Idk How To Tag Lol - Blog Posts

yes this was my friends idea (using headspace hero with this emotion) I don't really know Omori so sorry if its bad

-Eclipse Error

the attempt at an intro again!

wavez

hi , my namez ace (or chuuya... or AC3... idrk). my pronounz are xe/star with extraz. and obviouzly im a typing quirk uzer ;-;

I love thingz like zoftball, zkateboarding, drawing...

i have variouz favorite animez... but my top 5? right are; Death Note, One Piece, Bungo Stray Dogs, Sk8 the Infinity, A silent Voice, and JJK!!

I'm a proud yumezhipper, rarepair/crackzhip zhipper ^_^

i'm an athiezt, DNI toxic chriztianz (ahah...)

my dni lizt;

hazbin hotel / helluva bozz fanz, YBC fanz, taboo comzhipz / prozhipperz, and other bazic criteria, any1 who mockz SA/SH

oh... and im gay, tranz, cupioromantic... with extra xenogenderz XDD

idk what elze to add zo ^_^

my teacher didn’t come for class today so we had a free period and my friend and i tried that every few minutes switch canvases thing with leftover scrap paper from math class

and let’s be honest we had no idea wtf we were drawing half the time but i think we did pretty good :D

said friend also drew on my arm :)))

tis bob da long leggs

and timmy jr jr jr

(yes, timmy looks like a weird chilli thing with eyes and a witch’s warty nose.

yes, that is the exact phrasing i described how timmy looked to my friend after they were done vandalising my arm.

no, my arm was not a willing participant

and yes bob has a unibrow. my friend went crazy laughing over it.)

(let’s be honest we had no idea what we were doing the whole time)

I presented you Wizard Cookie Angst!

Always wondered why be covers so much with his scarf and keeps almost half of his face hidden. Here you have it

I shall call em Oven Trio.. Although i haven't really played Oven Break nor have much plans to.. I still indulge in the concepts of hte horrors of having your first years in life already knowing the sole purpose of you existence only being for a meal and already met with cruelty.. Gingerbrave, Strawberry Cookie, and Wizard cookie have gone through so much..

It's so interesting to see and understand how much it psychologically and emotionally affected them.. I want someone to write a fic deep diving into this kid's trauma and then giving them comfort in the end.. With suffering Ofcourse!

@cassyapper thank you for tagging me!!! i’ve never done a tag game before :D

your questions and my answers!

1. do you have a favorite branch of science? get as specific or broad as u want

my favourite branch of science is astrophysics! i’m working rn to get money to go to college to be an astrophysicist. space and quantum maths have always been a huge special interest of mine!

2. does the last song u listened to fit the last character in ur camera roll?

the last song i listened to is Wildflowers by Tom Petty, and the last character(s) in my camera roll are Kujo Jotaro and Kakyoin Noriaki. (they’re in the same image) i do feel like the song fits them extremely well! it’s basically a very sweet song saying “i want you to be happy” and i feel like they both really want that for the other. i feel like Jotaro specifically would tell Kakyoin to go find himself someone else, not because he doesn’t love Kakyoin but because he loves him so much it hurts to see him hurting. and of course we all know that Jotaro believes that when people around him get hurt it’s his fault. i have so many more thoughts on this and i could go on forever lol

3. what's something that gives you a sensory ick?

ough something that gives me a sensory ick is when people touch my hands when they give me something. like bro why are you touching me AND the object you’re handing me. i often make people set things down so i can pick them up myself lol. i’m weird

4. do you eat meat? if so, what's your favorite kind? if not, what's your favorite source of protein?

i am Jewish, so i can’t eat pork, but other than that yeah! meat is a pretty common thing in my household. my brother will often make like five pounds of taco meat at once lmao. my favourite kind of meat is simple deli turkey though. i could eat that stuff by the package (and i have before).

5. laptop, desktop, or tablet?

if given the chance, i will always take a desktop simply because they’re easier for me to use, but currently i have a shitty laptop lol. it can turn into a tablet if i take the keyboard off, but i never use it like that. i mostly use it to read and write, because my art skills are. let’s just say *highly lacking* lol. i’m working on it tho

my questions!!!

1) if you had to choose one cryptid to spend a week as, what would you choose? if you’re already a cryptid, tell me about it!!

2) would your blorbo or a Really Big Dog win in a fight? why?

3) have you ever been to an insectarium? did you enjoy it or were you grossed out? (bonus: did you eat chocolate bugs?)

4) do you prefer spicy or savoury foods? ie would you like something to be spicy just to be hot or be spicy as in have lots of spices for flavour?

5) what is your favourite constellation? if you don’t have one, which planet have you heard/learned the most about?

phew, coming up with questions was harder than i thought it would be! i hope since i asked a few more than five bc of follow up questions that i don’t get disqualified lol.

i don’t know that many people that well, so please feel free to ignore this lol. i’m just tagging people i think are cool who haven’t already been tagged lol.

@fungaljungal @mordenandmerry @meowtallicats @asillylittleduck @scarymonsters-andsupercreeps

feel free to answer these in the comments even if i didn’t tag you!! i’d love to know all of my friends’ answers! :D

Dating Simon "Ghost" Riley is like the song traveling soldier. That's it, end post

What if instead of phighting it was called phreaking and everyone got phreaky

“Usopp’s design isn’t racist or inconsistent at all!!” I scream as they drag me into the asylum

Andjrbwjifirnwbjaidjrj idk

Consider yourself tagged if you are reading this:

Make this picrew of yourself

Take this uquiz (How Fandom Would See You If You Were A Fictional Character)

Thank you for the tag @machiavellli !

Bisexual Awareness Month!!!

are you aware of us?

we are aware of you.

just got on Tumblr, art dump time (day 1)

the medic is dead???

and my two pages of planning for the cosplay (which I'm actually doing, crazy right?, I'm so proud of myself, maybe I'll post it when I'm done)

he's literally taking over my soul and probably surgically attaching it to his own but I don't care

lil cutie patootie

we draw or wtvr!!!! meet kalani :)

crying over all the dynamics that ill never see again

DSMP fans. where are you now? whatchu doing nowadays

og re2 leon save me...... save me og re2 leon.........

just some art i guess???

it's not that good and the camera quality SUCKS, but you can't always get what you want and that's ok lmao. obvi inspired by gyaru fashion bc I just think they're cool

i wanted to draw a hand doing something too but I got too lazy😍

not the best photos but these are the best I could get!!!

idk just Ahsoka fanart?

i don't really like how it turned out tbh, I kinda messed up while I was inking it. I am kinda new to art and stuff so tips would be appreciated😋

quality is so bad OMG sry for the blur lmao

maroon

calex !! 2k wc

first time posting a fic on here YIKES

i was going to make this longer but i got through one part and got bored

updated!!

inspired by Maroon by Taylor Swift

sue me

The first rays of pale sunlight seeped through the windows of Alex Cabot’s loft, illuminating the incense ash that sprinkled across the oak floor. 

Casey Novak, with her rumpled hair and wine-flushed cheeks, tucked her legs beneath her and knelt beside the record stand. She gently brushed the sandalwood from cardboard jackets: Rumors, Tusk, Mirage. Faint creases on sleeve corners told their own quiet stories of late‑night needle drops long before she’d moved in, long before Alex had made space for another toothbrush beside hers.

From across the rug, Alex tipped the soiled incense holder over the small trash bin, grimacing as the ash slid from the ceramic in a hush of gray. Her borrowed Harvard Law crewneck hung just past her thighs; every time she shifted her weight, Casey’s gaze caught on the swing of fabric, the easy way Alex occupied her own home—and now, somehow, Casey’s too.

They’d meant to review witness statements and crash early. Instead, Alex had put Fleetwood Mac on the turntable, and Casey cracked open some cheap‑ass screw‑top rosé. Everything after Blue Letter dissolved into laughter—burned popcorn, a debate over hearsay exceptions, Casey’s terrible impression of Judge Petrovsky that made Alex choke on wine and clutch her ribs.

Steam drifted from a single mug on the coffee table—the blonde’s jasmine tea. Casey had already stolen a sip, her lipstick print glowing a faint maroon on the rim beside Alex’s own. She lounged back against the couch, idly brushing her toes against the loose hem of Alex’s sweater, a slow, playful sweep that made the burgundy fabric sway and Alex glance down with a half-smirk. 

“How’d we end up on the floor, anyway?”

Alex asked, voice still rough with sleep. Casey, knees drawn up and heels resting in Alex’s lap, tugged her hair down from its haphazard bun and let it encompass her shoulders. “Easy culprit,” she said, a lazy grin tugging at her mouth. “Your old roommate’s bargain-bin wine demolished our sense of time management. 

Alex’s laugh was a quick, unguarded burst, sharp and melodic, filling the loft with the kind of warmth that made everything feel brighter. The sound bounced off the brick walls, then sank into Casey’s chest, stirring something she hadn’t realized had settled there. It was a sound she didn’t know she’d need this much. One she’d come to crave more than anything. Three weeks had passed since Casey moved in. Boxes were still haphazardly stacked in corners, a lone lamp perched on the dresser with no shade. But mornings like this, with Alex beside her, had a way of making everything feel rooted in place, as though they'd shared this space for years, not just weeks.

A faint draft slipped in from the fire escape. Smoke from the incense curled and spiraled, pale and gentle against the glass, wrapping the room in its quiet calm. For a few moments, they simply listened. The soft popping of vinyl static, the ticking radiator, the steady, almost shy rhythm of two heartbeats learning the same tempo. Outside, Manhattan kept its frantic pulse, taxis groaning across the wet pavement, but from up here, the noise felt decades away. 

Alex reached for the kettle, poured a second mug, and handed it over. Their fingers grazed and Casey’s pulse thrummed, not with urgency but with a grounded certainty that surprised her.

“So,” Alex said, voice soft enough that it nearly blended with the crackle of the record, “when we finally unpack those boxes, where do you want your books?”

Casey leaned her head on Alex’s shoulder. “Somewhere close. I’m tired of looking for things I’ve already found.”

Outside the window, snow began to fall, the first flake landing on the wrought‑iron rail like a single note on an open staff. Inside, two women sat amid incense ash and album sleeves, finishing lukewarm tea and memorizing a silence that felt, for once, like home.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Two nights later, winter hovered indecisively above the city, unable to choose between sleet and snow. The courthouse steps were slick and gleaming when they stepped off the curb, breath visible in the cold.

“You didn’t even call,” Casey said, not looking at her. Her heels clicked down the sidewalk. 

Alex tried to catch her pace. “I was buried in witness prep, Casey. I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“You don’t even have to ignore me,” Casey shot back, then stopped, folding her arms tight across her chest. Her shirt was damp, her curls frizzing at the edges, and her voice came out low. “You just forget.”

The words landed like a slap. Casey wasn’t raising her voice, but that calm, steady tone was worse. Alex opened her mouth, closed it again. They stood in the glow of a streetlamp, faces half in shadow.

“I didn’t forget,” Alex finally said. “I just… lost track of time.”

“You always do.” Casey’s voice broke, just a little. “And I wait. And I forgive it. And I keep showing up.” She was calm, but underneath her voice was that quiet, brittle kind of sadness that never announced itself until it was already settling in.

Alex ducked into a bodega, the kind with flickering lights and a handwritten sign for oranges out front, without a word. When she came back, she had a bottle of wine (actual cork, not screw-top) cradled in her hands. “Come on,” she said. “Walk with me?”

Casey hesitated. Then, she stepped out of her heels and scooped them up by the straps. “Only if you promise not to talk about depositions.”

“I solemnly swear,” Alex said, and Casey gave her a tiny smile.

They walked under a dull streetlamp that made everything look a little more golden. Casey tipped her head back and gave a spin on the wet sidewalk, hair flying. “Tell me again why we don’t just quit and move to Barcelona.”

Alex laughed, startled and bright. “You don’t speak Spanish.”

“You do,” Casey teased, and twirled again, before handing the bottle back over. “Problem solved.”

A cab tore past, catching a puddle, Alex jolted to protect the wine, but the bottle tilted just enough to splash a crimson streak across Casey’s white blouse.

“Oh my god,” Casey gasped.

“Oh my god,” Alex echoed, horrified. “Casey, I am so sorry—”

“You spilled Rioja on the one thing in my wardrobe that didn’t already look like a crime scene,” Casey said dramatically, but her grin was spreading.

“I’ll replace it.”

“You can’t replace white-collar ugly,” Casey said, eyes dancing.

And then she started laughing. Real, unguarded, throw-your-head-back laughing. It bubbled out of her so easily that Alex couldn’t help joining in, half-doubled over with relief.

“I choose you,” Alex said between gasps, holding the wine like it was sacred. “Always. Even when I’m an idiot.”

“Especially when you’re an idiot,” Casey said, still breathless. “You’re kind of my favorite idiot.”

Then Alex tugged her closer, gingerly, because the wine bottle was still open, and Casey dropped her shoes and wrapped both arms around her neck. They swayed there, in the middle of the sidewalk, tipsy on nothing but each other.

No music. Just the soft rhythm of laughter, the spill of streetlight, and the way the world seemed briefly, wonderfully, theirs.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Casey dropped her bag. Too hard. Alex winced at the sound.

“You could’ve backed me up,” Casey said, not looking at her. “You didn’t have to cut me off like that.”

Alex, already toeing off her heels by the couch, sighed. “It wasn’t personal.”

“It never is with you.”

Alex turned slowly. “Excuse me?”

“You treat me like your intern. Like I’m lucky to even be in the room.” Casey’s voice cracked, too loud for the space between them, but still too small. Inferior.  “I’m not your assistant. I’m second chair. I earned that.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Alex snapped. “You think I asked to work with someone who—” She stopped. Bit the rest off and swallowed it down.

Casey stared. “Someone who what?”

Alex said nothing.

“Jesus,” Casey breathed. “You’re unbelievable.”

She shifted nervously. She knew she was getting ahead of herself but the words were coming out too fast for her mind to stop it. “You don’t even see it, do you? You walk into a room and everyone listens. You speak and people shut up. You don’t have to prove yourself every goddamn day.”

There it was. What Casey could never quite say out loud. The burden that loomed between them. A brick wall. That she felt like a shadow beside Alex. That even when they were laughing, touching, kissing, part of her never stopped wondering how long it would take for Alex to realize she could do better.

Alex crossed her arms, spine straight as a ruler. “You’re being emotional.”

That did it.

Casey’s eyes went glassy, but her jaw locked tight. Alex’s gaze flickered. Just for a second. But it was enough. Enough for Casey to see the wall slam into place behind her eyes. Cold. Controlled. Done.

“I love you,” Casey said, a last-ditch effort, her voice ragged. “But I’m tired of feeling like this. Like I’m chasing after someone who won’t even turn around.”

Alex blinked, but didn’t move. Didn’t answer. The silence pressed in so hard Casey thought it might crush her. She turned and stormed down the hall. And when she reached the bedroom, she didn’t hesitate, just slammed the door so hard it rattled the frame. Then came the sobs. Messy, awful ones, muffled into the sheets of their shared bed,

Out in the living room, Alex stared at the door for a long minute. Then she picked up her heels and her keys and walked out. Quiet. Composed. Like she hadn’t just left a wreck behind her.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

Crammed into the single‑stall bathroom at the office, whisper‑laughing like schoolgirls at a sleepover instead of two ADAs with open case files and coffee breath.

“Stop moving,” Casey hissed, blotting at Alex’s collarbone with a wet paper towel that wasn’t helping at all.

“I told you not to use teeth,” Alex whispered back, biting her lip to keep from laughing. Her button-down was already halfway open, revealing a smudged scarlet mark just peeking over the neckline.

“I didn’t use teeth,” Casey grinned. “Not exclusively.”

Alex glared but her lips twitched. “You’re a menace.”

The mirror caught the flush on both their faces, the way Alex leaned into Casey’s touch like it was gravity. Somewhere outside, footsteps echoed down the hall, but the moment stayed quiet, warm, dizzy with stolen time.

“We should probably get back,” Alex said, though she didn’t move.

Casey’s fingers brushed the mark one last time. “Too late. Everyone already saw your scandalous hickey. The entire floor knows you’re getting railed by your second chair.”

Alex snorted. “Jesus.”

“Don’t worry,” Casey murmured, eyes soft now. “I’ll make sure you win your next case. For…reputation’s sake.”

And Alex, against all her instincts, let herself laugh, really laugh, and pulled Casey in by her stupid tie.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

She didn’t even hear the front door close. Just the quiet afterward, thick and mean, like the apartment itself was holding its breath. She slid down the side of the bed until she hit the floor. Her coat was still buttoned, hair still pinned, makeup smudging with every wipe of her sleeve. Her sharp composure was gone, replaced with a mess of hiccuped sobs and red eyes, knees pulled up to her chest. 

There were no more hickeys now. No giggles. Just silence thick as grief and the echo of Alex’s voice saying nothing at all when it mattered. She’d cried herself sick and quiet, tucked under her blanket with the door still locked, but it hadn’t helped. The ache stayed put.

Why did it always feel like this with Alex? She wanted to be chosen. Wanted to be seen. She loved her. God, she loved her.

But she couldn’t keep bleeding just to prove it.

In another part of the city, Alex poured herself a drink she didn’t want, stared at a text she couldn’t send. She wanted to call. To say I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Come home. 

Maybe she thought Casey needed space. Maybe she was punishing herself. Maybe she didn’t know how to be soft without breaking. She told herself she didn’t slam the door because she was composed. That she left because she needed space. Because Casey was being unfair.

The words echoed in her mind, muffled by the way her chest ached, tight and quiet. 

I love you.

She didn’t mean to hurt her. She never meant to. But closeness always came with edges. And love, real love, scared the hell out of her. Casey wanted all of her. But Alex didn’t know how to hand herself over without losing the pieces she spent years keeping safe.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I don’t usually paint lol but have a blue person :D

Don’t mind the white bit in the corner I just wanted to hide my name

Btw Ik I just posted but like who would be interested in me posting some of my photography stuff on here?