to pretty should be banned

(Sort of a) Acorn Press Acrylic Charm Review

Yoooo~~~~ my acrylic charms came today during a snowstorm and I totally did not expect it XDDD I thought the storm was going to delay it for sure. Kudos to USPS delivery guy (stay warm and stay safe man). It really made my day ヾ(*´∀`*)ノ

Here are the references for my Yuri on Ice and Overwatch characters charm set. I will be selling these at future cons and events. So check out my con schedule if you’re interested in purchasing them! I will probably sell them online for leftovers. I don’t have a store yet (as of 2/9/17) so check back on my tumblr or other social media (or you can message me) for updates!

Also, I find it super funny that overwatch and YOI characters came during a BLIZZARD, COLD and ICY day (no pun intended lol) 

They look super nice thanks to @acornpress ! I would highly recommend them if you are interested in selling acrylic charms for cons/online in the future. This is my first time ordering acrylic charms so take my words with a few grains of salt. Also I’ll be rambling all over the place and spamming run-ons so be aware :P

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you know people seem to be really heated on this “fidget” thing.. and i think it’s definitely a discussion to be had.. about how shit’s been treated as a fad or just kids playing with toys.. and also how it is pretty serious how shit got banned… but…

maybe we should also make this all about.. idk… normalising and destigmatising autistic behaviour explicitly…? maybe addressing that sort of stigma.. rather than like being so focused on validating allistics and nts in general….

like maybe we should have a priority there? i don’t feel like nts should be coddled here.

konungarike  asked:

Hello! You don't know me, but I found you when researching P5. I loved P3 and P4 when I first played them, but replaying them + PQ really soured me on them. The sexism, homophobia and transphobia in them really made me resent the games. I wish asks weren't so limited so I could tell you what specifically bothered me. Would you mind talking about these issues in P5? How often it comes up, the severity of it, and such? It would mean a lot to me. Sorry and thank you. 👋🏻

Aaah… the sexist and homophobic jokes, yes… to be honest this is one of the most toxic things and for me is the worst flaw in the series (and I talk a lot about this with my mutuals, like seriously what happened with Atlus).

First of all, I love those games with all my heart, but I’m not blind of it’s flaws. 

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If Izaya had a crush on Shun (1)
  • Shun: Izaya-kun!
  • Izaya: ...
  • Shun: Izaya-kun?
  • Izaya: (What the fuck so pretty how is he not a girl I’m no longer the prettiest guy)
  • Shun: Izayaaa-kuun!
  • Izaya: (How is this even legal, I should convince authorities to make a law that bans pretty boys. There should be a limit to how pretty a man can be – oh he’s talking to me)
  • Shun: Are you alright, Izaya-kun?
  • Izaya: Shun-chan, I know you’re an idol but I’m not your fangirl, you know? There’s no need to shine so brightly around me. If you could turn your blinding smile down a notch, I would appreciate it greatly.
  • Shun: Ah, sorry sorry~like this? ☆
  • Izaya: (It just got brighter…)
  • -------
  • Shizuo:
  • Hajime:
  • Shizuo:
  • Hajime: …It’s rude to stare.
  • Shizuo: …Ah, sorry.
  • Hajime: …What do you want?
  • Shizuo: You seem pretty strong.
  • Hajime: …What of it?
  • Shizuo: Well it’s the first time I’ve seen someone who can break down a wall like me
  • Hajime: I didn’t mean to break down the wall. I was angry.
  • Shizuo: Really? I get that feeling. Do you always break things when you’re angry too?
  • Hajime: Not really. I don’t get angry often. But I can get violent when I get annoyed.
  • Shizuo: Me too.
  • Hajime: …I really don’t get angry often…it’s all because of that ‘Izaya-kun’…
  • Shizuo: …That shitty flea?
  • Hajime: You know him?
  • Shizuo: Know him…that shitty flea? That bastard…he hasn’t been sending gangs after me for a week, he must be up to something…I’M GONNA KILL HIM! *breaks down opposite wall*
  • Hajime: …Do you practice ancient martial arts?
  • Shizuo: Huh?
  • -------
  • Shun: Anyway Izaya-kun, I’ve asked my members for recommendations of hotpot places so we can go have hotpot again next time!
  • Izaya: Is that a date – I mean, that would be great.
  • Shun: But now! Did I tell you?! There’s a limited, once in a life time SUPER limited merchandise promotion for TsukiPARA! Do you know what that means, Izaya-kun?!
  • Izaya: That it’s not a date?
  • Shun: Eh? Ehehehe~Izaya-kun~if you like me so much I can go on a date with you whenever~but my heart belongs to Hajime! HA~JI~ME!♪ Today, my heart felt torn between the real Hajime and chibi Hajime! Hajime wanted to go out with me – ME, SHIMOTSUKI SHUN! BUT! Today is the only, ONLY day of the special limited merchandise promotion for CHIBI WOLF HAJIMEEEEEEE! And because I have been such a faithful customer of the game made for fans because I’m Hajime’s biggest fan, I HAVE A SPECIAL TICKET! THAT MEANS I DON’T NEED TO STAND IN LINE AND I HAVE ALREADY BEEN ABLE TO RESERVE THE CHIBI WOLF HAJIME PHONE STRAP AND – IT’S MINE! CHIBI WOLF HAJIME WILL BE MINE IN REAL LIFE KYAAA HE’S SO CUTEEEEE SO LET’S GOOOOOOOO, IZAYAAAA-KUUUN!
  • Izaya: (I couldn’t even get a word in)

anonymous asked:

possessive enjolras, maybe?

Got carried away again.

The thing is, he should have expected this.

Grantaire has never kept quiet about his numerous affairs. In fact he’s been loud, more than a little loud and obnoxious about them to the point that his friends would laugh and tease him, unable to believe all of his stories. Enjolras didn’t know why they didn’t, in fact he’d never really bothered to question them, as he now realized that their behavior eased his mind a bit. Only Jehan and Eponine seemed to keep oddly quiet, and it had never occurred to Enjolras that they knew something more about it, not until he realizes that they’re the only ones not gaping at the girl Grantaire is dancing with tonight. Because the rest of his friends are. Gaping.

Not gaping at the fact that Grantaire is dancing because of course Grantaire is dancing. As far as Enjolras is concerned he can get witty and funny and he is so clever, when he is not drunk –which admittedly he is not much. Yet. And he has the bluest eyes in the world. It’s like, a really hypervibrant blue that sort of makes Enjolras dizzy in a horribly frustrating way, like a LED light only softer. And weirder. Like they’re not transparent, he can’t see through them. And it’s frustrating him so much. And he paints. And fences. And dances, and boxes. All of which do show with that tight black t-shirt he’s wearing. Yes, even the painting part because his t-shirt is paint-stained. Who the fuck wears a paint-stained t-shirt at a bar? That’s so fucking pretentious!

No, they’re not gaping at the fact that Grantaire is dancing. Neither are they gaping at the girl Grantaire is dancing with. She sure is considered conventionally pretty, with her stupid blond curls and her stupid blue eyes and her stupid white skin -seriously who has blond curls and blue eyes and white skin… oh. Oh. Shit.

Yeah.

That makes it even worse for Enjolras who’s feeling really strange right now, like he’s a bit sick only not exactly, it’s a particularly unpleasant tightness in his stomach, and his cheeks are prickling with warmth, his throat feels as if he’s trying to swallow cotton balls. Because everyone’s actually gaping at the way Grantaire is dancing. Which is pretty ridiculous and sinfully unnecessary and should probably be banned. Why the hell is he swinging his hips like that in those jeans and is his shirt so tight and where had those tattoo sleeves been all this time there’s literally so much color and his hands are on her hips and she looks fucking ecstatic of course she does and she runs her hands down her chest and this is just disturbing.

“Enjo are you okay?”

He turns at Courfeyrac without really looking and he really doesn’t like the tone of his voice. “Yes,” he says loudly enough to be heard through the loud music which always makes him awkward, as do the dancing people around him because he really can’t sway to the beat to save his life. “Who’s that girl dancing with R?” he asks quite absent mindedly.

“I don’t know,” Courfeyrac shrugs his shoulders, “she’s hot though.”

“Yes,” states Enjolras, matter-of-factly though he doesn’t really know what he’s replying at, “he’s dancing though.”

Courfeyrac lets a chuckle, ruffling Enjolras’ hair before turning away. “Not my division!”

His eyes furiously search for them in the crowd and he soon finds them again, only now they’re resting against the bar, visibly sweaty and short of breath and laughing heartily at something that must be so fucking funny indeed. And he throws his head back and laughs and Enjolras can see the sheen of sweat glimmering on the curve of his neck and it’s as if he can hear his laughter in his ears, loud and obnoxious and disturbing and suddenly Enjolras is angry, he doesn’t know how or why but he’s furious because how dare he. He needs Combeferre, he knows he does, so he just elbows and excuses his way through the crowd in the middle of which he didn’t want to be in first place until he takes a glimpse of his best friend, chatting vividly with Bahorel, Joly and Bossuet. Demandingly enough he clutches on his sleeve and pulls it until he drags his attention and Combeferre returns to stare at him with genuine surprise. “Yes, Enjolras?” he asks.

“I don’t like her intentions,” he says seriously, his brow furrowed.

“Whose intentions?” Combeferre asks, looking fairly puzzled but soon he follows Enjolras’ gaze and understands. “Oh,” he says softly, “I’m afraid I’m failing to understand.”

“Her intentions about Grantaire. He’s a member of our group. A quite important one.” That might not be entirely true. “And I don’t like her intentions about him.”

Combeferre reaches for Enjolras’ arms and squeezes it comfortingly. His voice is patient. “What can her intentions possibly be? And how would you know them?”

“I know them, it’s the cheekbones,” Enjolras insists and he’s more than thankful that Combeferre doesn’t really question his life choices and decisions right now. “They’re douche-y cheekbones. She wants to use him.”

“Hate to break it to you but you have pretty similar, prominent cheekbones,” Combeferre raises an eyebrow, patting his friend’s shoulder. “Now, no one can use Grantaire, he’s an adult more than capable to take care of himself and do whatever he wants!” the slight sharpness in his friend’s voice somehow riles Enjolras up even more.

“He’s drunk! Drunk means no consent and consent is important Combeferre!”

“In all honesty my friend you seem drunker than Grantaire right now.”

At that very point Enjolras realizes his friends are there and staring, and before he’s able to protest because nobody seems to understand the problem in Grantaire’s actions, Joly hands him a glass of something he can’t really identify. “Drink this,” he says solemnly, “it’s good for the heart.”

And for some reason, he doesn’t know why, he ends up drinking it. And soon Jehan is cooing at him and giving him more glasses which taste horrible and make his nose scrunch up and Bahorel helps him when he’s in need for more because Bahorel is a good friend and Jehan is a good friend and they’re all really good friends and they need to know that alcohol means no consent and his friends know the importance of consent.

A few minutes… hours – somethings later he might be more than a little drunk and he’s still standing there only Grantaire is not just laughing, no. Grantaire is leaning forward and she’s whispering something in his ear and his eyes are shut in a peaceful state of ecstasy. Enjolras can’t help but imagine the way how warm his breath is going to feel on her skin and suddenly his own cheeks are prickling with warmth because he realizes with how many people Grantaire has been intimate with in the past and Enjolras just doesn’t know, Enjolras just never saw, he imagines other hands running over the muscles of his chest, feeling the rhythmical beat of his heart, he imagines other teeth digging slowly in that hollow between his collarbones, he imagines nails tracing between his shoulder blades, lips brushing against those chapped ones, a tongue tasting all the different colors from his tattoos and suddenly he can’t take it anymore, he can’t bear to imagine Grantaire crying a name that isn’t his, he needs to stop this because his insides are boiling and he’s cringing with every thought and his hands are shaking, so he just crosses the room and finds himself at the bar, tapping Grantaire’s shoulder. The man turns around, looking rather surprised to see him, but it’s the girl on whom Enjolras’ attention is turned and he really can’t dislike her because nothing is her fault but at the moment he really does hate her, as he hates every other faceless person who ever dared to lay a hand upon that man standing just next to him, smelling of smoke and whiskey and paint. “Hey hi, how are you?” he gives her a creepy huge smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, taking her hand and shaking it frantically. “Yes it’s spectacular to meet you too but a family emergency has occurred, I just don’t know for whose family yet, and I need to take Grantaire from you for a while, okay? For like, ten minutes. Or sixty six years. It’s no big deal, he’ll be back soon. Or maybe he won’t.” The girl opens her mouth, probably to ask what the hell is going on but Enjolras holds up a hand and tuts. “See that guy over there? The one with the bowtie, next to the overdressed awkward freckled lanky dude? Now you see, the bowtie guy is an excellent dancer. And kisser. And I have heard from several of my friends that he’s excellent at blowjobs,” he scrunches up his face in concentration, as the girl stares at them absurdly. “Well maybe that piece of information isn’t exactly helpful to you, I know how you feel it never felt helpful to me either, we’ve been friends since kindergarten you see. Anyway, go and say hi, okay?” and with that, he grabs Grantaire’s wrist and drags him at the door of the bar.

“What the actual fuck was that?” the dark haired man asks, obviously shivering when they get out of the bar as he’s still in nothing but his –entirely too tight- t-shirt.

“I didn’t like the way she was looking at you,” Enjolras slurs, “as if you belonged to her.”

“Excuse you, I don’t belong to anyone,” Grantaire protests, positively offended. “What was that little show…”

“I mean, you could belong to other people! That would be okay!”

“Are you deliberately being an asshole or is this your natural state?” snaps Grantaire. “Let me repeat myself, I never gave the right to anybody to believe they own me.”

“I’m sorry,” murmurs Enjolras, taking off his jacket and throwing it awkwardly over Grantaire’s shoulder. “Sorry, I… Joly gave me some drink. Said it was good for the heart. It isn’t, you see. Because my heart’s doing a funny little thing right now,” he lets a small hiccup, taking Grantaire’s hand and pressing it on his chest. “See?”

“Oh God Enjolras,” sighs Grantaire, looking quite flustered. “You’re really fucking messed up. “If I get Joly…”

“No really, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you can belong… I mean, not in that way, no one is no one’s possession, we are ourselves’ people… or something. Oh God make the street stop spinning…”

Grantaire grabs Enjolras’ arms and fixes his eyes in his own and God they’re so blue…

“You could be mine… if you wanted to. And I could be yours, I have no problem with that. And you could still be yours. But I would very much want you to be mine. And I got angry, you know,” the blonde pouts. “I could not tolerate this.”

“Enjolras what the fuck-?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Wait – what?”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says formally, straightening his posture and fixing his jacket around Grantaire’s shoulders, as if he’s suddenly sobered up. “Do I have the consent to kiss you, and claim those lips of your own mine while your personality, ideas and choices still remain your own and your own only?”

Grantaire is just standing there gaping. And a little more. Until Enjolras furrows his brow and presses his lips to a thin line, looking ever so serious about this while half-slurring “because consent is important, and right now kissing you seems like kinda really important too so I figured out important things go together.”

And just then, Grantaire presses his lips on those full pouty red ones, fingers thrown in those blond locks.

Grantaire breaks the kiss just to mutter “I’m yours, you ridiculous human being”, and Enjolras spends the rest of the night smiling against his lips.