#is this comprehensible

[techclubbing]

how grown men on true crime podcasts feel making fun of e&d’s appearances

[its-a-seikret]

Thinking about Tifa Lockhart.

20 year old Tifa Lockhart who fears making those she loves upset and puts up with so much bullshit out of a desperate need to keep people close to her vs 15 year old Tifa Lockhart who's logic and reasoning were overpowered by her wanting to inflict pain onto the man who quite literally burned away everything she had ever known, who knew there was a nigh impossible chance of turning out in her favor but did it anyway because all she wanted in that moment was to hurt him in whatever way she could.

Tifa Lockhart being scared to upset others because last time she got truly, truly, angry she attacked someone just to try and hurt them and didn't care about the consequences until she woke up alone in a hospital bed months later with the consequences permanently carved into her chest.

Tifa Lockhart who's slow to anger because she fears who she becomes, not just out of a fear of hurting those she's mad at but out of a fear of letting herself get hurt again.

Tifa Lockhart who stares in horror as Cloud's anger drives him to needless violence not just in fear of him hurting others, but in fear of him gaining a scar to match her own (assuming he's lucky like Tifa, unlike everyone else who never made it out).

Tifa Lockhart who's body became a vessel to help others because it failed at being a vessel to hurt the one time that was what she needed from it.

Tifa Lockhart who found Cloud lost and confused in a new place and made sure he wasn't alone despite the weight of him on her shoulders because she knew what waking up lost and confused in a new place alone felt like and helping Cloud almost feels like helping 15 year old Tifa, in a way.

(15 year old Tifa never threw others into danger or brutalized an already dead corpse or pushed a childhood friend to what almost ended in an early death. But she didn't exactly have others to drag behind her into danger. Or people to take out her anger on. Or a childhood friend to almost kill. So how can Tifa really he sure of what 15 year old Tifa was capable of?

She stares, horrified, at Cloud's drive to hurt not in fear, but in recognition.

When his blade turns on her she lets it because she remembers how all she wanted to do was hurt. Fighting back would take that away just like it was taken away from her.)

Tifa Lockhart who finds such comfort in Aerith's presence because she doesn't lose control, doesn't let her emotions get the best of her, not like Cloud (not like Tifa).

Tifa Lockhart who watches Aerith refuse to fight back when Cloud attacks her because Aerith might not know the feeling personally (like Tifa does), but still, she knows he's not in control. Watches Aerith walk willingly towards the blade that has taken so much from Tifa already because Aerith might not have ever attempted to use her body as a vessel to hurt but regardless uses it now as a vessel to help others. Watches the consequences of Aerith's refusal to give up her control pierce through her stomach and pool across the floor in a new place she'll never get to wake up lost and confused in because her eyes are never opening again.

Tifa Lockhart who watches Aerith's corpse sink into the water and wishes that her friend would've acted a little more like she did after fire took her home away because she made it out bloody and scarred but alive.

[ketamiis]

ik we envision and have evidence of jasons archetype. but imagine the gentle love that comes with him. the little things, little touches, the gentle way his eyes go over his lover in the middle of the night with so many emotions.

jason pls this isn’t funny 😞

amy hi 😋 hello 😵‍💫 okay anyway im like so sleep deprived but we got this, finals have NOTHING on us (i say for the fourth time in a day)

warnings: fluff :3!! lil bit of awkwardness but its all cute <\3 , not properly edited/proofread as i was fighting off a cold and cough like i was on the front lines of ‘nam

a/n: HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL NONNIE, FINALS HAD NOTHING ON US BUT THE COLD I GOT IMMEDIATELY AFTER CHRISTMAS/WHEN MY BREAK STARTED DID 💔!!! BUT ANYWAYS, lil blurb as my last fic of 2025 and for you, my precious 😘 Hope you enjoy !!

Oh nonnie I think the same when it comes to him…

I love to picture him as a bit awkward when it comes to relationships, but a cute kind!!

Like my favorite thing to do is imagine what he’s like when you two first get together. How long it took for him to touch you without his hands shaking, to let you sleep on his chest without his heart trying to pound out of it, and to look at you with all the love he has for you without being absolutely terrified that he’d scare you away.

Letting you into his heart was pretty easy– you unknowingly crept your way in and settled yourself right into the middle of it without him realising it. It was letting you stay and admit defeat was the hard part.

Cause he thought it would be sooo easy, that he could just ignore you and go on about his day while fighting whatever feelings it was that you made him feel.

But when you started to go out of your way to make your hand brush against his, stay up all night reading with him, remember his coffee order and his favorite book, whisper little secrets into his ears on rooftops and slur over your words after street tacos and shit fast food burgers just to say a stupid joke and make him laugh at 3 am— only then did he realize just how futile his mission was when he found himself leaning into your touch, feeling his cheeks burn with want, and the way his mind couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Then it was a slow creep from there, a gentle lean into the little touches and careful way his eyes went over your face.

When you sat together it was his own hand that started to move towards yours. Trembling, calloused fingers lacing themselves with your smaller ones until your palms melted into one. You said nothing about the blush that always crept up to his cheeks, the way he would immediately take a sharp breath after feeling your skin against his.

The comfortable silence you two shared soon turned into something… domestic? Not sure how to put it, but where you used to sit on opposite ends of the couch, face to face and talk deep into the night— you started to lay on his chest, breathing in the sweet smell of him, and babble yourself to sleep while he hummed and nodded along to let you know he was listening.

It took all he had inside of him to stop his heart from beating too fast every time you fell asleep in his arms, scared that the faint out of rhythm sound might wake you up.

The sight of your closed eyes and parted lips sent a shock through him every time. His hands would grip you tighter, settle you deeper into his chest, as he tried to convince himself you were real. He likes to tell you he would stay up to admire you on nights like that, but what he was really doing was trying to will you not to disappear. Convincing himself you were real long enough that the sun started to rise almost every time.

You guys never really put a label on it, the conversation never really came up. At least not until your first kiss.

It was beneath the lamppost outside your apartment building, a regular day after he had just finished walking you home for the nth time that week when you stopped in front of the door and turned to him.

Your eyes were so bright, cheeks almost flushed and lips trembling in the cold winter air as you subconsciously leaned into the burning warmth of his (absolutely ginormous) body.

The lamplight made you glow, and the snowfall around you felt like a scene out of a 2000’s romcom.

You batted your lashes up at him, lips parting for a deep breath as the spark in your eyes grew brighter.

He knew what was going to happen, felt his mind stop completely as he watched you step up on your tip-toes and lean in even closer. And for some reason his breath still hitched, body gone stiff like he hadn’t dreamed of this exact moment for the past few months.

Then your lips met, an awkward crash as you closed the small distance you thought he would’ve already leaned into.

Your lips were soft in comparison to his chapped ones, plump and tasting like that sweet berry lip gloss you loved to wear and it made his head spin.

For a second, he didn’t know what to do. His body stayed rigid, cold and tense as an iron rod.

The snow seemed to pause its gentle descent, and all he could seem to think of was the fact that you kissed him.

But then, he felt you frown. A quiet and tiny disappointed ‘hmm’ pushed against his mouth when you felt that he hadn’t already kissed you back.

And for once in his life, he took the hint the second it was given.

Every restriction and doubt that still managed to cling to him melted away, letting go of any thought or reason as he let himself finally feel you.

His hands, which usually shook and trembled at the slightest contact he had with you, settled themselves onto your waist. His grip tightened at the feeling of you in his arms, pulling you closer with a confidence he never thought he could muster up when it came to you.

He leaned forward, head diving straight into you as he tried to kiss you deeper, consuming your very breath as you both moved against each other like that's where you belonged.

It was all softer after that, what you both wanted became clearer.

You knew that it would take him some time to come around, to feel as comfortable with you as you did with him. But you didn’t mind at all, felt no need to rush or dive heavily into things— cause as long as he was with you, that’s what mattered.

You fell into a routine over time, and eventually the hands he loves to hold with yours seemed to stop trembling. His eyes can gaze over your sleepform without his mind telling him to never go to sleep (he knows that when he wakes up you’ll still be there.) And he can kiss you whenever he wants without the fear of making it fall short of perfect, because every kiss with him already was.

Thank you for reading </3!! Comments and reblogs are v much appreciated! If you have any insights please leave them kindly!

a/n: i feel like this is so buns but i wrote it and finished it which is i wanted to do and thats what counts >_<

[throesofincreasingwonder]

Wheeler Yuta is like a girl who got sold to One Direction but then the fic she was in went on for 900 chapters and the writer started to get bored and shifted the focus of the fic to Harry Styles making it as a solo artist in the big city and now she only appears as a background character, like as the sole female best friend whose only role is to have supportive text chains where she tells Harry that he's being so dumb and to 'just ask that guy out already! ;p'. But on tell of vision.

[bifrostarchivist]

random guy: im feeling sooooo hallways rn

the distortion:

[critdoc]

Bat Child's talk about senior citizens and making social gathering places for them could genuinely be her playing to her audience. but. combining that with her saying sometimes you have to go along with the reality someone's creating (while talking to the ghost) makes me wonder if she had someone close to her with dementia that she took care of or something adjacent

[saejimaeverywhere]

Instead of fuck/marry/kill, it’s fuck/marry/make everything okay. You’re gonna heal ‘em. But… you can’t then fuck them. Got it? Okay.

Geography teacher Saejima (sad about Kiryu and amnesiac Majima)

Saejima in prison the first time (unsure about Majima and Sasai but got those rugged good looks)

Saejima in the shack (sad in the shack, but… the beard, Sae, the beard…)

was sitting here like "oh easy answer" but then I thought abt it too much uhh

god this is so nefarious. it's like the hotter he is the less likely I am to fix him lmao

ok marry chinos saejima. he's only a little sad so he'll be fine. and hes fine. we could like. live on a boat and have a vegetable garden or some domestic bullshit like that

next choice depends on what making everything better entails. liiike if hes better is he still in the shack/prison but like. cool with it? making shackjima better would need to include making majima better otherwise saejima would still be sad 🥺

who am I kidding. fuck shackjima. then heal little pooky 18-count saejima. he shouldn't be locked up he should be in the clurb with his #homeboy