#Unpolished kinda but what can you do.

[reginalusus]

Been thinking about that RPG/dual pistol combo he has in the LEGO game...

[kagoutiss]

green beetle black beetle

[born-to-lose]

Should I try to finish those poems I started months ago and ruin my healing process by reminding myself of those times and putting myself back into the situation and how I felt back then or should I just post the random snippets I have?

[milaisreading]

🌱🩷:Blue lock au where Y/n got invited to join the Blue Lock program as a player. She crossdresses as a boy and is friends with Reo and Nagi (they don't know she is a girl). I didn't change much abt Y/n's appearance, except that I made her around 5'10" tall and that she has a similar hairstyle to Chigiri's (the color is up to you, tho)

Warnings: None in particular. Reader uses she/her when narrating, otherwise the characters use he/him for Y/n. Requests are open for this AU.

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

'Blue Lock... so this will be my new escape...' (Y/n) gulped as she looked at the building in front of herself. She saw a lot of people, well known high school players enter the place, making her nervous over the whole idea. Sure, she was excited over finally leaving her home, her adoptive parents for a while, but she was just entering a bigger hell than she already left. Now, some might be confused what a girl was doing at Blue Lock? A project meant for the best football players in Japanese high schools. For male football players. Well, the question was pretty easy to answer, kinda. (Y/n) was adopted at a pretty young age into a somewhat well-off family, but the life she had wasn't the best. Her parents always wanted to have only boys, and while they had 2 biological sons, they didn't want to have a daughter.

'The only reason we adopted you was because I was indebted to your father.' She shuddered as she remembered her adopted father's words. (Y/n) knew they didn't want her, so she did her best to survive the household till she can be free. One of the ways was giving into her parents' demands on changing her personality and appearance to suit a stereotypical guy. (Y/n) didn't want that, at all, but for now she had to be someone she wasn't.

'At least they let me grow out my hair... and they allowed me to leave to this football camp.' She thought, touching a few strands of her (h/c) hair.

"Hey! Earth to (Y/n), are you alright?" She jumped, looking over at her teammates, Nagi and Reo. The two looked at her in worry for a moment, which caused her to smile and nod her head.

"I am fine! Don't worry... Just a little nervous." She thought as Reo grabbed her hand and pulled her into the building while Nagi followed after them.

"Don't be. All three of us are highly ranked football players, I am sure this thing will be a walk in the park for us." Reo laughed.

"Yeah, you worry too much." Nagi yawned as they got into the main hall where the other players were. (Y/n) recognized some from her previous matches, and some were unfamiliar.

'Oh... that Kira guy was invited here too? Figures, he was a good opponent back then...' She thought, recognizing the white haired boy. She then turned her attention to another guy standing next to Kira, they seemed pretty close.

'Who is he? I never saw him before...' (Y/n) thought while observing the blue-eyed boy.

'That sprout is cute tho.' She smiled, noticing the few strands of hair that were sticking out.

"Who are you looking at? Come on, we need to catch up to Reo." Nagi ground as he tugged on the pants of her uniform.

"H-huh? Nobody! Let's hurry up." She said, glancing a few more times at the unknown boy.

They soon reached Reo, only for him to scold the duo for getting lost.

"Congratulations, you unpolished lumps of talent." The trio froze for a moment and then looked at the stage, only to find a guy with bowl-cut black hair and glasses looking at all of them.

"Who is he?" (Y/n) muttered.

"Dunno." Nagi shrugged.

"What did he just call us?" Reo wondered.

"According to my personal judgment the 300 of you are the best strikers under 18. My name is Jinpachi Ego and I was hired to give Japan a World Cup victory." Everyone kept silent as (Y/n) stared at Ego in shock.

'World Cup victory? Japan can't qualify for semi-finals, what does he mean by victory?' She thought skeptically.

"I'll say this plainly. One thing is needed for Japanese soccer to become the best in the world: the birth of a revolutionary striker. From you 300 players gathered here today, I will forge the best striker in the world through a certain project."

Ego continued his speech, not giving anyone time to digest anything.

"What a bore." Nagi groaned, earning a kick to his leg by (Y/n).

"Shh." She warned, then looked back at Ego.

"All of them revolutionary strikers!! Their extraordinary egoism is the one thing Japan’s football lacks. You will not become the greatest strikers in the world, unless you have the ego to match. My purpose here, is to create such a player in Japan."

'Egoism? Shouldn't football be treated as a team sport? What good does it bring to act like that on the field?' (Y/n) raised her eyebrow, tuning out whatever Reo and Nagi were saying.

As Ego kept on talking, (Y/n) was getting lost in her thoughts.

'So we are basically training for our national team now... Getting out of one hellhole into another, but at least here... at least here I feel a little bit more like myself, as odd as it sounds. While I can't tell to anyone I am not a guy, at least I can play the sport that always saved me from going insane.' (Y/n) thought, looking back at the crowd as Ego finished his speech. (Y/n) listened as he talked about reaching the goal he set up for them, and if the players who were gathered had what it takes to become a striker. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the boy from before rush to a open door, and something struck her. She wasn't sure what it was, but something about him and the look he held in his eyes made her hypnotized, and she quickly ran after him.

'Who are you? And what's up with you?' She sprinted faster after him, ignoring Reo and Nagi's calls, both desperate to catch up with her.

"Huh? Thank you... so you said I am in Team X, Teieri-san?"  (Y/n) asked the woman, who smiled and nodded her head.

"Yes, that's just down the corridor. I will keep your phone and other items safe while you are at our facility." (Y/n) thanked the woman and started walking down the hallway, looking at all the rooms in curiosity.

'Probably the storages...' She thought.

'This place is like a prison, but I can welcome it. I wonder how I will keep myself hidden now... now that I have to share a room and everything with some dudes.' She cringed and sighed, then slowly walked into Team X's room. Inside were, as expected a bunch of other guys, some changing, some just talking.

'Oh brother....' She thought, looking to the side.

"Ah? You are our other teammate?" A guy with brownish hair asked.

"Y-yes! (L/n) (Y/n) is my name." She said in a little bit deeper voice.

"(Y/n)? Isn't that a girl's name?" Another guy asked while walking up to the duo.

"My parents have a thing for feminine names." She answered with the same lie she's been using for years.

"Wait... (Y/n)... (L/n) (Y/n)? Hakuho's eagle?"

"What?" (Y/n) she raised her eyebrow as a blonde approached them.

"You are known as a beast with those precise shots. I should have expected someone like you being here."

"Ah... thanks." (Y/n) answered, unsure what was going on at this point. By now a group has been formed around her and the guys started asking her different questions, until someone cleared his throat.

"Can you donkeys shut up?"

(Y/n) tensed up and looked at a pair of red eyes staring directly at her.

'Ahhh!! Scary!' She thought.

"Sorry, Barou." A few sighed out as the boy and (Y/n) had a stare down.

"Barou... I know you. You are that guy from Akudo Academy. We played against you at the quarterfinals." (Y/n) recalled, remembering the sheer force he used back then.

"So what about it?" The boy asked, obviously annoyed that she brought that up. Some of the teammates backed away, scared of a possible infight.

"Nothing-"

"I see you unpolished lumps have all found your room." The group looked at the monitor, only to find Ego staring down at them.

"Good, now it's time for the first elimination round."

"What?" (Y/n) and Barou asked at the same time.

"Every team in our 5 buildings is playing a game of tag, in a football way. You will be given a football, the person you hit with it will be it, and will chase someone else." Ego started explaining as a football fell from the ceiling, landing between Barou and (Y/n). The duo glanced at the item and then at each other.

"You are given 2 minutes. The person who stays it when the time runs out, is eliminated from Blue Lock..." The room fell into a tense silence.

"And, subsequently they are losing the opportunity to ever play for Japan."

"Haaa?!" Barou and (Y/n) yelled in shock.

"That's rediculous, how is a game of tag going to help here?" Barou wondered.

"Especially if you only give us 2 minutes."

"2 minutes is the most a player spends in the possession of the ball during a game. Now hurry up. On your sleeves you will see your current rankings, the one with the lowest is the 1st it."

(Y/n) quickly went to look at hers and scanned the tag.

"Currently the highest ranked one here is (L/n) (Y/n), at 252."

"How does this ranking even work?" She wondered to herself as the screen flashed the name of the first it. She looked at the boy and felt a little sad, he looked pretty meek.

"Donkey." Barou started, hitting (Y/n)'s head.

"Ow! What? And did you just call me a donkey?" She asked in disbelief.

"Don't get too distracted, can't have you eliminated this soon." Barou warned, confusing the girl a little.

"What? Why would you care?"

"Because I still need to prove to you that I am far better than you are."

The girl sweatdropped as the siren signaled the start, causing everyone to disparage across the room. She watched as the boy nervously looked around before his eyes fell on her.

'Shit.' She thought, dodging the ball that came flying to her.

"Huh? Why aren't you kicking back? You are the higher rank here." Barou questioned, annoyed at her move.

"What? The goal here is not to be it!" She watched as the ball bounced off the wall and back to the boy, who seemed more and more determined to get her instead of someone else.

'I can't be eliminated.... I don't want to go back home...' (Y/n) thought, glaring back at him.

[flower-yi]

OKAY SO…. the one where you run your fingers through their hair? aventurine 🤫 (also forgive me if it’s kinda long…)

why? because it reminds him of how a mother stokes the first few strands of their child. or how a sister brushes hair from their siblings eye when they play. aventurine as a child has this messy tussled hair— something about not being put together is so vulnerable.

anyways, as he lies their on the couch, you reading a book, your hands subconsciously running through his blond locks- he stops.

there is a poem i read by Dilruba Ahmed called ‘Phase One’ and the ending part hits so deep. I suggest you read the rest of the poem yourself!!

I forgive you. For growing

a capacity for love that is great

but matched only, perhaps, by your loneliness. For being unable

to forgive yourself first so you

could forgive others and

at last find a way to become

the love that you want in this world.

He won’t say anything, simply silence. and in those twilight hours, does he unravel and silently say ‘i love you’

13. Playing your fingers through their hair while sitting next to them on the couch. | "I forgive you, for growing a capacity for love that is great but matched only, perhaps, by your loneliness; for being unable to forgive yourself first so you could then forgive others and, at last, find a way to become the love you want in this world." — Phase One, Dilruba Ahmed

For all that he is, and for all that he wants to be (even if he is what he wants to be), Aventurine's pristine appearance buries beneath the child that is unkempt, unpolished, ragged. He wears clothes bearing the names of talented designers in the cosmos; has a watch from some pricey brand you fail to recall; is clad with shoes that touch the ground with a resounding clack, clack, clack because they are made from materials you would not see, as a regular citizen, in their lifetime.

Aventurine is always dressed to the nines, similarly strutting like a peacock with its tail raised: all thousand eyes darted and watching you, an observer, stare back.

Yet, in the arms of a beloved, the untouchable does not remain untouchable, and instead, becomes vulnerable, like shedding armor after a deadly battle. His head lays on your lap, while you idle your time away, nose buried in a book he's gotten you the other day. Time is often a luxury, and what time spent here just staring at you can be spent elsewhere making money, hungry for more, and greedy for everything, but you are here; simply unaware, or just blissfully ignorant that every second sitting here is wasted.

But you don't have that mentality, do you? You've lived life with no urgency to it. Failure falls upon you, and you decide it's okay to stumble. There is no moments where you have to sit and lap at your wounds, because there was nothing for you to get hurt from; nothing to heal from.

Your fingers course through hair normally styled, perfect, and, to you, the simple act is nothing. You've known security from the start, and he's yet to be familiar with it. Perhaps he's slowly doing so, because, when that realization comes to him, it stings.

It stings his eyes, and he turns his head away from you.

(You know more than you do. When Kakavasha turns, hot liquid staining your pajamas, you innocently swipe a thumb over his eyes to wipe away the tears. You let him weep, silently.)

[silverzoomies]

Polaroid

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: solo masturbation. that's pretty much it, sorry

word count: 2,625

a/n: i wrote about him jerking off again. whoops. i've been absent for a week. but i'll be home tomorrow !! and hopefully i can get back into the flow of writing. until then, here's this rushed, unpolished thing i wrote on a whim !! it's super clunky and i'm so sorry lol !!

edit: made some minor changes to this. fixed some things that felt off, but overall it's still the same idea.

taglist: @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz (as usual, ask to be added !!)

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Home alone, at long last. Helllllllz to the yeah. Down in the heart of his (mom’s) basement, Peter lies lazily on his back in bed. Today, it's one of those slow, hot afternoons midway through summer. Sunny, with a slight overcast. Peter hasn’t been outside to see it for himself. But he heard some guy on the radio call it “totally tubular” weather for a day at the beach.

He almost wishes he’d take a two second run to the Bahamas, or somewhere else. Peter could kick it back on a towel and watch babes in bikinis walk by. Maybe he could even stir up some trouble in the sand. Like he used to do, way back in his childhood. Just for some extra mayhem.

Alas. Today, Peter feels lazier than lazy. He’s found a new name for himself in Lazyville. As the leading candidate in the office of laziness. Speeding all around the globe for the umpteenth time this week sounds like too much work. Even a super powered mutant, living life in the fast lane, has his off days sometimes. What’s one break, eh? Breathing a sigh, he stares up at the ceiling. Earphones rest over his ears. Peter listens to a melodious tune by Jefferson Starship. Over his belly, he twirls his thumbs, bobbing his head along with his jams. Chillaxin’ and relaxin’ as one should on his day off. Hm.

Except, Peter’s kind of antsy. No one’s home at the moment. He has all this free time to do whatever he wants, in the privacy of said home. With not a soul around to judge him, or even bug him. And listen. It’s been centuries since he got off. Which may or may not be a slight exaggeration.

But wouldn’t you believe it? Despite his uniquely handsome features and outrageously fit bod; Peter has absolutely no game whatsoever. Crazy, right? Who woulda thought it? The dude who locked himself away in his (mom’s) basement for a good ten years. He’s awkward as hell? Say it ain’t so! Whoa!! Insane in the membrane!!!

Not to mention, it might as well have been a geological age since he got laid. Whatever. Who needs the companionship of someone else to have a totally righteous time, huh? Haha…

Ahem.

Today, Peter dubs himself the crowned king of slacking off and jacking off.

Pulling his earphones down to rest around his neck, his fingers move to find his jeans. He teases himself for a beat or two, his palm rubbing over the denim. Another beat, and his cock is freed from the tight, restrictive material. Peter makes a mental note: He might need to invest in looser pants. This pair is rough and uncomfortable around his legs, so he shoves them all the way down to his ankles with virtually no shame.

What does it matter anyway? For the time being, he’s free. At least until his mom gets back, that is. He should really stop thinkin’ about that. Every time Peter remembers - oh, yeah - he’s a grown ass man still living at his mom’s place; it kinda wrecks the vibe. Makes the mood crash and burn. Total boner killer. And he’s not even hard yet.

His half-hard cock rests limply over a curly patch of silver hairs. Peter would never admit it to anyone, but he’s always been self conscious of his hair situation. Some chick back in high school - he can’t even remember her name - said his silvery bush “looked really weird.” Like the pubes of some geriatric. 

Peter can barely picture her face at this point. But the sound of her giggling at his expense is, unfortunately, locked away in his brain forever. Another embarrassing memory to withstand the test of time. Probably until he dies, or becomes a geriatric himself.

What was he doing again? Oh. Right.

Peter gives his dick a firm squeeze, like he’s checking to make sure it’s still there. Before taking the semi-hard length into his hand. Slowly, he strokes himself to hardness. Breathing a relieved sigh, Peter settles into the groovy-patterned sheets of his bed. The smooth tip of his cock inches through his closed fist with every stroke. As his frustration blossoms, his length throbs with an intense longing for something more.

Thick veins pulsate under his hand. Sparkling beads of precum leak from his tip. He coats the head in a generous glaze of slickness, eliciting a hushed noise from the depths of his throat. Keeping himself as quiet as humanly possible is basically a instinctive response. But he doesn’t have to hold himself back right now, does he?

Sweet. Peter’s gonna be as loud and obnoxious as he wants.

Pumping his cock a bit faster, he momentarily stops to fondle his balls. They rest heavy in his palm, smooth to the touch and loose between his fingers. After teasing himself impatiently, Peter redirects his attention to his twitching length. Aching for more stimulation. He jerks off with a pleasurable rhythm. Subconsciously following the beat that resonates from his earphones, his strokes fall into a more consistent pace. He leans further back in bed, letting his lips part. His nerves tingle. And as he revels in the sensation, he loudly moans. Letting the noise rip through the silence of his ( mom’s ) basement.

Said basement has now become more stifling. Kudos to the summertime heat for that one. Peter’s Conan the Barbarian T-Shirt - now damp with his sweat - feels like too much of a hindrance. He pulls the fabric up, letting his upper half breath. With his shirt clamped between his teeth, Peter leaves his body exposed. A sheen of sweat coats his abs, and his pecs raise with each labored breath he takes.

He takes a half second to admire his own physique. Honestly? No bullshit? His body looks pretty damn amazing. If only there were someone around to appreciate how naturally jacked he is. It’s a hell of a tragedy, really. All this smokin’ hot, speedster bod goin’ to waste. Tsk tsk tsk.

Who was he even kidding? Why would anyone wanna waste their time messin’ around with a total shut-in like him?

Dammit. Now's not the time for some hateful, self-ribbing. He should distract himself with something. Something like-

Using the gift of his mutation, Peter increases his speed by a few notches. His fist squeezes tightly around his length, stroking his cock even faster. He groans into his shirt, knitting his brows as arousal washes through his groin in waves. It feels good. Really fucking good.

But it’s not enough. He wants to utilize this free time as much as he can. It���s the perfect opportunity to get even more frisky than he usually would. Peter bolts around the basement, searching for a few hidden…uh…treasures, we’ll call them. In a blink, he reappears on his bed, leaving his overly tight jeans and boxers discarded on the floor.

Lying next to Peter over the wrinkled blankets, rest a bottle of lube - the tingly kind, a stroker toy - clear, with literal, silver lining, and a polaroid photo. The toy hasn’t been used in eons, but its quality is still up to par. Peter made sure to clean it the instant he found it again. And the photo, well…

It’s his own, filthy secret.

A low-res, high flash picture taken of you at last year’s, X-mansion, Halloween party. Whoa, mama. You were scantily clad in the most outrageously suggestive Indiana Jones costume Peter ever saw. Back at the party, you even tipped your hat and cracked the whip a couple of times. Which may or may not have awakened something in him. But that’s beside the point.

You were so tipsy that night. Way more flirtatious than you naturally would be any other day. Peter remembers you pressing your body against his, hanging over him all night like a sexy sack of potatoes. He sat next to you on the couch. With a cheesy grin on his face, he watched your every move. The tiny shorts you were wearing kept riding up your thighs. It was obvious you were braless under a tight, cropped, button-up shirt. Leaving so little to the imagination.

Point blank, it was fucking awesome.

You crossed your smooth legs. One over the other. And you leaned in to whisper something hot in Peter’s ear.

“Take a picture with meeeee, Quickie, I wanna remember this moment forrrever and everrrr.” You pleaded, your breath tickling the skin of his neck. 

What followed, he hadn’t seen coming. As someone - it’s all a blur, Peter can’t remember who - snapped the photo, you pressed your glossy lips to his cheek. Your giggles were so coquettish and teasing, he felt shivers race through his body at mach speed.

“I’m, like, sooooooooo scared of snakes. Geddit? ‘Cuz I’m Indiana? But your snake doesn’t scare me. Can I pet it, pllllleeeassse?” You giggled again with a little whine.

Making an abrupt move, you reached for Peter’s crotch in front of everybody. After zipping away to grab you a solo cup full of water and some bread, Peter snatched the photo from whoever. And he bolted home in a fit of shameful embarrassment.

In retrospect, you weren’t just tipsy. You were majorly smashed. You didn’t remember a single minute of it. Figures. He’s not too surprised you wouldn’t remember flirting with him.

Peter sighs, blinking himself out of the memory. Eager to continue his once-in-a-silver-moon, jerkin’ session. He squeezes a fair amount of lube into his palm, wrapping his large hand tightly around his cock. Over every inch of his aching length, he spreads the slick substance. Tingles sparkle like stars across the hot, velvet skin of his cock. Wet noises echo lewdly through the basement, as Peter pumps his leaking dick fast and hard.

Clenching his shirt between his teeth, Peter tilts his head back. A loud, seething moan slips from his lips, slightly muffled. He pauses again, grabbing the stroker and guiding its smooth slit over the swollen head of his cock.

“MMmmmnnn~!” Peter hums a steady moan, exhaling through his nose.

The inside of the toy feels nothing even remotely close to the real thing. Kind of a bummer. But the tunnel’s soft, bumpy ridges are still a double A plus. A little too good sometimes, actually. The toy slides down Peter’s cock as he pushes his entire length through. It’s a tight fit around him. Tighter than it should be. Which is doing wonders for his confidence. Maybe he should be more proud of his size.

He’s above average enough, the small toy can’t contain the length of him entirely. His weeping tip peeks out the other side of the stroker, prodding through with every pump. Peter breathes another, shuddering moan. His brows crease in pleasure. Pumping his cock with the squishy toy, he whines in desperation. Forcing his thick length through the toy’s tight grip, slick with lube and smooth as silk. The ridges inside tickle and massage his cock, stimulating his buzzing nerves. 

The muscles in his groin tighten, stiffening his legs. Shoving his cock rapidly through the ribbed tunnel of the toy, he groans louder. Letting his needy noises slip as they please. Fuck it. No restraint. Indulging himself further in his degeneracies, Peter keeps your photo close by. He shoots a glance at it, admiring your soft thighs and amazing cleavage.

He daydreams about you. Imagining the way you’d feel around him, squeezing him so much tighter than any toy. You’d be needy and wet for him too, making it so easy for Peter to bury himself balls deep inside you. 

Peter thinks about the way your titties would look, bouncing with each thrust of his hips against you. Would your nipples peak, stiffening under his fingers? How would you react if he had a little fun, and teased you with a superspeed buzz? Would you even like that? Would you think that kinda thing was weird?

He really does want you sooooo bad. But you have absolutely zero idea. Peter knows he’d treat you right if you let him. If you ever gave him the time of day outside of missions, he’d take you on the wildest ride you ever strapped yourself into.

Clenching his teeth hard into his shirt, he wraps both hands tightly around the stroker. Peter leans as far back as he can, bracing his feet flat on the bed. The blankets curl under his toes, as he lifts his hips. Driving his cock through the slick, textured toy and fucking it hard.

“Nnghh…fuuuuck. Fuck.” He groans, voice catching under fabric.

His breaths quicken, and his moans morph into desperate whimpers. Peter aches for your heat, and the closeness of your body. Your gentle touch. Your sweet voice and little whines. He knows, without a doubt, you’d feel beyond amazing. And you’d probably taste so sublime.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Peter whimpers into his shirt. Saliva seeps through the fabric, melting off his tongue and dribbling down his chin. His cheeks burn hotter, turning a brighter shade of crimson.

“Mmmmmfuckyeah-” Peter moans, followed by a muffled mumble of your name.

He fucks his cock through the toy at rapid, superspeed. Lifting his hips off the bed as if roughly drilling into your tight heat. Peter’s cock throbs as powerful surges of electricity erupt in the pit of his belly. Glossy, white streaks of cum spill from his tip, flooding over the toy. Dripping down the squishy sides of it. His cum stuffs the inside full, coating his dick in its stickiness. Peter thrusts his cock fast enough to appear a blur, until he’s completely spent.

Lying in a sweaty heap over his blankets, Peter pants easy breaths. Tousled, silver hair rests messily over his head. He pulls the stroker from his cock, and slick cum trails after it. Wet and thick against his softening dick. He throws his head back into the bed, taking a moment to compose himself.

It’s really crazy that he’s thinkin’ about you like this, isn’t it? He’s honestly really embarrassed by it. Peter grabs the polaroid and stares at it longingly, unable to suppress the grin pressing into his dimple. Damn. He just can’t help himself. No matter what, he’s kinda ride or die for you.

If only he had the balls to tell you up front.

Peter gazes at the photo for a few seconds too long. Lost in the sight of your sexy body again. You’re such a goddamn knockout. He guides his attention to his dick to find…he’s rock hard again? Seriously? Dropping his head onto the bed, Peter groans with agonizing frustration. He just can’t catch a break, can he? Why’s he always gotta be so antsy, so on edge, or so horny all the time??

A faint sound, like creaking wood, graces his ears. Peter tilts his head up instantly.

Only to be greeted by none other than the unexpected sight of you.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck-

You’re standing in his ( mom’s ) basement with your mouth agape. A faint indication of blush paints your cheeks, though he can barely see it. Peter should be moving. He should do what a speedster naturally would do in this kinda situation: Clean up and dress himself in less than a blink’s time. Just to play innocent afterwards. Maybe he could gaslight you into thinking you didn’t watch him get his rocks off.

But he’s stunned to the point of being frozen. Neither of you make a single move. Except for Peter’s dick. It twitches subconsciously in his lap, catching your attention. And your eyes widen further.

He really should’ve gone to the Bahamas. Peter’s betting those beaches are seriously bangin’ at this time of year.

[bandnerdlevel43]

Don't Leave Me

Ravio x LU Legend (Ravioli)

Summary: Ravio decides to tidy up their house a bit. Legend disappears to his room, as per usual, to do Goddess knows what. Ravio thinks nothing of it, until he hears the tell-tale sounds of his partner having a breakdown.

Word count: 1,650

Warnings: Grief, Legend has Koholint Trauma, hurt/comfort (but mostly fluff), writer projects her low self-esteem onto Ravio (shhhh it’s fine don’t worry about it), baby’s first time writing gay men

A/N: Hello, Ravioli fandom! Uhhh this is my first time posting my writing (ignore the cringefics I wrote on Wattpad when I was twelve coughs awkwardly), so any positive reinforcement/constructive criticism is not only welcome but encouraged! Also, not only is this my first time writing this sort of content, I myself am not part of the LGBTQ+ community. If I get something wrong, please tell me.

I was just kinda in the mood for these two when I realized I’ve already read all the content. Basically I had the “fine I’ll do it myself” moment that all writers have at some point. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Love you all!

----

Ravio hummed contently, arranging the dishes in a neat pile on the counter. He ignored the various crumbs scattered across it. Instead, he picked up the duster, reached in the cabinet, and swept up the film of particles. He poked it into a corner, and in response, received a small tink. Ravio tilted his head curiously and delicately brushed the object into view. It was another ring- not cursed, thankfully, but horrifyingly unpolished. Ravio reached in to pocket the trinket that had gone so long without care, and continued his chore with a cheery whistle.

But what was that? A sharp rustling sound, followed by… coughing, perhaps? Ravio’s ears pricked; he paused. Sheerow, playing around in some empty boxes? Ravio's brow furrowed. No, the sounds were human in origin. His eyes widened when a soft whimper reached his ears. Legend!

Ravio dropped the duster. He scrambled out of the kitchen and down by the hallway, skidding to a stop by the closed door to their shared room. He knocked timidly, calling out, “Mister Hero?”

No response. 

“...Link, please. You know I'll come in even if you don't answer.”

The silence only made Ravio more scared. He would take a “Get lost, Ravio” or a “Leave me alone, Idiot” over this. This quiet meant his Link was drowning in some way Ravio was still struggling to understand, let alone help heal, no matter how desperately he wished he could. 

He opened the door anyway. 

Ravio peeked inside, and almost immediately his heart sank. Legend was in the middle of the room, hunched over something that Ravio couldn't see. His shoulders were trembling with silent sobs. It was always a stab in the gut for Ravio, to see him like this. It hurt, but he had to ignore it. For Legend's sake. 

Ravio made sure his footsteps were easily heard. Legend didn't flinch, twist, or jump. Either he expected his entrance, or he was so deeply buried in his emotions that he didn't notice him. Ravio shuddered at the thought.

The Lolian sat beside the hero, careful not to make any sudden movements. He reached out, touching the other’s shoulder lightly. Legend inhaled sharply, provoking a violent bout of coughing. He shied away from Ravio’s touch, eyeing him warily. He clutched what looked like a sketchbook close to his chest.

“Hey,” Ravio said softly. “You can trust me. Remember?”

Legend squeezed his eyes shut, curling further in on himself. His breathing stuttered, and this time Ravio could see the tears spill from his eyes. He felt an ache in his chest, reaching again for Legend's arm. This time he didn't pull away as his hand rested on his shoulder, tracing little half-circles with his thumb. Ravio didn't dare do more, lest he worsen Legend's state.

“Please, tell me what’s bothering you,” Ravio whispered. “I want to help.” Legend still didn’t speak. Worry made Ravio’s heart beat as rapidly as a rabbit’s twitching nose. Abandoning all caution, Ravio nuzzled his head in the crook of Legend’s neck, puring as much love into the gesture as possible. Hopefully it would snap him out of his sorrow.

It didn’t. Legend stared sightlessly ahead, his eyes glassy with tears.

“Link…” Ravio pleaded. “Say something.”

Legend blinked, turning to look at Ravio as though just noticing his presence. He loosened his grip on the sketchbook, his breath hitching as he let Ravio see.

The drawing was of a woman, the invisible wind tossing her long dress and fluid hair to the side. A large flower of a deep shade pinned some of it back. Her posture was welcoming and bright, but the face… Something was off. The features didn't seem to fit. They just felt wrong.

Legend hugged the drawing back to his chest, shaking again with suppressed sobs. “I'm forgetting her,” he choked out. “I c-can’t remember her eyes. I'm losing her.”

Ravio swallowed hard. He tried not to feel spite, he really tried. But how was he supposed to comfort him when all he was was Marin’s replacement?

Ravio felt himself withdraw his hands. He was suddenly unsure, watching Legend mourn the love that came before him. Now he felt guilty for intruding. Legend must think him inadequate, a second-rate substitute.

“Oh,” Ravio finally said, lips dry and numb. “S-Sorry. I didn't mean to- I'll just-”

Ravio cut himself off, standing suddenly with the intent to leave the veteran alone. To remove himself as a burden. Yet he never had the chance. To his bewilderment, Legend had grabbed his wrist, his grasp like a vice and his gaze just as intent. Desperate, even.

“Don't leave me,” he whispered.

Ravio blanked. Baffled at his words, Ravio wondered why he would want him of all people to remain. He was just a reminder of someone far more precious; nothing more, no one special. But when he heard Legend croak the single word, “Stay,” in a voice so vulnerable, so scared, Ravio slowly sat down again, concern still lacing his every thought and emotion.

Immediately, Legend's arms surrounded him, pulling him close and forcing a small startled squeak from his lips. The Hylian gripped him tight, holding him like a man would a piece of flotsam adrift in a sea wracked with tempests. Legend buried his face in Ravio's dark curls. His actions were almost protective, in a way, and Ravio found himself melting into his embrace. Part of him was still in denial that Legend didn't want him to leave, but when Legend took Ravio's sudden lack of tension as a signal to bring him even closer, those doubts evaporated. Tucked in Legend's arms, he felt a reassurance that he hadn't felt in years. You're safe now, the touch said. You'll never hurt again, because I'll protect you. 

Except… Lolia. It wasn't hurt, was it? It was disappear. 

Legend was making sure Ravio didn't disappear.

Legend was making sure he didn't disappear. 

Ravio promptly burst into tears. Unlike Legend, who was quiet and subtle, Ravio sobbed hard enough he was sure the goddess could hear him. He hiccuped and he sniffled, unable to control the wave of emotions that came crashing down on him. 

Of course, Legend's natural reaction was to panic. “Ravio, what happened?” he exclaimed. “Did I hurt you?” 

His hands flew to his chest in an obvious display of how startled he was. Ravio's instinct was to pout at the sudden lack of contact. Instead, he hugged him around the middle and laughed wetly. “It's nothing.”

Legend's bloodshot eyes met Ravio's own moist ones. Something akin to worry flashed across his expression, but was quickly overtaken by a pink tint dusting his cheeks. “Stop it, then,” he sputtered.

Ravio merely hugged him tighter. Legend hesitated before digging his fingers in Ravio's silly hair. “I didn't think you'd want me here,” Ravio mumbled, his voice muffled from burying his face in Legend's tunic. “I thought I was making it worse.”

Ravio was quickly flabbergasted at his own boldness. His throat was dry as he stammered, “I-I didn't mean to say that! I'm so sorry, I just- I wanted- I-”

“Ravio.”

Ravio met the hero's eyes and immediately realized he had overstepped. Link's dark, violet eyes were as intense as ever, glaring at him with such a ferocity that wasn't typically directed at him. If he wasn't afraid five seconds ago, he was now. His ears tilted downwards.

“Don't you ever say that again,” Link growled, “or I'll kick you out, for good this time.”

First, Link's words surprised him. Then, they made him so unbelievably happy. He hiccuped out another sob as he squeezed Link's torso tighter, a wide, giddy smile spreading across his face that was so big it hurt. “Promise?” he whispered.

Link snorted. “Don't push it. I might just throw you out anyway.”

Despite the rough words, Ravio's heart soared. He never really meant it (probably), and it meant he was back to normal. No longer lost in the anguish of mourning. Not only that- Ravio wasn't a burden. Somehow, he didn't mess up. And he was so, so happy. 

“Thank you,” he finally sighed. “I'm glad you're back.”

“Sap.”

“I am!” Ravio protested with a laugh.

“I know. That still makes you a sap, Rodent,” Legend retorted. He hesitated, toying absently with Ravio's hair. It felt good. He liked it. “But… yeah. I… I needed that. Thanks. I guess.”

“Awwww,” Ravio cooed teasingly. “That was so sweet of you, Mister Hero!”

“Oh, Goddess forbid I show any positive emotion around you!” Ravio could practically feel Legend's eye roll. “Never mind, I take it back! Maybe I should kick you out.”

Ravio shifted so he could look up at the hero, his head in his lap. “You wouldn't, though.”

Legend raised a brow.

Ravio gave him his best puppy-dog eyes.

Legend swatted at him. Ravio yelped as the Hylian shoved him off his lap, a badly suppressed grin on his face.

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Ravio giggled, jumping to his feet. He laughed at the hero's oh-so-grumpy expression. It went well with his flushed cheeks. 

“Get back to work, you freeloader,” Legend scoffed. “I don't keep you around to be obnoxious.”

“Your pink ears say otherwise,” Ravio pointed out smugly.

“Ravio!”

That was his cue. Ravio made his escape, twirling out the door and shutting it on the red-faced Hylian. Legend didn't follow. He didn't follow because he cared. Lolia, he cared!

Sheerow was waiting for him outside, fluttering lightly on the breeze drifting in from the open window. Ravio greeted the bird with a warm “Hello, Sheerow”, and opened his palm to offer a space for him to land. His companion complied, perching on his fingers, who in turn tickled the top of his head with a finger.

“Come on, Sheerow,” he said, bouncing, almost skipping, towards the kitchen where he had abandoned his project. “Let's get back to work.”

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hello))) this is partially inspired by the anon’s request, who was watching soap operas with her grandma - I’m the same 😂

So maybe reader comes from family with money, not like millionaires, but her dad is one of Californias top divorce lawyers so he definitely makes good cash. Of course her parents are not fans of James, up to the point where they cut her off because she refused to break up with him. But she takes it well, works as waitress at diner as she’s happy being with James. However, after Metallica’s first tour in 83, he confessed that he cheated with girls on the road - exactly what her father warned her about. So she kinda doesn’t have any option but to go back to her family. However, her father does forgive her and takes her back.

A few years later in 90s, when Lars is divorcing Debbie (his first wife), guess who’s Debbie’s attorney? She wins the case so at some point she comes to the studio so Lars can sign the papers for Debbie to get her part of money; and James is pissed and calls her cynical and cold hearted but she tells him it’s his fault and how she gave everything away to be with him and he went out to sleep with groupies? He feels guilty cause she’s right - he couldn’t keep it in his pants and a few days later calls the law firm she’s working at as he wants to reconcile and cheating was the worst thing he had done???

I thought I’d be brief but ended up with too much details I’m sorry if it’s weird 🥹🥹🥹

I don't know if it's what you were looking for, but I hope you like it 💕

Rewrite the past

I never thought I’d find myself back here, in my father’s office, staring at the walls lined with framed degrees, each one a testament to his relentless ambition. From the outside, my family looked perfect—money, influence, respect. My father was one of California’s top divorce lawyers, the kind of man who made sure everyone knew how hard he’d worked to give us the life we had. I never wanted for anything, but the privilege came at a cost.

When I met James, he was the one thing in my life that felt real, unpolished. He was wild, raw, unapologetically himself, and in a world of well-manicured facades, he was a breath of fresh air. I knew my parents wouldn’t understand, but I didn’t care. They wanted me with someone safe, someone respectable. But I wanted him.

It wasn’t long before the clashes started. My parents despised him—the loud music, the chaos, the risk. They tried everything to pull me away, and when I refused, when I told them that James was who I wanted, they finally drew a hard line.

“If you stay with him, you’re on your own,” my father had said, his tone cold, final. “You’re turning your back on everything we’ve given you.”

The words stung, but I chose James anyway. I took a job at a diner, working double shifts to pay rent on a cramped apartment, doing whatever it took to make things work. It wasn’t glamorous, but I was happy—at least, I thought I was.

Then Metallica went on their first tour. I didn’t hear much from James while he was on the road, and I tried to brush off the nagging worries in my mind. But when he finally came back, he looked different. There was a distance between us, something broken in his gaze. I’d barely gotten a chance to hold him before he pulled away and admitted the truth.

“I cheated,” he said, the words falling out like stones. “There were… girls on the road. I don’t even remember half of them.”

My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. All the warnings my father had given me, every condescending “I told you so” I’d ignored—it was all crashing down around me. I’d fought so hard to keep this, to prove to myself, to everyone, that we were real, that we could make it work.

And yet, here he was, proving all of them right.

I didn’t have anything left to hold on to, no safety net. The betrayal was too much, and, broken-hearted, I had no choice but to turn back to the only people who’d ever protected me. My father welcomed me back without hesitation, perhaps knowing he’d won in the end. But even as they opened their doors to me, it didn’t feel like victory. It felt like defeat.

---

The relief I expected didn’t come when I returned to my family. There was only a dull ache, the feeling of failure simmering beneath the surface. The world I’d tried so hard to escape had pulled me back in, and all the independence I’d fought for felt like it had slipped through my fingers.

My father didn’t say “I told you so”—at least not outright. But there was that look in his eyes every time he glanced my way, like he was almost smug about me finally realizing he’d been right all along. My mother, too, seemed relieved, constantly reminding me that I was better off without “someone like him.” They were careful not to bring it up too much, as if to spare me, but every comment felt like a small needle, poking at my decision to love James.

In their eyes, I’d come to my senses. In mine, I’d lost something I couldn’t get back.

As the years passed, I moved forward. I’d put everything into my career in law, following my father’s footsteps, using my pain as fuel to rise through the ranks of his firm. It was hard, grueling, but the satisfaction I got from the victories, the courtroom battles, made it worth it. Winning cases felt like a balm to all the broken pieces I couldn’t quite stitch together. And every time I signed a high-stakes case or handled a tricky negotiation, I could feel my father’s pride. It was almost enough.

But there was still a part of me that wondered what might have been—if he’d been someone who could keep his promises. If we’d managed to build the life I’d imagined with him. Every now and then, I’d hear Metallica on the radio or see an old photo of us tucked away in the back of a drawer, and I’d feel the sting of what we’d lost.

Then came the day when the past decided to walk right back into my life.

It was late, the office winding down for the evening, when my assistant walked in with a stack of documents and a carefully neutral expression.

“Debbie Lars Ulrich's case,” she said, placing the papers on my desk. “The divorce settlement. Lars needs to sign his part.”

I froze for a moment, processing what this meant. Debbie was one of my clients, yes, but the reality of who her soon-to-be ex-husband was—and what that meant—washed over me slowly, sinking in. If Lars was here to sign, James would be nearby. Of course, he would. They were practically family.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and agreed to bring the papers to the studio the following day.

---

When I arrived at the studio, I knew I had to keep myself together. This wasn’t about me; this was business. I walked in, the familiar smell of stale beer and smoke hanging heavy in the air. The studio felt like a time capsule, reminding me of those early days, back when I’d believed in forever.

And then I saw him.

James stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze cutting through me the moment I entered. The years had changed him—sharpened the lines on his face, deepened the shadows under his eyes. But there was a hardness in his expression, a guardedness I hadn’t seen before.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “So, you’re the one representing Debbie now?”

“Yes,” I replied, my voice steady, professional. “I’m here because Lars needs to sign these.”

He scoffed, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. “That’s all this is, huh? Just a job to you?”

I could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Yes, James. This is my job. I’m here for Debbie. What did you expect?”

He shook his head, his gaze narrowing. “I expected you to have some heart left. But I guess you’ve gotten really good at this—cold, calculating.”

My fingers tightened around the documents in my hand, the years of hurt and resentment rushing back. He didn’t get to act like this, not after everything.

“Cold?” I repeated, letting out a bitter laugh. “That’s rich coming from you. I gave up everything for you, James—my family, my life. I was willing to fight for us. And what did you do? You threw it away for a few cheap thrills on the road.”

His face paled, and I could see the flicker of guilt, raw and undeniable, as he struggled to hold my gaze.

“I was young,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I was stupid. I didn’t know what I was risking until it was too late.”

I shook my head, the familiar ache resurfacing as I stared at him. “Do you even realize what you cost me? I had to rebuild my entire life from scratch, and I did it without you. I’m not here to rehash the past or play whatever game you think this is. I’m here because this is what I do. This is who I am now.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, as if seeing me for the first time. His shoulders slumped, the bravado fading as he looked down at the floor, defeated. “I didn’t deserve you. I don’t think I ever did.”

“Maybe you didn’t,” I replied, softer now, feeling the weight of every hurt, every broken promise. “But I loved you, James. And I would’ve done anything to make it work. You’re the one who threw it away.”

He nodded, looking at me with that same, aching regret, and for a moment, the years seemed to fall away. We were just two people, tangled up in the remains of a love we couldn’t save.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words barely a whisper. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but… I’m sorry.”

I took a deep breath, willing myself to let go of the last fragments of pain, to move on from what we’d lost.

“Goodbye, James,” I said, my voice steady, final.

There are things in life you can’t take back, no matter how desperately you wish you could. Years had passed since we met, but yesterday as I met him again and today I heard his voice cracking over the phone as he spoke the words he’d likely rehearsed a hundred times.

I had been wrapping up the final details on a case, buried in papers and the quiet hum of my small studio in downtown LA. It was my sanctuary—a space I’d built for myself in the years since our breakup. The walls were lined with case files, books, and certificates that whispered of the life I’d carved out alone. The last person I expected to invade this space was James Hetfield.

The phone rang, its sudden chime breaking through the silence. I glanced down, and I answered.

“Hello?” I said, my voice uncertain, testing the waters. I could feel the flutter of my heart in my chest, a mix of excitement and dread.

“Y/N,” he breathed, and the sound of my name on his lips was both familiar and foreign. It sent a rush of emotions through me—nostalgia for the love we once shared, mixed with the sharp pain of betrayal. Memories of our time together flooded my mind, each one a reminder of the happiness we had, intertwined with the heartbreak of his infidelity. I had spent years trying to forget him, yet here he was, a ghost from my past, stirring feelings I thought I had buried deep.

“What do you want, James?” I kept my tone guarded, bracing for whatever might come next, but inside, I was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, longing, and an unshakeable sadness.

“I know it’s late,” he started, his voice softer than I remembered. “But… Can we talk?”

For a moment, I hesitated. Memories crashed over me like a wave—the days spent dreaming of a future together, the betrayal that shattered it all after his first tour. I’d given up everything for him, only for him to throw it all away.

“What is it you want to talk about?” I asked, my curiosity battling with the pain that lingered. “It’s been years.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, I could hear the weight of regret. “I just… I’m sorry. For everything.”

His words hung in the air, thick with remorse, and old wounds reopened like fresh scars. “James, you did exactly what my father warned me you would. I left my family, gave up everything just to be with you. And you threw it away for girls you don’t even remember.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “It haunts me every day. Cheating was the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I don’t expect you to forgive me… but I needed you to know how sorry I am.”

I ran a hand over the edge of my desk, grounding myself. This was my life now—a life I’d built without him, in this studio that felt as much a part of me as my own skin. I had carved out success and peace, and this chapter of my past had no place in it.

“I’ve moved on, James,” I said finally, my voice low and steady. “This is my life now, and I don’t need the past interrupting it.”

Silence filled the line, but I could almost feel the regret radiating from him, his guilt settling over him like a heavy shadow. He had made his choices, and I had made mine.

But then I thought about the years that had passed, the void where he used to be. I couldn’t deny the flicker of hope igniting inside me. “Maybe... maybe we could talk,” I heard myself say, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

“Really?” His voice was tentative, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah, but only if you’re serious about changing. I won’t go through that again,” I warned, my heart racing with uncertainty.

“I am. I swear,” he replied, urgency creeping into his tone. “I know I messed up. I just want a chance to prove it to you.”

As we spoke, I felt the walls I’d built around my heart begin to crack, revealing the soft, vulnerable parts I had long kept hidden. The thought of giving him a second chance filled me with both excitement and dread. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps we could find our way back to each other, even if it was a long and winding road.

“Okay, let’s see where this goes,” I said, my voice steadying.

“Thank you,” he breathed, relief flooding his words. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Just remember, James,” I warned, feeling the weight of my decision. “You’ll need to earn it.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice resolute. “I won’t let you down this time.”

As I hung up, the silence of the studio wrapped around me, familiar and comforting, but now tinged with a cautious hope. I had found my peace, but maybe—just maybe—I could open the door to something new. The ache in my heart remained, but now it held the promise of healing and the possibility of love rediscovered.

[wuucchoo]

(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

gege never said the original draft was boring, he only said he needed to revise it to fit the shonen genre more. where tf are all these people getting that lie from??? if he thought jujutsu sousen draft was boring, it's story line would not be implemented into the culling game arc that we have today.

it was unpolished. not boring.

(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

also, the reason for the mc switch is because yuuji's character fits the shonen genre more.

naive and just happy all around ((naruto??? gon??? luffy????? deku??? that kid in black clover?? i forgot his name)). im not saying that serious characters like megumi as mc was never done in shonen before - but since jjk was gege's first series, he had to conform to shonen norms a little for his story to be approved.

yuuji's character fits what shueisha thinks a shonen protagonist should be (his whole thing of saving every single person around and all that) while megumi's kinda fit seinen more (picking and choosing who to save depending on whether or not he deems them as a good person). gege wanted megumi to stay the way he originally perceived him, so instead of changing megumi's personality - he just gave shueisha the mc they wanted with yuuji. and kept megumi the way he is but as a supporting character that still have the same strong ties to the plot like how he originally wanted.

this isnt a megumi vs yuuji as mc kinda thing btw - because if gege had it his way he would have made this two a duo mc but shueisha wanted to keep to their formula.

i'll put the translation screenshots on here from twt account @///soukatsu_ - you be the judge.

tell me where he said boring there

((im just mad atm dont mind me. i'll probably go draw a chibigumi to calm myself <( •̀ᴖ•́)>))

im not, in anyway, against yuuji being the mc btw - i like how megumi was written in the story that we have now, granted i would love to see more of him, but his role in the story is just the way i like it! i'm just the type of fan who gets more invested in what the supporting characters are doing rather than the mc in any manga that i have ever read. e.g kagura (gintama), L (deathnote), sanemi? (kny), todoroki (mha), grey (fairytail), aki (csm), MEGUMI (jjk) etc etc.

so i like megumi as the supporting role.

and people seem to be forgetting that jjk almost got axed on its first ten chapters ((literally the same thing that almost happened to gintama back then)). so thats really just how publishing a series works. the mangaka (esp a first time serialized one) have to change the story flow here and there in order to conform to what the publisher want - not because they think the story they're trying to weave is boring.

tldr. gege never said he found his first draft boring. idk where all these people got this from. but i guess people wanna cling to anything that can keep their agenda running 🙄

im not gonna tag the general jjk hashtag here coz i'm kinda hating on the fandom atm lmao. its another week another megumi slander with these guys and its always coz of misinterpretation 🙄

[flemlem]

okay so. warning, this is Long (for me anyway) and kind of unfinished? unpolished? its 1am and i am having Thoughts.

Little analysis of qTubbo and Morning Crew because ive been seeing a lotta opinions and I wish to add My Own into the Melting Pot.(I may get off track, im sorry, im incoherent at all times, thats why my posts are so short.)(also all characters just in case)

So first of all, Im putting it out there. Fit and Pac still care about Tubbo. From an outside view, from the audience, we can clearly see that. Unfortunately for us, Tubbo is infact not acting with the same knowledge in mind.

As far as Tubbo is aware they are going to move on without him. They have eachother now they dont need him anymore

With him and Fits relationship We can see that the jokes are banter and just silly, even if ill timed, but how was fit supposed to know that. We see this moment kinda throw tubbo back into 'I have to be worth something, because why would anyone Actually want to team with me if i cant give them something, if I cant make up for being Me '. He starts being more reckless about wanting create back, not really caring to try get out of the cage, even though he probably could of glitch blocked up there at the start.

Ive also seen people mention the fact that Fit 'told him he was family'. Now please genuinely correct me if im wrong. Fit only told Sunny she was family("Youre family"). Sure, he was Right There, but we know that tubbo sees Sunny as more important than him, its totally plausible that Tubbo thought that that wouldn't include him. Its never specified that that was directed at more than just Sunny (out loud), Tubbo also didn't know what sunny wrote (as far as im aware).

I had a whole paragraph on Pac too but it got too messy to salvage, maybe another day.

Tubbo has always been slightly weird about his place in Morning Crew, especially since it started "becoming an isocoles triangle". Im not sure if im more on the side of hes trying to push them away before they get the chance to to save himself the heartache, or if he's trying to show them how much they need him like a 'look at how weird it is when im not there At All. Look at my Cool Town with Foolish and Not you. Please need me still'.

Im Most on the side of him distancing himself, not to save himself the pain(maybe still slightly), not to try get them to come Get Him Back, but to almost hint at them that they Can move away from him. Trying to show them that he does have Other People they dont Need to be around him if they dont want to. The thing about this that isnt working is that Fit and Pac Do still want to be around him.

TLDR: Fit and Pac still care, but no matter how obvious, q!tubbo is mentally ill and has convinced himself that since they got together he is becoming Less and Less important, only catastrophising further at each thing that could be taken as cold even when theyre not.

[silky-silks]

Okay can I talk?

eric belonging to @night-light-artz

Patches @eve-pie

Okay for the image above I was doing a “mock” warrior cat book. I miss the old covers but anyway

I kinda feel my art is…boring. I mean it just feels that way. Sometimes I feel I rush myself to get things done, and to be honest I hate having to rush myself. I look back at my recent post and they just fall FLAT. Flat as in the colors are just boring as heck. Lineart? I don’t really like. Not only that but everything feels so unpolished

My anatomy/details

I hate the fact I miss crucial details of my chat starts or even other people characters. I mean, HAVE YOU SEEN HOW I DONT EVEN ADD SILKY’s ANTLERS 99% of the time? That bothers me. And I see other people add them and I’m just “well damn I’m so lazy I can’t even add antlers on my own fucking character”.

Not to mention the poses. Everything feels so stiff with me. So dang stiff that you may as well call my art wood and use it as a support beam. I hate how I don’t use references for my art. Maybe If I used them more and actually took my time stuff wouldn't look like your average horrific Netflix Original cartoon of some movie.

Backgrounds/minor objects.

Do not get me started. I hate all of them. They look so low effort. I mean, I know I can do better with them! But it seems like I worry about the main characters so much. In fact, I feel the background just falls flat or blends in too much with the characters that it looks. Messy. If I draw a cup, i'll skip over details and it will look awful! Which isnt good, as it shows im lacking severly.

Time

And for time I rush. I feel like I have to literally push things out by day’s end and well…it affects my art. Lately o just been so focus on the hour and time it just makes the art suffer. Even if no one else sees it I do. I love my painted style, but it takes quite some time. And forgive me but I hate just doing sketches to and posting it. I prefer my art to be colored in and all the way. Now im not saying i dont like it when other people sketch. That would be a dick-head move of me.

Some days I fear if I don’t post or read inboxes everyone is going to think I purely abandoned them. I try to focus on my page. but just giving them a sketch at the end well...it makes me feel as if I just dissapointed them. I think to myself and say "I could have done better than that. Why did you even do that in the first place {Name}. "

I have like so much on my agenda and plans and then i realize I can’t do it all in one day. Hell sometimes I just make one day spefically on one subject.

If that day was animation day; I focus on an animatic.

If a certain day is art day and I want to set up my commission page (which is so messy I deleted it) then that’s the settled day. But I feel like I’m going so slow. It's like I am running out of time, and time is just passing by as I look at my clock.

And I'm not blaming anyone it's just my stupid head that makes me feel this way. I know no one is trying to rush me. But head is like "Oh but what if- and why not-". It bothers me. It clouds my vision and i don't realize in reality...no one is saying the things my brain is saying. Sometimes I feel like I'm bothering people when i draw their charcaters so much and tag them. I fear they just say 'Aw great it's this one person again."Sometimes I feel I need to be MORE original. And some days i feel i just need to give up entirely. Some days I think posting everyday will aggervate folks. Sometimes I envy the attention of others, and when I see what they gain or what following I have i look back at myself and say "Well maybe if you did this better than MAYBE you people will be interested in ya". And damn do i slam my head in a wall. Everyone just seems so happy, and yet here I am fretting over if this fucking dog I drew looks remotely interesting. And I just feel it...blends in. Like what is there so special about my art?

MY BLOG

And for this blog, I don't know if I truly have an identity for myself. There's Silky, there is Minty and Syrup, there is Simon and there is Shrimpy. But who do they belong to? What roles do they even serve in this blog? I want them to be my identity. I don't want them being just some sort of character leech. They lack story, they lack purpose, they are thrown in tropes and gag. But what do they relate to? Nothing. Nothing at all. And yeah yeah I know im thinking to DEEP into this. But it's been on my mind so much. And hell call me crazy for talking about them if they are real, but they mean a lot to me. A LOT.

So I tried to make my art interesting here like, i tried referencing images space. I tried adding more anatomy to Snowy since I am tired of doing the usual standing up pose. I even wanted to make the background feel more detailed. I feel a bit better, but I still fear everything is too...eh...bland. Maybe it is just me.

Sorry for the ungodly word of text. I know I shouldn't vent here.

[vannral]

ice/goose

Ice brings his palm to Goose’s waist and his dark gaze searches Goose’s, only to find steadiness and warm, thick affection.

”You okay, Tom?” Goose mumbles but lets Ice keep his hands there on his waist, to ground himself.

Ice breathes in, deep and slow, and the tension in his shoulders drains. ”Getting to that,” he replies roughly.

”Sure, take your time. Gotta say that feels kinda nice.”

Ice becomes aware how firmly his hands grip Goose’s waist, how slim he really is. How fragile his bones feel. Ice swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. Goose is warm, alive under his palms. Alive.

Then, almost tentatively, Goose cups the back of Ice’s nape and it’s so gentle that it makes Ice’s insides shudder and break apart under pressure.

”Hey. Hey, Tom,” Goose says quietly and brushes his thumb across the side of Ice’s neck. ”S’okay.”

It’s not. It’s not. Ice can still see it play behind his closed eyelids. Burnt into his memory. The sound of their panicked voice, filtered in the static.

’this is not good, mav, this is not good – !’ ' -WATCH THE CANOPY!"

”You almost died.”

And that’s the thing. Ice’s always been competitive and determined to reach his goals but to see someone – someone he knew, someone who was kind and funny and sweet – almost die? For a competition?

Goose gazes at him, steady and unhurried like he almost expected him to say that.

”Shit happens,” he replies. ”I mean, I was scared shitless in that cockpit but… I survived. What are the odds, huh?”

With a grunt, Ice brings his hand to stroke the scarring on Goose’s neck. It makes Goose shiver and those dark lashes flutter ever so slightly at the contact. His breathing hitches.

Oh.

Goose lets him do that. In fact, he melts into the touch with a soft hum.

Ice hesitates. Then he makes up in his mind and pecks a light kiss on Goose’s cheek. ”Good to have you back, Nick.”

And he means that. God, he means that so much more than how he can say but it’s the truth.

Goose pouts. ”Aw, that’s it? Kissing me like I’m a bashful maiden in the Middle Ages. Smooch me like you mean it!"

+

(i just randomly wanted to try my hand at ice x goose so this is a little unpolished. their friendship live rent free in my head, especially that whole "mother goose, how're you doing?" paired with ice's wide smile when he sees goose again and THEY WERE FRIENDS and i'll die on that hill. anyway, hope you like this!)

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

ofmd s2e2 rewatch where i pause to jot down my thoughts and other random shit

not quite a reaction post, not quite a liveblog. this post is gonna be unpolished and messy bc this is the only way i know to process my emotions abt these episodes enough that i can actually start talking coherently about them.

s2e1, s2e2, s2e3, s2e4, s2e5, s2e6, s2e7, s2e8

did not notice the first time around that buttons is sleeping with his legs sticking up resting against the side of the ship. king.

WHY DID THEY USE A DIFFERENT TAKE OF THE YOU WEAR FINE THINGS WELL SCENE WHAT PURPOSE DOES THIS SERVE. THIS HAS BEEN BOTHERING ME FOR DAYS.

oh god the face stede makes after he breathes out all wistfully is so pained... ogughuhg heartbreak......

why is the groom cake topper dirty ed were you kissing it. ed. edward.

hNNNG ed pushing the painted bride figurine closer..... im gonna throw up

ed!! rolling over and crying!!! TAIKA HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD AT LOOKING SO FUCKING SAD THIS SHIT HURTS ME

like i can literally feel the tears burning in his eyes. the way his chest starts shaking with sobs but he's managing to keep the sobs in for like one more second. he's trying so hard to hold it in and i've cried like this before and it physically HURTS

also oughg the song. run from me baby... run my good wife... run from me baby..... you better run for your life........ ED THINKS THAT'S WHAT STEDE DID!!! RAN AWAY FROM HIM!!!!! and he thinks that was stede running for his life bc like, he thinks he's inherently monstrous and unlovable and hnnnnnnnnngggg. ed teach go to therapy challenge.

the crew responding to zheng's wake-up bell is so relatable. me when my alarm goes off at 6am

ok so the running bit where stede's crew has never heard of China before. is kinda weird to me. and honestly it kinda runs back to what zheng said in the last episode "one thing i've learned in my time here: you people know so little" about nobody knowing how valuable indigo is. like the show is portraying your average caribbean pirate as really ignorant and only like, ed stede and fucking ricky are on par with zheng yi sao. and i mean knowledge doesnt equate to intelligence so like the indigo thing i didnt really bat an eye at but when it was played for comedy with olu not knowing how to pronounce china i was like... hm. but the season's just started so maybe im reading too much into it but idk. it's a weird writing choice to me.

loving how at the start of last season the crew almost mutinied bc stede was a soft captain but now roach is out here embracing how all of them are "tender as hell."

love how lucius and pete have their romantic reunion chat just. fully in front of an audience

stede looks. so upset. watching lupete kiss. this man misses his boyfriend so fucking bad

lucius not even trying to hide how much he Does Not want to be stuck with stede in towels

also hi the sky in this scene is so pink. it was blue when buttons was doing tai chi so i guess this is sunset. day one complete.

buttons confirmed sea witch one of the best scenes in s2 so far. intrigued by auntie saying "i have looked for you far and wide" like are there other sea witches and auntie only wanted buttons?? or is buttons literally the only sea witch in the world. i want the lore.

ed. eddie eddie edward. ed my beloved babygirl. i would fuckinggg die for you

ok but also there is literally no way frenchie didnt see ed when he walked in like ed is standing Right There. i love when directors do stuff like this tho it's so funny to me. "ok joel just walk in there and pretend like you dont see taika standing literally right in front of you"

just noticed ed was polishing the handle to the wardrobe (the main wardrobe) right there. he's tidying up. getting his affairs in order before he— *i break down into inconsolable sobbing*

i wont like tho it was very funny to me when we finally got this full scene and ed's "and no more stede" turned out to be "no more izzy." very fun for me

god i LOVE when we get pirate code shit. none of these rules ever make sense it's always just whatever works for the plot's sake. "that's the code of the sea: the new first mate always kills the old first mate. it's always been like that" i don't think it was literally ever like that i think the writers decided that making up this bullshit rule would add drama to the situation. it's like how pirates can win duels by rendering their opponent's sword inoperable (as if pirates ever had like ritualistic duels). or next episode when zheng yi sao is gonna kill them for mutinying against ed. i love how all the logistics of the plot are always some handwavy-bullshit bc the show just Does Not Care about this shit. this is the ed and stede show and everything else is just superfluous set dressing

we were all fixated on lucius living in the walls none of us predicted that it could be izzy living in the walls

"start with his leg see where it goes" frenchie what does this MEAN

archie thinking jim was asking which leg to cut off and just. answering the question genuinely. is so fucking real lmao me too girl

JIM PUTTING THEIR HAND OVER ARCHIE'S TO BRACE THEMSELF BEFORE THEY START CUTTING INTO IZZY'S LEG... the romances on this show are unparalleled

archie when izzy's leg starts gushing: aye yai yai!

stede telling everyone in laundry abt his whole romance with blackbeard. and stede telling zheng and auntie abt blackbeard when he thought they were just soup sellers. you KNOW stede's been telling literally everyone he meets abt how he's looking for his beloved ed.

lol ok but cuba was not written on the map in the one shot and then stede says "oh, hang on, he might be in cuba!" and it cuts back to the map and he underlines the word "cuba" which somehow mysteriously appeared on the map while stede was chatting. 10/10 no notes

also GOD do i relate to stede so hard sometimes. it did not even occur to stede to ask lucius how he's been until lucius points it out and then he's like "oh! right! how are you??" and he does genuinely care but he was just so absorbed in his own shit it did not occur to him to ask. like. ohhhh baby does that hit home

LUCIUS DRAMATICALLY PAUSING IN THE DOORWAY WHEN STEDE TELLS HIM TO WAIT. HIS HANDS ON EITHER SIDE OF THE DOOR AND HIS HEAD BENT. THIS FUCKING DRAMA QUEEN I LOVE HIM!!!!

LLOOKING OVER HIS SHOULDER "oh, yeah. now you care?" AND THNE SHAKING HIS HEAD AS HE WALKS AWAY god i LOVE this soap opera

ok but buttons looks very confused when auntie says "i see you've adopted the humble form of a man" and then she hands him the book abt shapeshifting. like did she know that he doesnt know how to change form or what.

auntie asks buttons to bless their travels. anyway this is how stede somehow didnt get everyone killed in e1 despite the fact that they were at sea for a few months and he had no idea what the fuck he was doing.

LOVE auntie's little... yell? whimper?? before shuffling away nervously. incredible performance.

also the spellbook thing is in chinese. pretty cool how buttons knows how to read chinese.

ed jumpscare 2!

frenchie's "fire away. not literally, i hope" I MISSED THAT THE FIRST TIME KJSGHKFJDGHJHK WHAT A GREAT FUCKING LINE

love how irl frenchie using the wrong hand for that throat-slitting pantomime would be unimportant but the show acts like that's something that could actually give frenchie away bc they need to really nail home the fact that Ed Is A Fucking Genius

another thing ed is: INCREDIBLY HOT. he is being intimidating and evil to frenchie rn and i am very very into it.

obsessed with archie casually picking some random gore off her hand

also obsessed with how jim is just poking at izzy's leg. they learned how to butcher animals as a kid tho so i guess they're not really grossed out by severed body parts lmaoo

also also obsessed with how izzy would absolutely have not survived this at all. i love this show

list part 2:

ok im sorry but "he's our dick" does not feel earned to me. like they use that fantastic shot of the whole crew in episode 6 last season but what's crucial abt that shot is izzy isn't hanging out with the crew. he's sitting away in the corner monologuing abt how he thinks maybe ed might not want to kill stede.

i do think it's significant tho that jim wasn't there for izzy at his worst aka threatening to withhold rations for laughing at him. like they weren't part of the vote to mutiny against izzy. but frenchie was and frenchie was like "start with his leg see where it goes" which does not seem like he's really that invested in keeping izzy alive.

also it's weird how we don't see fang at all for this bit with hiding izzy in the walls. like he would be the one i'd expect to have the strongest connection to izzy bc he knew izzy before the show started and he was hugging and comforting izzy last episode.

anyway imo jim keeping izzy alive is more abt them missing when they were on the ship with olu and the whole crew and the ship was like a family, not necessarily abt feeling loyalty to izzy specifically. i could be wrong tho who knows.

one thing i do know is that it is VERY important to point out how jim is struggling really hard with everything, archie is not. she wasnt there for the co-captaining era at all and she seems to be rolling with everything like it's all expected. this includes the wedding raid and ed pointing a gun at her last season and stuff. even now she's mostly just confused by why jim is bothering to try and keep izzy alive. but she acts like the amputation and the violence are all what she expected.

yay kissing!! with the shit stuffed up their nose and covered in blood and jim still holding the leg GOD I LOVE THIS SHOW

hnng when archie says "you have... hope" jim's jaw tenses and they visibly swallow after the word "hope." god jim is going through it

"the wooden demon boy that thirsted for life" god i love this game of telephone that the show is playing with pinocchio it's so fucking funny

archie definitely still says a few syllables after "no i was cleaning up blood" while jim was leaning in for another kiss but none of it forms a coherent word. relatable.

ed's "ohhhhohoho. ohoho" is so funny to me. this man is so jealous that other people are getting to kiss ppl they like but not him.

hm archie and jim are not actually kissing when we cut to the shot of ed standing in the stairwell. i imagine this is an editing goof or something

jim and archie pulling away like two kids who got caught kissing under the bleachers during gym class or something. incredible. one of jim's nose plug rags is mysteriously missing now. i think archie ate it.

ed shushing frenchie. nothing to say here but "i need him carnally"

"take the fuckin leg" ed does NOT like mess!!!

"he was your friend" well jim. he might have been ed's friend. but he had a very strange way of showing it.

why does it sound like ed has spurs on his boots

OLU IS SO CUTE I CANT BLAME ZHENG FOR BEING LIKE "you're doing so good at filing thanks so much!!" WHEN HE'S ACTIVELY FUCKING EVERYTHING UP

also. i want to know about auntie's filing system. ahead of it's time, you say?? tell me more. hi my name is jess and i love sorting things

ah yeah olu mispronouncing china moment

olu and zheng are cute tho ngl

roach is having an orgasmic experience drinking soup. very relatable.

love that stede called the broth "insane" like fics so often get stede's voice wrong bc he will randomly say casual slang in a way that contradicts his general s1 vibe of stuffy frilly rich guy. but he's more like your average dad whose general grammar when speaking is pretty outdated but he's also trying to use slang to fit in with his kids

oh god stede is trying so hard with lucius it is giving SUCH awkward dad vibes. "when i was young and edgy" and "mr. cool" STEEEEDE

"my spicy little rat boy" im so sad that lucius hates that pet name bc this is the funniest thing black pete's ever said

aw nooooo the way pete jumps when lucius yells at him :(:(:(

yo wee john has like a wristband with all these sewing needles and shit stuck on it that's such a cool costume detail

the first thing izzy says after waking up is "my leg" and in my head im hearing it in the spongebob meme voice

first: very funny how ed responds "yeah!" like, laughing about the whole. amputation thing. and then secondly i am obsessed with "up in Leg Heaven" he is so fucking quirky. i love him.

"have you come to take the other one" yeah you'd probably enjoy that huh izzy.

love ed's dangly earring. gender.

smthng abt how izzy is instantly exhausted and dismissive when ed tells izzy to take the gun vs how ed was also bored and dismissive when izzy said "i have love for you." idk if there's anything there im just making tenuous connections in my head rn

help. ed clenching his fists when he's standing with his back to izzy. he really wants izzy to do it but also even deeper than that he really doesn't he wants to live

izzy starts to laugh the same way he started to cry last episode with like a really loud sudden gasp of air. also he laughs so weirdly jesus christ

also jesus this is so fucking dark. i mean obviously but im fucking reeling right now from ed trying to get izzy to kill him and izzy's response is just "do it yourself you fucking pussy." fuck.

more thoughts on this scene here

"i loved you... best i could" i actually dont have a lot of thoughts abt this at all aside from it just seems like a weird thing for ed to say. idk. i have a few metas abt this saved that ive been meaning to read so maybe that will help me deconstruct this but i think i'd need more time to figure out why this line feels weird to me. it could literally just be that i dont like blackhands at all but idk. probably not gonna unpack my feelings for a while tho bc in terms of everything i want to dig into from these 3 episodes alone this is at the bottom of that list lol

love how ed tells frenchie "go live" right before he steers them into a storm and tries to doom everyone on the ship.

"two messed-up kids probably" i know this is one of those things that some viewers are just always gonna have a problem with but it's so fucking funny to me how stede is like. never seeing his children again. and is like "yeah they're probably traumatized by how i was a bad father. well that's for mary and doug to deal with!"

lucius winking when he calls stede quite the fuck-up. i love this snarky gay

anyway for how fucked up the vibe is on ed's ship at least they weren't playing human puppet or making people catch rats with their teeth

shit this is longer than the last post. anyway list part 3:

ok i completely forgot abt this scene where the crew back on the Revenge is talking in the hallway before they go confront ed but i think it's rlly interesting how jim is the only one who says anything abt how ed's sudden cheery mood is NOT a good thing. fang is like "do we think he's better?" and jim's like "fuck no!" and frenchie's like "idk he seemed pretty calm to me." like this is so fucking juicy to me. jim knew this wasn't "better." i think this is because jim kinda gets it. they know what it's like to be told you're only meant for violence. and they know what it's like to want something softer. last season i probably wouldnt have said jim understood ed's suicidal tendencies but the way jim KNOWS that this isnt better makes me wonder if they understand this, too.

altho when they go outside and ed is like "it's a bad storm! and i took the wheel! and im gonna fire into the mast! we're all gonna die!!" jim yells "what do you want, you piece of shit!" (in spanish) so maybe they dont get the suicide bit of it. but they did understand that ed wasn't better.

oh ed's voice in "what do i want?" is so whiny and sad. babygirl is fucking going through it. good thing the rain is hiding his tears ahaha. ha.

"all love dies im just hastening the process" objectively this is fucked up but also it is so funny to me that he's like "i got dumped so now nobody else is allowed to be happy and in love." he broke up all the couples at the end of s1 and he raided a fucking wedding. babygirl i love you. you are so unwell

VERY RANDOM THOUGHT and i would have to go back to last episode double check but i dont think any of the background crew are women?? it's just archie??? which kinda bums me out a bit like i dont only want female rep in the main cast i want to see random background women too. i could be entirely wrong abt this tho just in this scene i only see dudes in the background

anyway archie being like "alright i guess we're fighting" bc this is archie's normal. archie is just kinda resigned to her life being shit.

stede crossing out "dead" and circling "alive" is so fucking funny to me hfjkhdjvgdfjk like. manifesting.

but also he does kinda manifest that in the next episode doesnt he?? he loves ed back to life ahaha oh god oh fuck *starts sobbing*

"looks like he's gotten back into arson" okay and??? wee john's an arson enthusiast also, cmon lucius dont judge a man for his hobbies

stede's fucking face when he considers what lucius said abt "maybe his time with you is the best it's gonna get for him" like i think he tries to think abt it and just. cant. he cant fucking accept that. god im gonna throw up.

HNNNNG THE RUN FROM ME SONG COMING BACK IM GONNA LOSE MY SHIT

i cant get over how archie is like. yeah bro it's fine. it's cool just kill me im not gonna hold it against you.

jim's like "YOU WERE GONNA DO IT ANYWAY!!" and ed's like "teehee yeah :3 u got me"

oh bro some of the random background crew people just fully go overboard huh. damn. rip those guys.

ok so im choosing to believe that izzy fired a lucky shot there bc the man couldn't even shoot himself point blank in the skull but im supposed to believe that he got ed right in the arm from the other side of the deck in the middle of a crazy storm and the ship rocking like crazy and izzy's probably suffering from like, insane amounts of blood loss?? i dont buy it. i mean it doesnt matter at all but i think he was trying to hit ed's general torso area and if ed didnt have his arm held out izzy would've missed. like i said tho this makes no fucking difference. it's just a fun little headcanon hehe

love how ed laughs like an absolute maniac here. babygirl u are so unhinged.

wait it's fucking wild how in the middle of all this we to cut to auntie putting the map back together and then we see that zheng is bringing her fleet over land. anyway this is foreshadowing obviously but like considering the song choice and cutting this between ed's suicide attempt and then the crew mutinying. is a choice. and idk why they made that choice yet.

it is a pretty dramatic reveal tho. i didnt appreciate that the first time but holy shit. she's just pulling her ships all the way to the caribbean. girlboss.

and then the mutiny. the relief on ed's face hurts me so fucking much

other thoughs about this scene here

HOLY SHIT THIS POST CREDITS SCENE AHHHHHH

so first of all. auntie saying olu can be allowed to clean up random hairs around the desk and zheng being like "there's not that much hair" girl you know you're lying. her hair is so long and so gorgeous and you KNOW random strands end up making scary-ass hair spiders if somebody doesn't regularly sweep things up

second of all: olu pretending there's a carrier bird with a messege for zeng to give her a break is SO CUTE. OLU. OLU YOU ARE SUCH A SWEETHEART.

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

I doubt literally anyone else will care about this, but this has been a mini goal/desire of mine for so fricken long now, so I wanted to at least share it here, ha.

Anyway, TPWP is one of my more popular fics. It took a while to get there when I was posting, creeping up with the kudos and hits and everything each week, but by god did it get there. Once I finished posting it and it plateaued in statistics, the only fic that was above it in terms of popularity was my old fic, A Pirate’s Life (APL), which I had written when I was like 17-18 I believe. And APL is not a bad fic, no. It’s just definitely unpolished and a bit rough in spots. And the ship itself is a bit ehhhh, though I always liked the fanon interpretation of the ship much more than anything from canon. I’m digressing though.

Anyway, I always privately hoped that TPWP would surpass APL in popularity, since I much prefer TPWP in terms of writing ability and the ship itself. I also wanted my most kudosed and ‘popular’ fic to be something that reflected my current writing level and ships, not something I wrote and liked when I was newly an adult. While I know now that the number of kudos on a fic ultimately doesn’t matter too much and doesn’t really say if a fic is popular or not, TPWP having more kudos than APL was always a private goal of mine, something I privately wanted and hoped for.

However, after I had finally finished posting TPWP and the last of the rush of kudos came in from that, I saw that TPWP was almost 200 kudos away from APL, and given the fact that fics will often stagnate in kudos/hits once they’re complete and haven’t posted in a couple months (at least in my experience), I had a feeling that I’d never really make this goal. And it was a little disappointing, but I never let it bother me too much. Plus, starting last year I had a new most popular fic (thanks, Luigi and the Beast), so I had something else that reflected my modern writing style and ships, so it wasn’t that big of a deal anymore in my mind.

Still, part of me wanted TPWP to surpass APL, and today, it finally happened. While this can obviously still swap since I do still get kudos on APL from time to time, the fact that TPWP not only managed to reach APL’s kudos count, but surpassed it even once? I never thought that would happen, to be honest. I never thought that TPWP would manage to get almost 200 extra kudos once I stopped posting regularly, since in my experience that doesn’t happen often. Usually I’ll get a decent amount once it’s no longer an active fic, but not enough that it would surpass another old fic that was gaining passive kudos too.

Anyway, I’m not so sure where I’m going with this. As you can see from my screenshots, it’s like 5am where I am now, and my brain just woke me up and refuses to let me go back to sleep (a common occurrence these days, for some reason. I’ve long since stopped asking why my brain does what it does in regards to sleep. It’s better that way), so I’m kinda rambling.

The point, I suppose, is that this was a goal of mine for so long now, and I’m honestly kind of proud and happy that I finally reached it. While I do have problems with TPWP, ultimately I am very proud of it and it makes me so, so happy that people are still enjoying it all of these years later. When I started writing fanfic over 13 years ago at age 13, I never would have expected to be here. My writing was meh at best and I struggled a lot with getting my thoughts and ideas across. There’s a reason I will never post my fanfiction.Net username, even though my oldest fics are still posted there. Writing was just something I did for fun and as a way to show my love for my fandoms; it was never anything serious. But I always wanted to write a fic that mattered… you know? That stuck with people. That people genuinely liked and that maybe even helped them. You know?

I think I managed that with TPWP. I’ve gotten so many comments over the years thanking me for writing it, people saying that they will go back to it and reread it from time to time, that it helped them, etc. I was always so grateful and happy that I was able to write something that resonated with so many people, which had been a dream of mine ever since I started writing and would cry tears of frustration when I struggled to get my thoughts across how I wanted to.

And, like I’ve said. I know that kudos/favorites are not the only metric to determine if a fic is popular or ‘good.’ However, it has always been a good base for me to gauge interest in my fics, to see roughly what people think of it. And, even though it prolly shouldn’t, the amount of kudos/favorites on my fics has always mattered to me. Ever since I was a young child I’ve had an intense desire to be liked. But more than that, I always wanted to be ‘the favorite.’ To be ‘the best.’ Even when I knew I never would be, simply because I lacked the skill or patience to be ‘the best.’ I still would always want that, and it would hurt me deep inside to know that I just… wasn’t. Yes, I was smart, but I was never ‘the smartest.’ Yes, I was well liked by my peers, but I was never ‘popular.’ Yes, I was always doing well and could hold my own in most things I tried, but I was never (and would never) be ‘the best.’ I just couldn’t. I was either too unskilled, too impatient, too shaky (physically, in some cases), too… everything, and I could never, ever be the absolute best at anything, really. I just physically couldn’t. I’d never be the best singer, I’d never be the best artist, I’d never be the best writer, I’d never be the best chef, I’d never be the best creator, and I’d never be that elusive ‘favorite.’ Never, never, never.

And it hurt. A lot. Growing up and even to this day. But I’ve gotten so much better with it over the years. With the knowledge that I will never be ‘the best,’ that I will never be ‘the favorite,’ and that this is okay. And, in fact, not only is this okay, but it’s expected. Perfection is a myth and it’s impossible to achieve. I spent over 375k words trying to showcase this fact, because it’s something I still, to this day, three months past twenty-six, struggle with. But I’m getting there. By god, am I getting there. And by removing that desire to be ‘perfect,’ to be ‘the best,’ I’ve improved so much in every field I create work in. Once I did away with the desire to create something ‘perfect,’ I was able to make things that were just ‘good enough.’ Is this art project I spent hours working on made more of hot glue than its actual art medium? Yes, but it’s made. And it looks nice enough. And while it will never win any awards, I like it. Is my writing repetitive, derivative of itself, sometimes rushed, and more focused on angst than plot? Yes. But it’s made. And it’s good enough. And people like it. And, most importantly of all?

I like it.

I like it. Even if it isn’t ’perfect.’ Even if it won’t win awards. Even if no one else on the planet likes it, if everyone looks at it and goes ‘… okay, so what?’ I like it. I spent so much time and effort creating it. I did everything I could to make it properly. And it doesn’t matter if it’s a bit lumpy. If it has exposed seams. If it doesn’t look like other people’s creations. It’s made, and I made it, and I put my heart and soul into it, and that? That’s what matters. I learned while making it, and next time I make something similar, I’ll do better. And the time after that? I’ll do better again. And again. And again. I’ll never reach ‘perfection.’ I’ll never make something that people will look at, gasp, and think ‘my god, that’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.’ I’ll never reach that impossible goal that I made for myself when I was a young preteen, painfully insecure and wanting to find validation in others. I never will reach this goal, never, ever, ever, ever, ever.

But I will get better. I will improve from what I’ve done before. And I will get stronger in every possible way I can, and I will forgive myself for the ways that I can’t. I have a lot of limitations, things I cannot physically or mentally overcome. And I will forgive myself for it. I will. I will.

And I guess, at the end of the day, that’s my point here. That perfection is a lie, that there is no end, that there is only improvement and self-appreciation. APL represents this a lot for me. At 17-18, I still struggled with this so much. I spent all of my high school years riddled with self-hatred and anxiety, wanting to be the best, but riddled with the knowledge that I never would be. I crashed and burned in middle and high school because of this. I was so terrified of never being all I wanted to be that I let myself burn to ash, to give up completely, because that was better in my mind than trying my hardest and failing. I always failed at what I wanted to do, and I was so focused on that supposed ‘failure’ that I failed to see how far I had come. I failed to see that while I wasn’t ’the favorite,’ I was still well liked. I failed to see that while I wasn’t ’the best,’ I was good enough. I was good enough. And I always would be. This is something I didn’t realize at 17-18, not yet.

But I do now. I do now, and TPWP represents that for me in many ways. Perfection in a myth. Unilateral adoration and love is impossible. And no matter what, every time you create you will get a little better, a little better, a little better. And so, the only thing you can do is create. And love what you create. And keep trying no matter what, all so that you can create more in the future and grow. So you can do what you love without fear of failure.

Anyway, this has gone on much longer than anticipated. It was just supposed to be a quick ‘haha look! I succeeded at an old, useless goal! :-D’ But somehow it turned into this. But that’s okay. That’s just who I am. I like to ramble. I like to get my thoughts out there into the world. I’m pretentious and think way too deeply on things that matter to no one else. It matters to me. It matters to me. And it doesn’t matter if no one ever reads this, or if people read it and roll their eyes at my pretension. I wrote this for me, to just get this out there in the world, and at the end of the day, that’s what matters. That’s what’s important. Not what the ‘invisible audience’ in my head screams at me every day.

I hope y’all have a good day. :-)

[fruitsofhell]

Started watching one of the 10 million FNAF VHS series instead of doing homework, and its (purposeful) garbage cheap edutainment game vibes reminded me of the not garbage but aesthetically unpolished soley in the UI department and nothing else game Sheep Raiders for the PS1. And then it made me think, man I should make an analog horror series about sheep raiders cause I'm the one person on earth who cares about it. But then I actually started having these really deep thoughts about the spirit of childhood media consumption that analog horror twists into fear -- that like, 'I saw something OFF in a game/cartoon that wasn't supposed to happen and maybe I'm the only one who ever did!!' But also that can be a very comforting and fun emotion in a way...

My love of Sheep Raiders is because it incidentally intersects two things I care a lot about - early 3D game aesthetics and Looney Tunes - in a very beautiful but ultimately goofy way and it feels very made for me in that sense. Things like its dumb looking menus reinforce the fact that it is a niche unpolished project made for god knows what market that has found itself lodged in my brain. Sometimes you look at a game you never played and you just know had you the chance to play it as a child you would have lived in it effectively. And I think what makes a good creepypasta/analog horror thing appealing is that it reminds you a bit of that feeling when you've seen something unpolished enough times that its quirks and skips stand out to you more and more, and you can find something unsettling in that with reflection. I did not grow up on VHS tapes but I did grow up almost exclusively on movie disks that I would watch so many times they began to skip, or that certain oddities of tone started to stick out to me, or that I felt like the characters and I had formed a bond.

I want to find more analog horror/creepypasta revival stuff that embraces that Way Children Interact With Media Fundamentally Differently niche. I think best example off the top of my head is Angel Hare, which I recommend not cause its super scary - its actually very not - but because of that it explores fictional character bonds and nostalgia more blatantly. I own one of their kickstarter plushes cause I just think the series is neat for that even if it gets kinda corny. It uses analog horror as a framework to tell a very different kind of story about PSA edutainment characters that is dear to some ideas I want to write about myself. Namely escapism and guardianship.

I guess to bring this back to FNAF -- someone recommend me a FNAF Analog Horror that is not super bad with the scopophobia and is about Michael/some kid re-examining their relationship to the animatronics as childhood fictional friends and mascots turned living nightmare and chariot of trauma!

[spot-the-antisemitism]

weidest hate mail from bad race fakers

“Only true path” literally no Jew says that. “Dogs” is an arabic slur. and Finally you think Meir Kahane and Imran Khan were the same person like uneducated neo-nazi you are. I fully admit I’m a bit of a self hating Jew which you’d know if you didn’t send this copy pasta to homochad and unsolicited as well instead of actually reading my blog

in the unpolished verdion of this copy pasta they vowed to beat OP up and tear off their Magen David (and do what with it? Make good bars like blorbos?).

the reason they’re a nazi is they use a British Nazi slur for Pakistanís because they think Kahane is Pakastni and yet also hates Muslims and believes in Jewish Supremacy (which Kahane DID espouse) when Pakistan is the Muslims country. Wrong messy bloody two state solution dumb ass.

(by Homochad’s version they fixed the spelling but she still threatened to cremate them alive which even more apt when you learn it happened to a few nazis during a revolt at Birkenau)

Top paragraph could have been someone’s token antizionist Jew token reaching out after their antizionist friends turned on them to be like “can I leave my cult and still be antiZionist?”

THE ANSWER IS YES. You can be the non cult version of any ideology besides totalitarian ones which are cults by definition.

but the bottom “asajew” no fuck off Jvp troll. The real ask is “I’m a good Jew who doesn’t like genocide. Are you a good Jew like me or an evil zionazi like them?”

either I bend over backwards to appease you for clout or I push back even a little and end up on another blocklist for “being mean to someone’s dancing monkey token good jew”

maybe things like come full circle and I’ll be called a terf. So I blocked you. Guess that means I’m one of the evil Jews

This is the new “Op kinda problematic,shake my head. Why do you reblog from them?”

therefore I censored OP’s name

Naoh Schnapp is a popular antizionist scapegoat but Jews don’t actually care for him. He is a dogwhistle for antisemites for “young gay zionist jew it’s ok to call slurs”

they sent it to a blog that plenty of people hate watch to harass someone who called thier blorbo Sinwar a terrorist

The way the hamas and pro Israel support is lukewarm and stilted as if the person hates even typing the terms “hamas are terrorists” is so telling

“they’re so brave” no Jew talks like this this how you backhandedly compliment trans people for coming out

and finally “send them anon mail to cheer them up” is code for send them death threats on anon

I’M NOT YOUR ANTISEMITIC NUMBERS STATION

Sorry I spotted your dogwhistles, blocked you and reported you to the FBI each time you sent this on what must be several block evades

Do you think I’m stupid to this any of this is in good faith?