#I'm laughing because it wasn't with my blorbo because if it was with me I'd be flipping tables

[qcomicsy]

me right now on the Conner Kent tag even though I haven't read a single comic of that man

[grandlinedreams]

It is a gosh darn blessing to read your Law content. Like wowe. He really does live rent free in your brain and we stan for it. Mihawk lives rent free in my brain T_T

Maybe we'll trade little writing pieces one day! Also I'd love a little tidbit of Law x Reader working together in a fight, because I'm a sucker for team-ups like that.

VALID Mihawk is also so very blorbo and brain occupying so I don't blame you at all ㅡ and I would love to do a little trade someday, that sounds like a lot of fun!

[Heads up!: canon-typical violence, brief mention of blood]

In his defense, Law really does try to avoid confrontation if he can. He prefers to do what he has to, fly under the radar while he does it, and disappear without many knowing he was ever there.

Most of the time if all goes according to plan, it works. But when others are involved, it rarely goes exactly to plan.

The repeated clash of metal is what gets his attention, the clear sound of a fight ㅡ and he tenses when he spots you, your back to him as you block another blow.

You're more than capable of defending yourself, he knows that ㅡ as proven for the fact that as far as he can see, nobody's landed a blow on you. And he wants to keep it that way.

"Room."

You watch the blue aura extend overhead, the brief rush of air that signals your captain's presence beside you. His sudden appearance makes the few enemies left jolt, as well as the gleam of his eyes, narrowed into a sharp glare.

It doesn't take long to dispatch the rest of them and you huff as you crouch to clean blood from your daggers with the fabric of an unconscious man's shirt.

"I had it handled," you tell Law, who watches you before turning to leave when you rejoin him.

"I know," he answers, "but we're on a schedule. We don't have time to draw things out."

"I wasn't," you protest. You peer at him, studying his expression before you look ahead, lips curving. "You were worried about me."

Law scoffs. "Hardly."

"We left early on purpose," you say, hurrying a few steps ahead and spinning to face him. "So I still had time to take care of those idiots on my own. Just admit you were worried about me."

Law stares at you and then away, and you grin. "Quit being a bother and walk properly."

You huff a soft laugh before you do as you're told and then glance back at him. "We work well in a fight though, don't you think?"

Law sighs, but you catch the faint smirk on his face. "Yeah," he answers, "we do."

[gregorygerwitz]

Mouse song?!

*chanting*

Mouse song! Mouse song!! Mouse song!!!

🐁 🎶 🐁 🎶 🐁 🎶

[Sorry I loved your meta about other mouse songs and must have moar]

Hi, nonny!

I'm glad you like my ramblings, and thank you for engaging in my nonsense (realistically, I wouldn't have elaborated if someone didn't ask me, I would have just blasted the song on repeat while I cleaned the apartment, which I will still do later), it means I get to make everyone sad. Somewhat incoherently.

The song is Delirium by Elizabeth Gerardi, and when I say just dropped I mean... last night. I turned it on while I was getting ready this morning and immediately added it to my Mouse playlist because whoa.

I listened to it on repeat for like two hours while I was driving to and from my appointment this morning but I'm still not entirely coherent about it. The vibes are... before he's cut off by his parents, when he still has access to that money and power, but close enough to the end that he's acutely aware that he won't have those opportunities forever. He's not out yet, so he's very much so still a part of the family and the image they put out to the public, but he knows that he's not living up to his mother's dreams for him and the worst case scenarios are spinning through his head.

The first verse really captures that exact emotion, actually:

looking pretty in the corner fragile like glass if they ask me to dance I fear I'd do what they ask they're serving tea cakes at their pretty parties they're coming up fast on me I say 'sorry' I'm not meant to last

Just that sense of this thing being temporary, even if that might be a silly thing to think from the outside. One day, the people around him will change their minds, and push him out, and he'll just be someone they whisper and gossip about at parties and book club. And then the... finality? almost? of knowing that things will never be the same again - whether it's because of society pushing him away or he's just so changed from his time in the army - and that he'll never be the perfect face of the family he was when he was a teenager.

am I so hard to love? am I debt that you owe? the room is on fire that much I know my heart left my chest my fingers are numb I can't stay here and I can't go back where I'm from

and, yeah, that hit the vibes pretty well, but that wasn't the moment I added the song to his playlist. I added it to his playlist because of the bridge - scientifically the best part of any song, it holds the most dopamine, trust me, I'm an English student. If you've seen my metas before, you know I hold two headcanons very dearly to my heart - Mouse is gay and he's a slut about it who has never heard the word "commitment" in his life. And canon gave us a tired drug addict, so the bridge of this song...

I'm unnaturally laughing with men that I hate as they lean in for a kiss I exclaim that I can't stay floating around in my pool of pity wondering how many good years I have left that I'll stay pretty pocket full of dreams but they don't pay the bills now I know why the starlets turn to the pills tears come fast when no one can see 'em in delirium

And then I feel things about my blorbo

[heartfulselkie]

*drops an armful of things on my way in*🧃🧸📚🥐🏜️🦋🦴🐚 oops

I uh...I think you dropped something 😂

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

I have one tattoo but would like to get more! The one I have already is of the Outsider's Mark from the game Dishonored and its on the back of my shoulder. I would have gotten it on the back of ym hand like in the game, but I knew that would wear out pretty fast (and I also wasn't wanting something too painful for my first tattoo). I would like to get other ones, but because of reasons it might never happen.

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

I guess it depends what kind of mutual? If you mean the kind of mutual that I would politely nod at if we passed by in the street, then that really just happens by chance. I see a blog I like and follow them. Maybe they follow me back or were already following me 🤷‍♂️ If you mean the kind of mutual I cook blorbos with and bark at each other at all hours over blorbo thoughts then that isn't something that would happen through Tumblr alone I don't think. The mutuals I play pass the brain cell with are people I've had relatively frequent conversations with on discord so we know we just kind of click. I'm very bad at conversation (especially with new people) though so it can take a while for me to settle into frequent talking with someone 😅

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

A grocery list. Not very exciting 😂

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

I have forgotten any and all internet references in existence upon being asked this.

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Any comment... 👉👈 As long as its not negative I'm happy to receive any comment. I'm a glutton for validation.

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

I wish I'd been surrounded by better people when I was younger. I've dealt with a lot of failure from the various adults in my life, and now that I'm an adult myself I'm having to fix all that and pick up the slack. I like to think there's another version of me in some alternate timeline that got to pursue the things they love and know themself much sooner than where I'm at now. Maybe they'd be completely different. Or maybe they'd be the same. It's just something I think about. (I really tried to think of a less depressing answer to this one but I am really just a melancholic sort of person through and through 😂)

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

Just...just one?? I can find inspiration from almost anything if its something that resonates with me. Music, video games, movies, books... But I suppose something I always come back to is fairy tales (and also fae creatures themselves). It's just something I grew up with and I have spent a lot of time being obssessed with the mythology and lore of them.

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?

It's a very situational kind of thing. Generally I hate surprises that mean a change of plans or things being sprung on me out of nowhere. But small things like someone saying "I got you X thing because it reminded me of you/because I know you like it" is always nice. Like I cried on my last birthday because my dad sent me flowers and I wasn't expecting anything 😂

[Truth or Dare Ask Game]

[lexcellence]

BANSHEE???? THE COP?????

look, i went from the available choices, and my vote went to Beto anyway

Let's break these choices down, yeah?

Cyclops - tl;dr There are specific periods of time where Scott is "hot," and the vast majority of the time he isn't! Is he my blorbo? Yes. Do I run a sideblog where the header is his Foxy Grandpa Ass jutting out? Of course. Can I vote him in good conscience? I don't think so.

Colossus - the man spent how much time trying to fuck a fourteen year old? He heard Mutants were moving to a sex cult island and was baffled because his dead pal Jeff was a human. Pass.

Gambit - not even with Rogue's dick.

Wolverine - I only barely believe he can find the clit, and have ZERO confidence he could locate my prostate, and I'm unsure enough about his grooming habits that I wouldn't willingly put any part of myself in any part of him. Pass.

Iceman - Closeted Iceman? Maybe. But out Iceman is an overcompensating baby gay written almost exclusively by straight dudes, and I have a strict policy of never touching white gays who have "BBC" in their search history.

Warren Kenneth Worthington the Third - do you know what happens to Angel's love interests? I'd rather not be hatecrimed by Cameron Hodge for a few sweaty minutes of underwhelming halfhearted bottoming from a princess who provides the own stuffing for his pillows. Keep flying, birdboy.

Nightcrawler - I know, I know, the man is a sex icon, but I'm not getting involved in any of that family drama. If it's not his evil lesbian moms trying to kill me, it'd be his step-sisters trying to get back in his spandex. Not worth it, especially after all that shit in Way of X.

Havok - Matt Fraction's Clint Barton: The Mutant Flavor???? Listen, I adore a broken man who knows his place as much as the next nigga, don't get me wrong, but if I'm not picking Scott, I'm definitely not picking his Luigi.

I do appreciate his commitment to the bit, though.

Banshee - let's jump back to Cyclops for a minute. Without getting into shipping war bullshit, most of the times he's been "hot" are when he's playing off of Emma Frost, right? Emma's tertiary mutation is the ability to make everyone else more interesting just by association, because she's fucking great. I mean I just read an Iron Man book for her, for fuck's sake. Back in the 90's, when she was newly not-evil, she and Banshee were essentially the co-leads of Generation X, a book that, when it wasn't being the New New New Mutants, about two unreasonably sexy people who couldn't stand each other being unreasonably sexy at each other. Even putting that aside (and if you read a few issues, you'll get it), the man's spent decades dedicated to flying around with his tits out due to mysterious clothing damage, amd I appreciate that.

Sunspot - look, I fixated on him when I was nine, as the only character I could find who was like me at all, and that was ignoring all the gay subtext with his best friend even before it turned into outright queerbaiting. I grew up with him, and he's only gotten better since then. He's the only dude in my top 5 muties. He's flawless (give or take bad taste in men and a propensity for being whitewashed), he's perfect, he's hilarious, he's my vote AND yours, he's Sunspot.

Cannonball - in my seminal 2020 fic, "How Many Times Would You Say You've Been In Love," I summed Beto's Best Boy up thusly:

Sam laughed, a quiet, gentle, chuckle that crinkled the corners of his eyes, not that Roberto could bring himself to look at them. Instead his own eyes travelled everywhere else, from Sam's mess of a mop, to his strong jaw, to the gap in his front teeth, his okay-for-a-white-boy lips, the freckles that covered his nose, and ending up… 

Do I love Sam as a character? Absolutely, he's one of the best. But he's not hot, he's a lapse in taste. Love conquers all, they say. 😔

Bishop - as one of exactly two Black men the poll listed, I want to give Bishop his flowers, but I have never read a good Bishop story where he wasn't awful. No baby gays, but no self-hating Black genocidaires, either.

[misscrazyfangirl321]

Hard boiled x scrambled: If I had learned to laugh as a child, I would right now

(also all of these detectives are my belovedest blorbos now)

"It's a funny story..."

"If I had learned to laugh as a child, I would right now." He takes a sip of coffee, staring Damien down.

The young man chuckles nervously, shifting in his seat, gaze darting around. "Look, here's the thing: I wasn't trying to-I just-I forgot to leave it here, okay? When I grabbed all of my stuff to go for the day, I just-"

"Grabbed the victim's cell phone?"

"I thought it was mine," he protests. "Look, you've got to admit, they look a lot alike, and-"

"Not really."

"Anyway, I went to the grocery store afterward because I needed some stuff. You know, paper towels, bread, milk-"

"Stop. Ask yourself if I care at all about your grocery list."

"Right. Sorry, sir. Anyway, I-I went to text Penny about-I mean, Miss Penelope about some cookies at the store, because they're her favorite brand, and-right, you still don't care. So, when I went to text her, I noticed her name wasn't in the phone."

"And figured out it wasn't your phone?"

"Well... Not at first. I thought my phone had just eaten her number."

".... Eaten?"

"Yes sir. Doesn't your phone ever-"

"No."

"Okay." His cheeks are roughly the same shade as his hair, and he runs a hand over his face, looking for all the world like he'd like to be anywhere else. Smithson almost feels bad. (Almost.) "Anyway, eventually I figured out it wasn't mine, so I realized what I'd done, but I really didn't feel like driving all the way across town again, so I just took it home. Figured I'd bring it in today."

"The victim's phone," he reiterates slowly. "You brought it to your house."

"Yeah-es. Yes sir. And then the police tracked it, and-"

"And so you spent the night in jail." Smithson rolls his eyes. "You're lucky Eleanore was able to take care of that for you; don't you ever do anything like this again. Hear me?"

"Yes sir," he says to his shoes, and Smithson lets himself relax, just a touch.

"Hey," he says quieter, and waits for Damien to look up at him. "Glad you're still in one piece. Now get out of here; you look awful. Get some sleep."

Damien blinks once then twice, like he's trying to parse through any of that, before smiling in something like surprise. "Yes sir. Uh, thank you, sir. That's-I'll-I'll do that, sir."

"If you say sir one more time today I'm sending you back to jail."

"Yes s-um. Yes. I'll just. Go now."

Once he's safely gone, Smithson exhales, leaning forward and letting his face fall into his hands. That was close; too close. He can't let this happen again.

[about-faces]

I honestly wouldn't bother watching gotham knights for any reason, i'm caught up but i'm also doing a watch party where we pirate it and we just make up jokes from it. tho you /have/ missed the show making harvey cuck lincoln march (...ok on the real never thought i'd type that out and now im laughing at the absurdity of it) and him going "actually yeah joe chill is right i think he's innocent" because for some??? reason??? joe chill never pulled the trigger and the gunshots came behind him????? to which harv deduces that sounds?? forensically correct??? also stephanie loves her dad???? and he's not abusive?????

this show is slowly melting my brain i swear to god. between 'joe chill is innocent', 'harvey does a cucking' and 'talon is stopped by mahogany doors' i honestly could make a game where i make things up from this show and STILL have all the answers actually be correct.

Normally I would heed this advice, but unfortunately, I am burdened by blorbo compulsions to seek out anything related to Harvey. If I couldn't avoid sitting through the Long Halloween movie, I'm not gonna be able to avoid this. As annoying as I find all the above you mention, I can deal with most it by skimming through the non-Harvey parts.

(That said, I don't know if I'll ever understand why Steph is such a beloved character, but even on principle, WTF? Making Arthur a good dad is so fundamentally against the core of her character. It's like how they made Jesse Custer's dad a religious asshole in the Preacher show, it's just such a wrong choice that completely breaks and betrays the fundamental spirit of the source material)

Also, I'll be honest, I hate the Court of Owls so much for several reasons, so I find the prospect of making them ridiculous to be VERY appealing. Seriously, mahogany is their weakness? That's objectively hilarious. I love that. It's one step closer to my ultimate wish to see the Court revealed to be a bunch of rich, stupid, loser weenies who have only gotten as far as they have on good PR.

But at the end of the day, I need to see it for Harvey. And based on the three episodes I've seen, this isn't even CLOSE to being the worst take on Harvey Dent I've encountered. There's enough here for me to chew on, even if/when it's bad. Like the cucking, sure, okay, we're doing that, okay.

(Note: based on the reactions in the GK tag, I had been misled to initially believe that Harvey fucked Lincoln March's MOM, not his wife. I am very, VERY disappointed that wasn't the case.)

On top of all this, the inclusion of Harvey's dad is too personally relevant to me to avoid. Removing (?) the alcoholism but keeping the mental illness and the fears of inheriting mental illness is a problematic choice, but it sounds potentially closer to what I've needed to see from Harvey's dad than most stories, which just have him as a physically abusive alcoholic. I've needed to write about Christopher Dent for ages, tying in my own personal experiences, and this (likely bad!) use of him is something I'm going to want to take into consideration. I can't NOT see it.

This is my gift curse. This is my curse. It's a double-curse. Which tracks.

[whirling-fangs]

17 and 25 uwu

Munday numbers // accepting!!

17 - fanon interpretations

[[ BIG big "it depends" on this one. I am an extremely boring person who usually favors sticking to canon above anything else, but sometimes... canon is bad. Sometimes canon deserves some fixing or some big rewriting.

I'd say it really doesn't apply to the muses I've had though. I stay clear of any sort of fanon interpretation people might have about my muse, mostly because I usually find them Bad :') I'd rather forge entirely my own series of little headcanons, but again, nothing drastic.

When it comes to other people's muses, however... I drink that shit every day. It's super super interesting to see everyone's own take on their muse, and most of the time, it makes me realizes sides to a character that I wouldn't have seen by myself.]]

25 - your character

[[ my sweet little baby boar... how am I supposed to write down my feelings about him in just a couple paragraphs. Let's add a munday theme here or I'm going to be ranting for Ever: how he ended up becoming my Main Blorbo.

it's honestly a wonder that he didn't take over my brain when the original anime first aired, but I guess I wasn't quite ready to let my former blorbo go haha. From the moment I saw him in the opening, I KNEW he was going to be my favorite. He exsuded the exact amount of unhinged, energetic crazy that vibes just right with me. Plus the obvious animal/wild themes. I also knew he was bound to be the comedic relief, and man... what can I say. I like a character who makes me laugh :')

I can pretty much pinpoint when I realized he would be the Next One. I did draw an outfit trade of him with my former main blorbo back in 12/2021, when the Entertainment District arc was airing... and I'm entirely sure that's when he took over. The baton had been passed ♥ ]]

[sparxwrites]

(ended up writing out the lil blorbo animation that plays in my head whenever i hear this song, at the encouragement of a friend, and figured the rest of you might like to watch it in your heads too. cw for unhealthy relationships, brief depiction of domestic violence.)

“When I'm away from you / I'm happier than ever / Wish I could explain it better / I wish it wasn't true” Quackity, holding a bow in one hand, the other pressed up against an invisible pane of glass. The camera swings round to show us what he’s looking at – it’s a hazy, washed-out, wavering vision of him and Schlatt in the very early days of Manburg, talking, laughing, joking. Maybe part of the dinner from their date they did early on. Before everything fell apart.

.

“Give me a day or two to think of something clever / To write myself a letter / To tell me what to do, mm-mm” Quackity-behind-the-glass pulls back from the glass, and the camera does something very complicated to make the transition here look neat. It becomes clear Quackity is walking down this long hallway, reminiscent of the White House. It’s lined with what looks like picture frames, but they’re full of glass with hazy shapes vaguely moving within them. Memories... He still has the bow.

“Do you read my interviews?” Face pressed up against another picture-mirror – very brief, maybe static, clip of Quackity sat on Schlatt’s desk, looking flirty. Schlatt less so. He pulls back from the glass.

“Or do you skip my avenue?” The next picture, he just trails his fingers across, and the picture ripples over the surface. It’s the scene from before, but Schlatt is pushing him off the desk in a ‘I’ve got work to do’ kind of way.

“When you said you were passin' through” He pauses between two pictures. Glance to the right, and the camera zooms into it; it’s him and Schlatt just to one side of the stage, pre-election, heads close. Conspiratorial. It’s Schlatt trying to convince Quackity to give him the votes.

“Was I even on your way?” Glances to the left, and the camera zooms into it. Quackity is watching Schlatt walk away, after the ‘give me your votes’ discussion, clearly full of longing and heart-eyes.

“I knew when I asked you to / Be cool about what I was tellin' you / You'd do the opposite of what you said you'd do / And I'd end up more afraid” He walks a little further, and then pauses. Stares directly at one of the pictures; we can’t see what’s inside. Eventually, he presses his face up against it, and the camera does a clever transition again – inside it, Quackity is saying something to Schlatt, who looks increasingly irritated, until he eventually stands up and flips the coffee table between them, covered in mugs and glasses and bottles. Everything goes crashing to the floor. Quackity flinches back, and the camera hangs on them stood still and silent a second, focusing on the tension there.

“Don't say it isn't fair / You clearly werеn't aware that you made me misеrable” The camera pulls back out of the picture frame. Quackity is speaking along to these lines, and heaves a sigh, still walking down this apparently endless hallway.

.

“So if you really wanna know / When I'm away from you / I'm happier than ever” Quackity lifts the in his hand bow, nocks an arrow, tests the tension of the string, the images in the portraits hazy because he’s not looking at them.

“Wish I could explain it better” Quackity glances at the portrait he’s next to, and it sharpens under his gaze.

“I wish it wasn't true” It’s him and Schlatt on the stage immediately post-election, looking victorious, elated, arms around each other’s shoulders as they grin wildly. His eyes and jaw harden, and he looks away, and raises the bow to point at the camera as he pulls back the string.

.

[instrumental break] The hazy White House hallway scenery dissipates, though Quackity doesn’t change – it becomes clear that the preceding events were essentially inside Quackity’s head, and that the real scene is outside the White House (the corner of it damaged, a pickaxe on the grass by Schlatt’s feet). Quackity is facing down Schlatt, with a bow in his hands. This is the moment from canon, right before Quackity shoots him.

-

“You call me again, drunk in your Benz / Drivin' home under the influence / You scared me to death, but I'm wastin' my breath” Flash back, hard cut, to the memory from before – washed-out palette, like the ones in the hallway, to show it’s a memory – where it ended, with Schlatt standing over the upturned coffee table. He’s still for a moment, and then lunges forward, grabs Quackity and shoves him back, slams him against the wall. Quackity visibly tries to argue, with Schlatt shouting back, and then Quackity tries to pry the hands off him, and then with absolutely no warning Schlatt grabs his hair and smashes his head against the wall.

“'Cause you only listen to your fuckin' friends” Hard cut on the impact of head against wall to a new scene, still in a washed-out palette. Schlatt and Dream, with their hands on the Revival Book, ambiguous who it’s being passed from and too. They’re clearly in cahoots. Their pose is an echo of the earlier memory of the Quackity and Schlatt conspiring over votes. (Maybe this scene is even overlaid on the previous one, where Quackity is left sprawled against the wall, bleeding from the head as Schlatt walks away?)

“I don't relate to you / I don't relate to you, no” Snap back to the present, full-colour Quackity is shouting this at Schlatt, drawing the bow back, face screwed up like he’s about to burst into angry tears .

“'Cause I'd never treat me this shitty” Close up on Schlatt’s face. He raises an eyebrow. Ambiguous as to whether this is a doubtful face re: Quackity not treating himself this shitty, or re: Quackity taking the shot. Might also just be very quietly begging for death.

“You made me hate this city” Quackity, framed by the White House behind him, the emblem of (L’)Manburg, shouts this as he looses the arrow.

“And I don't talk shit about you on the internet / Never told anyone anything bad / 'Cause that shit's embarrassing, you were my everything / And all that you did was make me fuckin' sad” Cut back to the not-the-White-House hallway. Quackity is violently smashing the mirror portraits, each one in turn, face screwed up in misery and grief, streaked with tears. He’s clearly furious, grief-stricken, out of control and losing the plot entirely. His hands are bloody from the broken glass.

“So don't waste the time I don't have / And don't try to make me feel bad”Cut back to reality. Camera pointing at Quackity’s face. He’s blank-eyed and staring, jaw clenched, tears unshed – a stark contrast to what’s going on inside his head. He’s dropped the bow. His hands are curled into white-knuckled fists and trembling.

“I could talk about every time that you showed up on time / But I'd have an empty line 'cause you never did” For this next bit, the camera is basically following along behind the arrow as it travels towards Schlatt. The shots essentially hard cuts to a very short bit of movement/a static image, and then back to the arrow. The cuts start off spaced more distantly apart, and then gradually pick up speed. A bunch of shots of Quackity waiting in places / situations where it’s clear he was expecting Schlatt, but Schlatt’s not there; in his office, in a business meeting, outside a restaurant for a date…

“Never paid any mind to my mother or friends, so I / Shut 'em all out for you 'cause I was a kid” Various static shots of Quackity with Wilbur and Tommy, especially them building the White House together, except they gradually feature less and less until it’s just Quackity. By this point the shots are happening so rapidly that there’s basically no view of the arrow at all.

“You ruined everything good” Hard cut to a distant shot of L’Manburg, the day of the election, high above and slightly angled from outside the city.

“Always said you were misunderstood” Fast zoom in – mimicking the movement of the arrow – on the stage, and the area in front of it.

“Made all my moments your own” Zoom continues onto the stage, into Wilbur and Tommy and Quackity and Schlatt on the stage, into Schlatt on the stage– until it abruptly cuts back to reality outside the White House. We’re still zooming, but the arrow is here now, still zooming in on Schlatt with the camera just behind the arrow’s shaft–

“Just fuckin' leave me alone” The arrow hits Schlatt square in the chest.

[instrumental fade-out] We cut to Quackity, chest heaving, hands shaking, bow lowered. We cut to Schlatt, lying on the floor, shot, gasping for breath, bleeding. We zoom, very slowly, into the arrow in Schlatt’s chest, heaving with every breath, until all we can see is dark blood-soaked cloth and the shaft. Then, we slowly slowly zoom out to reveal Quackity, chest heaving just as hard, a washed-out and spectral-y ‘arrow’ through his own chest, phantom blood. Camera angle changes to show that he’s watching Schlatt slowly die. The static breakdown of the song is accompanied by Schlatt’s chest hitching, and finally stilling. He’s dead. 

The song ends.

[10holmes]

Appreciation post for my lovely readers 💕

I'm currently a puddle of emotions on the floor because of you:

It's really been long overdue, and now I've finally found the time to make this post.

To all my dear readers that have been reading, following, subscribing, commenting, bookmarking and leaving kudos on my fic Now That I See You:

Thank you. Thank you so very much from the bottom of my heart! Each and every one of you deserves the biggest hug and appreciation for your continuous amazing and lovely support!

Your kudos, your comments and your bookmarks mean the world to me! It is always a huge delight to read/see them. They make me laugh and giggle but also bring tears of joy to my eyes and make my heart warm in my chest and do somersaults!

As you may have noticed, I don't update this fic as frequently as I'd like and often struggle with writer's block, caused by my damn anxiety and perfectionism, general stress and a shitty work-life balance but also stupid imposter syndrome...

Half the time I just feel like abandoning this fic and screaming into the void bc I can't get my head to function and my hands to type out the words and storyline I've finally painstakingly come up with...

But then I get the notification that you've left kudos and I read your comments and I see the notes in your bookmarks, and it serves as such a huge motivational boost that it finally drags me out of my writing slump.

So, really, saying thank you isn't even enough, because if it wasn't for all of you, 23 chapters and 109k words very likely wouldn't have seen the light of day (or at least not in the way they did) and I appreciate every single one of you dearly for making this possible 🙏🏼💕

As of now, we're about to hit the halfway mark on this story and a first big turning point for our deer blorbos will soon be reached, but of course there are still many twists and turns to come yet, and I'm already so excited to share them with you and to have you on this journey with me 🤗 🙏🏼

[toloveandbelovedtoo]

Day 2: Compassion

Today was a bit hard to do or reflect on love. I have been off of work this week and feeling like I need to do something big with my week. I've been going out to see friends, eating out, doing cleaning, a lot of napping, and resting. I plugged in my iPad in yesterday thinking I might start a drawing today as I haven't really been doing a lot of art over the winter season.

I couldn't think about anything I wanted to draw and so I thought I'd just draw a portrait of one of my fav characters to get back into the swing of it. But even then I felt no spark and it felt hard to get the lines and shapes how I wanted it. I kept getting frustrated that it wasn't turning out right and how rusty I was at something I put a lot of time and effort in over the last two years.

So I decided to take a break, I went to clean up the bathroom, clear off the coffee table, eat some lunch. I felt anxious, and tried to sit with that to see what I needed. I had taken a shower and then left to go have coffee with a friend. On my ride over, I thought I'd scrap the art, not every piece has to be completed and shared with the world. I'd do some doodles, maybe watch a tutorial on youtube, perhaps do a redraw of an older piece.

Having coffee with a friend was delightful, we had gone to a local cafe that I had not been to before and then walked through a nearby gardening store where I bought a cute golden pathos and koala plant accessory. Getting out with them got me out of my head and I got to laugh, talk, connect, complain, and share a part of my day with someone I respect and really enjoy getting to see. My time with them took my mind off my art frustrations and it was also a practice of being my real self with another person.

When I was driving back home, I decided this drawing would be my focus of my exploration of love today. I would go home and finish it, being mindful of the thoughts I had while drawing and give space for those thoughts and feelings. I'll be honest, it was tough and I ended up taking a nap after I was done. I felt bad that I hadn't been drawing as much, I felt sad that it didn't spark joy for me, I felt sad that it still didn't come out how I wanted it. I felt joy that I did finish it, that I sat in this space with myself.

And sitting with myself, I realized I was giving myself self-conpassion. Anytime a feeling came up, I spoke to it. The feeling bad about not drawing as much as I had before, I acknowledged that and thought, well maybe it's an art block, maybe I don't really draw during the winter season. Perhaps I lost my hyperfixation on art and my blorbos and that I was more interested in another hobby or focused on other things. I spoke with myself, telling myself I could start doing small sketches, I could start practicing just line art and learning how to do eyes (eyes are so hard!!)

And so today's act of love is compassion and recognizing when I'm frustrated and letting myself be frustrated. Letting myself continue on a piece that isn't coming out right and working on it just to get the feel of it. Recognizing that I don't have to be drawing every day, that I could have blocks of time where I don't draw, that I don't always have to be producing. And even when I do draw, find joy in the act rather than making a masterpiece. Sure, I will want to refine a piece, work on it until I feel happy with it, but do that with enjoyment and getting to go into the zone.

I think I need to tell myself it's okay to not draw if I don't feel like it. I do worry about ADHD and depression, that this could be a sign of losing interest in what makes me happy or that I'll hop around from hobby to hobby. I think that's where the self-compassion comes in, to sit with myself and ask, do I not want to draw because I feel sad, empty, hopeful, no interest in anything, or do I just not have an art idea I want to work on? And either way, giving myself love and space and acknowledgement that I'm valid either way and that I'll pick my pencil back up again.

[intrepidradish]

Media: Good Omens

Year/my age: 2007/17 and 2019/29

What drew me to the media:

So! This one is so funny because GO is my spring board to fandoms in both major arcs (or whatever) of my experience as a reader and then as a writer. When I was 17, just getting into college, I read Good Omens. As a kid with a tremendous amount of baggage from going to catholic school for most of my life, it was ground breaking for me to read.

Most of you probably know how the story goes, at least tangentially. An angel and a demon thwart the apocalypse. Their relationship is really special, and it was the first time I spent any time reading something categorized as queer. I was mostly there trying to laugh about my experiences with Catholicism, but I got this heaping spoonful of yummy ✨gay possibilities✨ too.

Still, at 17, I wasn't ready for that! I think I searched for fanfiction of them together, but then quickly backed out of the scene. This was probably before I even starting reading Vegebul fanfics, so I was very baby about it. I categorized gay fanfiction as something not for me, an asexual, repressed, repulsed, depressed, heterosexual girl. LOLS

Years later, as a 29 year old, I was really excited to watch the tv show. At this point, I'd already shed my embarrassment around reading fanfic smut (lols Reylo! We'll get to this one later) and even dabbled in smut writing/publishing myself (God, spiderpool, we'll get to this one later too), so I was more open to the possibility.

What made me a fan:

I'm not sure. Something snapped in me both times, but the second snap was much more dramatic. I was writing smut on my goddamn office computer, in my fucking cubicle. Insane. Absolutely mental.

It was like I was a child again, pushing barbie doll faces together. While writing, you really are a fucking god, highest among high. You can create anything. Often that impulse is almost crippling overwhelming, so you can't touch it. It stews in you miserably. Whereas fanfiction offers you restrictions that sharpen and focus creativity in a profound way.

But what made me a fan? British (terror called me a britophile the other day, and my eye twitched, but I don't think I can deny it)? Well written? Funny!? But it probably comes down to the characters. I guess my blorbo of the pair is probably Crowley. Me and my heretic lizard men. My crew. My family.

Crowley is so relatable. You know, and my family life was fine. I couldn't actually pinpoint why I felt caste out from society. By 22, I knew I was nonbinary and had come out to some folks, so at 29, I was on the bandwagon for queer subtext and feeling it touch me.

But most importantly, this shit got me into writing! Like actually sitting down, putting words on paper, and not being able to stop. For that, I'm eternally grateful.

Have I written fanfiction for it?

Yes! I wrote three stories for it (one has been cast into the orphaned fire) with another incomplete. My favorite of the three is definitely the weirdest, Ouroboros Forever and One. I like having fun with stuff, and I hope the trend continues. I'd rather write the weird stuff that I love than the stuff that gets hungrily devoured by the masses.

Why or why not:

I was in a frenzy. The first one came out and I was like "never again, I'm done" LOLS.

My first story was insanely popular (by my standards, not the fandom's per say) and it remains my most kudos'd work, which I'm strangely annoyed about.

Why? Well, my other work is better! Or at least, its gotten better. I have no reason to be annoyed about it perhaps. The Good Omens fandom is huge and thirsty, so it makes sense that it gets read and enjoyed to this day. But maybe writers are inherently a little peeved about success as well as failure. You can't please me. I can only please myself and I say I have better work.

I want to take one second to brag that the unfinished story featured a giant Crowley fucking a black hole. I'm disappointed I never got that story finished. Aw shucks. WIP RIP

Opinion on the fandom:

Giant! Overwhelming! If you can come up with a scenario (sexual, au, situational, historical) its been written about and probably much better than you could ever attempt. It's also a very old fandom that remains active. The book was written in 1990. The show was 2019, and Good Omens 2 is coming out this year??? Insanity!

I joined a discord for GO and was steamrolled. I did a big bang where I made some images for a Cyberpunk AU. It was all fun, but I got so mentally and physically drained trying to keep up with the talent, the popularity contest, and attempting to feel original while dealing with my insecurity as a new writer. I had to drop out.

I'm glad I did too. After I left the fandom, there was a huge backlash on the cast. God I think it was because Michael Sheen had a girlfriend in her twenties or something. Twitter was finding all kinds of reasons to hate fanfic writers or the show or Neil Gaiman of all people. I feel like GO was the start of some exceptionally bad blood that pops up in these giant fandoms around queer stuff. WWDITS has a bit of it, but OFMD takes the fucking cake.

Would I read it again:

No. I'm still really spent on it. I sometimes catch fanart for Good Omens and it's really really difficult to generate an emotion for it whatsoever. The well is dry so they say. Perhaps after GO2, my fire will return, so check back later, I guess.

Master Post

[aethelredism]

for the writing ask dear, 1, 32 and 34 😌

Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

Oooooooh. I think I'd probably rewrite "hold off the earth awhile". I wasn't wholly satisfied with it to begin with and after s5 there are definitely some things I'd want to change.

32. Do you have a word/expression that you always use in your writing?

I am trying to break myself of this but I use "huffed out a laugh" a lot. Like I know what I'm trying to say but. Why do I have to say it like that.

34. Do you write to improve? Or is that not a concern for you?

It's a very tertiary goal when I write fic. I think we all want to be good writers and I do think I've shown an improvement over the years, but I don't write about blorbo from my shows hoping this fic will show my writing prowess, I write because if I don't get the story out of my head it will torment me forever.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Tell me a story about Penis Galette walking in on Baldwin Davenport kissing Blorbo from my shows.

The first thing I saw, when I opened my eyes, was a long thin dark shape in the center of my vision. It was moving, and my brain had already assigned it a word before I'd registered its actual appearance: penis. And the word penis was making it very difficult for me to ignore the rest of the object.

I tried hard to ignore it. I tried hard to focus my mind on something else, anything else that wasn't a long thin dark shape, moving.

But I couldn't ignore it.

All I could remember was that it looked like a penis.

And all my conscious mind could think, over and over, was that it was a penis, and it was moving.

It was a penis and it was moving.

And I couldn't forget it.

"I'm not going to go to class today," I heard myself say, in a voice that sounded like something else, in a voice that I didn't recognize.

"You're not," Blorbo said. And, "Penis," he continued. "Penis. Penis."

"No," I said. I shook my head. "No. It's a penis. I mean it is. But it's a penis because it's a penis. Not because it's moving. Don't you understand? It's a penis! It's a penis!"

I laughed. I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop laughing.

It was still a penis. It was still moving. It was going to make it worse.

I shut my eyes. I tried to think. I tried to concentrate. But I couldn't concentrate.

I couldn't concentrate. I didn't want to concentrate. There was nothing in the world except a penis and a penis that is trying to kill you.

There was a penis trying to kill me.

And it was still moving. It was still going to make it worse.

All I could think of was this: a penis is coming toward you. It is a moving penis. And it wants to make it worse.