bUT U GUYS

please consider my proposal for wbb season 3: panda starts dating charlie. all of the lighthearted jokes about panda not being able to get a girlfriend are replaced by lighthearted jokes about nobody believing that panda’s boyfriend is real because the only “evidence” he has is his brothers’ (ie. biased, unreliable) eyewitness accounts, and all of the pictures he has look like this

A ‘NO-SENPOI’ WEEK

sO I talked to @little-noko on alaina-se- ALAINA’S STREAM yesterday.. I know Noko-oooooo— Rly hate it when I call her ‘senpoi’ n all- But i feel like- like- THIS IS SO HARD MAN- But I also get what she mean- callin your ‘senpoi’ with no ‘senpoi’ is actually givin a huge impact with ur confidence- even If I know all of this just for a joke-

SOOOOOOO

I WANT TO CHALLENGE MYSELF; FOR A ‘NO-SENPOI’ WEEK!

I WON’T BE CALLIN ANY OF MY SENPOI ‘SENPOI’ FOR THE WHOLE WEEK!

YEA THAT MEANS U ALAINA-S– CQ! JAKEI!! ROUGE!! SKIE!! JOKU! MISSMELON! SWEETP- SUGAR!!! RAHAF! YOUMNA! SHIBE- BYU- ETC ETCCC

#HOLY SHT THAT WAS HARD

YEA NOT EVEN BULLSHTING ABOUT DENYING N SCREAMING WHEN PEOPLE CALL ME ‘SENPOI’! THIS IS A FULL BLOWN NARCISTIC WEEK FOR ME! #SHOT

The purpose of this week is to burst my confidence! and HOPEFULLY I can actually call them by that name w/ no ‘senpoi’ permanently……HOPEFULLY..

I’m still gonna deny when people calls me senpoi after this week is over tho

OK W/O FURTHER ADO- THE ‘NO-SENPOI’ WEEK STARTS

NOW

3

random idea: the red dwarf crew crashlands on Risa (the “pleasure planet” from tng) and then they stay there for a vacation and rimmer still can’t have fun bc he’s rimmer :’D

nameless crossroads demon, true form + humanoid glamour. i love this awful mouth man.

I was super duper inspired by @hashtagartistlife​ and @missthornbirds​‘ snippets of writing ;v; It made me realize I have way too many of those myself so here’s a little post about them! Some of these are from stories that will come to life…someday. Some of these won’t, but I still like them, so here they are!! 

Err, part 1?: 


The wedding is planned for the summer, you tell me over swathes of chiffon on the coffee table, and I can taste dreams in the lemon curd on my spoon; mine and yours. Do you know, some of them broken about the edges?

And some of them, Inoue-san–

Some of them are blooming.

 I put the spoon down. You trace the outline of a wedding dress. “You’re going to have so much fun with this, Ishida-kun…”

I’m happy for you; You never could’ve been a winter bride, Inoue-san.


Your best friend has a soul so wild, they call him a stray; the children you grow up with turn to boys turn to men turn to headstones in the ground and your best friend gives you a name.

Your best friend calls you a star and looks at you like you’re more far than near and more light-stranger than dear-friend. He sets you up like a goalpost and calls the man you call brother his moon and you think, this is cannot be it.

The silence between you stretches.

Comets fall to the ground.

Meteors crash into air.

Stars burn out.

The man you call brother is so cold and marble-stiff that hey might as well carve cherubs out of him. You think; you can carve softness out of stone but not stone out of softness.

 The man you call brother calls you his promise and promises you nothing and holds you up at honor’s alter as sacrifice. Amen. Amen–

You forgive him. You forgive blindness.

(You carve ivory out of porcelain, steel out of ivory.)

The man you call teacher; the man you think you can love given the chance–no, the man you’ve come to love– is the ocean. You want to drown in him sometimes, but venus walks out of him like a sunrise and you fall to her feet instead. You want to say, teach me, you are beautiful.

It is too late.

The ocean dries saving you. Venus falls to the ground.

(You are alone.)

The man you call brother turns away. The man you called friend never thinks to look.

They call you a goddess of death; ironic, you think. The one thing you have power over is the one thing that never comes for you. You envy the humans. You envy their world; so fleeting, that even the rain stops–

(The rain hasn’t stopped yet.)

 You meet a boy that year and he saves you–you save him first and he never forgets and he saves you– you meet a boy with a hurricane for a heart and the sun for a soul–you’ve never met anyone with the sun for a soul before.

He burns so bright you’re scared that someday, you’ll look too close and he’ll blind you.


 Kanae does not understand the colourful bioscopes,the movie theatre romances Masaki sighs about. Kanae does not understand the rose-paparback flush on her friends’ cheeks. Kanae does not understand; love is a given.

Love has come to her in the certainty that other things seldom have.

Love has never been up for debate like everything else has been. It’s clear to her the way only the simplest of things can be. The sky is blue. The sun rises in the east. Her name is Kanae Katagiri. She is in love with Ishida Ryuuken.


Orihime Inoue falls in love for the first time when she’s 15, and it’s that kind of world-slowing, show-stopping love. The kind you see on glitzy theatre and read about in too-mature books and Orihime thinks, this is it, this is it–

(The fall-out almost breaks her.)

Orihime Inoue falls in love for the second time when she’s 18, and this one is the sort that makes her think if all first-loves are like that; like falling into the waterlogged dreams of some rose-stained, polaroid faraway–

There’s no fall-out this time around. Just a fall-in that feels more like drifting off into something that feels like the future.