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I NEED TMA FRIENDS HELP

IF YALL ALSO NEED TMA FRIENDS FEEL FREE TO DM ME I'LL START THE CONVERSATION TOOOOOO

I NEED TMA FRIENDS HELP

silent reading time — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x reader, use of foods as nicknames, childhood best friends dynamic, biting, 1.4k words

Hoshina Soshiro is staring at your thighs.

... you think.

It's hard to tell, since you aren't looking at him. Quick, fleeting glances out of the corner of your eye aren't enough to discern the true aim of his line of sight, but it really kinda looks like... he's looking at your thighs.

Why, though?

It's just a typical weekday night. You dropped by his room the way you have for the past twenty-odd years, holding a paperback book with a purple pen tucked behind your ear, ready to indulge in your favorite pastime of silent reading in your best friend's company. Soshiro has his own paperback in hand, green pen spinning around his fingers. The two of you jot little notes as you read, and once you finish you swap books. Later, you'll go to one of your favorite cafes together to talk about them. Soshiro's neat scrawl is as familiar to you as the back of your own hand.

For a brief moment you debate calling him out on his staring. But — nah, it's probably nothing. Maybe your pajama shorts are a little worn and he's just appalled you're wearing something so flimsy.

"What's up, beansprout?"

You glance up from the words you haven't been reading and meet your best friend's gaze. "Huh?"

Soshiro closes his book but keeps his finger tucked to hold his place. His green pen spins in a blur. "You've been starin' at that page for ages. You sleepy or somethin'?"

"Nooo..." you draw out the word as you think of something to say. "Just wondering if I should get new pajamas."

Well — you didn't call him a creep, but now he's blatantly staring at your thighs and maybe this is... worse? You can feel a flush rising up your body at his scrutiny.

"What's wrong with these?"

"... Nothing?"

Soshiro gives you a doubtful look and before you have a chance to retreat, he's caught you against the bed, pinning you down with his elbows on either side of your shoulders. Your books and pens go flying across the mattress, landing with a thunk and a clatter as the room settles back to stillness. The sudden proximity of him looming above you takes your breath away. You squirm a little at the abrupt weight. Soshiro chuckles, his breath warm by your ear as his legs press yours into the mattress.

"Tell me, egg tart."

He's close enough that the strands of his purple hair tickle your forehead. You know you have no chance of getting away from the Vice Captain of the Third Division in close quarters, but you wiggle half-heartedly anyway. "Get off of me, you big oaf!"

"Oh? That's not very nice," Soshiro's grin is playful. He eyes you for a second, and then he pouts. "I just wanna know what's runnin' through that pretty lil head."

Well that's just unfair. He knows you're weak to him when he makes that face. You scrunch your nose at him and giggle when he mimics you. He's steady, hovering above you, as if it's nothing for him to basically hold a modified plank pose on the soft surface of his mattress. Something about that makes you feel... a little warm.

But he's your best friend. You've known him since you were toddlers, training in swordsmanship together at the Hoshina estate, following him into the Defense Force until you hit a wall and pivoted to research instead — you know Hoshina Soshiro, and he does not make you feel warm like this.

You gather your wits about you slowly, like your braincells are moving through molasses. Soshiro seems content to hold his position, familiar grin still firmly in place. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, the careful way he keeps from squishing you entirely, even though he's stopping you from running away from the question.

"It's really nothing, promise," you say, "I just thought maybe you kept looking at my pajamas because they're so old."

There's a moment of silence as Soshiro digests this. You listen to him breathing above you, the thick fabric of his sweats warm where his legs press into your bare skin, the overhead light haloing his purple strands and casting his carefully blank expression in a faint shadow.

"Dontcha think you're a lil too comfy 'round me?" His voice comes out low, almost missed beneath the sound of your rapidly accelerating heartbeat. "I'm a man, too, y'know."

You blink. Soshiro's now wearing the vaguely amused smile he always seems to have on when you're around, but there's something lingering along the edges that sends a shiver up your spine.

Forget molasses. Your brain shuts down entirely, bluescreening as you frantically try to reconcile his words and his meaning and why is he looking at you like that? Like he wants to — to eat you, to swallow you whole — and why does he keep glancing at your lips? Do you have something between your teeth?

But, no, wait — Soshiro is a man. You know this. You've known this for ages. It's impossible to train with the strongest close quarters combatant in the entire Defense Force and not realize this simple fact. You've seen Soshiro take down more miniature and mid-sized kaiju than you can count, and he's a brilliant leader of his platoon and division. Everyone respects him and works hard to live up to his expectations, though you know he works three times as hard in the shadows.

Your childhood friend is certainly not a child any longer. One glance at the densely packed muscle on Soshiro's body is enough proof of that. You peek at his biceps tensing as he shifts above you and gulp.

Yeah, he's definitely a man.

But what does that have to do with anything...?

"Of course I'm comfy with you, Soshiro-kun," you say. Why does your voice sound like that? All... breathy and soft? You clear your throat and try to inject some normalcy in your tone. "You're my best friend! You'd tell me if my pajamas are too worn out, right?"

Soshiro just looks at you blankly. This is where he's supposed to crack a joke, this is where he flicks your forehead and calls you 'sugarplum' and rolls off of you, this is not where he suddenly leans down close enough that you can feel his breaths puff against your ear before everything narrows down to the singular point on your neck where he bites you.

"S-Soshiro-kun, what the hell?!"

"What's wrong? We're best friends, ain't we?"

"Yeah, but why'd you bite me?"

Soshiro's laugh is pressed into your neck like honey dripping from the comb. He's not... He hasn't moved away. You haven't moved away.

You could. He's left you room to move.

But you don't.

It's warm. His legs are still pressing against yours. The faintly woodsy smell of him is all around you, seeping into your skin as you shift amidst his blankets. "No reason," he says airily, lips brushing your temple as he brings himself to hover above you again. "Just takin' advantage of my best friend privileges."

"By... biting me?"

"By showin' ya I'm comfy 'round you, too."

The tension pops. You can't help but laugh, something like relief and the bittersweet tinge of regret flushing through your bloodstream. "What are you, an animal? Who the heck bites people and calls it comfortable?"

"Are ya uncomfy?"

"Well, no, but—"

"I've always wanted to bite you," Soshiro says. You can read the truth in the curve of his smile as his purple strands waver above you. "Ya look like you'd taste good, chestnut."

"That's it," you wrinkle your nose at him. "You've gotta come up with other nicknames for me, or else you'll keep thinking of me as food!"

Soshiro hums in thought. You can feel the sting and the faint imprint of teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck. Something about it makes you feel fuzzy inside, like a tv antenna struggling to search for a signal. You shift anxiously as the silence stretches, yearning for something unknown.

"No can do," he says brightly. His red eyes gleam as he leans down again. "But we're comfy with each other, yeah? Want me to inspect these old pjs for ya?"

The blush blooms beneath your skin with a force that startles you. "Uh, what—? No, Soshiro-kun, definitely not—"

He grins and it's bright, but a little strained. You reach up unthinkingly to cup his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs along his jawline and cheekbones and smiling when he leans into the touch. The knot in your chest loosens. The two of you bask in the comfort of each other for a moment.

"You should really tell me off," he breathes, tilting his head. "You should tell me ta quit messin' around."

"Are you messing around?" you ask.

Soshiro laughs, a quiet sound in the stillness of the room. "I'm never messin' around when it comes to you."

wahoo!!

monster really woke me up so maybe it will be finished by midnuight

i am very much hurrying a little faster than usual buuuuut i'll keep that in mind and pace myself :3

but literally i would kill for you so it isnt much...

a car drove by me too fast and i got scared cause i thought i was gonna die and the first thing i thought of was monster energy and then i thought "but who will finish justsigma-bsd's drawings?? who will tel justsigma-bsd i got hit by a car???" and that is probably the only reason i am here telling oyu this and not crying in a corner

ooc: oh dear- I'm glad you're okay*hug*

But yea I get the thought of "who's gonna tell xy why I'm suddenly gone??"

crwby has robbed me from potential pyrrha and oscar interactions :(( the two politest guys ever. the sibling dynamic they could’ve had. bonding over the exasperation at having to fulfill the role of The Competent Ones. robbed, i say, ROBBED.

Me drawing dumb shippy things close to bed time? yeah. So here’s a dumb dorky Dammek with an equally dumb and dorky Mallek. 

Aside 1: It’s done up based on a thing I found in the google “draw your otp” search. The one I got was from wattpad who said they found them. If anyone knows where the original base came from, please send the link my way and I’ll put it up!!

Aside 2: Am I aware of how Dammek looks? Yeaaah and I tried to fix it. I gave up because mmm profiles man but I did try.

HIGH NOON AT JULY

HIGH NOON AT JULY

E X C U S E Y O U No but really, I've always enjoyed Private World way too much, and I hope more and more people realise how gay-ahem-great it is.

Okay, there are these two musicians from the Netherlands called Nick & Simon. Their idols are Simon & Garfunkel, and they’ve shot a 5-episode documentary of them going to New York to step in some of Paul and Artie’s footsteps, like visiting their childhood neighbourhood, interviewing some people who knew or played a role in Paul and Art’s life, etc. They also often play S&G songs for their interviewees and so on. In the 4th episode, for example, they went to the elderly home where Art made recordings for Bookends, and they also interviewed some of the residents there; it was lovely. In the last episode they met Ron Delsener who confirmed Art wore a toupet for the Central Park Concert. A+++ content all around!

I missed the first two episodes on tv, and there are restrictions of me watching it from Belgium, so I had to be a bit creative, but the other day I finally got my hands on the second episode, where they take a picture in front of Paul’s childhood home, and then they also go to Art’s childhood home. Which is now owned by another family, and they could go inside, though the new owner seemed a bit reluctant to let them.  

That new owner, who - granted - is a bit of an odd bloke, starts talking about a BOX WITH PAPERS AND DOCUMENTS THAT ART’S FAMILY LEFT THERE and they subtly ask if they can see the box. 

Listen, I would kill for that box. It has some clippings of Tom & Jerry, letters Art wrote or were written to Art, job applications that he did, a diary of some sorts, and lyrics or poems that he’s written. LYRICS THAT ART HAS WRITTEN. UNRELEASED LYRICS (at least I think they’re unreleased, and I think they’re written by Art…like can you imagine if these were early S&G lyrics???). Like, why is no one screaming about this???? 

I grabbed a screencap of one of the papers with lyrics that the new owner showed and brightened it a bit. I hope it’s visible. Let’s weep, okay. 

Could this be Art’s handwriting? 

Here are the lyrics:

Now I recall, words that we(re) said

Times that we shared, tears that were shed

Sad (little) eyes, a child’s gentle frown

Silky brown hair came atumbling down

Secrets we shared, safe in our own ??

All this is gone, faded away

Bright burning love, ashes of grey

How could we tell, in the warm summer sun

Spring would turn cold, and winter would come.

Gone are the days, gone is our own private world

There are chords, too. As far as I can see, written in blue ballpoint pen beneath these words. Was this a song that Art had written?

There was more. There was a stamp from the time he called himself Artie Garr. There was a letter addressed to him. There was another poem/song that we could briefly see on the screen. I’ll see if I can make something of it.  

I died, okay. 

[ 21:18 ] “Shin?” 

It’s hard to mind the night air that bites onto your skin with chills, not when you priorly received a call from your boyfriend, saying that he’s in front of your house. In a hurried haze, you had rushed as fast as possible to your front door. Dating Sano Shinichiro is an experience full of surprises, you note. And tonight was no different, with him showing up in front of your house at 9PM, not to mention unannounced. 

He is propped up on his bike, smile illuminated by the shine of the streetlights when he turns his head upon hearing your voice. “Sorry for suddenly coming here without telling you first.” 

“It’s okay,” your breaths form faint mists into the night, pants leftover from your frantic state clouding your exhales. “What’s up?” 

At your query, he turns his body slightly, hand making indents in his pants as he rummages through his back pocket. A few seconds pass, and he finally pulls his hand out. Trapped between his forefinger and thumb, is a small red flower and it’s hardly possible to hide the chuckle that spills from your chest when he hands it to you. Although it’s crumpled state, it was still beautiful. 

“You came all the way here only to give me this?” his cheeks burn a slight fuschia when your fingers brush against the side of his hand slightly. “You really didn’t have to.” your words are genuine, he really didn’t have to go through the hassle. Even so, the gesture brings a flutter to your heart. 

“I wanted to.” the corner of his lips curl up into a certain smile that accompanies his words. “Besides, it reminded me of you.” 

“You’re so cheesy.” your bashful laugh rings out into the night, and he follows with a laugh of his own. 

“I should get going now, it’s late.” Shinichiro sheepishly scratches the back of his head. Even though you’re certain that you’ve done well on hiding the disappointment that floods into you, he’s still all too perceptive when he reaches out to stroke his hand on the top of your head. 

“I’ll stop by tomorrow too.” he adds, no, promises. And you know you can trust him when he seals it by peeling off his gang jacket from his body, and proceeds to drape it over your shoulders. His jacket provides a protection against the cold winds of the night, and your hands scramble to secure it on your body. 

“Alright, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Definitely.” he nods firmly, aware of the hopeful lilt that tints your voice. 

With that, he turns the ignition key on his bike, the rumbles of engine starting howling through the air. “And, y/n?” The continuation to his sentence is unexpected, prompting you to tilt your head. He has yet to answer your gesture of confusion, neck craned up towards the indigo hue of the night sky. You follow his line of vision, glancing upwards at the moon that stares back at you, brilliantly contrasting with the shade of the sky. 

Slender fingers that graze your jawline with feathery touches bring your attention to him. Shinichiro gives you one last smile of reverence, warm in the cold night. 

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” 

He provides no time for you to reciprocate his words, accelerating with a roll of the bike’s throttle, leaving your mind in a frenzy and fluttering heart unattended. 

👊🟣🟠🪡🧵

🚫Don't repost or use without permission🚫

im going to have a meltdown

i have to sit in a car for 3 hours for a drive to FUCKING OHIO

and

i do not have my pillow(or a pillow at all)

my mother did not grab my weighted blanket for me(i could not, as i was in school)

i have NO. FUCKING. LEG ROOM. (in the backseat btw, so im suffering)

i have the worst headache and no meds

people keep trying to fucking talk to me and get pissy when i dont respond because i have my earbuds in and i keep telling them i do not want to fucking talk, yet they keep trying

the seats are so stiff and uncomfortable that i want to rip my skin off. and i cant+dont want to lay down on the seats either

i. want. to. cry.

and we have to stay at a hotel all weekend.

i fucking hate staying at hotels.

its not my room or my bed and it always smells weird and doesnt feel right, i dont have my pillow or any of my blankets this time, which usually help

i have to share a room + possibly a bed

I wish I could run my head up against my mutuals to show love and affection

Bonk, I love you

The “robot that isn’t supposed to feel emotions gains the ability to love and while frustrated and confused it simultaneously is the most wonderful thing it has experienced” trope never ceases to get me idc how many times it gets done I will eat that shit up I don’t care. Know this about me

𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦

Past Lives (2023)

Of quiet tragedies developing into devastating losses, which break and build us all...

When reviewing the film a person put forth a critique, talking about how movies are supposed to deal with just one theme. Two at most. Three, if you are really pushing it. This served the basis of their argument regarding the limited magnitude of the whole for them. They thought that in trying to tackle the many strands of a person's identity, the movie lost its opportunity to be something great.

I feel it is this very quality, the film's genuine befuddlement of and the organic attempts to capture the manifold experiences which creates a person and makes them who they are, that resonates with me the most. The way every character is not just an archetype or reduced to being a mechanism for the plot. The people involved are separate entities. They are fully fleshed out, complex humans whose flaws give way to true maturity. Or at the very least, one's trails towards the same.

Every person has to undergo daily roadblocks, triumphs and failures which sculpt not only them but their outlook to the world at large. Such battle leads to facets of formation that construct instinctual responses and deeply entrenched insecurities.

People hold within them multitudes, and no two individuals will look at an experience in the same manner. Or carefully retain similar moments to think on later and feel emotions identical in fashion. Life altering revelations occur every day and it changes who we thought we knew.

And that is why the film is perhaps the most honest reflection of the everyday cataclysms of being. A different Nora, who never left and who didn't aspire to be a better artist, may have been Hae Sung's partner while Arthur never would have stood a chance. However, this is a Nora who does leave, who does have great ambitions, and who does not cry anymore over every little thing because no one cared enough to ask. But Arthur does. And it just makes Nora breaking down in his arms in the end so much more poignant.

Hae Sung may have been a past left behind. And of course she is allowed to be nostalgic about it. Grieve the loose ends and the could-have-beens and if-onlys. But Arthur is still there and trying and Nora can finally be not only the person the world made her into, but also the one she was... before society turned her more malleable yet rigid in the same breath.

Moaning a life which could have been. While living a life that actually is.

I love the poster in this post especially more in light of such a discourse.

Hae Sung is not only a person but a phantom of Nora's past. Of a time she is not sure what to make of anymore. It's gone, yet is also there still. Almost like a piece of her own self she forgot about in the attic, but couldn't let go of entirely.

Maybe it is an incomplete exploration. And maybe, in trying to embody the whole of one human's existence, its fragmentary treatment of themes and lack of closure produced an almost-masterpiece.

Isn't that everyday life though? A work of progress and a work of art. Simultaneously.

Sonder hurts my brain often, but it's also a wonderful thing. And...

I am in awe of this movie and the way it hints at how the many events which turn a person pliable occur almost every second. There are millions and billions of people on our Earth. Many of whom are tackling life-altering decisions right now and are being made into the person we might someday meet.

If you are reading this, then we have at least shared a few decades of In-Yun.

Fate. Providence. Destiny. Kismat.

Or just plain dumb luck.

Whatever it may be... Here's to hoping for more of the same!

raaaaaaaa insanity continues

march7th wallpaper yippieiei

Not A Complaint

jesse mccartney's "beautiful soul" just came up on my killers pandora station and i did not think that happened 

Tehee. @venomous-qwille's Sol from palooza stream <3

ID by @starryeyed-queer