#WE BEEN SHIPPIN THIS SHIT FOR YEARS

[anemcia]

𝐑𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 🌊✨

//Listing these in no particular order, but I will be ranking them from 1-10 on how much I'd want to get a thread going. Some I've had cooking for ages, others I'm simply spit-balling. Regardless, I'd love to collaborate and improve upon them where we can make it equally enjoyable. Without further delay, I present my brainworms.

🌊✨ Bad Ending Cyto (AU name pending) 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

I love the idea that he's been so scorned by humanity, so bitter and resentful, that he decides their fates are no longer theirs to control. He embraces a newfound resolve as someone who can reform Earth's society, taking the proverbial reins of by force. He soon trains with purpose; preparing to eliminate all who would pose a threat to his ideals until every target of comparable power are all eliminated. With the Z fighters and allies out of the picture, his vision would begin to manifest with great success. Earth's leaders give up their positions without a fight, appointing Cyto as the planet's one and only King. A crown, and lengthy robes, he certainly looks the part.

While he would see the growth of resistance forces rise, there were legions of humans who had sworn their utmost loyalty, believing in his message for change in a world that was suffering so much without him. To protect everything he cares for, Cyto fights to maintain a new order that prevents further damage to the Earth and his citizens. His armies and supporters grow significantly as he makes his voice known to the world, promising to make a difference that no one else could provide. Anyone who denies his message or attempts to dismantle his position will be killed, invading territories and seizing power without the usage of his own energy. His vision is slowly but surely corrupting, potentially leading to disaster if he's pushed too far.

Maybe someone closer to him sees what's happened over the years? Do they join his conquest, or attempt to convince him that his path is war-torn and bloody? Become his queen? Make it romantic? It sounds dramatic, fun, and vivid. I want a piece of that pie, but would LOVE to collab the idea a bit further for a clearer look at the AU.

🌊✨ Fire Emblem AU / Pokémon AU 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Feel it in my bones to dabble into other fandoms without leaving this blog. I'm really into these games and to branch out and build lore for any of my muses in their respective AU's would be very fun in theory, but I think testing would be needed to make this work. Ideally with someone who's already familiar with these series (especially FE) but it's just a thought.

🌊✨ Amnesiac Cell threads (Just... More Cell usage in general) 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

I'll just be outright and say YEAH I do need to play with my bug husband more, but part of the reason I reset the blog was to get a chance for people to essentially talk to a Cell that doesn't have the slightest clue who you are to him, why he should care / be worried, and kinda pick at his strange brain while he's vulnerable to all who speak with him. Honeydew's presence is sometimes necessary as to not just let anyone blow him up in one go, but having 1v1 convos is the way to go. In fairness, even in normal threads, my Cell will probably never be the same memory wise, but it's just even more fun to mess with him when he's PEAK struggling with his identity and repressed fears.

🌊✨ ANY VIOLENT THREAD 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Not that I'm begging or anything, but uhh... I think it would be really cool if some of ya were to torture any of my muses. Honey in particular, I'm always down for her to fight through shit and get shit on physically and mentally. She deserves it on the basis that she's built to take these punishments a LOT better now compared to a few years ago, and maybe I also want a little bit of toxic shippin' on the side. Make her vulnerable! Break her! Let her bite a few fingers off! Get some bloody smooches in. Don't care man, let me have this I'm an awful human.

🌊✨ Adventure / Mystery / Hurt + Comfort / Shipping threads 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Honestly? Any of these are my jams. Give us something to discover on an adventure! Solve a mystery that might be affecting one or both of our characters with dire stakes. Let us have our characters grieve together for whatever might be affecting them. And, of course, my mushy gushy favorite of softer romance between our muses. Gentle touches, kisses, whispers and holding each other got me on the edge of my seat a lot of the times.

🌊✨ Any AU's that we plot together 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

I've talked a lot about collabing here, but lets get down to the bigger stuff. You, me, and the world we craft TOGETHER to make something truly special. Not just something I've put together on my own and inviting you, I want just as much ideas from ya'll too! I want to make it unique to us in the sense that there isn't anything like it with anyone else. You're just as excited as I am about it, something we can be proud of. I'll admit that this makes me nervous (as I'm terrible and take the steering wheel A LOT) but... Know that I just want to make something special together. Maybe it's a lot to ask, maybe it isn't, but I want to make our AU fun and exciting. Any genre, any setting, doesn't matter. Bonus points for shipping, but that's me being selfish.

[heyhaughtstuff]

I find it so amazing that the crackship of ell(e)/danny aka ellanny is now a legit ship that people are on board with

[thevioletjones]

34 for prompt list thing! 💖

Thanks! 💜

Prompt 4: “I might never get another chance to say this.”

Now to War

Ian understood why Mickey was still in the closet. That was never really the issue. He was aware of the deeply scary, tyrannical nature of Mickey’s father, and how his horrible ways had left a lasting impression that was hard for him to shake. However, Ian had eventually started to feel a burden that he was frankly sick of bearing.

He’d never asked or expected Mickey to openly date him in front of his own family, but he would've appreciated some kind of quiet commitment where maybe they could at least let Ian’s family in on the secret (Lip already knew, but Mickey didn’t know he knew). Ian’s family had always been supportive when it came to Ian’s orientation. He knew they’d be supportive of Mickey too, even if they didn’t fully understand him, or even like him. They just wanted Ian to be happy.

But Mickey couldn’t even give him that much. He still fucked women to please his dad; still worked as his right-hand man doing illegal shit, instead of forging his own path; still stayed under that disgusting, oppressive thumb with no plans to ever get out from under it. Mickey still just didn’t believe that he could do or be anything different; had resigned himself to this depressing fate of constantly repressing himself for the rest of his life.

Ian just couldn’t stomach it anymore. Part of that was selfish, because yeah, he wanted to have a real relationship that wasn’t full of darkness and drama all the time. But the bigger part of it was about how deeply he cared for Mickey. He hated witnessing what he considered Mickey’s slow demise over a long period of time. If Ian couldn’t convince him that he deserved better, then what exactly was he doing sticking by Mickey’s side? He couldn’t just let himself be a doormat and get treated like shit just because he was in lo—no, he had to stop thinking of it that way.

What was done was done, ancient history style. The last time shit had fallen apart and Mickey had kowtowed to his dad, tossing Ian’s heart in a blender in the process, Ian had ended things. For good. Probably. He was as terrible at staying away from Mickey as Mickey was at staying away from him. He couldn’t even count how many times they’d renounced each other at this point, but he was doing what he could to make it stick.

That’s why Ian had to go and force things to be different now. He couldn’t risk just falling back into the same old toxic pattern with his wayward ex. There were so many good qualities in Mickey that no one else really got to see, but at the end of the day, they couldn’t outweigh the bad enough to strike a fair balance when it came to Ian.

So after much consideration of options, Ian had finally done what he’d always intended, professionally speaking, and signed up for the army.

It had been nearly 8 months now. Basic and AIT had gone well, considering all his years of ROTC, and now he was back home for a brief visit before being deployed for the first time. He was excited to finally be fulfilling his lifelong dream of being active military, but if he said he wasn’t nervous as shit too, he’d be lying. There was a definite fear there in the background of his mind, but he’d always kind of lived for danger in a way. He liked conquering it.

He supposed every soldier went off to war thinking they wouldn’t be one of the ones to die or get severely wounded, and maybe he was an idiot for believing it, but despite that inevitable fear, Ian truly knew he’d be okay. He trusted his instincts and reactions to volatile situations (thanks, Gallagher family trauma), so he had to trust himself. Maybe if he believed in the idea of coming out the other side of combat unscathed enough, he would manifest it.

Still, no matter his sixth sense, there was that feeling of wanting to make sure that he left everything in his life back home in a nice, neat place, just in case he was terribly wrong and never set foot back on American soil again. He needed all of his important relationships to be appropriately cemented. It was easy with his family (well, the siblings portion of it, at least), but Mickey was a whole different story.

Despite having broken it off months ago, the idea of leaving that whole thread hanging felt terrifying. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to feel closure with Mickey, but he had to try. There was a good chance he’d either get mocked, or socked in the face for making overtures, but he had to try anyway.

He felt resolute as he walked toward the Milkovich house, but once it came into view, his insides were consumed with nerves until his gut twisted with the weight of his apprehension.

What if Mickey wasn’t there? What if Terry and a bunch of Mickey’s idiot brothers were laying about? What if Mickey had done the unthinkable and married some random whore so he could pretend he was straight to please his dad? Ian would hope that either Lip or Mandy would’ve informed him of such a development, but since Ian liked to bury things and not talk about them, maybe they’d just decided not to bring it up?

He took a deep breath, muttered, “Fuck it,” to himself, and made his way to the front door. All he could do was try. If Mickey was gone, or had forgotten him, or didn’t care anymore, then he’d just have to accept it and move on.

He gulped thickly as he knocked, hoping that at least Mickey would be the one to answer, and that the ability to form words based on coherent thoughts would manifest as needed.

He steeled himself for whatever might happen, standing with his back straight as an arrow as the door wrenched open.

The moment those ice-blue eyes met his, every single thought flew out of Ian’s head, feeling breathless as blood rushed to his head. Without a doubt, he’d never seen Mickey so surprised before. His ex wasn’t the type to be at a loss for words, but his mouth hung open, and the full irises of his eyes were exposed, eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there studying each other in silence before Ian gained the courage to speak.

“Hi, Mick.”

“Gallagher.” Clear uncertainty permeated his tone.

“Hope it’s not a bad time. Just wanted to talk to you for a minute?”

Mickey crossed his arms and widened his stance, walls going back up. “Been a long fuckin’ time. What, you find out you got an STD or some shit? Come to do the whole benevolent legal disclosure thing?”

One corner of Ian’s mouth lifted in a sad attempt at amusement. “Nah, nothing like that. Can I come in? Or if someone’s home, we can sit out here I guess.”

Mickey scanned him from head to toe, so Ian took advantage and did the same. “Never known you to come over for a conversation before.”

Ian nodded. “Look, I won’t stay long. I really just have something I need to say. Then, if you never wanna see me again, you won’t. I’d just rather not do it awkwardly standing in the doorway if possible.”

Mickey shrugged and walked into the house, leaving Ian to follow. “Whatever, man. No one else is here right now. Terry’s in the slammer, so he won’t barge in or anything.”

“Cool,” said Ian, closing the door behind him.

Mickey sat down on the couch, but Ian had no idea whether to follow or not. Didn’t know how close to get. He hated feeling so weird around Mickey. In spite of everything, he’d always felt a strange sense of comfort and belonging when they were together. Like he could just be himself. Well, a somewhat ‘withholding of affection’ version of himself, but the rest felt natural.

“You gonna sit the fuck down and spit it out or what?” Mickey demanded.

“Right…” Ian took a seat on the sofa, leaving the entire middle cushion between them. “Uh… I don’t really know where to start now that I’m here.” He chuckled nervously.

“Jesus, Gallagher, you fuckin’ dying or somethin’?”

Ian grimaced, unable to tame that tiny pessimistic molecule inside himself. “No. Well, I hope not. Uh, I enlisted.” He looked up from his lap to gauge Mickey’s reaction, pleased to find his expression slipping into something more serious and less put-upon. “I’ve been away training. Shippin’ out tomorrow. Last night home and all that.”

Mickey exhaled raggedly. “Fuck, Ian. The fuck’d you do that for?”

“You know I’ve always wanted to, Mick. Childhood dream and all that. Finally found a reason to bite the bullet, so to speak.”

Mickey ran a shaky hand over his face, snickering derisively. “Wow. So you came here to tell me you’re runnin’ off to get shot, and that it’s pretty much my fault too? That’s real swell of you, Firecrotch. Real nice.”

Ian shook his head. “That’s not what I’m trying to say at all. It’s not a guilt-trip. I just needed you to know, in case…”

“In case what? You don't come back? You fuckin’ die?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Mickey shot to his feet and started pacing, running his hands through his black hair, and worrying his pink lip. “So what? Now I'm s'posed to lay awake worryin’ about your stupid, army-go-lucky ass every night? That’s not a fuckin’ guilt-trip?”

“No, Mick, it’s not. It’s not really about you, but I couldn’t just leave without seein’ you again. I miss you, okay? I stand by what I did, leaving… still feels like I had to do it… but that doesn’t just turn the feelings off. I thought about you a lot while I was away.”

“Christ, Ian, what are you talkin’ about? Just stop.”

Ian stood up and walked toward Mickey, forcing him to meet his eye without laying a hand on him. “I won’t. Not this time. I might never get another chance to say this, and it would be great if you could just shut the fuck up for once in your life and listen. I don’t care if you have nothing to say to me in return, okay?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, looking very uncomfortable.

“There's a lotta reasons I left,” Ian continued, “but that doesn’t mean that I wanted to, as much as I needed to. You just never let me tell you what I was feeling. Which is fine. I always knew what you were about, and I know why you’re not out. I didn’t want to punish you, I just had to do it for me. Cuz I can’t live like that—”

“Why are you sayin’ all this shit to me now? It’s in the past.”

“I’m just trying to get to the point, fuck. Maybe I’m rambling. I just mean… I know you don’t wanna hear it, but I have to say it just once, and then I’ll go…” Ian took a deep breath, steadying himself for this ridiculous, sincere proclamation. “Mickey Milkovich, I love you. More than anything. And I’ll be thinkin’ about you while I’m over there. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m sure I’ll fade from your mind soon enough, anyway. But I'll remember you. The good stuff, you know? And I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, but now you know.”

Ian smiled dimly and put a hand on Mickey’s shoulder, giving it a short squeeze. “Maybe this was selfish of me,” he added. “It feels good to get it off my chest, though. I hope you get to live your life the way you should one day, Mick. Just, you know… bein’ yourself. Not pretending. Happy; or something close to it. You deserve it.”

Mickey was as still and silent as a statue, probably completely unequipped to deal with all the shit Ian just threw at him, so Ian patted him on the cheek, moving to walk past. Which was fine. He hadn’t expected much more. The point was that Ian had said what he thought and felt, and now he could take that knowledge with him. Hopefully one day, Mickey would get it. Maybe take Ian’s words to heart. Maybe break away and live his truth in some way. And Ian would find his own path too. He was doing what he could to search for it.

He only made it a couple steps, though, before he felt Mickey’s hand slide around his wrist, pulling him back.

“Don’t,” he heard Mickey say softly.

“Don’t what?”

“Just… don’t.”

And then Mickey’s lips were on his for the first time in months, and he couldn’t believe it was happening. His sense memory activated, and he put everything he had into the kiss, in case it was all he got.

It wasn’t all he got, though, because Mickey’s passion matched his own in that moment, and their mutual understanding of each other’s bodies took over. The clothes were coming off before they even made it to the bedroom.

Ian hadn’t expected goodbye sex on his last night in town, but he definitely wasn’t unhappy to receive it… or give it, as it were. What he expected even less than that was Mickey suddenly becoming verbal again.

He was letting him stay the night, and they were practically sharing a pillow, just staring at each other. Not something that had usually been on the menu when they were together.

“Why’d you have to come say all this shit now?” asked Mickey. “When you’re just gonna leave again, maybe for good this time?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“That's not what I mean. I know you’re good at the army bullshit, alright? I’ve seen you shoot. Seen your nerd-ass training. But no one can control bullets and bombs in a war zone, Gallagher. Plus, even if all goes well, you might still settle down somewhere else, right? Go full army life and live full-time on a base somewhere.”

“Are you saying that if I were here you’d want things to be different?”

Mickey sighed, running a thumb over Ian’s cheek in a way that was almost gentle. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Mick—”

“It’s okay. You gotta do what you gotta do. But…”

“But what?”

“Since we’re talkin’ fuckin’ life and death and all that heavy shit… I should say… that I feel it too.”

“Feel what too?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and smacked Ian’s cheek. “You know what.”

“I really don’t,” said Ian, biting his lip with a mixture of anxiety and glee.

Mickey sighed very loudly, huffing and puffing like saying the actual words would kill him. “I…”

“You?”

“God, I hate you. But I love you. I love your stupid, freckly, gingery ass. And I don’t fuckin’ want you to go off to war, okay?”

Ian’s grin stretched across his entire face. “You mean it?”

“No, I'm fuckin’ lyin’, cuz admitting warm and fuzzies is my favorite sarcastic pastime, asshole.”

Ian leaned forward and kissed Mickey tenderly once more. “Will you wait for me?”

“Don’t make me punch you in the face now, dipshit.”

“Will you?”

“Fuck no!”

“Yeah you will.”

“I really won’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Fuck you, Gallagher.”

“I think we can squeeze a few more in.”

“You got the shittiest timing of anyone I’ve ever met.”

Ian shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Gallagher curse.”

“You stupid motherfucker. Better not die.”

When Ian got on the bus the next afternoon, he felt so much lighter. And the future was something that he looked forward to. Whatever came.

[quintessence-sentimentalist]

quintessence-sentimentalist Takes on 30 Days of W.i.t.c.h.versary!: Week One

So I’ve been way too swamped as of late to keep up with this challenge day-by-day, even with only written answers (because guys, I write long answers, even when I cut myself short). As a solution (at least to start), I’m going to lump my answers for days falling within the same week together. Here’s Days 1 through 7!

Day 1: Favorite Guardian

Well, glancing up at my username and icon, I think it’d be remiss not to say Will Vandom, at least in some respect.

Will was my favorite from the beginning, back when I only had the chapter books with comic inserts. I can’t quite put my finger on why I gravitated to her, though I get the feeling that my love of energy/electricity-based powers had something to do with it. Plus, she got the cool transformation trinket! I’m sure there are many, many more reasons why she became my favorite, but this was also a good 15 years ago and even my obscure-detail-focused memory is having a hard time tracing back.

I’m not as passionate about comics Will as an adult, just in terms of how they loaded the poor girl up with so much drama that it’s just overwhelmingly exhausting, and she has some pretty immature reactions to her problems with her mom and Matt (pre-relationship). But animated Will is still my girl, with her awkwardness and quipping (of a different sort than Irma’s) and the way she grows as a leader, to the point where she’s basically set up a long con on even the viewers as a battle strategy in the latter quarter of season 2. This was the Will I grew to love as an adult rewatching the series after many years.

Since I’ve always been a Will Girl in some form, this has to be my official answer, but very honorable mentions to Irma and Hay Lin across both media. 

Day 2: Favorite Villain

Alright, if we’re talking the animated series and you aren’t new around these parts, we all know it’s Shagon. Listen, this arc is 90% of the reason why I love the cartoon as much as I do, because they took a character from the comics with a nebulous backstory and a spooky, badass design who was relatively underused even with being Nerissa’s strongest/preferred minion, and decided to pull out all the stops. They gave a recurring character (who, okay, I already loved) with very strong ties to the girls - and who’d already evolved out of his role in the comics at the time - his own challenge/story arc about literally facing his inner demon; they gave the Guardians a deadly enemy to face off against (distract them) while Nerissa is off plucking up ex-Guardians one by one; they gave Will and Matt some brutal emotional turmoil that’s actually new and refreshing for the two of them (let’s send the repeated comics jealousy plotlines back to the kitchen, yeah?). And, uh, they made an already spooky, badass character design EVEN SPOOKIER AND MORE BADASS. 

(The darker colors all around? The brilliant gold mask? The dark angel wings? I have been in love with this design since I was 12, alright?)

But! If we’re talking comics, then I’m going with Yua. I’ve talked about this at length before in a different ask game, but I think I gravitate to Yua because a) I’m largely not about full-on villains in any media and b) she’s a beautifully complex character in the context of the third arc’s narrative. 

I’m not going to reiterate everything I said before and just redirect to that post, but I just find it fascinating that the banshee - whose species we’re repeatedly told are eeeeeevil by nature - shows more humanity than the actual human antagonists in this arc. She never wanted harm to come to Maqi, taking him away the second she’s freed as both revenge on her oppressor and a means of keeping this little boy safe from his father’s single-minded crusade. Yua even directly expresses this sentiment when Maqi falls, horror-struck and swearing that it was always about hurting Ari and never Maqi. And even when Maqi is... eurgh, “healed” (yeah, there are a lot of problems with the resolution to this arc), Yua has the opportunity to strike Ari at his happiest and complete her vengeance, but seeing Maqi so delighted makes her retreat, at least for now. 

So yeah. More humanity than Ari and his blind rage in his quest to “cure” his son, and more humanity than Riddle & Co. in abducting an innocent teenage girl on the mere suspicion that she has powers with the intention of putting her through human experimentation. Yua takes Best Villain in my heart because she’s not a villain, not really.

Day 3: Favorite Love Interest

Again, unless you’re new here, it’s no shock that - if we’re talking animated series - it’s Matthew “I’m Arguing With a Housepet” Olsen. 

As wildly different as it is from the comics, I do so adore his character design, with his dark hair (which, uh, may have been the first indication that I have a Type when it comes to my favorite male characters) and purple hoodie. His personality is so endearing too, because he’s not just the idolized older boy we initially see him as in the comics, but like... a legitimate dork. He’s sweet and plays guitar and generally exudes Cool, but you get to know him and it’s easy to see that he and Will are like souls. Not the best about expressing their feelings to the person they like, but always ready to step up and fight.

That’s another quality I love about cartoon Matt. Even before the Shagon arc, very shortly after even learning of the Guardian secret, Matt wants in on the action. It’s not in a “living out his action hero dreams” way, or even really a matter of impressing/protecting Will: it’s more about not being the guy who sits safe on the sidelines while everyone else is risking their lives, and trying to prove (largely to himself, in the end) that he’s worthy to be Will’s boyfriend when she’s a honest-to-Kandrakar warrior and he’s just “Funny Matt.”

I’m going to skip the Shagon arc for now because I assure you I could probably talk for ages about cartoon Matt, and we don’t have that kind of time now.

As for comics, I definitely have to go with Eric Lyndon and - technically a pseudo-love interest - Joel Wright. Oh, and Peter Cook!! Basically, all the sweet guys who don’t get quite as much attention with the comics and whose romantic relationships developed a bit later.

Day 4: Favorite Ship

Surprise, surprise: it’s animated Will/Matt. I’ve blubbered about them before, I will blubber about them again (please give me reasons to do so?), so I’m going to spare you all this time around. Just know that they’re my longest-held major OTP, and that it normally takes a hell of a lot to get me to full-on ship something.

(Real quick though: mutually pining dorks? Matt’s insecurity about being enough for his badass electricity-flinging girlfriend? Will’s drive to just blast shit down to find and save Matt? “If this all goes south, I’m gonna be beside you”??? Please ignore my choked sobbing.)

Anyhoo, there are a couple different comics ships I’d say qualify, though I might not be as passionate about them as I am cartoon WxM. Hay Lin and Eric are positively adorable, and I love how their relationship was slow but not agonizingly so. Hay was the only one not to get a love interest of sorts from the very start, taking us all the way to issue 18 before a guy makes her giggly. And I really appreciate that it wasn’t just a superficial crush, that while Eric was cute, it was his kindness and the time he spent with Hay that made her go, You know, I think I like this guy. It was a refreshing change of pace, they’re both adorable, and we ignore the fact that Eric was mysteriously written out and Hay has that one issue in the Dark Times late in the series where she falls head-over-heels for this rockstar-ish guy for no real reason and changes her style to try to impress him. 

Honorable mentions go to Irma and Joel, who had excellent potential and should have still been kept as friends even if they decided to give Irma a different SO (we ignore the later issue where Joel just wistfully looks at Irma with his “We used to be friends” thought bubble and no actual explanation for why they aren’t anymore); and Cornelia and Peter, who I don’t give enough credit and definitely need to reread.

Day 5: Favorite Friendship

This is a tough one - can I say all of the W.i.t.c.h. girls together? Because outside of the first arc, there isn’t really a whole lot of focus on the smaller group friendships. 

Cornelia and Elyon is a good one, though, literally spanning worlds because Cornelia is dead-set on saving her friend. I’ll toss Orube and Will into the mix as well, because Will was crucial to Orube’s initial character development and they seemed to have the closest relationship moving forward.

Day 6: Favorite Cover/Pinup/Promotional Art

Oof, giving me the hard questions, are we? I have a few favorites, but one of the first that came to mind was this one of Will. It’s the cover of the 21st chapter book, which I think is actually the pinup for issue 21. They must have changed it up for the US release in order to keep it more in-line with the actual plot.

Day 7: Favorite Episode/Issue

Hrm. Let’s change it up and start with the comics on this one. Off the top of my head, I have a soft spot for issue 32. It’s the zenith of the Sylla sub-arc, so the stakes are high, the girls get cute semi-formal clothes when they go to the opera to spring and hopefully evade Riddle’s trap, Sylla double-crosses Riddle and teams up with Medina and McTiennan (and I still think there’s a missed opportunity here with wiping that particular team’s memories of the girls), and we get the most iconic page in this entire comic with Orube beating up Riddle’s goon while brushing off a suitor and then coyly asking him to be her arm candy. 

Issue 50 is another one I like, though largely because I enjoy the futures presented for each of the girls (I particularly love the concept of park ranger Cornelia and writer Will). And as a lingering vestige of my young, comic-Will/Matt-shipping heart, issue 40 is another nostalgic choice.

As for the animated series, I routinely consider my favorites on the chance that Greg Weisman still sells scripts at cons and I get the chance to buy that of a favorite episode. But true to form, basically all of my favorites are heavy Will/Matt episodes...

“D is for Dangerous” is fun because it’s the first time Will gains her quintessence lightning (yay!), the running gag with the Sisterhood of the Traveling Mr. Huggles is amusing, Elyon’s deadpan “Barehanded folding. My one talent” still kills me, and Matt and Caleb’s epic failures of training montages are great. “M is for Mercy” is brutal, with Shagon at his absolute deadliest and taunting Will with Matt’s disappearance, the utter hatred Will has for this demon who’s taken on the form of the boy she loves (and, unbeknownst to her, is legitimately a twisted reflection of Matt), and the sight of Shagon at his lowest while at Will’s mercy and her offer to teach him just that. “S is for Self” has not one but two musical numbers for Matt, and we finally get the resolution to the Shagon arc, so of course it’s a favorite.

But what the hell: I’m going with “T is for Trauma” as my favorite. I watched this episode three times the day it aired, and I still love it to this day. We get the introduction of rejuvenated C.h.y.k.n. (who wipe the floor with the W.i.t.c.h. girls at first), the Egyptian-themed costumes for no actual reason (“Could someone tell me how that man could look at me and think camel???”), Matt getting to fight as the badass normal for the first and last time since “L is for Loser,” etc. But most of all, this is Hay Lin’s episode, and it is absolutely soul-destroying but with a magnificent payoff at the end. It hurts to see the naturally lighthearted, high hopes member of the crew with her spirit absolutely shattered by her grandmother’s apparent betrayal, Eric’s brainwashing, and Nerissa’s general existence, and it’s just as painful that this was the way they gave her character development, but I have to commend this episode for one of the heaviest lines ever: “That’s how you survive the trauma - not by knowing it will be alright, but by having no other choice. ...I don’t have the luxury of breaking down right now.”

[buckys-forgotten-plum]

I Prefer Bucky, Doll

Prompt: James Buchanan Barnes has been coming to your weekend market table for a while now and finally has something to ask.

Warning: swearing??? I think??

I hope all y’all enjoy this as much as I did writing it while binging all of the marvel movies I could get my hands on... Enjoy!

P.s there will be multiple parts...maybe

~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you again sir! It’s always nice seeing you, come again” you smile brightly as you gently hand over a small bouquet of daisies to an older man who regularly came to the market just to get flowers for his wife.

It was extremely adorable to you, and you awaited him every Sunday to come down and make his order. The man, Ron, always got a small order of daisies with a light blue ribbon to tie it together. Lately though, Ron wasn’t the only man coming around your small floral booth every Sunday. Sargeant James Buchanan Barnes has seemed to become very interested in floral arrangements. Of course you had heard about him, which is why you were so confused as to why he wanted to have thirty minute conversations on which color irises were the prettiest. He was a famous lady’s man and it was amusing to you to see him come here every time he could and try to make conversation.

He wasn’t a very complicated man...

But, through and through you couldn’t deny the burst of joy it brought to you when he showed up during the weekend markets. During the slower hours of the day he would always come, sometimes bringing you a snack, or the daily paper so you could finish his sad attempt at doing the crossword.

Today he had brought both, a special surprise that you took with a small fleck of caution.

“Hello Sargeant,” you greet with a small smile as he happily replaces the spot Ron had been standing in.

“Good morning, y/n. You look nice today, doll” James says, sliding a small bag of baked cashews across your table.

“Thank you, James. As always you look quite nice as well,” you compliment back and take his offering, sitting down on a stool.

James stood patiently as you gently opened the packaging. His smile never leaving as he watched you intently.

“James you look strange just standing there, come sit down! you know the drill, sargeant” you order jokingly and motioned to the stool beside you.

“Doll, you know I prefer Bucky” he sighs and walks around the table to take a seat beside you.

“We all can’t have everything, James,” you smirk and offer a small handful of cashews.

“So, doll, I uh was thinking-“ “that’s new,” James glares at you from your interruption but quickly changes it to an endearing smile, “I was thinking,” he starts once more, “that I’m shippin’ off soon and that maybe-you know-you might let me take you on a date...”

His nervous stumbling made your smile turn into a grin and you looked up at him happily, “you’re actually asking me on a date?”

James had always shown interest in you, and had asked you out for a drink or a dance multiple times, but he had never done it in as serious a manner as this. It surprised you slightly and threw you off a little bit. Throughout his various attempts at getting you to join him for a dance, you would always decline with a shake of your head and bright laugh that always made James smile and made up for the fact he had gotten rejected once again.

“What exactly would we do on this date? Get a drink and go dancing?” You ask jokingly, lightly nudging his arm.

“I was actually thinking about a proper dinner, I know you love JJ’s Diner...or we go somewhere fancier, whatever you want. But I do know for a fact that you love dancing, y/n. So there’s no way I’m gonna miss that opportunity” James smiles and turns to you, gently placing his hand on your thigh.

You thought for a moment...

James Barnes was known to hop from girl to girl just like a frog would Lilly pads. Almost every time you saw him outside of the market, he had a beautiful dame wrapped around his arm. But you had to admit, being around the handsome sargeant was fun, and you did enjoy JJ’s diner....and dancing. Plus, you did want to spend more time with James before he shipped. You were gonna miss him, believe it or not.

“Okay, sargeant. I’d love to go to dinner with you,” you mumble with a small smile, ducking your head to hide the light tinge covering your cheeks.

James let out a breathy laugh and stood up, “really? Wow, doll I promise I’ll treat you like a queen, I’ll pick you up at six, alright?”

“Oh tonight? Yes um, I’ll be ready at six?” You answer, taken off guard by his excited rambles.

“I’ll see you tonight, y/n,” he smiles widely and gives you a chaste peck on your cheek before striding off.

You stay seated, struck with complete shock and excitement, “Bucky Barnes, you are one strange man,” you mumble out and start back on your work.

—-

After working your hours at the market and getting back home, you had decided to start getting ready for your date with sargeant Barnes. You knew yourself pretty well and that meant, during your process of getting “dolled up” you were gonna fall into heap on your bed for a good 20 minutes about three separate times before finishing your task.

As you slid around your apartment in starch white socks, your record player quietly played your favourite songs. James was right when he said you loved to dance. You would do it at the market all the time whenever bands came to play for everyone, and in your own home all day as you did chores or cooked meals. It sent a wonderfully happy feeling through you every time you spun around to the light chords being played. But, you had to embarrassingly admit something... you had never danced with a man. Which was ridiculous to think, but it was something that had just never come to fruition throughout all the times you had gone out with friends. Of course you had been asked, but your nervous and shy nature always kept you from saying yes.

It was a quarter to six before you were completely ready and you decided to spend it outside, sitting on a bench infront of your apartment building and enjoying the nice weather. It didn’t take long before you spaced off into your own train of thought, forgetting about the minutes ticking by and failing to notice the handsome sargeant that had quietly taken a seat beside you.

“Evenin’ doll-“ “holy shit!” You jump, startled at the sudden interruption of your thoughts.

A hand goes over your heart and you take in a sharp breath while looking at the man with wide eyes, “Hello, James,”

You take a moment to look over him, slight confusion stitching it’s way across your face as you notice his uniform. Soldiers never made a big deal about going to war, it wasn’t really something to show off or celebrate. And even though this was a date, it wasn’t formal enough to dress like that...

“James why are you...” you mumble quietly and lightly trace your fingers over the neat stitching of the forest green coat.

“I uh... well, tonight is my last night, y/n” he admits, a hand going to the back of his next to scratch nervously.

“You’re shipping out tomorrow?” You ask incredulously.

“I was gonna tell ya sooner, but I wanted to make tonight a good one for ya,” James shrugs, lightly putting a hand on yours.

“Shouldn’t you be with your family right now?” So many emotions were flowing through you that it was hard to sit still, so you stood up and began to pace the length of the dark blue bench.

“Doll, I spent the day with em’ I couldn’t pass up the chance to see you one last time,” He argues and stands up as well, blocking your path.

“James, really I think you should-“ “I’m spending my night with you y/n. Nothin’ you can do about it,” The soldier says as he places his hands on your hips in a calming manner.

“Bucky-“ “oh boy does that sound nice comin from you” he grins cheekily and takes your hand, beginning to drag your less than willing body in the direction of JJ’s Diner.

“You have a problem with interrupting people,” you joke and fall instep beside him.

“You just talk a lot, darlin” he laughs, looking down at you with bright eyes.

You and James begin to walk down the street, talking lightly amongst yourselves about anything and everything. Your bad mood had changed drastically and you began to have quite the time joking about with the attractive soldier at your side. The pair of you had almost made it to JJ’s when you heard something from the alley right next to your destination. It made you stop in your tracks as well as Bucky. He gave you a confused look and you pointed down the alley where the noise was echoing from. “I heard something, Buck. I think someone’s hurt,” your eyebrows furrow in curiousity as your feet subconsciously lead both of you closer.

Carefully looking around the corner to see a stranger violently beating up...

“Stevie?” You mumble out quietly.

Bucky steps forward, going over to the attacker and giving him a swift punch to the head. You had to admit, the sight made you blush a bit at his heroics.

“Do you like getting beat up Rogers?” He asked jokingly, giving a hand to the short man who was in a heap on the ground.

You stepped out from your hiding place and smiled brightly at the blonde man you had been friends with for years, “hiya stevie,”

“Oh hey, y/n! What’re you two doin together?” Steve asks curiously as he glances between the two of you.

“She finally said yes?” As Steve asked the question, you snapped your attention back up to James for an answer, “You talked about me to Steve?” You ask in slight shock.

Bucky laughs lightly and runs a hand through his dark brown hair, “maybe just a little,”

“Oh lord,” you mumble and shame your head, not believing that the big bad Bucky gossiped about you to Steve.

“Well anyways, are you alright Steve? We kinda got a dinner to get to,” Bucky asked, giving you a kind smile.

“Oh yeah, no problem guys. I’ll be good here,” Steve smiles and gives a quick thumbs up.

“What? We aren’t leaving you,”

“What?” Bucky and Steve asked simultaneously.

“James it’s your last night, Steve is your best friend. He deserves to spend time with you just as much as I do,” you argue and walk up to him, putting a hand on his, quite large, bicep in hopes of it swaying his decision.

“Doll I disagree with that-“ “well I disagree with you. And since I’m the lady, I should get to decide what we do, which means we do the exact same things we planned. But with Stevie!” You smile broadly at your date and take his hand, lightly pulling him towards Steve to take his hand as well.

“Doll, isn’t three a party?” “Parties are fun,” you roll your eyes and tug both of them out of the alley way.

But not before roughly digging your foot into the asshole attackers back.

//Part 2//

[universal-kitty]

Hey, Wrench! Do you and Kat have any big plans for the new year?? Any new years resolutions?? (shippin-in-the-rain)

@shippin-in-the-rain

   Heyo! Let’see, big plans for the new year... At the moment? Nah. See, uh... Kat’s focusing more on one step at a time. Narrow spaces of time. As it turns out- and I don’t know how we haven’t had this conversation before- but they’re actually super stressed out when it comes to too-far-future-thinking. Which is...pretty understandable. Y’know, everyone putting pressure on a successful future, Kat overthinks a lot... No wonder.

   So for the moment, in a summary... We’re just having fun in the moment and waiting for next month. First year anniversary, baby!!! I’m so excited~ (We’ll get to have Valentines Day together, too! Ohhhh, shit!!!)

   As for resolutions... Mine have kept about the same? Keep up the anarchy, inform the people, basically be Robin Hood, etc, etc...but this year, I added one more.      Keep giving Kat all the happiness in the world.

   They deserve that, you know? Found ‘em in a shitty space, been seeing how much being with them has brightened them up... I want to keep doing that for them. They’re my spouse after all~

   As for Kat’s... They have a list somewhere? I think it might be on their phone. Give me a mo; I’ll get it for ya!

[mason-fanfiction]

Chapter 3: A Single Bone

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Bryan responds as Mel punches his fist in the air- vengefully. “Perhaps we should go to Applebee’s Grill & Bar?”

“This is no time for delicious meals, Bryan. I’m going to find out who targeted Mason. You don’t have to follow me, but I kind of just assumed you would, you tend to follow me places.”

“I just think friendship is cool,” Bryan smiles.

"Okay. Anyways, I know where we need to go first."

---

Mel and Bryan walk into Tony's Place, looking for the men they always see playing poker. One of them has to know somebody or know something. As they walk through the saloon-like doors of the establishment, they're met with the hardened glances of the Tony's Place regulars as everyone looks at the two 16 year old's. Du Hast is blasting through the speaker.

Bryan begins to cower back into the street but Mel ignores any sign of danger and heads straight for the poker table, determination burning with every step.

"I have a question," he says to the ringleader of the poker players. He wears a neat suit with a tie, with a bowler hat tipped forward, hiding his menacing glare.

"Whaddaya need kiddo?" the mobster-like persona speaks with a stereotypical New York accent. He takes out a pipe and starts smoking. Weed.

"We need information. We're trying to track someone down." Mel responds, resisting the urge to do his anti-weed dance. Mel doesn't do drugs, and is a good student in school. "You seem like you know how to find people." Mel places confidence on his words, despite basing this assumption off of movie stereotypes, and the pin on the man's suit that says "I know how to find people."

Bryan steps forward friendlily. "What's your name?"

The man studies the two boys for a moment. "The boys call me Greasy Dick. Nice ta meet ya. And yeah, I knows a guy or two. Gonna cost yous some service though." Greasy Dick starts counting hundred dollar bills on the table.

"What do you mean by that, Greasy Dick? What kind of service?" Mel asks cautiously.

"Well, my boys and I have been shippin' some merchandise across the sound. Keeps gettin' hijacked by a coupla' bastards. If yous can stop these sons of bitches from yankin' my chain, I'll find the right guy for ya. Whaddaya say boys?"

Mel and Bryan look at each other. Bryan frantically shakes his head. "We'll do it. Where do we go?" Mel asks.

---

The cloudy sky looms above the sound. The taste of salt surrounds them, and the windy air carries the sound of ships setting sail and sailors singing sea shanties. Mel and Bryan stand on the docks, with newly fitted white blouses and black breeches. Bryan found a sword to wield.

"That's the one Greasy Dick said. The one with the bone." Mel points at a large ship waving a black flag with a single bone on it. Bryan peers at the ship and says "Right let's go then."

The two friends board the ship and reach the deck. They stop in front of a crew of people surrounded by a guy in a captain's hat.

"Bone?" Mel says, noticing his uncle in the center of the deck. "You're a merchant?"

"Oh, hi. Yeah, I'm merchant coordinator for my discord server. We do some work on the side. Why are you guys here?"

"We were sent to help you with your shipment, make sure it doesn't get stolen again." Bryan says.

"Greasy Dick sent you?" Bone thinks for a moment about the responsible thing to do in this situation. "Okay, whatever. The crew is the rest of my discord server. Talk to them, or don't. I'll be steering the ship." Mel and Bryan nod.

"Hey, Mel and Bryan, welcome aboard!" One of the crewmates greets them as they walk away from Bone. "I'm Sea Man, I'm new to the ship as well!" Sea Man whips and nae nae's, with feeling.

"Hello Sea Man, it's a lovely ship," Bryan says. "Do you know anything about the recent attacks?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. Big bad guys have been ramming their shit into us. Total whackos. They got some vendetta against us, or Greasy Dick, not sure why. We're just drug trafficking- ah! Just kidding! LOL" Sea Man laughs heartily, but stops abruptly. "Drugs aren't cool. Seriously." Sea Man flips his pirate cap backwards.

Suddenly, a ship.

"There's a ship over there," Bone says to Mel and Bryan, lacking urgency in his voice, "You guys should probably go below deck, if you want."

Mel searches the horizon and spots another ship barreling towards them. Sea Man and the crew whip out cutlasses and start manning the cannons. One of the cannonballs hits the left side of the opposing ship, eliciting cheers from Bone's crew of sailors. "They're literally dogwater," Bone says.

Unfortunately, the hit does nothing to stop the ship from sailing straight into them. A plank lowers from the other side, and a group of sailors board the ship, wielding swords and angry shouts.

Mel and Bryan hide behind some barrels. "This is just like Among Us. Because crewmates," Bryan says, and Mel ignores him, watching the exchange on the poop deck.

"Well well well," says Bone, as the captain of the enemy ship approaches the center of the poopy deck. "If it isn't Party John." Party John steps out of the shadows and takes off his neck scarf, revealing his signature neck tattoo, a grizzly bear wearing sunglasses and doing a kickflip on a skateboard. "That's a sick fucking tattoo," whispers Bryan behind the barrels. "What a mad lad." Mel nods.

"Sorry to crash your party," Party John says. His mateys pat him on the back for the clever party reference. His first mate hands him a bubblegum-flavored vape pen and he sucks it dry. "But we're gonna need to take your merchandise." With that, he whips out his sword, and his crewmates follow along.

Bone slowly nods his head, and saunters to the center of the poopy deck in front of PJ. "I should have known you were behind this. You've wronged me in the past, Party John..." Bone says, abandoning his monotone voice for a surprisingly dramatic delivery. "But you will not wrong me again, you sick bastard. Heh." Bone also takes out a sword and swings it around a lot. "Go on, try to strike me down! But be wary, for I'm ranked #72 in the world for Minecraft PVP! 1," Bone smirks, and strikes his sword against PJ's. The poop deck explodes into an onslaught of swords on swords, men on men, grunting and sweating as they passionately clash against each other.

Behind the barrels, Mel frantically whispers, "We should be helping them! We can't let them get the merchandise or Greasy Dick won't give us any information!"

"Wait, I think we can resolve this," Bryan says. Mel looks at him befuddled. "This seems like a friendship problem, not a merchandise problem. They've clearly had a falling out. We should help them talk it out." Bryan clarifies.

Mel sighs. "Bryan, I know you love friendship, but these guys are pirates AND gamers. They're calling each other dogwater and being toxic. We need to...to kill them, or something."

Bryan pauses. "We can't kill Party John. I heard that guy has a fake ID. He'd cut right through us. Hold on a second."

As the fighting continues, Bryan leaves the barrels and sneaks below deck. He returns a few minutes later, hauling a Nintendo Switch. Mel prepares to argue with Bryan when suddenly the fighting comes to a halt. All the gamer bro pirates are staring at the switch that Bryan brought onto the deck.

"Hey," PJ says to Bone, "You got Smash on that?" The enemy crew waits in anticipation for Bone's reply.

"Yeah, yeah we play it a lot." Bone replies.

"Cool...cool." PJ shifts awkwardly.

"Do you wanna play?" Bone asks.

"Yeah," PJ responds.

"Okay."

The two boys and their crewmates sit in front of the switch and start taking turns playing Smash against each other. Everyone forgets about their qualms.

"Gamers before pirates," Bryan says to Mel. Mel shakes his head in disbelief.

The rest of the sail across the sound goes swimmingly. Bone's crew unloads the merchandise from the harbor to a very happy Italian man. Party John and his crew decide to leave Bone's ship alone, after agreeing to play Smash together at least once a week. Finally, after a day's journey, Bone returns Mel and Bryan to the docks.

"Tell Mason he still owes me $20," Bone instructs Mel, and departs with his crew.

—-

Back at Tony’s Place, Mel and a Bryan report back to Greasy Dick on their recent success. Greasy Dick claps his hands (and cheeks) at the news. He takes out more weed to eat as he gives Mel and Bryan the information they requested.

“Great work boys, and I did some digging. I know a guy who will probably know the guy you’re lookin’ for. The guy yous wanna talk to lives in this alleyway on Broad Street. Tell em Greasy Dick sent ya.”

“Awesome, thanks so much Mr. Dick,” Mel says.

“Don’t mention it. Oh, and you should know he’s a real short bastard. Wears these fake Gucci fits a lot. Calls himself Cristian.”

[awellboiledicicle]

I kinda wanna write an au where Dio, growing up in london before his father dies, befriends a streetrat that is very much more slytherin than him.  I mean, he’s a bitter ravenclaw, team him up with a slytherin who he is very partial to out of sheer fact they don’t look down on him for how he makes his money/how his father is? danger.

Just sitting there like “oi, Didi-- lay off the guy.” “Have you seen him” “Yeah, and he’s about as easy a mark as a knot on a tree. Charm over bein’ a prig for a second.” “I am not being a prig, you shit.” “Didi, you’ve been a prig since we fuckin’ met. An’ i say that wit the utmost respect an’ fondness. You wanna stay outta the poorhouse after the geezer kicks it, you gotta play it careful.” “Is amassing friends and taking away Johnathan’s favor not a good plan? I rather thought it was.” “I mean, yeah, if you want him to get on your ass with a beatin’ when he has enough of it.” “He’s weak, i doubt he’d raise a finger to me without outright hostility.” “Aye, and you also doubted we’d get caught knocking over that bakery on the south side when we was eight. Remember how creative we hadda get with that lock?” “I remember, trust me. I still have the scar from getting out between the bars.” “Then maybe listen a bit to your mate, here. You brought me with ya because we’re friends and because i’m the same kinda smart--trust me on this.” “Fine. But i refuse to pet the dog.” “The dog ain’t that bad, Didi. Just cus that one shippin’ yard had one take a bite out your ass--” “I will thank you to never remind me of that again.” “Fine, fine-- just remember you get more flies with honey than spit.” “That’s very much not the expression, you absolute bumpkin.” “Well, scuze me for learnin’ to read last year.” “From me. And i lent you books.” “Well, so’s long as you don’t get disowned an’ thrown out, i finally got time to read ‘em. Make a proper book club outta the experience.”

He just fucking drags them along bc he views them as an equal, street smarts wise at least, and i really, really want them to find his ass in the ocean like “didn’t you say we didn’ need to sleep? Wake up princess.”

Because i enjoy evil characters too, and i really want to write Dio trying to polish up this fellow broke ass london kid that is like ‘ur the rich one, what do i need fancy for’. 5 dollars and a bread says they posed as his sibling and Joestar just kinda nodded. Or gave them a job bc Dio asked. 

i need to stop plotting aus when i haven’t updated everything

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Life On The Road: Part 3

Pairings: Chibs x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, Chibs being a drunk ass

Word Count: 2,558

Aesthetic by @sorenmarie87​

Part 1 / Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey y’all. Happy Thanksgiving from my family an' Tink, the vicious pitbull, who has taken up residence on the couch like a lazy bum.” You stepped to the side at your stove so that your live stream video had a direct view from where your phone was currently clipped by the stove to the couch that your pitbull was sprawled across in front of the fake fireplace ‘watching’ the second viewing of the Macy’s day parade on TV. “Ya know, we’re all hard at work here and you’re just layin’ there. Well the free ride ends here, missy!” She didn’t move a muscle so you turned back to your camera and went back to making potatoes for the Thanksgiving potluck at the KOA you were at.

“She’s so dang lazy. Who could blame her, though. Being in front of this damn stove is makin’ me so damn hot I think my head’s about ta pop from the pressure. Any who, just wanted to send a quick update while I got a minute. Yes, I know my website is down. I took it down for the night because I have a bunch of Black Friday surprises for you.” You brushed the back of your hand over your forehead to wipe away the sweat there and huffed. It was way too hot. You put a smile on your face and set your spoon down to go and prop open the door.

“So first thing’s first. Same as last year, there’s free shippin’ on orders thirty dollars and up tomorrow through Monday. Tumbled stones are going to be buy three, get one free.” You paused at the counter and grabbed your notebook of all the deals you had going on for the weekend. “Let’s see… there are literally hundreds of new rough stones and a bunch’a awesome geodes since y’all love those so much… Bunch a stuff.” You set down your notebook with a smile and came back over to the stove to stir your potatoes.

“Now, for the fun news. And bet your ass, it’s good shit so pay close attention. First, those Tinkerbell dressed like Tinkerbell cartoon bandanas and shirts I had last year are finally back! Yay! Second, Mossy Oak and I have partnered up to make new ball caps and the are freakin’ awesome!” You grabbed yours off the counter as your laptop rang beside you. You answered the call and held your finger up to the caller as you put the hat on your head.

“It’s just a plain, camo hat and it has a cute little pitbull with wings in the corner. So dang adorable. There’s only a thousand of these, they’re $24.99 an’ tomorrow, I’ll be doin' a little contest through out the day for five lucky followers! An’ lastly… and this one is a you heard it here, first exclusive. Remember a few months back when I did that speakin’ engagement at that college with a certain, awesome Youtube sensation?” You grabbed your laptop and turned it toward the stove so your followers could see the screen. You smiled broadly as your friends, Jenna and Julien waved ‘hi’.

“Well first, these two lovely bitches are going to interview me again for their podcast, which comes out every Monday on soundcloud dot com slash Jenna Julien podcast. Then… for some reason, they’ve decided ta come out on the road with us for a week to experience the life…”

“Hell yeah! It’ll be so much fun!” Jenna squealed.

“She just wants to see the baby.” Julien said with a laugh.

“So, y’all will get to see these two and Kermit, Marble and Peach roughin’ it for a week in Yosemite for the New Year. So my house on wheels is gunna be crazy packed!”

“We’re all looking forward to it.” Jenna said. You smiled and nodded at your phone, which was exploding with comments and likes.

“So those are my updates for Thanksgivin’. Y’all can find Jenna an’ Julien on their YouTube channel, Jenna Marbles, which posts new videos every Wednesday. Hope y’all have lots of food an’ fun with your families. I gotta get back to making dinner for my massive road family. Love y’all!” You blew the camera a kiss and Jenna and Julien shouted ‘bye’ as you ended the live video.

“Yay! Now you ready for ours?” You nodded as you set your laptop down on the counter. Just like they had, you said a few words to their fans as you finished mixing butter and sour cream into your potatoes for dinner. As you slid the covered potato dish into the oven with the pecan pie you made to keep warm, you glanced at the clock, wondering where your boyfriend was as Jenna took her phone and headed out to her porch. “So have you told him yet?” You shook your head and smiled as you grabbed your laptop and headed over to the couch to get off your feet for a bit.

“Savin’ the surprise as long as possible. I got an interview on Monday for a travel magazine here in Nashville then we’re slowly headin’ out that way as long as Avery cooperates. I’m due Tuesday afta next an’ she seems perfectly content stayin’ in her warm waterbed as long as possible.”

“She’s a smart cookie. It’s barely in the sixties here and I’m frozen.” You let out a barked laugh and shook your head.

“Don’t start. It’s forty-two degrees here. I feel bad for Chibs. He’s been outside workin’ on a car for hours.” You glanced at the clock on your laptop screen and sighed. “Alright, I need to call him and find out where he is. We gotta get going to dinner. Happy Thanksgivin’ sweetheart!”

“Happy Thanksgiving, boo!” You blew a kiss at her as she ended the call and with a sigh, you shut your laptop. You looked over at your phone, which was still over by the stove and groaned. You set your laptop down on the couch and got up, stumbling a bit as Avery tried to roll in the small space in your stomach sending pain shooting through your back. You shuffled over to the counter and pulled it off the holder you had there. You dialed the familiar number and put the call on speaker as you headed back to the couch. Your whole body ached from being on your feet all morning and you happily sunk into the couch and closed your eyes.

“What?” Chibs snapped as he answered the phone. You sighed and put your phone on your stomach.

“Just callin’ ta see where you were. Fixin’ ta be dinner time.”

“I’m still busy.” Your brow furrowed slightly as you rolled your head and looked down at your phone. There was absolutely a drunken slur to his words.

“What’s up with you?”

“Jus’ go ta yer damn, dinn’a, (Y/N). I’m busy.” You sat up a little straighter as the phone call went dead. You quickly dialed the phone again, growling when your call was sent to voicemail.

“The fuck did I do?!” You shouted into his voicemail. You growled and hung up the phone before calling Stacy to come over and help you carry things over to the club house. She knew with one look at your face as you came out of your room with your blue, Thanksgiving sweater dress on, not to ask what was wrong.

“Well you look beautiful.” She said sweetly as she put the potatoes and pie in her warming bag. You gave her a small smile as you stepped into your boots and shrugged on your jacket.

“Thanks, Stace. Tink, you be good.” She huffed at you from her spot on the couch as Todd helped you out of the RV, which was a feat in and of itself. He held your arm and headed toward the main building when Chibs appeared out of nowhere. The stench of whisky made your stomach turn and you took a physical step back to get away from it.

“Ye know wha’ I don’ und’astand, luv.” He snapped as he pointed at you. “Ye’ve all these stupid followers an’ yet yer alone. All bloody alone. Ye call them yer family yet ‘ere we are. Surrounded by people who know shite about ye. Wit’ yer cameras an’…”

“Son, I think you need to go lie down.” Tod said as he moved protectively in front of you. Chibs shook his head and stepped with him so he could still see you.

“I’ve a family, luv. I ‘ave. An’ it’s not out’a desperation like yers.” You gasped as tears welled in your eyes and Stacy instantly moved in front of you.

“Chibs, go lay down.” She said with venom dripping from her voice. “Now. You have no right to speak to her like that.”

“I’ve… every right.” He said as he tried to step toward you again. You had no idea where this anger was coming from but today was not the day to deal with it.

“Go sleep it off, Filip… for Avery. I’ll bring you a plate in a little bit and you can tell me everything on your mind.” He looked like he was about to fight it but nodded to himself.

“For Avery.” Tears fell softly from your eyes as you watched him pull a bottle of whisky from his pocket. “’s’always for Avery.”

“Can you make sure he gets back?” You asked Todd as Chibs stumbled off in the wrong direction. He nodded and handed you off to Stacy with an aggravated sigh. He muttered under his breath as he grabbed Chibs’ arm and lead him toward your RV. “What did I do?” You asked Stacy as the two of you watched the two men walk away. She shook her head as she laced her arm with yours.

“You didn’t baby. He’s just a drunk Scot.”

——

You only stayed at the Thanksgiving feast for a couple hours before the ache in your heart and back sent you back to the RV. You brought back a big plate for Chibs, a few things for Tink, and a large assortment of desserts for yourself, to drown your own sorrows in chocolate and pumpkin pie. You though your body hurt earlier but now it felt like your muscles were on fire. And Avery wasn’t helping at all; she was now practicing her field goal kicks on your spine, ribs and lungs.

“Hey Tinkerbell. Yea, mommy’s home. Look out.” You said as you held the plates of food above your head. You looked over at the loud, angry sounding snore that came from your bedroom and tears filled your eyes. You sighed, set your plates down on the counter and started preparing Tink’s dinner. You tried not to think about Chibs’ words as you put his plate in the microwave and set the dog bowl on the floor. With a sigh, you toed off your boots and headed into the room to change.

“Luv?” You glanced over at Chibs as you pulled your dress off over your head. “Why are ye takin’ it off.”

“Dinner’s over, Filip.” You sighed as you tossed the blue material toward the washing machine. “Spent it with my fake family.” You heard him sigh and groan as you grabbed your flannel pajamas from the drawer. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No… Yer pregnant, luv. I won’t ‘ave…”

“What? You won’t have what, Filip? Please, tell me when ya started carin’ about someone you ain’t know shit about. Ain’t that what you said?” You paused at the door to your room and turned back to look at him with tear filled eyes. “You have no obligation ta be here. I was gunna do this by myself anyways. You wanna be with your family that don’t involve your daughter, than go. Go be with them. I have my cameras after all.” You slammed the bedroom door closed behind you and stormed into the living room as you pulled on your PJ’s. Chibs came running out after you as you grabbed a blanket from the cabinet above the TV.

“Stop. Luv, stop.”

“What did I do?” You sobbed as you let him pull you into his arms. Your stomach turned violently at the overpowering smell of whisky. “What did I do?”

“No, shh… m’luv, ye did nothin’. I’m sorry, luv.” He held you tight and rubbed your back as he slowly backed up to the couch. He sat down and pulled you down onto his lap. “I jus’… Shite, luv. I got a call from ‘ome while I was workin’ on tha’ RV. Some of the boys went in ta jail for bull-shite charges an’ I jus’ snapped. I shouldn’t’a taken it out on ye.”

“No…” You sobbed as you shook your head. He smiled weakly and shook his head.

“No.” He kissed your forehead.

“We’re goin’ back for Christmas.” You choked as he used his calloused thumb to brush your tears away. “I know ya miss them. Heard ya talkin’ ta them last week. It was… ‘posed ta be a surprise.”

“Fuck… luv, I’m so sorry.” Out of nowhere, you heard a ‘pop’ like the way your ankles did when you rolled them before bed and a gush of water pooled between your legs. Your tears came out even harder as you shook your head.

“I think my water broke.” You sobbed. Chibs sighed and nodded.

“Yea, luv. It did.” He slipped his arm under your knee and behind your back and stood up with a small huff. “Let’s get ye too the ‘ospital, sweetheart.”

——

“‘ey ye all.” Chibs said softly as he held your phone out in front of him with one hand. His smile threatened to break his cheeks as he glanced down for a half second. “Chibs ‘ere wit’ (Y/N)… an’ finally, Miss Avery.” He shifted the phone in his hand to show the tiny, pink bundle in his arms. “Someone was finally ready ta take on the world… afta puttin’ ‘er mum through sixteen ‘ours of labor.” He chuckled slightly as he slowly rocked the chair he was in; his eyes locked on his beautiful baby girl. “She’s got ten finger’s an’ ten toes… an’ she’s perfect.”

“Mommy’s doin’ fine, too.” You said from your bed as you watched Chibs with your daughter. He glanced up at you with a smile and turned his attention, temporarily, back to the live feed on your phone.

“Yes, mum’s perfect, too. She let me be the one ta tell ye….”

“Cause ya begged…” You muttered as you pulled your blanket up to your chin in the cold room.

“… but I’m sure she’ll share more lat’a.” He said. “Now, I’m gun’ go spend some times wit’ m’girls. See ye, lat’a.” You smiled over at him as he ended the short video and set your phone down on the little table. He got up from the chair and came over to you with a giant smile on his face. “Ye did good, luv.” You smiled and nodded as he passed you your beautiful baby girl.

“We made her.” You said softly as you placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. He nodded his head and sat down on the bed beside your hip.

“Now we jus’ got ta not mess ‘er up too bad.”

[bipolyjack]

Please tell me more about why you like sheith, I'm very curious to hear the rest of it.

(alright luckily i had the beginning of this saved elsewhere when tumblr just randomly sent it early so imma just begin by pasting. also spoilers for voltron s4 obv) 

the original ask was something like “curious why u like sheith? ive thought abt it and i think i prefer klance”

rubs hands 2gether Thank U for Asking

first of all, thats chill! if klance is ur thing, fuckin go for itmy dude, have a great time with that shit. the fandom’s huge andtheres tons of content. im all for ppl shippin what they want and imnot here to tell someone to ship or not ship something. if u do trulywant to know why im a sheith tho, buckle the fuck up cause im awashin sheith feelings at every moment and i got Things 2 say

alright so the main thing with sheith is that it feels realhealthy and good. (well it did. things are weird this season bc shiromay or may not be a clone but up until his disappearance at least.)they’re rly good abt checking in with each other to see how theother one’s doing and feeling, and they lean on each other a lotfor support. they also treat each other as equals and respect each other’s choices (again, with minor exceptions in the current season). they got that good good hidden backstory together. they got that good good star crossed lovers thing goin on where the universe keeps ripping them apart, fucking them over and tossing them back together more fucked up than before and my dude i Eat That Shit UP. also that good good height difference.the show gives them lots of moments where they’re either alone in a room together havin a private moment or havin an equally private moment in front of the whole fuckin team where fuckin everybody can see them (like the first Hug tm). they’re openly physically intimate with each other (which keith is not with anyone else) and they’re not like. ashamed of that. there’s so much canon content i cry daily. 

here lemme break it down

we know they knew each other in the garrison, and not just like in passing, like acquaintances, but enough that keith was the only person there to see shiro off when the kerberos mission launched. in s1ep1 lance says of shiro “omg that guys my hero” and of keith “you’re my rival” but neither shiro nor keith know who lance even fuckin is. bc presumably they didnt hang out. everyone in the garrison knows who keith and shiro are but they - keith especially it seems like - dont keep track of the other students. also theres this whole fanon thing where shiro and matt were best friends in the garrison and hung out all the time before kerberos, but in s4 when matt greets shiro hes incredibly stiff and awkward and calls him sir and shiro just goes “pidge never gave up on u buddy” which i guess could be a clone thing but could also be him bein like “i totally did give up on u tho, whatever” (and i can totally buy that considering how pidge’s whole personal arc this whole time has been looking for matt and their dad, and while shiro has been supportive of that, he’s also been like hey dude that’s not our top priority as a team). so from that i infer that matt and shiro werent best buds in the garrison, and that he must have spent a lot more of his time with keith bc in s2ep1 keith makes it clear that shiro made a significant impact on his life and that he still thinks about things shiro said to him before kerberos. which we havent seen. bc theyre hiding the pre-kerberos backstory from us and i cry. also their flashbacks in s1ep2 (i think, i dont exactly remember which ep but i think its that one) when they all put on the headsets and we see their fondest memories, shiro’s is the day they were separated and keith’s is the day they found each other again like jesus.

then there’s keith’s first scene in the show. the first thing we see him doing is kicking the shit out of like three garrison guys to rescue shiro. we get that close up of him touching shiro’s unconscious fuckin face and his first line in the whole show is him saying shiro’s name. like shit dude how am i supposed 2 not ship that. the first time keith and lance interact, its lance butting in on that moment and keith being like “who the fuck are u” and its. uncomfortable. we also know that keith has been livin alone in the desert and obsessing over these lion carvings bc he got kicked out of the garrison for basically insubordination sometime after shiro went missing. we get that scene in the shack where keith talks abt feeling lost until shiro showed up and everyone else in the room looking all confused and uncomfortable as these two dudes who clearly already know each other well and have been separated for like a year just stare into each other’s eyes or what the fuck ever. also the scene outside the shack where keith comes and finds shiro and puts a hand on his shoulder and asks him how hes doing - theyre alone for that part. also worth mentioning is that keith has no hesitation touching shiro’s galra tech arm, whereas lance hesitates before shaking his hand. we see a bunch of times that keith is touch averse with almost everyone except shiro, in a way that indicates a degree of prior familiarity and a good understanding of boundaries that keith hasnt had the time or inclination to set up with lance, hunk, pidge, allura, coran etc. also the one time he holds lance when sendack attacks the castle and lance is unconscious, lance sort of blows it off later and basically goes “no homo” when keith brings it up so that was a bummer

i also love some of the Pauses they put into shiro and keith’s dialogue, some of them are just. so choice. like when keith proposes a crazy plan that puts him in danger and shiro just takes a sec, closes his eyes, then goes “alright i’ll back u up, do what u gotta do” like!!!! boi!!!!!! thats good shit. also in s2ep9 during the blade of marmora trial when keith is basically having this nightmare about shiro rejecting him because of his connection to the galra, (which real actual shiro can see because this whole ep was a fuckin fanfiction) and he does that same thing where hes like “shiro... *pause, close eyes for Just a sec* you’re like a brother to me” which! by the way!! i have said the same thing!! to a friend i had a crush on!!! who was straight!!!! and i was a little baby who didnt know i was into girls yet and we used to say we were like sisters bc i? didnt know i?? was gay???? we shared her bed whenever i stayed over and she really did see me as a sister and i would just lie next to her and daydream about touching her boobs,, anyway keith is so relatable there i could yell forever but continuing on,

can we, real quick, talk abt the first time keith flies the black lion? bc in s2ep1 hes not the black paladin yet. real shiro is still around. and keith legit goes up to black, puts a hand on her big ole nose and goes “ur boi is in trouble, we gotta help him” and she goes “yeah dude hop in” like?????????????? thats some fanfic shit again! black Knows! also dont even talk to me abt how many times keith and shiro yell each others names in that ep its unreal. also the trope (that i eat the fuck up every time) of one member of the otp lying trapped and injured somewhere and talking to the other member of the otp thru a helmet comm or whatever and they cant see each other but they can hear each others voices, so they have to keep talking to like reassure each other they’re both still alive and okay?!!! im such a sucker for that shit!!!! ummmmm the fact that shiro keeps reassuring keith that hes fine when theres a gaping glowing wound in his side and hes like visibly in pain, clenching his teeth, eyes closed, groaning, sweat beading on his forehead, the whole fuckin thing?? and josh knocked it outta the park with shiro’s voice in that ep making him sound like he was trying not to sound hurt and exhausted so that keith wouldn’t worry too much like Fuck me up!! smiling thru the pain when keith talks abt how much shiro changed his life and made him a better person??? boi!!!!!

then there are the times when shiro talks abt something happening to him and keith taking over as voltron’s leader, and keith gets all panicked about it like he cant stand the thought of losing shiro again (this happens a bunch of times but the ones that are coming to mind are s2ep1 and s2ep9 bc. again. those are the fanfic episodes). and then he Does lose him again and he’s so clearly grieving, lashing out at the rest of the team, super obviously feeling shiro’s loss more than the others (and lance is a real dick about it a bunch of times which really rubbed me wrong), going out to look for him over and over bc he wants to believe so bad that shiro’s out there somewhere. omg the “please no” when the black lion accepts him that shit Fucked me right up!! he wants to honor shiro’s wishes!! but some part of him knows that’s like admitting that shiro’s gone and isn’t coming back. and then!!!!!! when they find kuron and its just the red lion and the galra ship floating alone in space just like. gently drifting toward each other. keith’s little tired smile there. fuck me up. and then we find out in the next scene that keith has been the only one in shiro (kuron)’s room while he’s recovering and shiro (kuron) hasnt bothered to shave or cut his hair or get dressed yet and he lets keith see him like that and not the rest of the team. fuck. keith looks Exhausted in that scene. hes got bags under his eyes, hes kinda hunched in on himself, arms crossed, like something in him Knows this isnt his boi but he wants to believe it’s him so bad and its. god. its a lot. and Then when hes turning to leave and kuron is like “how many times will u have to save me before this is over” and keith’s face just relaxes into this legitimately genuine smile when he says “as many times as it takes” like!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! fuck me

this is where it starts gettin awkward with them bc kuron isnt shiro and he doesnt treat keith the way shiro would but he Tries, like after keith fucks up that one mission and kuron comes and finds him (again, in private) to touch his shoulder and be like “im proud of u boi” when keith clearly Did Not Do A Good Job and keith just looks bummed like “thats. thats not tru” and it Hurts me bc we know real shiro doesnt do fake praise. also kuron orders keith to put himself in danger more than once and doesnt give a shit that keith and the others get hurt because of it which also real shiro would never do - we’ve seen him react when his teammates take hits before, but especially keith, like during the bom trial. then theres s4ep1 where keith sort of drifts away from team voltron in order to do more stuff with the blade of marmora and everyone’s pissed at him but then as hes walking out kuron’s like “you know we’re here for you if you need us” and keith gets that soft smile again like “i know and i cant tell you how much that means to me” and then they do that good good hand clasp that turns into a hug which by the way is a stark contrast to when other people hug keith and they just kinda grab him and he goes all stiff and it takes him a sec or three to put his arms around them if he even does that at all - with shiro they do the hand clasp first and then walk into the hug together and keith buries his face in shiro’s fuckin shoulder and smiles and closes his eyes and i wanna die. and theyve done this twice now which makes me think they probs did it before kerberos too and that also hurts me. 

then theres s4ep6 where keith has gone the whole season feeling like he was a bad leader. it seems like voltron doesnt rly need him and his friends dont need him and shiro doesnt need him and hes been hanging with the bom who have their whole philosophy of not going back to rescue their own guys if it means putting the mission or the rest of the team in danger (which keith already was saying when allura was captured - how very galra of him) and now keith’s having to readjust to that mindset after being part of such a close knit team. so when he sees a way to take that shield down, he just fuckin goes for it. hes started to see himself as expendable. when shiro thinks hes about to die, we get all kinds of flashbacks, the first of which is him and keith alone outside the shack. there are no flashbacks with keith. he just closes his eyes. and shiro (kuron) congratulates him. like obv its before he knows what keith was about to do, but still, thats some fucked up shit. 

now this wasnt rly part of ur question, ie u didnt ask me how i felt abt klance, but i feel like i gotta say: lance just grates on me. im sorry i know lots of people who love him but he just. isnt my cup of tea. and i do think the relationship shown in the show between keith and shiro is a lot more mature and healthy than the one shown between lance and keith. lance has some good moments! but canon lance and fanon lance seem like two entirely different people to me a lot of the time and thats all cool and fine if ur lookin for that, again im not here to stop ppl from having fun, but there are so many good sheith moments in the show and im just glad to see the relationship between two dudes depicted that way regardless of whether it becomes canon or not. also lance in the show is only shown being attracted to girls, and in kinda a skeevy way - like ive met guys who treat me like that and been Very off-put by that kind of behavior. and it would put me off if after all that they got him together with keith. like hes just superficially interested in all these hot girls but keith, who he has very few heartfelt intimate moments with onscreen, is his True Love? like thats,, not good bi rep. i Do rly like the bond hes been building with allura since they switched lions, that seems like its going in a direction that could turn out to be very wholesome and sweet. but again, if klance is ur thing, by all means have a ball.

k that was a lot but tl:dr i like 2 cry and sheith provides me with lots of opportunities to do that,, if u read it all then thank u deeply and truly for ur attention, u probs Understand me as a person a bit better than before lol

[android-13-blog]

SHIPPING INFO // answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog. REPOST. don’t reblog.

WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?: It’s OC/Non Canon so uh, no one really cares about that lol

 my OT3 is actually Merch Recognition x Android 13 x Fandom Recognition, mmmm, fuckin good shit right there

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?: fluff, smut, flirting, first dates, getting to know each other, arguments, etc

relationship angst, cheating, uncomfortable fighting scenes and rough shit like that legitimately trigger me so uh, leave that at the door thank u

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?: For some reason it’s specific and weird for me like- I’ll see Gero/21 shit and that fucking BOTHERS me so much but ill see other ships with like, 10+ years but itll be fine since it’s done tastefully and correctly without it being weird, idk. I headcanon 13 to be physically in his mid 30′s but he’s in his late 40′s so uh, the youngest i’ll go with him is early 30′s

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?: I’m a huge hoe for shipping tbh, all i ask for is chemistry and a lot of plotting out to do, if we plot A LOT of stuff out, then we can skip to like, their first date or something. But yeah, if you ask to ship, 80% I’ll say fuck yeah and hop on board with you! and most of the time im actually too shy to ask to ship so dont be shy okay!!

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NSFW?: hardcore flirting tbh, my muse gets pretty handsy very quickly when he’s in the mood

WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?: Most of u guys know who I ship already but *gasp* I’ve developed a few good ones while on my hiatus B)

I currently ship with @supergalacticsoldier​ so Bojack/13, there’s my OC Android 7/13, there’s Marcia/13 ( still being developed ), android 7/13/Bojack, another OC named Keith who’s 13′s childhood friend who I ship him with, I actually? Ship 13/16 under specific circumstances, I ship 13/Cell ( I fucking LOVE this ship, someone talk to me more about it?? ) I also ship Bojack/13/Cell under specific circumstances, also under very very specific circumstances and correct characterization, I ship 18/13 ( mostly due to an interaction I’ve been having with someone lol ), under specific circumstances and characterization, I also ship 13/14 and 13/17,,,blame my hiatus lol

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?: 

Yes! Please, don’t be afraid to bite<3 The worst I’ll do is politely decline, I promise

HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?: 

i prefer to balance out shipping stuff with genuine character interaction and developing my own portrayal of Android 13, if that makes sense? if shipping happens to do both, then heck yeah, i love shippin

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?:

i’m kind of in the middle lmao

ARE YOU MULTISHIP?: LMAO YEA H, yall have no idea how many ships i have

WHAT IS ( ARE ) YOUR FAVORITE SHIP(S) IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?: I hate the canon ships so rip, i do like the idea of any dbz movie villain x movie villain if done right ( i.e bojack and 13 ) so i’d like to see 13 interacting with more movie villains??

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?: throw ur muse at me, have them flirt w 13, just hmu,,,pls,,,,,

tagged by: @thevioletandroid and @supergalacticsoldier <3 tagging: uh whoever hasnt lmao sorry im slow

[tornline]

shards of rain.

easy street.

           Life is easy on my mismatched, green, holey sneakers. The days are sunny, my shoes are comfy, and there’s a house party only an hour away. I’m on my third to last cigarette, plenty of time to exhale and exhale again. Shades of green trees line the streets, curtsying as the cars zoom by. The shades are less translucent than my posse, thick and real, their weight held by the earth. My backpack isn’t as light as these shades; as I pull it back up on my shoulders every each street I cross. The fam, my dark skinned individuals back on the sunny (South Saginaw, MI) side, calls this pack my circus, containing ten journals and a pet rat. I never know when I’ll run into one of my fellow writers. We always have time to share a bottle of wine and half a dime all night, reading poetry. I am carrying this burden of assumptions, walking across the Saginaw River, down East Genessee, to the east side. The breeze is gaining momentum. My jeans whip like a flag tied to my legs. On the next step my eyes lower to the cracked cement between cars and burned down businesses, and I notice that my shadow is missing. Up above, the clouds are gathering, having a party of their own.

           Oh, and did I mention I’m not alone?

           My company is several boys and girls, the girl with bright pink hair, giggling too much for my style, and the boys passing a brown paper bag bottle to their left, opposite of the street. Cars whizz by, and for some reason, I am rather embarrassed by these kids, more so than if I’d been by myself. Their shoes are noisy, their talk about music boring, their words cloud around my head thicker than the clouds above. I cannot think. I cannot breathe. I do not feel the rain coming down when I am walking alone.

           “Shiloh! Get over here!”

           They are sitting on the stoop of a tattoo shop, their faces soft and bored, and their lips pouting. I notice a razor hanging from the Jew’s neck. The Jew is a big guy, a couple of years older, who buys our cigarettes and beer. I went to his house once. At that time, his mother was the only Jewish fortune teller in Saginaw. He gave the razor to me as a present, when I became someone else who goes by the name of Ginger. Ginger had a shaved red head and a nose chain. She talked a lot, while Shiloh is a girl with long dark brown hair, who rarely talks at all. I had let him wear it for today. I am envious of the glimmer, too far from my heart, so I ask for it back. I am separated from them. They support a wall of conversation that does not contain my brick. I carve the word “wall” into my arm. I should have carved the word “bar,” because it’s shorter. Ginger would have thought of that, but Shiloh doesn’t think of these things. Regardless, wall, or bar, the rain won’t wash away the blood for a year.

 Counting.

           The common fear of thunderstorms will brew in me for a long time after this night. The bolts are shooting down around me, each one planting bars of a mental prison. The thunder is shaking reality into bits and pieces of memory, each reflecting shard falling into puddles around my feet. All I have is the journal tucked under my arm. The nurses had adorned me in baby blue pajamas, the shade of a childhood sky. The nice lady had taken my ballpoint pen, and now I sit in a chair two times my size, my slippered feet swinging off the edge. Fingering the thin, blue material, I count patterned squares in the carpet. 67 and ½. Given or taken, for the lightning and thunder interrupts my count, rattling the three inch thick glass where I rest my head upon. The room appears as a dentist’s room, but a tad bit more comfortable, with a television behind a glass screen, boxes of puzzles, books, chairs piled with pillows and blankets, and a table littered with juice boxes, milk cartons, and single gram cracker wrappers. I forget what I am waiting for, but the nerves of impatience cause my fingers to drum on the worn wooden arm of my chair. I wait for change.

           Distant footsteps introduce a thin black girl wearing normal clothes, blue jeans and a sweater, with worn shoes. She drags in four garbage bags of clothes, two in each fist, and sits next to me, also waiting.

           “How long have you been here,” I ask, eyeing her warm jeans.

           “Two years,” she says quietly, gazing at poster with flat flowers, her lips tightening into a straight line.

           “Goin’ home?”

           “Naw, I just turned eighteen. They shippin’ me upstate.”

Interrupted.

           I'm sleeping in a stripped bed, the plastic mattress squeaks when I turn my body. Every hour the security guard cracks open the door, shining the flashlight, revealing my squirming silhouette. A large black woman is masturbating in the bed next to mine, grunting in her activities. I concentrate on the crickets, which I can still hear through the glass and brick. I am a spectator of their symphony, and finally nap in a soft patch of grass next to a bubbling river. I am still as the night, doing my best not to move, not to rub against the mattress. My dreams are of highest quality.

           I wake to fists pounding my face in, but I only welcome the hot tears, while the blood tickles, trickling down my cheek. Somewhere I hear screams, but I am laughing, I am comfortable, I am somewhere else.

Christmas time.

           I wait by the phones. They are constantly occupied, patients cradled in plastic chairs, their twisted faces weeping into their stiff bath robes. We are lined up along a brick wall; there are only three booths for the sixteen of us. I am one of those who rarely call home, but rather call my people stationed in separate wings within the facility. We plan shit. When I’m on lockdown, they report the weather, who’s strapped down, who overdosed, who’s going home, who’s being shipped upstate. Often we plan escape routes and drug traffic. My teddy bear, Fluffy, has been a mule for the past six months. Today, I plan to call Rob, one of the many forbidden boyfriends I’ve had this year, because relationships run short. We run around; if we’re lucky, have a quicky in the bushes, until we are banned from each other after getting caught. Then I find someone else, usually the new patient, because they know nothing. Crouched against the brick wall, I’m fingering his four digit number on my sweaty palm. He came back from a home visit, and rumor has it he’s got some good shit with him.

           Suddenly, one patient is pried from the phone after wailing too loudly to her father about being raped two years ago, and the phone rings. I look to my right and then to my left, waiting for someone else to answer it. I let it ring, waiting for it to stop, because I’m next in line. After fifteen rings, I answer it.

           “Yeah?”

           “Shiloh? Is that you?”

           The voice is one of the few I have had the blessing of remembering. It is soft and warm, coming from the heart of my mother. I know now, I won’t get to talk to Rob today.

           “Hi, Mom.”

           “How are you?”

           I imagine the Christmas tree in their living room, but I cannot remember what the room looks like. I imagine my own version, placing smiles on my sister and brother. My dad is cracking jokes at the dinner table. In reality, my parents would be separated in three months.

           “I’m here.” What else would I say? I am getting by, through what pleasures I can steal from the security guards eye.

           “Did you receive the present I bought you?”

           “No.” Now it’s my turn to curl my body up in the chair, my face towards the brick wall. The fact that she brought me a present means that she was here. No one tells me these things. I even receive her letters weeks later, after the staff has read them.

           “They didn’t give it to you? I bought you a plant!”

           I could hear her smiling. In here, I learned to read body language very well. Things usually meant the opposite; because there was the ideal patient we were all trying to be, because the ideal patient got released. It hurts to hear a real smile.

           “How come you didn’t come see me?”

           “I couldn’t see you. It wasn’t during visiting hours.”

           Down the hall I spy Sue, a nurse that I didn’t particularly like. She is a middle-aged woman who always wears skin-tight black pants with an oversized sweater. She now pretends to read the paper, and we meet eyes every five minutes. I know she is watching my every move. I’m on double watch, and two people watch me at all times. That is when I stopped shaving. I think of these things every time our eyes meet, hers painted black, mine puffy. In this paranoia, I can’t hear my mother on the other line. Next time she lowers that paper, I give her the middle finger under my chin, then my hand becomes a gun that shoots my head, and I motion sliding a razor across my wrists.

           I’m on the ground. Don’t remember why. My chin grinds into the carpet. I think of my mother, when they handcuff me to the bed. I see her in the ceiling, in the dull gray sky contained in a square window. I wanted my present. That is all I wanted.

           The present is a real Christmas tree, a miniature pine tree that goes up to my waist, decorated with tiny ornaments and a red ribbon tied around the shimmering pot. By the time I received it, the tree had been raped. They removed the ornaments with hooks on them, and had even uprooted the tree from the pot, to search the soil. The tree was already drying up, because it sat in the nurse’s station, and no one had bothered to water it.

Tasting.

           This New Year’s Eve, I will taste a woman. Mary had copped sleeping pills from the schitsophrenic down the hall, and we crushed them, and then put them in the night staff’s coffee around nine pm. We weren’t sure if the pills were going to react over the caffeine, but the guard was knocked out half an hour before the stroke of midnight. Mary and I sat Indian style on her bed, playing Uno. Hyper, I start a pillow fight. Every fifteen minutes we poke our heads out the hallway, but no security. In the dark silence, the confessions came.

           “I am in love with a woman.” she says, blushing. She is the whitest girl I had ever met, with red lips. She snorts when she laughs.

           “You have no choice but to love a woman,” I say, “unless you wanna be manhandled like me.” They had finally put me on sexual alert, and I could not be alone with any boys.

           “I don’t know how to love a woman.”

           “It’s easy, you’re a woman. You know what a woman wants.” I had learned what a woman wants by being tight with the most popular lesbian in Detroit. On her home visits, she parties hard, and had once masturbated on the stage of a Gwar concert.

           “Show me how.”

           I tell her the anatomy of a woman, and the power of the pivotal clit, what I believe to be the key to any relationship.

           “Where is it?”

           We run to the door then to check on our dreaming security officer. We even step up to him, and touch his cheek. After his dreams linger, we tiptoe back to our room and close our door. Now we just have the other girls to worry about.

           I proceed to casually take my pajamas off and then my panties, and show her my clit.

           “What is so special about that?”

           “Have you ever touched yours?”

           “No.”

           “Try it, use your finger…” I proceeded to show her how to masturbate.

           “How do I touch another woman?”

           “You don’t, you use your tongue.”

           Mary learned to masturbate, and I learned that vaginas come in more varieties than do penises. She became a lesbian then, and dated her first girlfriend for over a year. I thought about how moist women are, and how their femininity cannot remain dry. I continued to collect lesbians like I did Bazooka Joe cartoon gum wrappers, by fertilizing their lovemaking and writing their love letters.

Upstate.

           Upstate always refers to another hospital, whether it is in the southern hemisphere of Michigan, up north, or even Canada. My upstate happens to be a bedroom with a window to view Saginaw in all its nightly pleasures and secrets. I am roomed with two other women. At night, when they cry and sleep, I spy under the flickering streetlights cats prowling across the street, and wish I have their freedom. Yet though there aren't bars, there are still walls, walls with doors that I am legally not allowed to come and go through. However, there are enough loopholes, enough moments free from eyes and cameras, which nurture privacy, dreams long ago dormant, giving me enough time to scratch my ass or pick my nose without a staff worker jotting down my every move.

           Not a pleasant place to grow love.

           Love and I would climb out of windows and crawl across rooftops when the heat of the night became too much for us. Too much for the night staff too. They snored in their offices, dreaming of relapses. We would meet there, in between days, to create new lives. It was especially exciting when it rained. I would climb out of the window, getting my tank top caught on a nail always, and the cold rain would beat down on my back. His crackhead roommate, the lookout guy, would laugh at me from across the horizontal layers of rain, as I trekked across the slippery tar on bare feet. On good nights, when the one-man night staff fell asleep, we’d go for a run on the town. Sometimes those nights would stretch too long, and we'd creep in during the morning smoke break, casually smoking a cigarette on the stoop, watching the sun come up.

Yet, now we are here, lying down on a field, waiting for the sun to come up, hours away from the smoking stoop. My bones are shivering because he isn’t warm enough, because he isn’t enough. The rain falls like tiny gravel on top the single sheet thrown over our entwined bodies, as we folded in the edges under our weight to make a tent over the tickling wet grass.

“When is the train coming?” I ask, trying to sleep beneath the pattering rain, which is massaging my whole body. I often would shifted my body, numbing one side, and then press it against him, to bring the numbness back to life, while the other side then became numb.

“3 am.”

Time is not a factor when one defines their own schedules, and my schedule said sleep. So I slept, and the train never came.

boys.

           Corey would eventually come. I wait outside the hospital, staring at an empty parking lot, wishing it would rain, because then I would have looked more miserable, my hair would be stringy, given that tragic sexy look of a woman caught in a tree, in the rain, in a parking lot. He would embrace me, and I somehow, would be wearing heels, lifting one foot in the air. Then the credits would roll down, and Sara Jessica Parker would be playing me. But, that never happened. I sit on the cement curb and cry.

           I hear the rain this time, and this is odd, because it isn’t raining. The rain I hear consists of remnants of my past collecting in my hair, tiny shards of glass, of memory, reflecting stories. While most people’s expectations exist in their futures, mine exist in the past. I count on the past’s truth because it has already happened, but I couldn’t count on when it will happen again. The future is my guide, we walk hand in hand. She opens doors for me. She is a He, sometimes. The past is a dark familiar.  I never know when I’m there or when I will go there again. Now, a memory is within the curtain of my hair over my face, a transparent ghost reflected from shards that tell bits and pieces. I have the scars to prove it, dashes across my arms, legs, chest, hips. I see them in the shade of my head bent forward, over the cement curb. I have been here before, when Here wasn’t here but was somewhere else. It’s all the same.

This is when I lose my mind.

Today is a crack in this broken mirror, the shards piecing together a jagged past, veiling the future with a false reality. These past familiars blur reality into an unsatisfying ignorance. Like today, full of sun, but the ghost makes it full of rain. I follow the familiar, cradle his hand in mine. I sit on the curb, holding his hand, my head bent, staring into the darkness between my thighs. Tears drop to the cement, hot and real. I listen to the rain of yesterdays.

           Corey finally pulls up in his car. The tires grind against the loose gravel. That noise is always real. That soft boyish face leans against the steering wheel, twisting in concern for me. That body is real, but I choose to give it many names. It walks over to me. Those hands, calloused and soft, pry my stubborn arms from around my knees. All of the names brushed my lips. I am kissing many boys, some who drive cars, and some who ride bikes. They all embrace me, and tell me to never look that tragic again. But this is a tragedy. Pieces of reality, the boyish face, the gravel, the sunshine. They are cracking the familiar rain. The collision of reality and the past, Corey being concerned and the memory of rain, inserts a shard of my fiancé in my heart. This ghost outshines them all, the shard of memory more vivid than the blue eyes that are looking into mine, and the kiss more real than the lips that are brushing against mine.

The familiar shard is my fiancé, who once left me in this parking lot to drive a Mercedes over ninety miles an hour into a tree. His smile is more beautiful than the smile Death now grants his borrowed human skull.

Shards.

           Grey water is dormant in a bath tub. When the water is hot enough, when the submerging of my body into the grey blesses me with a brief burning sensation, I lean back to count the cracks on the ceiling above. My hair is boy-cut, so the cold shiver down my back from the tub’s lip balances out the hot water. Sometimes I shoot water up from between my teeth, so that fat bubbles collect in the cracks and slide, dripping back down onto my breasts and face. My wedding ring sits on the cold mouth of the toilet. The same pair of pajamas, white with blue stripes, are thrown over the antique heater, and my pink slippers, one right side up, and one upside down, just so, about two feet from the cream plastered walls. I drew this shard, this moment in the bathroom, in my journal for preservation. I wanted to prevent a future that had already occurred, but which I had not accepted, from arriving. I carried this mirror, this map, as if it were my life. Thus, every Tuesday night, at precisely 6:13 pm, I draw a bath.

           At the moment, I am living in what most people would call a half-way house. I was court ordered to be rehabilitated for two years, so I live with eight other women, and have two roommates. To prevent any quarrels over the bathroom, I let them shower first at night, so I always have 6:13 to myself. Every Tuesday, for 6 months, I never hear one of the males during smoking break tell the security guard on my fiancé, who is coming to get me. I never miss my ride. He never drives into a tree. In fact, he is still on his way to come get me. I never understand the sad faces, the half smiles, the flowers, the visitations. He is still on his way. I have been bathing for six months.

Then a shard of reality cracks the mirror.

           One of my roommates has to use the bathroom. I have been smoking a cigarette by the window about ten minutes after my bath, when she barges in. She is a middle aged woman, around fifty or so, and so she announces all of her movements with groans and farts. When she sits down, she is one of those who you are afraid is never going to get up. My wedding ring clatters to the tile floor. I am still sitting in the corner, smoking my cigarette, but her groans are too loud. Her twisted face too real. He is too gone. I stay next to the window for many hours, rejecting group therapy time when the staff knocks on the door. When the sun sinks, I tie pantyhose in two slipknots, place my neck in one, a plant hook in the other, and kick the chair I am standing on over.

Reflections after the pantyhose snapped

             It is now necessary that I explain myself, that I explain the series of changes that takes place after the pantyhose snaps. I had been trying to kill myself since age thirteen, first with over two hundred of my father's pills, then with three layers of stitches in my wrist, then almost shooting my brother in the head because I wanted to see how fast a bullet would go through my skull, not to mention the amateur task of holding my breath under water as a toddler. Thus, having had the pantyhose snap, having not cut the main artery bulging between slit flesh, pinching that artery, watching my arm turn white, knowing if I cut it, that's it, having not shot myself in the head, I decided that I didn't want to die. My past had failed me, had returned with promises of false deaths. I didn't decide to walk away from past, I merely just saw a glimpse of myself for the first time, without the distortions of those shards of the past reflecting false realities. I never understand why that cracked mirror now projects a clearer reflection of the present, but it does.

The morning after the pantyhose snapped, I hear the birds twittering just outside my window, and feel a pang in my side. I also miss my mother, something I'm not used to. When I look in the bathroom mirror, I am fat. My face is round, my cheeks bulge slightly, and I can’t touch my toes, much less see them. When I get on the scale, I am nearly one hundred and ninety pounds. I never thought I was fat. I never looked at myself in the mirror without trying to cover myself up. Later that month, a group worker would call me fat. That confirmed it. When I refuse to go to group therapy again that morning, he laughs, and says “I tell you what, if you work out during the entire time of the group, you don’t have to go to group.”

That first month I would lose thirty pounds.

                   Pieces

           I haven’t been in school for over a year and thus decide to go. I am nineteen and still in rehabilitation. The rule is as follows: absolutely no outside trips by yourself without a rehabilitation worker or your case worker. At this point, my case worker and I are tight. She’s been with me since I was thirteen, holding my bloody hand on the side of a hospital bed, and arriving to my treatment meetings all over Michigan. So, on a weekly visit, I tell her they, the rehab, entrust me to enroll in school, and she believes me. The next morning I leave on a bus to school after breakfast, declining to do my chores. I run to the farthest bus stop, ignoring their threats to call the police. After weeks of daily drug testing, they kick me out. I move into a foster home and get a job on McDonald’s graveyard shift, while going to school daily, and taking night classes before work. I always carry a switchblade in my sleeve, because I have seen almost as much blood during night school as I had within hospitals.

connecting.

             One girl befriends me during high school, the adult education school I regestered in to get a diploma. She has different interruptions in life, a couple early pregnancies and her man being in jail, to bring her to these dark halls. We laugh over our frustrations as she braids my hair for my graduation ceremony, while I chug on a forty o. I had been declared valedictorian, and though it wasn’t over an average public high school, I am still proud, because I had previously dropped out all together. I had been told to write a speech, and I did, but it was rejected. The speech wasn’t a negative speech; I was just trying to touch the hearts of the hooligans, to speak to them about why school is important. These cats sell drugs on the corner, these cats are the ones who are wanted city-wide, and these cats are the ones who fire the guns in the local shootings. I see them come and go. I've held one’s hand as he cried because his boy is fleeing parole. He was laughing at the same time, remembering when they stole their first car together. These are the kids I am graduating with. Junkies, pregnant women, killers, juvenile delinquents. The prom had even been canceled for the past four years because of stabbings and shootings.

I read my speech, but no one hears. Everyone is yelling over each other, throwing basketballs and books up in the air. It may be as well, because I read the speech that had been rejected anyways. I am tipsy to say the least, and my heels are suffocating my pinky toe. Today is in a photograph of my sister, brother, and I. It will sit in one of my mother’s shoeboxes.

Still connecting

            In the past few years, I still collect photographs, some that fit into frames, and some that fade into memory and become silhouettes of emotion, like déjà vu. The feeling is familiar, but I don't remember why, often until months or years afterwards. For example, for six years, I couldn't have anyone hug me, or touch my back. Then, when I recently got hospitalized for suicidal intentions last year, I remembered. The police asked me to come with them into the ambulance. I eyed their handcuffs dangling from their belts, and remembered the fights I've had with them in the past. One cop always stands by, while the other jerks my shoulders around. I always swung with my right fist, and because most people know this, they would knee me in my back to the floor, and hold me down while they hand cuff me, my chin would rub into the cement or rug, or wherever else I happened to have been arrested.

The next time someone hugged me, I realize that it is that nook in my back that is being touched, where so many knees held my ass down. Then, miraculously, I let it go. That shard, the memory of their knees, has been holding me down all these years, though the cops had actually released me long ago.  I had once dreaded back massages, and felt stiff hugging my own mother. I would learn soon to embrace physical touch, to learn how to caress, and how to be caressed, even how to receive pleasure out of my sexuality.

           Another shard of memory still reconnecting to reality is my fear of waiting. I never knew what I had been waiting for, but when I realized that whatever I had been waiting for was never going to arrive, I began walking on my own, never staying in one place. I let the train pass, I let my love die, and I quit riding time. Thus, I now wait only for opportunity. I am waving at the world in the passenger seat of a fellow college student’s car. Okay, a stranger’s car. But he is a college student. This time is different, I swear. The bus doesn’t ride past 5:00, but my first class ended at 5:00, and usually I left early, but this time I didn’t. I have a destination; I have a home, and got a ride. It’s funny, when you have a moral reason for getting a ride, it isn’t hitch-hiking. Hitch-hiking is when you’re searching for drugs, for a party, for a lay, for a lover. You have to pay a fee sometimes for hitch hiking, or they’ll drop you off at a rest stop. But I have to go home, to do homework. My mother is there waiting for me, and she doesn’t need to be in the rain to love me. He drops me off at the bus stop, and there I wait for some time, counting the raindrops that cling to the glass.

L�M�:6�^�

[universal-kitty]

   So! Today’s the positivity day and... Well, I was almost content with kinda keeping up my hide-y nature right now and sticking to my RP blogs, but then I saw that some people were already tagging me, so-!! I can’t just not pay back!!! That ain’t me!! So... Let’s do some positivity today.

   I would first like to start with a general, big thank you to the entire community. As soon as I could figure out what a crush was and romantic feelings, I’ve been self-shipping and doing self-insert. It’s a natural sort of thing for me, someone who’s felt very outcasted from other people and needed another place to mentally go to feel better. Fandom and self-insert was my perfect spot.

   And it’s fun! But what’s made it even better is the community at large. I started this blog for myself and my love of fictional guys, gals, nb pals, and monsters/aliens/robots of all kinds. It was never meant to be anything more than that, but now I’ve been making friends. I’ve had people who’ve supported me and who I’ve supported back the best I can.

   My F/Os can only do so much, but with the little positive imagines people post and the assurances from my fellow self-shippers, it’s really put me into an unrivaled, comforting spot that feels a bit like home. You guys have made an online community a home and there’s no way to thank you guys enough for that.

   ...With all this out of the way, here’s a few shout-outs to the people I’ve talked to/seen around enough that I want to send them a little positivity~ Beneath the cut!

@robotarmjokes- D, you were my very first follower when I learned about the community. I didn’t know why you followed at first or who your F/O was, but I enjoyed the energy you put out there. And now lookit us! I know Rhys like he’s a longtime friend, you’re my buddy too, and just-!! It’s such a blast knowing you.

@selfinsertheaven- YOU!! First of all, an icon. So many great self-ships?? Probably will be me in a few more years, if I keep getting into fandoms like I’ve been doing. (And stop being in denial about liking said chara in the first place, but I digress.) But everything you do is just? So lovely?? I admire your dedication to draw your self-inserts and how adorable they turn out to be~! Plus, I’m just....really glad about you dating Ryuu~ He deserves all the love and I’m glad he gets that with you. U v U <3

@maggotships- I know you said you were likely going to ditch your blog, but I wanted to give you a shoutout anyways, because I love your art. I love seeing your enthusiasm with your self-ships and the art you put out for them!! Seeing someone ship with Eduardo is really sweet, too, imo.... We didn’t really talk a lot, but I enjoyed the mutual support thing we had going on a lot~

@selfshippiez- YOU TAG ME, I TAG YOU BACK!!! Also, uuhhhhhh Sans’ Lovers Unite? No matter which Sans we datin’??? Hell. Yis. You two are cute as heck, I love the art that comes out for this ship and generally, just... I hope we talk a lot more; you seem super cool~!

@queenieships- I can never gush over your art and ships enough. I adore your art and defo wanna get a comm from you someday! We also haven’t talked a whole bunch, but just... You’re really cool and I like the stuff you do aaaaannnndd am always guaranteed to be quietly supporting you cause I’m awkward!!!! You keep being your awesome self, Queenie~

@tearofaeons- Also a super cool person I don’t talk with enough!!! It was SO COOL to see another self-shipper for OFF and Batter definitely deserves the love, so like... Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh~ I like your art a lot, hope to see more of it in the future, and-! Thank you sm for asking about my OFF SI!

@iselfshipnerd- I’ve seen you on my dash a lot, but I don’t think we’ve like...ever actually talked? But I love the art you do and how you dabble in all sorts of things (like AUs of other media) for your art! And seeing that same-ship positivity on my dash was so heartwarming!!!

@violets-self-shipping-blog- My awesome cousin!! Stellar art, wonderful self-ships...an all around, cool person. Wish I could’ve seen you more during the summer trip..... ; w ;  Maybe some other time, hopefully...!

@madames-sweethearts- AKA my best buddy ever?? I would live for you??? Bless?? You give me confidence, gurl. Your art is wonderful, the stuff you come up with? Amazing. Fantastic. You are just so damn relatable and I’m so glad we met. <3

@shippin-in-the-rain- We don’t talk a lot, but I love your art. Your platonic ships? Super valid. We should talk more sometime, yee.

@limey-blue-arty-do- YOU!!!! Another super cool person!! With absolutely fantastic art and just-?? We should talk more???? Cause I’m still debating Obi-Wan thanks to you and also I’m p sure my F/Os are your BFFs and I also nudged Heimdall at you so-????? Yes, super cool, knowing you is awesome, and just. Wow...

@atmospheric-light- You’re like...a little ray of sunshine in this community, you know that? You post wonderful stuff, I love your presence on my dash, and just.... Gosh, I don’t know. You’re just really great and I hope you know that. Also, you’re ships cute af.

@empressdrega27- YOU’RE SO VALID!!!! I never thought I’d see someone ship with Ahk, but first you! And then I got to learn more and it’s amazing how you’ve worked everything into this wonderful, connecting realm of worlds??? It’s so amazing and reminds me of my Anime Worlds days, so it brings a little bit of past nostalgia into my present day life... I’m really glad to have met you and I also think your voice is super cool, tbh.

@insomniasqueen- We don’t talk a lot anymore, but to my memory, you were one of the first people to come charging up like, “Tell me...about you and Alphonse. I must know,” and it’s a little thing like that which sticks out in my memory, you know? I hope you and Ichigo are having a blast today~!

@gamzeeismyboyfriend- I mean... C’mon. An icon of the community, cause you know where your boundaries are and stand by ‘em. Someone tells you shit? LMAO, wow, sucks for them; now you’ll just draw MORE of whatever they said to not do. You’re a sort of inspiration in that way, you know? (Also, your art is super pretty and Goals.)

@myrainydayloves- You and Sho are adorable as heck and I cackle as you drag people into loving Sho with you. Another icon for those that share F/Os in the most delightful way...and can never hail you enough for the Takeovers!! It’s such a simple little thing that brings happiness to us all and just... Wow, thank you.

@hardcoresshippingmyself- ANOTHER CUTE ARTIST!!! I love your art! So much!! And also seeing your self-ships and just... Ooph, if I wasn’t such a nervous bean, I’d talk your ear off, but I’ll just be sittin’ in my corner here. [finger guns] You stay awesome, though!!! I love seeing the content you make!!!!!

@meldaciohq- YOU ARE WONDERFUL, YOUR SELF-SHIPS ARE WONDERFUL, YOU MAKE GLORIOUS ART, AND I LIKE TALKING TO YOU!!! THAT’S THE TEA, BUDDY!!!!! You can tell I consider you a friend cause you’re getting this nonsense, slfghjfdks.

   There’s probably more, but my memory is not bueno and also this is a lot of people already, so!!! Heck!

   Thank you to everyone I’ve met so far and I look forward to seeing what next year will be like... What I’ve created, how this community has grown and strengthened themselves, and all the new friends we’ll make...!! It’s already been a wonderful time here, so I look forward to what else could happen~!