#see this

[0-im-random-idk-0]

Just letting Blue Cream and Vanilla Bean meet Eyeish Blue/Eyeish Blue Camellia (Shadow milk and Camellia's daughter/ 1 of my crk ocs)

@asknillamilkfam

[lipsstains]

I love Rumi sm guys

But Rumi with angst? Yk what hell yeahh

Tired!Rumi x Tired of Rumi’s bs!Reader

She’s been on Huntr/x World Tour for half of the year, finally, after their last concert they decide to take a hiatus.

Except—well, you know who.

You have been living with them for almost a year, you were. One of Zoey’s friends in America and decided to move to Korea, but it was hard to find a place to stay. So now, you live with them, with an incredible view of the city of Seoul from the windows.

Rumi is the leader, she very much acts like it too. Mira and Zoey always pointed out how she just can’t seem to relax for more than five minutes, Rumi was always doing something either in the house or just running errands. She worked until someone forced her to actually go to bed.

She didn’t complain, ever. It made you think if Rumi thought that’s how she could get people to like her, acts of service and acting like nothing is wrong. Like it’s not taking a toll on her, like she been doing this since the day she was born.

You see the way Mira and Zoey glance at each other when Rumi randomly cleans the house or insists on going to meetings with their manager, Bobby, even though it was unnecessary. You notice, you all do.

You weren’t super close with Rumi, definitely more than roommates but she didnt seem to know you well because she was never giving herself a break.

Control freak?

Maybe, possibly.

Or is it such a habit she doesn’t realize it’s abnormal?

She’s doing it again.

Zoey and Mira already asleep by the time Rumi comes home, midnight, almost one. You groggily get out of bed when you smell the scent of food, knowing it was her.

It’s scary how she never acts tired, she’s..cheerful, even.

You just lean against the doorway, almost slipping on your pajamas. You yawn, she turns her head to see you. She smiles softly, her long purple hair still in her unique messy braid, she looks at your figure before turning back to the lazy ramen she was boiling.

“I promise, this will actually be the last time.”

She said that last time, and the other last time, and the time before that.

This was the fourth time this week, she only skipped a day because Mira forced her home before it was too late like tonight.

You sigh, almost grumbling before walking over to the stove and leaning against the counter next to Rumi and the stove. She barely turns her head to look at you again. She oblivious that everyone is starting to get annoyed of this, maybe sometimes she realizes she may have overdone a day or two.

You tilt your head slightly to look at her side profile and the noodles still boiling as she stirred. Studying her without saying anything made her look at you again, side eyeing you.

"What?"

Her voice is soft and gentle, almost like a whisper, she tilts her head a little more so she can fully see your face, she has no idea why you're staring at her. Or does she? Is there something on her face? She mentally checks what she had eaten earlier, hoping there wasn't any sauce or anything on her lips or teeth.

You don't say anything, she waits patiently, wondering if you're okay. Maybe you're sleep talking, she shrugs, continuing to stir the noodles gently, she watches the bubbles slowly rise to the top before popping.

"You want some?"

She asks, gesturing towards the pot of ramen. Her voice is still soft and gentle, she turns her head to look at you properly now, waiting for your answer.

You look at her for a second before smiling almost bitterly, scoffing and looking forward towards the fridge. You shake your head, body arching a bit off the counter as you lazily stretch. Your head tilts enough to look at her again.

“No, thanks.”

She counted two minutes of silence before you speak again, in those two minutes you spent the whole time studying her, unapologetically looking even if she looked back. She was horrible at keeping eye contact, at least with you.

“Are you..alright?”

For once,you sounded serious, not sleepy or upset, just..worried and sincere.

Your question makes her stiffen up, she didn't expect that question from you especially because you didn't seem interested in speaking. She quickly shakes her head as she laughs awkwardly.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm alright."

She says, sounding convincing even though you can tell that there's clearly something wrong. She turns back to the stove, focusing on the ramen. She stirs it gently, watching the bubbles rise to the top before popping.

"I'm fine, really."

She says, her voice softer now, she glances at you quickly before looking back at the stove. She hopes you believe her, she doesn't want anyone to worry about her. Especially not you.

You actually turn your body toward her, she noticed and took the noodles off the stove to drain some of the water while mumbling more that’s she fine, and why wouldn’t she be?

You don’t say anything, now, you’ve come to realize she dislikes silence, always seeing her blasting music or some TV show when she’s actually home or cleaning.

It’s never quiet for more than three minutes.

When she finally sets up her ramen bowl, she looks nervous to eat..in front of you. She leans against one of the counter that is slightly across from you, bowl in one hand and chopsticks in the other but she doesn’t look up.

“You keep repeating yourself, y’know? Is it to convince me or yourself?”

No one talks to her the way you do, it makes her head spin.

Your arms still loosely crossed, pushing yourself off the counter, taking small steps towards her.

You step closer to her, she tenses up, feeling your presence near her. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She doesn't want you to see her like this, vulnerable and weak. She forces a smile on her face, looking up at you.

"I'm fine, really. I promise."

She says, her voice is shaky, she tries to sound confident but fails miserably. She takes a bite of her ramen, chewing slowly. She swallows before looking back at you, her eyes wide and innocent.

"Why would you ask me that? Do I seem like I'm not okay?"

She asks, her voice is higher now, she sounds defensive. She doesn't want you to think that she's not okay, she wants you to think that she's strong and capable.

“No, you seem perfectly fine..”

One step.

Just one smaller one.

“Nobody can be that fine all the time, there’s no balance. It’s okay to not be okay, Rumi.”

You lean in just a bit closer to gently grab her braid from the back and pull it to the front, feeling her hair. Soft fingers finding the end to start unbraiding. Focusing on it with your gaze, it made Rumi actually look at you for more than a minute.

“Just..please. Please don’t push yourself too hard.”

Your words rang through the empty kitchen, she actually paused her slurping which made the noodles drop into the bowl. Yet, she still averted her gaze. Her head gently shaking, to warn you: ‘I’m going to dismiss you in the most polite way because i respect you.’

“Look, I know I overwork myself..sometimes but I’m just used to this. So, it doesn’t tire me out, I don’t get tired out easily.”

She tilts her head slightly to let you continue unbraiding her long, weighted hair. This time, she let the silence crowd the kitchen, hush the conversation for a little. Just for a little.

You let her be in control of the silence.

Plus, it wasn’t completely silent due to the slurping of her noodles and the soft sound of her hair sighing of relief from finally being untangled, being more able to breathe than Rumi herself.

She attempts to change the subject.

“Hey, so there’s this new shop and i wanted to know—“

“Rumi.”

“What?”

She couldn’t see your face but she knew too well. she huffs, putting her bowl down to fully leans her head back so you could untangle the top.

“No, I’m being serious, Zoey bought that one stuffed turtle there—the one that looks like it’s on one.”

She laughs, not obnoxious, but there wasn’t any ounce of exhaustion in the delightful sound. By now, you’re finished with undressing her braid and being met with her long lavender waves. You rarely see this side of her, her being just slightly more relaxed than usual. Even if she tries to reassure herself and plays it off as reassuring you.

“Rumi.”

You say softer, but she still won’t face you. Her chuckle slowly fading, but shes still giddy, or at least tying to be.

But she doesn’t respond or even dismiss you. She’s patient, more patient at this time of night.

“Cry.”

She actually stiffens, like the way characters in cartoons do when they realize they are in the air.

She huffs as a laugh, she hopes you’re joking.

“Don’t force yourself to laugh. Just..cry instead.”

Rumi doesn’t face you, but she’s not completely frozen because her fingers always tap rhythmically when she’s nervous. Or just, sad, exhausted. All of the above?

You tried to comfort her, putting a hand on her shoulder but it didn’t last long. She walks out of the kitchen murmuring a goodnight.

A door upstairs slam shut, softly, but you still painfully hear.

That’s just who she is, she can’t let anyone in.

Not Zoey.

Not Mira.

Not even you.

Her bottle of emotions never spills, never stains anyone, yet never expires. It’s just there..waiting to explode when it fills. But it never will, no one would know about it anyway.

You almost got under her skin.

The first layer, at least.

Okay first post is angst and thats okayyy

The Mr. Plankton reference hello?? 🤭🤭

Part 2?

Requests are open!

[allaji]

Bubblegum and Blade Wounds | A Zoey x fem reader fic

Premise: Some girls get flowers. Some get love letters. Y/n gets patched up by a K-pop idol who moonlights as a demon hunter.

————————————————————————

The smell of antiseptic burned y/n’s nose, mingling awkwardly with the scent of strawberry lip gloss and fabric softener. She sat on the edge of Zoey’s vanity chair, clutching a ragged bandage to her side while trying not to bleed on the rug. Again.

“This is the third time this week,” Zoey muttered, yanking open a drawer crammed full of first-aid supplies, fake eyelashes, and three different brands of Korean BB cream.

“At this point, I should just sew demon-grade Kevlar into your jackets.”

“I didn’t mean to fall into a nest of Venom Imps, okay?” y/n winced as Zoey sprayed something icy against the gash. “They jumped me while I was chasing that fang-faced freak down the alley.”

Zoey clicked her tongue and glanced up, her long lashes batting dramatically. “See, this is why I said we go in pairs. But nooo, Miss I-Work-Alone has to solo it like she’s in a shōnen anime.”

“I am the main character,” y/n deadpanned.

Zoey burst out laughing—bright and musical, like a song that never made it onto an album. “Okay, Naruto. Hold still.”

The pop idol crouched beside her, sleeves of her rehearsal hoodie pushed up to her elbows. Her hands—surprisingly steady for someone who just finished a high-speed dance routine—moved carefully as she cleaned the wound. Zoey hummed while she worked, some unreleased ballad that only a few fans had ever heard during livestreams at 2 a.m.

“You hum when you're nervous,” y/n said softly.

Zoey paused for half a second. “You’re bleeding and joking like it’s a sleepover. What do you want me to do, cry and write a love song about your reckless bravery?”

“…Wait, are you actually going to do that?”

A blush threatened to rise on Zoey’s cheeks, but she expertly deflected. “Only if you promise not to ruin another one of my stage outfits. The last one you got imp goo on? That was Balenciaga.”

“I saved a bus full of kids from that goo demon!”

Zoey didn’t look up. “Yeah, yeah. But did they reimburse me for couture damage?”

There was a beat of silence. Then both of them broke into laughter—the kind that hurt your ribs and made you forget about the sting of injury and the endless battle against shadowy creatures from another realm.

Zoey pressed the final bandage into place, securing it with care. Then she looked up, her expression softened, serious in that rare way that made y/n’s heart clench unexpectedly.

“You’re always running into danger like you're afraid to slow down,” she whispered.

“But you don't have to prove anything, not to me. I already know you're brave. You don’t have to keep getting hurt to show it.”

Y/n’s throat went tight. “I’m not afraid to slow down.”

“Then prove it,” Zoey challenged softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Stay the night. No demons. No patrols. Just you, me, bad K-dramas, and banana milk.”

“…You’re bribing me with banana milk?”

Zoey grinned. “And I threw out all your leather gear. Accidentally.”

“You what?!”

Too late. Zoey had already bolted for the living room, squealing with laughter as y/n limped after her, swearing and half-laughing, half-grimacing.

The chase ended somewhere between Zoey’s bed and a pile of Hello Kitty plushies, with y/n collapsing on top of her, breathless and cursing under her breath. Her bandaged side throbbed, but it was worth it—Zoey was pinned beneath her, hair a glossy mess, cheeks flushed from laughter and mock betrayal.

“You didn’t actually throw out my gear,” y/n said suspiciously.

Zoey blinked up at her, wide-eyed with faux innocence. “What gear?”

Y/n groaned. “You’re such a menace.”

“You’re the one who bleeds all over my carpet.”

They laid there for a moment, tangled in limbs and lazy exhaustion, the thrum of danger outside their walls completely forgotten. Zoey’s room smelled like soft things—vanilla lotion, cotton sheets, strawberry shampoo—and for someone who spent her nights slaying demons, she really had managed to make her space feel like a bubblegum-scented sanctuary.

A K-drama played on the television in the background. The dramatic violin score swelled as the male lead clutched the heroine’s hand in the pouring rain, declaring his love with the intensity of a thousand slow-motion zoom-ins.

“I swear to God, if she gets hit by a truck in the next ten minutes—” y/n muttered.

“She will,” Zoey said with grim certainty. “Or fall into a coma. Or get amnesia and forget she ever loved him.”

“Why do we watch these?”

“Because,” Zoey said, snuggling closer into her side, “they make our lives seem emotionally stable by comparison.”

Y/n laughed, despite herself. “We kill demons for a living.”

“And yet I’ve never faked my death to test your love,” Zoey said brightly, “so really, I’m the most reasonable woman you know.”

Y/n turned to look at her. Zoey was already staring, her lips parted in the smallest smile, her eyeliner slightly smudged from the earlier chaos. Even without the lights of the stage or the spotlight of a camera, she was luminous in that soft, unrushed way—like the warmth of fairy lights in a room you didn’t want to leave.

“I really like you,” y/n said, voice quieter than she meant it to be. “Not just when you're patching me up or making dumb jokes. I like… all of it. The mess, the mission, the snacks in your bathroom drawer. I like coming home to this. To you.”

For a second, Zoey didn’t say anything. She just stared at her, lips parted, eyes wide in that rare, unguarded way. Then:

“Okay,” she said softly. “But I have to tell you something, and you can’t judge me.”

Y/n blinked. “Alright…?”

Zoey leaned in, voice lowered like a confession. “I ate the last honey butter chip. The one you were saving.”

“…You—!”

“But I felt really bad about it!” she yelped, shielding herself with a pillow. “I even wrote a haiku out of guilt!”

“A haiku?!”

“It was very heartfelt!”

Y/n groaned, collapsing into the couch. “You are the absolute worst.”

But her arm found its way around Zoey’s waist anyway, drawing her in. And Zoey fit there perfectly, like a piece that always knew where it belonged.

After a while, when the drama had moved into its third unnecessary plot twist, and the last light in the room was the blue glow of the screen, Zoey turned her head, lips brushing the curve of y/n's shoulder.

“I like you too,” she murmured. “Even when you're being reckless. Even when you track blood into my bathroom. Even when you're too tired to stay awake, but still try to watch every stupid K-drama ending with me.”

Y/n’s voice was sleepy, drifting. “I’d watch twenty tragic love triangles if it meant ending up right here.”

Zoey smiled. “Gross. That was sweet. Say it again so I can write it in my Notes app like a lovesick teenager.”

“I swear to God, if you turn this into lyrics…”

“I already did.”

“…Of course you did.”

But neither of them moved. The world outside would still be waiting—demons to banish, shadows to chase, pasts to wrestle with. But for now, there was only this: shared warmth, stolen chips, half-watched dramas, and the kind of peace you didn’t realize you were starving for until you found it curled up beside you, humming soft lullabies and smelling faintly of strawberry lip gloss.

[scarylarry376]

@green-alien-turdz 's art is LITERALLY so cool you need to look at some of them.

This comic was kind of old but I just adore their interpretation of Kyle and I wanted to animate him. WHile I wish I could do the amount of detail that's in his design, I think that would take a century to complete lol

[mimisanno]

People with Anorexia are actually suffering, but out of nowhere girlbloggers are the wannarexic cunts. let me get this straight. I never heard any good things from this "girlblogging" "girlblogger" and etc cuz all you stupid fucking bitch do are just romantizing everything, wanting an older men to rape you but they are 3x older than your age, anorexic wanna be(you're a loser), and yall are the most fucking weird creature ever I hope you'll die in the most dehumanizing way.

I dare you, interacting with one of my post as a girlblogger and I'll block you immedietly.

[callsign-merlin]

Poor birds, trapped and picked off, one by one.

[allofthenamesipickedweretaken]

MASACRIK HEADCANONS:

• Masacrik would sneak out of his bed at night asa child and prod at his pet gold fish until it died, then ate it cooked

• Masacrik is actually a really good cook, especially Italian food.

• Masacrik’s favorite meal is Cheesy baked spaghetti

• Masacrik tried teaching Mimi to cook once, but she ended up burning herself over eggs

• Masacrik harms himself, but in a more mashochost type of way most of the time. It was an issue since childhood

• Masacrik is actually really insecure and has abandonment issues

• Masacrik wasn’t very close to his father

• Masacrik was a mamas boy

• Masacrik has a special interest for clowns, specifically Jesters

• Masacrik actually enjoys cleaning, it takes his mind off of things

• Masacrik loves to experiment with different hairstyles, but they don’t usually turn out to well. Mimi doesn’t like them either

• Masacrik listens to Will Wood,

• Masacrik has tried eating one of his experiments, but it tasted horrible.

• Masacrik once snuck human flesh into Mimi’s food and told her it was rabbit

• Masacrik likes to watch Hannibal, wildlife shows,

• Masacrik is actually a really good writer, but doesn’t do it often unless it’s paperwork or a thought or dream he had

• Masacrik cross dresses, but it usually stays inside the house

• Masacrik has a really good skincare routine and always files his nails

• Masacrik doesn’t work out really

• Masacrik’s favorite video games are

• Masacrik is one to do spontaneous things when bored, like dust a table, learn to juggle from a tutorial video or walk in fifteen inch heels

• Masacrik loves puzzle boardgames

• Masacrik likes to collect a certain childhood toy he loved and even goes into debt from it sometimes

• Masacrik looks at tutorials to do Mimi’s hair sometimes even though she can do it herself most of the time

• Masacrik has a SLIGHT alternative style outside of his work clothes

• Masacrik has a really strict screen time limit for him, but doesn’t care for Mimi’s

• Masacrik knows a lot about the Christian KJV Bible

• Masacrik grew up in a half Christian household (( mothers side, his dad was agnostic ))

• Masacrik sings in the shower..LOUDLY

• Masacrik often repaints his room out of mood change

• Masacrik was forced to take tap dancing lessons as a child to get him out the house by his mother and is now weirdly good at it

• Masacrik always wanted to learn piano

• Masacrik has road rage

• Masacrik smokes

• Masacrik has a dissociative disorder

• Masacrik has NPD

• Masacrik used neo pronouns as a child

• Masacrik is a believer but thinks he wouldn’t make it to heaven

• Masacrik isn’t religiously involved and is to ashamed to attend any churches

• Masacrik pretends to be a homeless person with a tragic backstory every Tuesday for money

• Masacrik hasn’t had his first kiss

• Masacrik is aromantic, but it’s a spectrum

• Masacrik loves to learn different languages

• Masacrik was a theater kid and always had the best performances

• Masacrik really likes to learn about plants and is trying to grow an indoor garden, getting Mimi to water them regularly for him

• Masacrik had to he homeschooled once he hit the 2nd grade because he would do weird things in public school that would often get him in trouble, like stomp toilets on purpose, hide things from teachers, setting pins down on there seats or in there food, take down his pants in the middle of class, sing inappropriate songs, give other kids things there allergic to on purpose, ect. But he’d NEVER get into fights

• Masacrik was heavily bullied in and outside of school

• Masacrik was an A+ student since the beginning

• Masacrik doesn’t eat much, but mostly because he forgets or just isn’t hungry

• Masacrik used his arms a lot when speaking

• Masacrik gets very sarcastic when he’s in a bad mood

• Masacrik is an insomniac

• Masacrik has BPD

• Masacrik stress eats

• Masacrik is not into politics

• Masacrik is a quite drunk, a turn from his usual craziness

• Masacrik is sensitive to hot sauce or spicy food unlike Mimi

• Masacrik flips anything that’s in his hands, (( knife, toothbrush, brush, pencil, ect ))

• Masacrik has NPD (( might’ve already put that ))

• Masacrik brings up random fun facts during small talk

• Masacrik isn’t an alcoholic, but he’ll crack open a Jack Daniel’s every week or two on a bad day

• Masacrik likes to collect antiques of any sort

• Masacrik yells at TV

• Masacrik does yoga

• Masacrik carries a mini notepad with him everywhere

• Masacrik often drums his fingers on the table or any surface really

• Masacrik greets everyone with suffocating hugs

• Masacrik can’t sit right and often walks zig zag

• Masacrik is obsessed with making random noises

• Masacrik makes over exaggerated faces at people or food he doesn’t like, then throws a fit over the meal and throws the whole plate

• Masacrik sleeps over the blankets, starfish style

• Masacrik feels his teeth with his tongue when thinking

• Masacrik often adjusts his coat a lot when anxious or overstimulated

• Masacrik dips his fries in ice cream

• Masacrik puts his shoes on without untying the laces

• Masacrik talks to themselves a lot

• Masacrik uses uncommon synonyms in place of normal ones, like “superb” instead of great, ect

• Masacrik only uses one color pen

• Masacrik has favorite objects he’s very possessive over

• Masacrik puts things in his pockets rather then his bag, like a bagel for example

• Masacrik flinches when voices are raised

• Masacrik always has ink or blood stained onto his fingers

• Masacrik is always cutting split ends off of his hair

• Masacrik says hello in different languages

• Masacrik wanted to be a mime clown when he was younger and would mimic people on the street

• Masacrik would ask stupid questions to random adults as a child even when he knew the answer to them

• Masacrik was a huge extrovert as a kid

• Masacrik uses old English naturally

• Masacrik sucks on his coat collar

• Masacrik thinks tea is the solution to everything

• Masacrik hates everyone in politics and wishes he could run for president

• Masacrik describes his surroundings when bored

• Masacrik keeps a book of quotes

• Masacrik chews on pencils

• Masacrik laughs before the joke is told

• Masacrik finds 9/11 jokes funny

• Masacrik always carried around a comfort object

• Masacrik can’t whistle but tries

• Masacrik loves old romance movies

• Masacrik has horrible hand writing

• Masacrik is dyslexic despite being smart

• Masacrik is not good with social cues

• Masacrik isn’t good with electronics unless it’s a controller

• Masacrik pulls a bandaid off little by little

• Masacrik has tried to do procedures on himself

• Masacrik grinds his teeth when sleeping

• Masacrik hums tunes he made up

• Masacrik can’t sleep without the fan on or a window open

• Masacrik roleplays book stories with Mimi

• Masacrik rocks in place a lot

• Masacrik can’t stand still

• Masacrik changes topics they were talking about because it reminded him of something else

• Masacrik has slight scoliosis that he’s insecure about

• Masacrik often asks Mimi for massages

• Masacrik has under eye circles

• Masacrik never steps in the cracks of a sidewalk

• Masacrik loves to over study people’s mannerisms in public

• Masacrik talks to animals or inanimate objects

• Masacrik always fixes people’s crooked collars or straps

• Masacrik instinctively ducks under doorways

• Masacrik has a really fast reflex

• Masacrik snorts when laughing

DONE. There might be spelling mistakes, but I ain’t checking them