessive!Choso who thought you were leaning in closer to him, thinking he was going crazy. “I didn't like it as much as I thought I would.” he breathed. Feeling his cheeks tingle at how close you were. Dragging your hand down to the top of his.

“Scary huh?” he asked, making you exhale and lean back. Nodding your head no and smile.

“Nope. Not at all.” you grinned, fingers grazing the bumps of his knuckles. Inhaling sharply when he felt your fingers brush against his palm.

“Wh-” he started, seeing you look to him with a tilted head, “Where do we meet on monday?” He asked, referring to walking you home.

Hearing you hum, “Coffee shop?” you asked, pulling your hand away from him, making his heart break.

“Okay.” he whispered sternly, trying his hardest to not sound pathetic.

Seeing you rest your hand on your knee, “Okay.” you mimicked his tone with a smile.

pt 8 here

this was like 5.5k words Jesus Christ. lmk if u wanna be tagged continuously!!!!

#jjk #choso kamo #choso my beloved #jjk choso #choso x reader #jjk x reader #choso x you #jujutsu kaisen #college au #emo choso #Non curse au #sfw jjk

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vestaignis · 2 months

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Русский художник, представитель символизма и модерна, Иван Мясоедов (1881, Харьков – 1953, Буэнос-Айрес) родился в семье знаменитого художника-передвижника Григория Мясоедова. Был внебрачным сыном художника Григория Мясоедова и художницы Ивановой. Еще ребенком Иван Мясоедов начал учиться рисованию в частной школе, организованной его отцом. В 15 поступил в Московское училище живописи, позднее — в Императорскую Академию художеств. Он мало чем походил на своего отца, и никакой преемственности в искусстве не было. Все, что было мило Григорию Мясоедову, Иван Мясоедов презирал (и наоборот). Его привлекали мифологические сюжеты, эпический размах, подвиги, боги, герои — все то, от чего бежали передвижники. Художник Иван Мясоедов был прекрасным профессиональным гравером, что стало причиной большой беды. Проживая с женой в бедствующей Германии в 20-е годы, он рисовал и печатал английские фунты- за что и был арестовыван как фальшивомонетчик. Три года Иван проводит в Моабитской тюрьме, где расписывает тюремную церковь. Выйдя на свободу, он пишет целый ряд ностальгических полотен и в 1938 году бежит с семьей в Лихтенштейн по поддельному чешскому паспорту (сам «нарисовал») на имя «профессора Зотова». В княжестве Иван Мясоедов стал придворным художником, создал великолепные эскизы почтовых марок. В Лихтенштейне художник вновь попал под арест за подделку государственных кредитных бумаг, а всю его семью лишили гражданства княжества. После непродолжительного заключения Мясоедов с семьей в 1953 году переезжает в Аргентину. По приезду в Буэнос-Айрес Иван Мясоедов внезапно тяжело заболел и умер от рака печени. Ему было 73 года.

Russian artist, representative of symbolism and modernism, Ivan Myasoedov (1881, Kharkov - 1953, Buenos Aires) was born in the family of the famous Itinerant artist Grigory Myasoedov. He was the illegitimate son of the artist Grigory Myasoedov and the artist Ivanova. As a child, Ivan Myasoedov began to study drawing at a private school organized by his father. At 15 he entered the Moscow School of Painting, and later the Imperial Academy of Arts. He was little like his father, and there was no continuity in art. Everything that was nice to Grigory Myasoedov, Ivan Myasoedov despised (and vice versa). He was attracted by mythological stories, epic scope, exploits, gods, heroes - everything that the Wanderers fled from.

The artist Ivan Myasoedov was an excellent professional engraver, which caused great trouble. Living with his wife in poverty-stricken Germany in the 1920s, he drew and printed English pounds, for which he was arrested as a counterfeiter. Ivan spends three years in Moabit prison, where he paints the prison church. Upon his release, he painted a whole series of nostalgic canvases and in 1938 he fled with his family to Liechtenstein using a fake Czech passport (he “drew it” himself) in the name of “Professor Zotov.”

In the principality, Ivan Myasoedov became a court artist and created magnificent sketches of postage stamps. In Liechtenstein, the artist was again arrested for forging government credit papers, and his entire family was deprived of citizenship of the principality. After a short imprisonment, Myasoedov and his family moved to Argentina in 1953. Upon arrival in Buenos Aires, Ivan Myasoedov suddenly became seriously ill and died of liver cancer. He was 73 years old.

Источник://kulturologia.ru/blogs/160919/44149/, https://dergachev-va.livejournal.com/86205.html,arthive.com/ru/artists/31745~Ivan_Grigor'evich_Mjasoedov/works/587071~Vid_na_SanSusi, /artifex.ru/живопись/иван-мясоедов-часть-1/, /artchive.ru/publications/4134~Zhizn'_i_udivitel'nye_prikljuchenija_Ivana_Mjasoedova.

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meowzfordayz · 2 years

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delicious!

Author’s Note: HeLp Kyojuro- He just- My heart- *sobs*

delicious!

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

Word Count: ~1,200

CW: mild sexual content

Request Fulfilled: Oh! Imagine Modern AU Kyojuro whose wife!reader has a YouTube channel where she doesn't show her face or speaks and makes bentos for him to take to work. His co-workers are jealous. There are a few special videos where Kyojuro cooks (It's usually sweet potato recipes) and tries not to show his face, but his hair is noticeable, and people just know. You know that the Rengoku household have big portions! Wife!reader is basically Imamu Room on YouTube. She's so calming and makes me want to cook!

~faqs~

Husband!Kyojuro who listens intently when you propose your YouTube channel idea over dinner (sushi rice with seared tuna, thinly peeled vegetables, and crispy garlic garnish; cooked by you), because, “I’m already cooking, so might as well?”

Husband!Kyojuro who grins enthusiastically as he exclaims, “Absolutely! That sounds fun! Go for it!”

Husband!Kyojuro who swings by Best Buy on his way home from work so he can surprise you with a couple of fancy lights to place around the kitchen

Kyojuro! You shouldn’t have!, but the excited curve of your lips and gentle glow in your eyes still makes his chest expand, tugging you into a proud hug as he murmurs firmly, “Of course I should have. You and your channel deserve the best!”

Husband!Kyojuro who makes a second, discreet account—”Rengoku Kyojuro”; profile photo an adorable selfie with you; isn’t exactly anonymous, after all—when you decide to keep your face off camera, triple checking that he’s subscribed to your channel with notifications turned on

Husband!Kyojuro who researches YouTube’s algorithms so he can make the most of his Likes and Views (at this point, he may or may not account for 100+ views on all of your videos)

BUT ALSO, Husband!Kyojuro who doesn’t tell you his username, and plays the long game with his Likes, Comments, and Views to avoid your suspicion because he enjoys being called your secret admirer and biggest fan

Husband!Kyojuro who sends you a letter in the mail congratulating you when you reach 1,000 subscribers

It’s cheesy and, “A waste of postage and paper,” you huff as you poke his cheek, but he knows just how appreciative you are because of your fond eye roll and exaggerated smooch that immediately follows

Husband!Kyojuro who promises to draw a fake stamp for your next milestone

Husband!Kyojuro who browses recipes during his lunch break while rewatching his favorite video of yours (spoiler alert: they’re all his favorite, so he just rewatches them chronologically) in another tab

He not so subtly texts you links to anything and everything he: wants to eat, thinks you’d want to eat, and thinks your subscribers would want to eat (seriously: you should hire him as your marketing manager not that he’d ever let you pay him)

Husband!Kyojuro who brings all the meals you cook (obviously you’re welcome to eat them too, but it’s nice having a system with zero food waste — where you know that everything you cook has a purpose to end up in Kyojuro’s stomach) with him to work

He often wishes you’d let him pack his own lunches (as in, the literal act of putting neatly portioned leftovers into a lunchbox) because he feels guilty about how much you do for him, but he can’t deny the warmth that tangles through his limbs as he reads your daily sticky note (if he does manage to pack his own lunch, then you somehow always sneak in a sticky note)

i.e. You’re beautiful! and You’ve got this! and I’m grateful for you! with Love you or <3 or xxoo

Husband!Kyojuro who’s humble in regards to himself, but proudly promotes you 24/7

“Your lunch smells delicious, Rengoku-san,” as his coworker walks by, inhaling enviously. “Thank you! It is! My partner cooked it! You should subscribe to their YouTube!” Kyojuro beams, holding out your business card you’re unaware that you have a business card

Disclaimer: he doesn’t mean to disrespect your choice to remain incognito, but your cover was lowkey blown (at least, to people you know in real life) when he guest starred in your most recent video

You’d sighed with affectionate exasperation while editing the footage, chuckling as his longer strands of hair bobbed in and out of the frame

Husband!Kyojuro who’d apologized profusely and even offered to reshoot the video—“I can tie my hair back tighter!”—frowning sheepishly as you shrugged amusedly, “It’s alright, Kyojuro. I don’t see the harm in people who already know us knowing, well, that it’s us.”

Husband!Kyojuro who basks in your contentment as you crawl into bed beside him, giddy as you shove your phone toward him, practically shouting, “Look how popular you are!” scrolling faster than he can actually read through the comments on ~his video, “His chopping is oddly satisfying; Love how he tastes everything lol; Awwwww he’s so cute! His partner is so lucky! (the last comment referencing how he’d used the masala yogurt sauce to drizzle a heart into your bowl of sweet potato miso soup)”

Husband!Kyojuro who gently lowers your phone, pecking your nose with a soft smile, “You are amazing,” shushing you with another kiss—this time on your mouth—as your eyebrows furrow in protest, “But you were in the-” lightly squeezing your hip, “I was in the video, but it is your channel. Your creation and commitment, dedication and design. You are incredible, truly.”

Husband!Kyojuro who hums quietly as you nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder with an innocent grumble, cool fingers slipping under his shirt, eyes closing in surrender

Husband!Kyojuro who almost refuses to share your cooking with his coworkers because he’s afraid they’ll become greedy (and who can blame him? your cooking’s an 11/10), but you cook such large quantities because you want to share that he’s forced to share anyway

Husband!Kyojuro who insists on doing the grocery shopping, and doesn’t bat an eyelash at ingredients like: Blachan (a pungent, brown dried shrimp paste); Cardoon (a large, stalky edible thistle); or Gurnard (a bony fish)

He’s a regular now at your local, niche grocery stores, securing special discounts in exchange for samples of your cooking

Husband!Kyojuro who sends you a letter in the mail congratulating you when you reach 3,000 subscribers — fake stamp drawn in the corner as promised

Dearest,

congratulations on 3,000 subscribers! You deserve every single like, every single view, every single (positive) comment. I admire your work ethic, attention to detail, to flavor, to nurturing and nourishing me. I am proud to be your partner, grocery shopper, taste tester, washer of your dishes they who cook does not clean, and subscriber to your channel. I get to wake up to sunlight (your tender kisses Good morning); I get to fall asleep to moonlight (your sensual kisses Good night). If there is anyone who is lucky, then it is me. I am lucky.

All my love,

Kyojuro

P.S. If you are interested in writing a cookbook, then I must warn you in advance that I will need to buy a copy for Shinjuro, Senjuro (for when he’s older), and all of my coworkers.

P.P.S. Rest assured though! Nobody could cook the way you do, because nobody else has your heart.

P.P.P.S. Except, perhaps, for me? I hope I have at least a sliver of your heart, as you happen to have the entirety of mine.

Husband!Kyojuro whose eyes glisten with devotion and fragility as you carefully place his letter on the counter; wordless lump in your throat as your arms wrap steadily around him; familiar stillness in your bones—a safe, inviting silence of romantic ivy and rose water—as his scent embraces you; clinging to each other as stars cling to the sky — as lovers cling to each other

“I married you, Kyojuro. Of course you have the entirety of my heart.”

P.P.P.P.S. A recommendation for your hypothetical cookbook’s title: UMAI!

I PLANNED TO TITLE THIS FANFIC “umai!” BUT MY POST WOULDN’T SHOW UP IN TAGS BC APPARENTLY umai IS NAUGHTY OR SOMETHING I STG. 😭 #why Tumblr ?? #why ????? Update: on that note, here’s a lil umai for ya. 😉

#kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #flame hashira #headcanons #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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amoralcrackpot · 1 month

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As pressure from seemingly endless civil and criminal trials grows, former President Donald Trump has proven desperate in his attempts to remain a free man - from making thinly veiled threats towards judges and their families to preemptively soiling his pants.

But his latest stunt may be the most baffling yet.

Early this morning, President Joe Biden received a letter in a Trump-branded envelope with a Trump-branded postage stamp and a return address of Trump's Mar-a-Lago resort in Palm Beach, Florida. Comprised of letters and words cut out from assorted magazines and newspapers, the incoherent message therein was a ransom note from a man claiming to be Goofus Gallant, a ninja mercenary with Kung-Fu grip holding President Biden hostage at a secret fortress on the planet Krypton. In exchange for President Biden's safe return, "Mr. Gallant" demanded a ransom of $1 billion, the legally mandated return of the McDLT, and the password to the official White House Disney+ account. The letter was dated November 4th, 2024, and signed, "Donald J. Trump."

President Biden was reported to have found the letter as humorous as it was deranged. "It even came with an autographed photo of Donald holding a samurai sword and wearing a fake mustache," President Biden said at an early morning press conference.

When asked for comment, Former President Trump replied by posting the lyrics to Childish Gambino's "This is America" on his official Truth Social account.

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eucanthos · 9 months

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Émile Gilliéron (CH, 1850 - 1924)

Ladies in Blue fresco, Reproduction

The Prince of the Lilies, or the Lily Prince or Priest-King Fresco

The Knossos throne room (supposedly Minos')

This group of three women was originally restored by E. Gillieron (father) on the basis of other fragments of frescos. The facial outline of the "Cup-bearer" fresco supplied the model for the faces of the "Ladies in Blue". Excavated before 1914, Knossos.

The Prince of the Lily was assembled using various frescoes (Evans demanded results to impress and keep fund-raising)

Gilliérons (father & son) relocated to Athens, in 1877, where they produced archaeological illustrations for Greek and foreign excavators, designed commemorative postage stamps for the inaugural Olympic Games (1896 and 1906), and served as an art tutor for the royal family of George I.

Gilliéron worked for Heinrich Schliemann and gained a reputation as the best archaeological illustrator working in Greece at the time.

He became the chief restorer for Arthur Evans at the Knossos Palace. For over three decades, Gilliéron worked with his son, and successor, also named Émile, creating reproductions of frescoes and other artifacts.

Greece, before and after its liberation struggle, was a playground for archeologists/treasure hunters. Following Evans' discoveries, a "Cretan fever" spread over the Western world, thus creating a huge market for official copies, smuggled originals and forgeries. Gilliérons' prices skyrocketed.

An Odyssey History Documentaries 2022 production with the misleading clickbait title "Was Europe's First Advanced Civilization Faked? | The Secret of the Phaistos Code" is exposing the early ambiguous archeological approach, historical background and Gilliéron's talent to recreate free of accuracy illustrations and restorations, i.a.

https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/258137

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%89mile_Gilli%C3%A9ron

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince_of_the_Lilies

https://mymodernmet.com/minoan-palace-of-knossos-crete/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Phohy3fEq7U

#Emile Gillieron #collage #illustration #gr #archeology #restoration #mystery #Crete #Arthur Evans #fake

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dailyunsolvedmysteries · 1 year

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Weird Crimes in the UK you didn’t know you were Committing

Vacuuming after 1pm on a Sunday

Sticking a postage stamp to an envelope upside down is treason

Flying a kite in a park could lead to a fine of up to £500 if it obstructs other members of the public.

Knocking on someone’s door and running away

Changed a CD whilst driving

Used a fake name on the internet

Sung or chanted a crude football chant in the street

Gone fishing without a licence

Being drunk in a pub

Walking a cow down a street in daylight

Carrying planks of wood along a pavement unless there is the intention of it being unloaded from a vehicle

Gambling is illegal in any library

Shaking your rug in the street/out the window

You cannot dress up as a police officer or as a member of the armed forces, even at fancy dress parties or on Halloween.

You cannot slide on icy streets on purpose

You cannot kill or injure a swan

It is illegal to handle salmon in suspicious circumstances

It’s against the law to drive unless you’ve removed ALL the ice from the whole of your windscreen and not just the viewing area. You can also be fined for failing to clear snow from the roof of your vehicle before you drive.

It’s illegal to linger after a funeral at the graveside

Illegal to pay with your phone at a drive-through whilst your car is still running

It's still illegal to allow your pet to mate with a pet from the royal household.

#weird facts #crime #crimes #law #criminal law #uk #facts

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mrs-luigi-vargas · 2 years

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Care Package

< Prev | Next >

[AO3] | @sicktember

A/N: this fill's got a little more swear words than usual~

A persistent knocking at his door woke Kamek from a fitful nap. He contemplated ignoring it, but, knowing who was knocking, he knew doing so would be more trouble than it was worth. He wrenched the door open. “What do you want?” He spat.

“Wow, you look like shit,” Kammy said, taking in his pale face and the dark bags under his eyes.

“No better than you,” Kamek bit back, tripping over his words.

“What? I can't hear you over the sound of your teeth chattering!” Kammy cackled. Kamek winced at the shrillness of it.

“Do you actually have a reason to be here or are you just going to waste air laughing at me?”

Kammy raised her chin haughtily. “You should be grateful I'm risking my looks for this.” She flung something at him.

“Hey!” Kamek tried to dodge it; it clipped him, and he wobbled from the force. “What gives?!” Kammy had thrown a box at him. A package, judging by the postage stamps. Kamek regarded it tiredly. It looked heavy. Kammy kept staring at him with an oddly shrewd gaze. Kamek opened his mouth to tell her to get lost, but his eyes crossed and he was instead overcome by sneezes that echoed down the hall.

“Are you quite finished?” Kammy drawled as Kamek gripped the doorframe like a lifeline.

“Go away,” Kamek wheezed.

Kammy stepped past him into his quarters. “Wow, this place is a mess. Just like the rest of your life. It suits you.”

“Get out of my room!” Kamek whirled around to stumble toward her. He overbalanced and fell to the ground in a heap, dizzy.

Kammy didn't spare him a glance, examining the open books and scrolls half-filled with the messiest handwriting she’d ever seen from him strewn across his desk. “Were you working?”

“Lord Bowser asked me to —!” Kamek sneezed again.

“Always the suck-up, even now.” Kammy glowered at him. “Do you even know how to stop with your fake-ass brown-nosing?”

“Do you know how to stop your asinine obsession with being a vain, attention-seeking harpy? Oh, wait.” Kamek struggled to his feet. “We both have the same reason we don't.”

Kammy refused to deign that with a response. As she passed by Kamek to bring his package further into the room and shut the door, she watched him regain his balance and shuffle back towards his desk. She walked up and tripped him, sending him sprawling once again. “Stars, this illness is making you so fucking stupid,” she said over his indignant sputtering. “Even more than usual, somehow.”

“You bitch —!” Kamek started coughing.

“Ugh.” Kammy rolled her eyes and waited for him to shut up. By the time he did, he was lying on the floor, panting. “Are you finally dead?” She nudged him with her foot. “And if you are, I get all your spellbooks, right?”

Maybe if Kamek kept glaring at her, his face would get stuck like that. It might manage to make him uglier though, but he wasn't any competition for her in that respect so it hardly mattered.

Kammy brought out her wand. Kamek fumbled for his own, but the advantage of not being sick was you had full control of your own extremities. So she cast a levitation spell on him, lifting him in the air and dropping him unceremoniously onto his bed. He gasped upon landing, turning a shade of green and holding a hand to his mouth.

“If you puke, I’m not cleaning any of it.”

“Fuck you,” is what Kamek probably tried to say. He let out a strangled scream instead.

While she was at it, Kammy waved her wand and picked up the package too, dropping it on Kamek’s lap. She turned back to Kamek’s desk and began stuffing his books and papers into the various drawers and the shelves behind her. Kamek tried to object but predictably started to cough again. He struggled to get off the bed to stop her, but the package pinned him down, which is why she put it there. Just to be sure, though, she pointed her wand at him. “What,” she said at his affronted expression. “You going to run and tattle to the King about this?”

Kamek snarled at her. Ha. That wasn't even threatening under normal circumstances.

When she was finished, she helped herself to some of the sweets she knew he kept hidden under a panel in the bottom drawer of his desk. She also nabbed the letter opener sitting in the drawer proper, because she was nosy and wanted to see what was in Kamek’s package. (She’d meant to open it before giving it to Kamek, but she’d gotten distracted by Bowser’s brat running underfoot.)

Kamek was still glaring as she made her way back to him. He spotted the letter opener in her hand and sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Please tell me you're going to put me out of my misery,” he moaned.

Yikes. Before it was kind of funny how pathetic he was being, but now it was just sad. “If I was going to do that,” Kammy said, opening his package, “I would have done it decades ago when you were more annoying.”

They peered inside the box. Kamek pulled out the note laying on top with a shaky hand. Sorry for getting you sick, it said. There was a crude drawing of Mario in one corner and a nicer drawing of Peach and Luigi in another. “Oh, how cute,” Kammy said dryly.

She reached in and rooted around further. A soup canister, a book of puzzles, some candles, thick socks, a blanket, blueberry muffins, more books...no wonder the package was so heavy.

Quickly growing bored with the contents, Kammy turned her attention to the multitude of stamps on the outside of the package. “Oooh, they paid a lot to get this to you, didn't they? Where was all this when I was laid up last year?”

“Nowhere, because they don't like you as much as they like me.”

“We’re supposed to be fighting them, you know.”

“Even if we’re enemies, they still like me better.” He was still staring at the note.

Oh no, the illness was making Kamek sappy. Time to get out of here. “Have fun with your suffering,” Kammy bid him, backing away.

Kamek wasn't paying attention to her; he was unfolding the blanket and running a hand over it, eyes as soft as the dark-colored fleece appeared.

Kammy slipped out the door and made her escape. Fuck, she berated herself as she sped through the halls. She shouldn't have stooped to his level of stupidity by doing all that; now she was going to catch whatever he had!

She rushed straight to her quarters to take a long, hot, bath. When she came out, free from germs and idiocy, Bowser's brat was waiting at the end of the hall. She turned the other way.

He scampered after her. “Auntie!”

“Don't call me that,” Kammy snapped.

He kept following her. In the absence of Kamek, it seemed he’d decided she was a suitable replacement. For some reason.

“Don't you have anything better to do?” she asked him.

“Not really,” he said, launching into a rambling play-by-play retelling of what he was doing in the mines of some crafting game or another. Kammy resisted the urge to glare daggers at him.

Luckily, King Bowser turning the corner saved her from listening to the kid’s continued blathering, as he cut himself off to bound towards his father. “Dad!” he cheered.

“Junior!” Bowser cheered back. “Did ya find Kamek yet?”

“No...” Junior puffed up his cheeks in frustration.

“If you’re searching for Kamek, he’s cooped up in his rooms,” Kammy informed them after nodding her own greeting to King Bowser.

“What? But I knocked earlier!”

“Maybe he was sleeping. He looked like death warmed over when I saw him last.”

“Huh? What's wrong with him?” Bowser asked.

“Oh, it's just a minor bout of the flu.” Kammy examined her nails in feigned disinterest. “But not to worry, my King; whatever project you have him working on will still be completed with his usual...punctuality.”

Bowser’s brow furrowed into a frown. Kammy assuming he’d want any of his troops working through an illness was kind of insulting. He gave them all sick time for a reason! Now how was he supposed to deal with this?

“Alright: You!” He pointed at Kammy. “That project I gave the old man? You’re in charge of it now!”

“Yes, sir.” Kammy smirked, pleased. “Should I let Kamek know?”

“No, I’ll tell him.” He wanted to ask what the heck he was thinking, trying to work while sick. Also, something told him sending Kammy to talk to Kamek about this would be a bad idea. Speaking of which...“Junior, stay with the old hag for now.”

“Okay, Dad!” Junior said. Kammy’s smirk fell.

As Bowser stomped through the halls, his mind kept snagging on the image of Kamek slaving away at his desk hunched over, sniffling, and miserable. Kamek would always tell him to “mind your own limits” and that “health came before evil” or whatever, but apparently he was perfectly willing to ignore his own advice. Sure, Kamek was an adult so he could theoretically do whatever he wanted, but Bowser's mood still continued to sour until minions were scattering as he passed them.

Bowser knocked on Kamek’s door, rattling it on its hinges with three forceful hits. Kamek answered the door wearing a facemask and an irritated expression; he was met with a Bowser looming over the doorway with his arms crossed and a fierce scowl borne from the unpleasant thoughts still spinning around his head. The image reminded Kamek’s fever-addled brain of someone else, and the blood drained from his face. He coughed in surprise, straightening painfully and abruptly.

Ah, crud. Bowser forced himself to relax, putting his hands up in front of him. “Chill, old man, it's just me,” he said, interrupting Kamek's stammered greeting. Ugh, he really needed to be better at not freaking out the older folk. But even still, Kamek looked like he'd gone up against a Thwomp and lost. So much for a minor bout of the flu.

“...Right.” Kamek forced himself to relax in turn, shaking his head to dispel the phantom image Bowser had unwittingly emulated. “What can I do for you, Master Bowser? The project you gave me is still in the planning stages, and —”

“Don't worry about that,” Bowser interrupted, “Kammy can do it.” He suppressed a laugh at Kamek’s disgruntled face. He never understood what was up between those two. Still, he barrelled on. “Did you really think I’d make you work through the flu?” he asked, hoping Kamek would say no.

“No,” Kamek said, after a long pause.

“Come on, old man...”

“I...apologies.” Kamek pinched his brow. “It's...a difficult habit to break.”

It felt like they went through this every year. They even had a breakthrough last flu season and everything. “Well, it’ll sink in eventually.” Bowser shrugged. “But get some rest anyway, yeah?”

“...I’ll try.”

The conversation seemingly over, Bowser and Kamek were prepared to go their separate ways when Junior’s shout of “Pops!” startled them. He dashed down the hall toward the pair.

“I thought I told you to stay with Kammy,” Bowser said.

“Don't run in the halls,” Kamek admonished simultaneously.

Junior ignored them both. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he addressed Kamek, cross. “I wanted to show you all the new blueprints I made!”

“Apologies, Young Master, but whatever you wanted to show me is going to have to wait until I’m feeling better.”

Junior pouted. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll be able to make it even better in the meantime, anyway.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Kamek replied. Junior tended to come up with the most uniquely inventive contraptions. It was a shame he had to miss them, even temporarily.

Junior surged forward to give Kamek a hug, but Bowser grabbed him before he went too far. “Hey, maybe not,” he said, dangling Junior in the air by the back of his shell. “We don't need you both getting sick.”

Junior's nose wrinkled at the thought of it. Kamek waved at him in consolation; Junior returned it, face clearing. When Junior’s feet were back on the ground, he dashed off with barely a goodbye. Partway down the hall, he slowed to a walk. Kamek and Bowser watched him turn the corner out of sight.

“...Good luck trying to wrangle that one.”

Bowser groaned. He could hardly think about it without getting exhausted. “I don't know how you do it. He’s always somehow less of a terror when you watch him!”

“It’s because I've already had practice with you. He’s hardly much worse than how you were when you were his age.”

Bowser’s lips twitched into a sheepish grin. He did remember being a total brat when he was small.

A distant crashing noise rang out from down the hall. “Oh man,” Bowser muttered under his breath. Speaking of wrangling Junior. “Hey, I meant what I said earlier,” he told Kamek as he left to chase after his son. “Don't you dare do anything besides trying to get better — that's an order!”

“Yes, sir,” Kamek replied with a mock salute and a faint smile.

Later in the evening, there was a fourth knock on Kamek’s door. He was quite popular today, Kamek mused as he painstakingly got out of bed. However, this time it was the Young Master, so he probably shouldn't answer. He opened the door. There was no one there. Was this supposed to be some kind of prank? He thought he’d managed to teach him better than to badger the sick. When Kamek stepped out to reprimand him, though, his foot kicked against a box sitting open on his doorstep.

Sitting on top was a drawing done in crayon, clearly the Young Master’s handiwork. And there Kamek was, drawn in a bed, with both the Young Master and his father at his bedside. The scene was enveloped by tall, messy letters bidding him a Get Well Soon. Aside from Kammy lurking in the corner of the drawing, it was perfect. Underneath the drawing lay some of the Young Master’s other games, and at the bottom of the box rested a bottle of ibuprofen. Master Bowser’s handiwork, no doubt.

Some shuffling nearby drew Kamek’s attention. The Young Master was beaming toothily at him from behind a pillar, cast in firelight; Kamek waved at him bemusedly as he vanished at the sound of his father’s voice. Kamek nudged his second care package of the day into his quarters with his foot and shut the door behind him.

#please read this fill its my favorite :D #sicktember 2022 #smb #super mario #kamek #kammy koopa #bowser jr #bowser #mlv.fic

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bekoe · 5 months

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(8/8) Shelter’s Signature Symbols - The final fake postage stamp artwork in this little series. It’s our family home’s stair bannister!

#artists on tumblr #bannister #procreate #digital art #pattern #abstract art #illustration #drawing #colorful #contemporary art

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eretzyisrael · 2 years

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Shireen abu Akleh’s Blood is on Palestinian Hands

If the production called “the death of Muhammad al-Dura” is the Gone With the Wind of Pallywood,* then the recent extravaganza starring Shireen abu Akleh is on its way to becoming its Star Wars. Both of these affairs have been huge wins for the Palestinians in the world-wide arena of information warfare.

The image of the frightened 12-year old al-Dura, allegedly under fire by Israeli soldiers, became the inspiration for the violence of the Second Intifada. In the words of journalist Nidra Poller, it

…instantly ignited anti-Israel and anti-Jewish passions all over the world, provoking a wave of violence from the lynching of two Israeli reservists in Ramallah to synagogue burnings in France. In the ensuing years, the story of Muhammad al-Dura has attained near-mythic stature in the Arab and Muslim world. … That the death of Muhammad al-Dura was the real emotional pretext for the ensuing avalanche of Palestinian violence—and a far more potent trigger than Sharon’s “provocative” visit to the Temple Mount—is attested by the immediate and widespread dissemination of his story and of the pietà-like image of his body lying at his father’s feet. Streets, squares, and schools have since been named for the young Islamic shahid. His death scene has been replicated on murals, posters, and postage stamps, even making an iconic appearance in the video of Daniel Pearl’s beheading.

European TV stations and Aljazeera showed the video of al-Dura – made by Palestinian cameraman Talal Abu Rahmeh – over and over, and the respected French commentator, France 2’s (Jewish) Jerusalem bureau chief, Charles Enderlin, vouched for its authenticity – and provided a heart-rending voice-over.

IDF and Israeli government officials, blindsided, at first stuttered incoherently and even apologized for killing al-Dura, although it shortly became clear that it was impossible that IDF fire could have hit al-Dura and his father. Either Palestinians shot al-Dura or he was not shot at all. The evidence – Poller’s article includes a good summary of it – indicates that the entire scene was faked.

Despite that, neither the Palestinians nor Enderlin ever admitted that the truth was anything other than that brutal IDF soldiers had deliberately and painfully assassinated a Palestinian child, just because they could. And why should they admit anything? Virtually everyone was prepared to believe their lies, except for Israelis and a handful of Zionist bloggers and journalists.

The al-Dura story supported one aspect of Palestinian propaganda that has always been prominent – the accusation that the IDF deliberately targets Palestinian children. This is despite the fact that the truth is precisely the opposite: the IDF tries to avoid harming civilians, especially children; while the Palestinians have carried out numerous attacks whose victims included numerous children: the Bus of Blood (Coastal Road Massacre), the Ma’alot massacre, the attack on Misgav Am, the Dolphinarium and Sbarro Pizzabombings, and more.

Whether it is simply projection – accusing your enemy of the crimes that youcommit – or whether the technique was suggested to them by psychological warfare experts, the Palestinian libels of the IDF have been effective. Perhaps this is because the historical blood libels, in which Jews are accused of kidnapping, torturing, and killing non-Jewish children, still live in in the dark corners of modern minds.

The story of the killing of Shireen abu Akleh is different in one way from Muhammad al-Dura’s: the al-Dura libel required some work to set up, while the gift of abu Akleh just fell into Palestinian hands. The Aljazeera reporter was embedded with terrorists associated with the Palestinian Islamic Jihad in Jenin, where she was caught in a firefight between them and IDF soldiers. The Palestinians immediately announced that abu Akleh had been deliberately shot – “executed” – by IDF snipers. This was echoed immediately in anti-Israel media, and especially in social media, where self-appointed experts like Susan Sarandon, Ilhan Omar, and Rashida Tlaib explained that she had been “murdered” in cold blood by Israel.

Abu Akleh was very popular and well-liked in the Arabic-speaking world, and especially among Palestinians. It’s understandable that they are upset and mourning her death. But it would be wrong to accept their verdict of murder against the IDF. At this point it is not known whether the bullet that killed her came from an Israeli or Palestinian gun. Even if the former turns out to be true – and the Palestinians have refused to cooperate in an investigation – assassinating popular journalists would be extremely counterproductive for Israel. If it were an IDF bullet, it was certainly not deliberately aimed at abu Akleh.

In any event, the source of the bullet is entirely irrelevant to the responsibility for her death. The firefight happened because terrorists have murdered 19 Israelis in the past several weeks – and here there is no question of intent! More murders have only been prevented by the actions of security forces, such as the operation in Jenin. Jenin has been the epicenter of terror attacks, and the IDF was there in order to arrest terrorists who were planning additional attacks. Shireen abu Akleh’s blood is on the hands of the terrorists, along with that of the Israelis they murdered.

None of this matters to the entire Arab and Muslim world, to most of Europe, and to many circles in the US and Canada as well, where Palestinian claims are accepted without question. Palestinians and their supporters have long since decided that “the occupation” – that is, the presence of a Jewish state of any size anywhere between the river and the sea – is the root cause of everything bad that happens there. In their view, Jewish victims of terrorism are “settlers,” whose killing is not unjust; the terrorists who murder them, with knives, axes, and guns, are heroes, not criminals; and Israel’s army and police are oppressors who must be resisted by any means possible. Arguments about bullets, therefore, are not to the point.

Palestinian leaders understand their audience, and they know that strong emotions, such as those evoked by the death of a popular personality like abu Akleh, can be turned against Israel. The more emotional the situation, the more useful it will be to inspire acts of violence against Israelis. The objective is a wave of “lone wolf” terrorism that cannot be directly tied to the organizations inciting it. Social media even makes it possible for the PLO and Hamas to outsource not only their terrorism, but the incitement as well.

So the Palestinians have pulled out all the stops, with a funeral perhaps larger than any since that of Yasser Arafat. They have unleashed their friendly media, which parrots their accusations of a deliberate execution, and every anti-Israel voice on social media as well. There will be schools and streets and summer camps named after the “martyr,” and little girls will model themselves after her. She will become a symbol of “resistance.”

There is no doubt that, as happened with al-Dura, we will soon hear terrorists claiming that they were inspired to do their bloody work in memory of Shireen abu Akleh.

_______________________________ * The term “Pallywood” was coined by Richard Landes to describe fake news videos created by Palestinians. See his video, “Pallywood, ‘According to Palestinian Sources…’.

Abu Yehuda

#Information war #Israel and Palestinian Arabs #Media #terrorism

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themailcenterkconline · 6 months

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Avoid these mistakes while purchasing postage stamps

Collecting stamps is one of the most favorite hobbies of people across the world. And with some people, it is not only a hobby. But to a few people, in their excitement of accumulating rare stamps of any country, make some mistakes that can spoil their collection. While purchasing postage stamps, you have to exercise care, to save yourself from spending on stamps that don’t deserve much attention.

You should never purchase stamps or anything else in bad condition. This is something that most of us do. In our quest to buy the rarest stamps from the post office, we sometimes forget or don’t pay attention to the condition of the stamps we are purchasing. You might have been searching for a stamp for months or even years, but in no situation should you purchase in a condition that makes it useless. You should keep one very vital thing in mind, e value f a stage stamp or any other s determined by its condition.

Another mistake that stamp collectors make is they purchase fake or forged stamps. All of us know that rare stamps are valued quite high. Some people use this to their benefit and create fake and forged ones. And the worst part is that they look so authentic that even the most experienced philatelists won’t be able to distinguish them from the real ones.

Therefore, whenever you are purchasing these, be sure you do it from a reliable source of Fed Ex. You have to spend a bit more, but you will be assured only the best deal. To avoid buying fake or forged stamps, some research and find out how you can differentiate between them and the real ones. Thus, you will always be able to purchase real stamps.

#Postage Stamps #Post Office #Fed Ex

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thoughtsbeewild · 10 months

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How do people get Promotions? Some are well earned and deserved. People never question the corrupted evil ones who they had to knock out in order to get that promotion? That exist in this planet earth, where attention puppets ARE RISING UP!

Why do we throw congratulations to people if we don't really know the truth to the WHY YOU GOT THAT TITLE, that promotion, that whatever it is. Nobody seems to question that, but if you had that once in a lifetime opportunity to work along side that individual you would know the TRUTH that would be a well earned, well deserved, hand of a fucking applause promotion.

Which Begs the question? Riddle me this? How the Fuck did this single divorced mom director get her TITLE, the power?

Well she didn't work long enough for the company like us TENURE people that's for damn sure, so BITCH DID not get her title her power by working for company for years and years, not decades. Bitch got hired over a whim BY SOCIAL MEDIA selling the SLOGAN HIRE KINDNESS YA FUCKERS!

How it the evil began: lets begin:

Lets call the main hired person The king(who made it happened for her, because in this world of corruption people are SO GREEDY FOR THE MONEY, SPRINKLE THAT TITLE ON THIER WORK PROFILE, Especially thier OUTLOOK MAIL to thier peers, like bitches now a days on INSTAGRAM FEEL THEY GOT POWER OVER YOU BECAUSE YOU LIKE THIER PICTURE LIKE A DAMN Psychotic Postage STAMP LICKER. PEOPLE run to people picture like its a career priority in thier life, like people should raise omg Im so proud of my son and daughter for making this far being the thirsty person online, doing what they can to get the likes and fishing for the awww compliments blah blah blah. Truly sick of this everyday nonsense shit people do online. This is my TUMBLR COMPLAINT BLOG to let it all out and let it go...free therapy~

If your reading this, glad I got some interest or that I am not alone. Back to this evil director, in a game of chess. The king who had the highest title/power in organization hired her as an outside external employee. If you dig a bit deeper, you see on her open search work profile each company she worked for she only been there for a YEAR and some months tops. Why didn't king see this as a RED FLAG to hiring this evilness into the company? Because the king was focused on trying to get a STRICTER leader to help with the company dynamics, company processes, not really focusing on who this person really is or what talent they believed to have brought in. I blame society and people loud opinions marketing HEY HIRE FOR KINDNESS SLOGAN on thy TWITTER. One has to at least once in thier living life find a PERSON WHO LOOKS NICE ON the OUTSIDE Picture WISE, BUT EVIL ON INSIDE< Evil with intentions, sell what you want hear leader I'm here to support you, my door always open, if you need talk im free, but if you ever try to raise a question with this director, your DONE DEAL aka she will FUCK YOU UP WITH TERMINATION(fuck up your whole life career you built for yourself, for your family maybe for your kids with the loved ones), utilizing her friend supervisors/managers/ her employee friends she hired into the company to help build her self image. But its all FAKE AND A LIE, you never really know what a demoncrat leader is in politics until you meet this bitch and her bitch squad friends who was hired out of the ghetto and this is who they call talent to KEEP. Which is why fast forward with time, organization is going to fall I predict at the end of year or beginning 2024 when Reconstructing AND LAYOFFS WILL HAPPEN under this evil leader director they LOVE AND BELIEVE SO MUCH!

Investors /Sales will try to look for money that was promised. But will not be delivered. A lot of things from this director, her supervisor friends, this manager who been begging for so long got promoted by Kissing ass bowing down to this divorced female director. In order for this person to be a manager, she had to pull the strings with this female director to get rid of the original managers in order to get the manager title to where they are it currently . So you can say a lot of these titles given in these organizations/companys or so called promotions were not well deserved or as some would correct me underved titles/promotions wasnt through hard work, determination. PSST kiss ass BOW DOWN DEMONCRAT STYLE.

If we were to touch up on politics, you would agree with ORANGE MAN about living the american dream you have to work hard for it. But in Biden DEMONCRAT AMERICA, the leaders today are more about using race color card, power, title and if you dare disobey one DEMONCrat leader you are FINISHED, HOMELESSNESS< POOR, BEGINING ONLINE for a JOB, JOBLESS. Do you ever notice on social media? DumbFUCKS are rising up. The struggle is real people! It easy for dummies who dont work hard and have easy life, as george floyd brother said," they will flip the script" . The script is flip for the hard working american people.

I predicted so many things about this leader and never believed it until I witnessed it in my own eyes.

If you haven't met any humans like the one I am describing , then your not really Living that BEST LIFE, YOUR NOT GETTING OUT OF YOUR COMFORT ZONE, YOUR STAYING COMFORTABLE WHERE YOU CANNOT CHANGE....

Its like the Barbie blondes in this world, they seek thier cheerleaders to compliment them. But you get someone else outside thier normal circle, they wouldn't know how to change or deal/

The mystery will still unfold. Its all a wait time. when this director, her managers and her supervisors and her bestie for resties the director hired also known as her puppet squad will pay the price.

#evil leaders who deserve to be fired

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ourlittledinosaur · 7 years

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Announcing My Pregnancy

New Post has been published on http://ourlittledinosaur.com/announcing-my-pregnancy/

Announcing My Pregnancy

If you missed it, read the beginning of this story, called “Finding Out I’m Pregnant.”

How I Told My Husband He’s Going to Be a Father

After the shock wore off and I ceased gaping at the wonderful pee stick that announced the good news that I was, in fact, for the first time, pregnant, I set down the pregnancy test and skipped into the bedroom. I crawled in bed next to my husband, on HIS side, and said softly, “Honey, I’m pregnant.”

He stirred as my words sunk in. “Really?” he asked.

“Really!” I assured.

“Did you take it twice?” he murmured skeptically and not quite awake yet.

“No silly!” I said giving him a kiss. “You only have ‘1st morning urine’ once a day!”

The rest of the day went about as usual, with the exception of our complete distraction and giddiness. I remember my husband was working from home that day. I spent most of the time in the office with him just so I could be close to him. We both worked quietly, sharing a glance and a smile now and then.

Eventually, we could no longer contain our joy or our silence. We started to talk about who we would tell and when. We knew that it was very early in the pregnancy. We had heard and knew many people that chose to wait for a certain milestone before making the announcement to others. As reasonable as this sounded, we just couldn’t wait! This was our miracle from God and somehow we knew He had granted us this child for the long haul. So we decided to tell our Mothers. We planned to tell his Mother first as she lived nearby and my then tell my Mother later that week, as she was coming to visit. (Good timing, eh?) With our first announcements decided, I set to work creating unique ways of telling them.

Telling His Mom

For his Mother we really outdid ourselves. I created a flyer of sorts with the details of the baby as we knew them. It wasn’t much, as we only knew the month and year the baby was due. As I completed my project, I was fairly pleased with myself and how it turned out. I thought I was finished, but my husband had the brilliant and creative idea to make it look like a piece of junk mail. So I set about part two of my project. Setting the dimensions of the envelope in Microsoft Publisher, I wrote out my mother-in-law’s address, with the words, “Urgent Notice” next to her name. I also wrote a fake return address in the top left corner. To make it look more “official”, I found a picture of a business mailer envelope that had the “Postage Paid” on it. I cropped that part out and pasted it on our “junk mailer”. Then I found a “Top Secret” stamp and put that on there too. I also typed in big red letters, “Open Immediately! Life Changing Event”. On the back of the envelope, I put a small, faded, grey picture of little baby footprints, thinking it would tip her off to the contents of the envelope.

We went over to her house that evening, and snuck the mailer into her mail pile, then feigned nosiness as we flipped through her mail and said, “Mom, what’s this?”

Barely looking it over, she said, “I don’t know. It’s junk. Throw it away!” (It was quite convincing.) I stifled a giggle.

My husband said, “It might be important, Mom.” and handed the envelope to her.

She said, “It’s junk mail.” But began to open it, a little flustered with her son’s pushiness because she was trying to make dinner, and he wanted her to open this envelope. Upon seeing the footprints, she said, “Is this from the Pregnancy Crisis Center?” Then she continued to open it, none the wiser to our scheme.

She pulled out the flyer I made which contained some baby clip art, and asked, “Ready to be a Grandma? Baby Coming to a Son Near You, Fall 2016” It took her a while before it sunk in, then her eyes popped and her mouth dropped open as she looked at me (I was secretly snapping pictures of her with my phone) and said, “You’re Pregnant!” I nodded. “Oh my goodness!” Then she cried, but just like my husband and I had been all that day, she couldn’t stop smiling.

Telling My Mom

With the bar set high, I had a couple days to think up a creative way to tell my mother about my pregnancy. When she came into town, I had everything ready. She sat down on our sofa and I handed her a gift bag with the word “GRANDMA” in colorful, foam letters on it. (She thought it was for her mom, my Grandma.) I said, “Take a look.”

She opened the bag, finding one of my own Childhood Books inside. She opened it to find the insert I had made. It was another flyer which read, ”

Dear Grandma,

Mommy always enjoyed these books when she was a baby, so please read these to me when I arrive this fall.

Love always, your first Grandchild

Without missing a beat, she exclaimed, “REALLY?!”

“YES!” I affirmed.

“Aww!” she exclaimed as she also broke into tears of joy and gave me a hug.

My husband and I made other similar announcements to various family members. It was so much fun working together and thinking up unique ideas that catered to the individual we were telling.

Do you have a unique pregnancy announcement story you’d like to share?

“For this boy I prayed, and the LORD has given me my petition which I asked of Him.” 1 Samuel 1:27

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#Marriage #Pregnancy

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