#also I am fighting for my LIFE to get this piece out my internet just completely shut down I’m in the trenches rn

[crazymecjc]

I’m so late for breaks birthday but please know I am COOKING he will get the silly lil drawing he deserves

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

'It Couple'

masterlist

note: my first andrew ask!!!

warnings: none!

word count: 850~

♡ summary: Where Andrew and Y/n are the 'it couple' of Hollywood

♡ Andrew Garfield x actress/director!reader

request ✓

The loud clicks as well as the bright flashes only got louder and brighter after Andrew and Y/n stepped out of their car, heading into the venue. It was understandable, both were up for very prestigious awards tonight, Andrew for best actor and Y/n for directing as well as writing. But of course paparazzi didn’t care about that, they wanted what sold, and pictures of the couple sold.

The couple was also making their first appearance since their ten year anniversary, they had co-starred in Spider-man together. They were twenty-eight then and both in that place in life to settle down with someone, while still putting their best foot forward for their careers. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle, like she was the espresso and he was the milk to a cappuccino.

It took them a while to get married, only being three years of marriage in a ten year relationship, many people at the time pushed for them to take that step. But they knew what was right for them, and they both grew tired of saying ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ when they could be saying ‘husband’ and ‘wife’.

It took them a while to get married, only being three years of marriage in a ten year relationship, many people at the time pushed for them to take that step. But they knew what was right for them, and they both grew tired of saying ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ when they could be saying ‘husband’ and ‘wife’.

Throughout the carpet they whispered sweet nothings and little jokes only they would understand. It was something the internet loved, how, unlike some celebrity couples, you could see the love in their eyes. After ten years it has never left, forever stuck in the honeymoon phase while knowing each other like the back of their hand.

After what felt like an hour, they finally made their way into the venue, venturing out of their seats to mingle, but mostly enjoying the night out together in peace. Not trying to think about the awards they were nominated for.

-

It was now the end of the night, both a little tipsy, Y/n already won for best original screenplay. But now was for the big awards, two of which the couple were nominated for, only making it all the more nerve racking.

“And best directing goes to…” The booming voice on stage spoke, of course stalling as they always did for dramatic affect. It was as if a Y/n was no longer there, like she was merely watching at home on a screen, dreaming she was the director to win.

The only indication it had been announced, is the warm and firm hug Andrew brought her into. Leaving a kiss on her forehead in congratulation, but also of pride. His wife won best director.

“Love, I am so proud of you. You deserve this.”

His words brought her back to life, as they always did, looking up at him she left a kiss on his lips, herself and him whispering ‘I love you’s against each other's soft lips. They didn’t care that they were on live TV, they were celebrating. After quickly getting hugs from the cast and crew that were there, Y/n made her way up the stage, accepting the award.

“I truly just had an out of body experience. This has been a dream since I was- god like thirteen, when I took my first film class. Mrs. Goldstone, thank you for fighting for that class to be given at my school. If it wasn’t I wouldn't be here. And to my husband, Andrew, I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t push me to pursue directing six years ago. I love you.”

After thanking the cast and crew, as well as the academy, Y/n made her way off the stage. Only to run backstage to her seat, not wanting to miss the best actor award.Coming back to her seat she was huffing and puffing from all the running, “What? Did you run here?” “Yes, actually.”

Turning his head, left another string of kisses from the woman’s forehead to her check, “I’m so proud of you.”

“And the nominees for best actor!” The camera panned to the respective actors as the man on stage read off the names, “And the award for best actor goes to… Andrew Garfield! Tick, Tick… Boom!”

Both rose from their chairs, smiling widely, and bringing each other into a tight hug, “My turn to be proud. You deserve this, I love you.” “I love you.”

Andrew made his way to the stage this time, accepting the award, shaking the hands out everyone on stage before he made his way to the microphone, “I just can only say thank you. I know everyone says it, but I did not see this coming. I want to thank every member of the cast as well as the crew, you made this movie possible. And Lin, thank you, I love working with you. And my wife, who lied to Lin when he asked her if I could sing. Without you immediately lying for me, this wouldn’t be possible. I love you.”

[keys-hellscape-1020]

4 times you meet Red Robin, 1 time you meet Tim Drake

A/N: Sorry for disappearing these last few months. I’m not dead but I am in a serious depressive episode and you know what that means. Time to write.

Content warnings: Angst, Kidnapping, reader dissociates, they don’t get along at first, eventual fluff, this is my first time writing for Tim sorry if he’s OOC, uhhh cursing probably, let me know if I missed anything

Soulmate!Tim Drake x Soulmate!gn!Reader

————

1.

From your seat on the frosty park bench you watch the thin red thread bob in the winter wind, lit only by the pale light that is filtering down from the streetlight above you. You watch the string dance with mild interest, jerking your pinky at random intervals to make it flutter one way or another. No matter which way it sways however, you know where it will always lead. To your soulmate.

His name is Red Robin, or in other words, Tim Drake. One of the richest men in Gotham who just so happens to also be a crime fighting vigilante. A closely guarded secret that you only know thanks to a subtle design flaw in the universe. Television.

Ever since the third Robin made his first official appearance you knew. You could see the red strand trailing off his pinky, and, upon asking your father, discovered it was only you who could see it. It was at that moment, all of 14 years old, that you unofficially met your soulmate. It was at that moment, that your life was permanently altered, for better or worse.

At first, your stomach kicked in excitement. Your soulmate was a vigilante! You simply couldn’t belive your luck. You scoured the internet for any information on him, becoming one of his biggest fans in a matter of hours.

Your obsession lasted all of a few months. It came to a screeching halt when a photo of Robin kissing Spoiler was leaked. You felt your heart break, the pieces jumping up into your throat to choke you on your own disappointment and sadness.

The worst part? You knew you had no right to feel the way you did. Robin had no clue you even existed. His soulmate could be half way across the world and it become clear to you that he wasn’t intent on finding them. On finding you.

In that moment of heartbreak and spite you made a choice that would follow you for years to come. If Robin didn’t want to find you, you didn’t want to find Robin.

It wasn’t until several years later, when you were watching a broadcast of a Wayne gala out of sheer desperation to cure your crippling boredom that you first laid eyes on Tim Drake.

You sat in bored silence, letting the stream playing on your computer become background noise as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone, when suddenly an interview playing on your computer catches your attention. A man in a sleek suit with a face that you’re sure you’ve seen on tiktok before is leaning next to a man that you only recognize thanks to the name edited over the video for the sake of the viewers. Tim Drake, isn’t that guy a millionaire or something?

Pulling your attention back to the video, the interviewer is questioning him at record speed and Drake, for his credit, looks entirely unbothered. If it weren’t for the quickly concealed circles under his eyes and the way he periodically glances over his shoulder with a glazed over look, you might even say he’s enjoying the night.

As you watch Drake be interviewed, a dancing red string in the background catches your eye, stealing your breath. You watch it flitter in the background behind Drake’s head, almost as if it’s teasing you, daring you to do something with the information you now posses. You watch as Drake goes to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, the small knotted string on his pinky finger unknowingly showing you the identity of Red Robin. It crossed your mind for a half second that they may be different people, but a quick google search reinforced what you already knew. Two different soulmates produced two different strings. You very clearly only had one.

You had laid awake all night, wondering if this changed anything, questioning if you should do something with this information. You couldn’t tell anyone, you knew that for certain. That might put him in danger and despite not even knowing the man personally, despite every fraction of your heart telling you to hurt him in anyway you could for what he’d done to you, you knew that you couldn’t live with yourself if he came to harm because of you.

And so, you bit your tongue, swallowed the ever burning desire to track down your soulmate, if only to scream in his face, and continued on with your life. Whenever the urge to track him down reared its ugly head you reminded yourself of the many photos you’d seen of him kissing someone, someone much more attractive than you. Someone who can keep up with him. Someone better. Why in the world would he want you?

The months after you found out Red Robin’s identity flew by, and despite having come to terms with it months ago, tonight you couldn’t sleep. Your room seemed to suffocate you, urging you to get some fresh air, the window of your room proving insufficient even when you stuck your whole torso out of it. It was at this point that you decided to go out, nighttime in Gotham be damned. You’d lived here your entire life, you could deal with a few muggers. And so you wrapped yourself up in a thick winter jacket over your pjs, complete with a scarf and gloves, making sure to slip some pepper spray into your pocket, where it would be easily accessible should you need it.

Nighttime in Gotham can be strangely peaceful at times, large buildings cast dark shadows which are only illuminated by weak streetlights, and depending on where you are in the city it can even be something close to quiet. You walk slowly, your boots crunching through the thin layer of ice and snow, as you navigate your way to the park.

The cold air feels nice on your face as you sit on a park bench, watching your string. Your head leaning against the back on the bench, taking in the sight of unlit buildings around you. After several minutes of sitting there in silence you finally decide to stand, a strange tingle on the back of your neck seeming to urge you towards home.

It’s only when you begin to turn that you notice the man behind you.

Before you can even register what’s going on you’ve switched the safety lock of your pepper spray and are spraying it directly into the eyes of the man with a shriek of fear.

You’re to stunned to speak as you shuffle back as quickly as possible, tripping over yourself in your panic, leaving you on your back, your pepper spray the last line of defense between you and… Red Robin? You let out a pathetic whimper of shock, which at any other moment would’ve left you horribly embarrassed but right now you’re too confused to feel anything else.

He lets out a muffled “Shit!” As he wipes at his face with the back of his glove. You stand and reflexively hand him a tissue from your pocket.

“S-Sorry.” You stutter out, watching the string cautiously float between you two in shock.

He gratefully takes the tissues and wipes his face with it, “Ah, it’s okay. The mask got most of it, just startled me was all.” He says tiredly, flashing you a weary half smile that has you feeling unfortunately weak in the knees.

“I uh-“ you find yourself at an unfortunate loss for words as you stumble through what you should say, fantasies of what you would do when you finally got the chance to meet this man face to face fleeing your mind in an instant now they you were actually in the moment.

“Are you okay?” He asks, blotted out eyes staring at you in what seems to be concern.

“Y-yeah… yeah uh… sorry I thought you were gonna try and kidnap me or something…” you said awkwardly, suddenly finding the ground very interesting as a sense of painfully strong embarrassment rushes through you.

“I knew I shouldn’t have approached you from behind.” He mutters quietly, more to himself than anything else.

“You were watching me?” You ask, creasing your eyebrows at him in concern. A hot spark of fury snaps to life in your chest. First this man breaks your heart, and then he decides to stalk you?

You swear you see him flush bright red underneath his mask. “No- no! Well, uh, actually yes- but not like that!” He stumbles through his words. “I just uh, thought you might be hurt or something, and then I uh- I saw your string and well I just thought I should say something.” He trails off awkwardly.

“Well then, what did you want to say?” You ask him, the spark of anger growing, fueled by all the painful memories that you’d acquired through the years.

“O-oh.” He looks genuinely startled for a moment at your outburst, and you would’ve felt bad had all the memories of how it felt to have to watch your soulmate flourish without you, how painful it was, not flashed through your mind.

“Well I honestly didn’t think that far ahead.” He says softly, almost shyly, as he looks at his feet and you hate how his cuteness causes butterflies to churn in your stomach. You let out a low hum as you consider your options, doing your best to ignore how adorable he looks as he glances at you and fidgets with his gloves.

“I’ve known.” You say calmly, calculatedly. If you played your cards right you could cause him a lot more pain than yelling at him ever would.

He looks up at you, a hit of confusion and concern in his voice. “Known what?” He asks.

“Tim Drake and Red Robin have one very striking similarity.” You say calmly, taking a few steps down the road that would eventually lead you home. You look back to see if he’s following and sure enough he is. You wag your pinkie at him in response.

“Ah.” He says simply, his shoulders tending.

“Relax, I’ve known for months. If I was gonna tell anyone I would’ve.” You say curtly as you begin walking home once more.

“How did you find out? Why bring it up now?” He phrases his questions as just that, questions, but you know that if you fail to answer truthfully he’ll find out quicker than you could blink. You’d looked into him over the years.

“T.V.” You say simply. “String showed up on it. As for why I brought it up, as of a few months ago Tim Drake hard launched his relationship with Bernard Dowd on Instagram. I’d be willing to bet money that the relationship had been going on for a while before that. That’d put you at dating for what, about 8 months now?” You look at him for false confirmation, you know you’re right. His shoulders are tense and you’re sure you’re receiving a scalding glare from behind his mask. You can’t help but grin in satisfaction. It’s seems your research paid off.

You see your apartment complex off in the distance and turn to face him once more. “This is all to say, you’re dating someone. What’s the real reason you approached me? Troubles in paradise?” You hum, you know you’re being nothing short of cruel right now but after watching this man completely disregard you, not care, or maybe just not realize that his soulmate would have to watch him live life without a care in the world for them, well you couldn’t help but think it was deserved.

He grinds his jaw as he looks at you. “We broke up. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Ahh so you intended to have me be a rebound then?” You snort and look him up and down. In all your years of watching him live life without you you’d never seen him look so tense. “Well as lovely as this was, I have to wake up early tomorrow. Nice talkin’ to you bird boy.” You turn around and start walking into your apartment building. You glance behind you and see Red Robin standing where you left him, staring at you, his jaw locked tight and his mouth downtrodden in a frown. You can’t help but feel a spark of well earned satisfaction at the sight.

————

2.

You really thought chewing him out would make you feel better. You truly did. Instead all it did was make you feel guilty. You can’t even pin-point the cause of the guilt churning in your stomach, making you feel all the worse. You almost wish that he’d announce another relationship so you could feel justified. On the other hand seeing article on article about his newest love might finally drive you to the brink of insanity. Assuming you could still call yourself sane at this point.

Every night after dusk when you leave to do absolutely anything, you can see a shadow of a figure following you around. You’re sure it’s Drake, it has to be. You’ve studied videos of him and other Robins, compared and contrasted, you know how every one of those vigilantes move compared to each other and there’s only one who has the minor tells you keep seeing out of the corner of your eyes.

Red Robin. The string leading right to him just confirms your theory. He must think it’s not worth the effort to hide himself, the string would give him away no matter what. So instead he’s making sure that whenever you leave the safety of your home you know he’s there. You pour over why in your mind, you even consider the idea that he’s protecting you but in the end even just thinking the idea cause a spark of humor in you. No he must have some other motivation, perhaps making sure you know he has the upper hand? Perhaps showcasing that you can’t hide from him?

Whatever the reason, you’re sure that you’ll find out soon. He’s been getting gradually closer over the last week and a half he’s been following you. Tonight he’s been less than half a block away at all times. Every moment that you’ve been walking to and from the convince store you’ve noticed the shadow.

You’ve never been more terrified in your life.

You know you have no real reason to be. You know that he can’t wound you or bring you into the police. He has no reason and you haven’t given him anything to frame you with, at least, not to your knowledge. That’ll have to be your only comfort for now.

The subject of your fears is about to be confronted as you purposefully turn into an alleyway that you commonly avoid during the night, just as you excepted, the moment you’re half way in you hear the soft sound of feet landing behind you. You’re certain it’s only a pleasantry.

You steel your nerves as much as possible as you turn to face Red Robin. He’s looking at you with a dark expression that you can’t quite place, it causes a drumming of unease in your stomach and you can feel your heartbeat picking up in your chest. You wring your hands together tightly before crossing them over your chest.

“Can I help you.” You ask coldly, keeping your voice low.

“I wanted to talk.” He says calmly, approaching you carefully, calculatedly.

For every step he takes you take two back, and he quickly gets the message and stops approaching. He holds out his hands as if approaching a scared animal. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

You can’t help a short, sour, laugh from rising in you. “We got off on the wrong foot years ago when I had to watch you pretend I didn’t exist.” You grit out from inbetween your teeth. “When I had to watch you fuck around in those relationships.” A tiny voice in the back of your mind screeches that you’re being stupid. Melodramatic. That nows your chance to get to know him. You ignore it. “We got off on the wrong foot when I told you to fuck off and you took it as an invitation to stalk me for a week and half!” You‘re getting angrier and angrier, hiding your unease and sadness behind a thick later of rage, as you had for years now.

You’re pacing, back and forth, back and forth, walking on an invisible tightrope before him, trying to calm yourself, to think rationally. It seems that Drake’s very presence however limits your ability to do so. You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to center yourself.

His eyes widen in shock, as if he hadn’t even thought of the possibility that you’ve know he was your soulmate for years. He shakes the shock off much quicker than you’d like before he speaks. “I wasn’t stalking you-“ he begins, holding his hand out as a sign of peace. “I wanted to say something, I just didn’t know what.”

“So you decided following me around was the best course of action.” You say with a scoff.

He unconsciously copies your body language and rubs the nape of his neck. “Well, I started off on my patrol route and then I got… distracted.”

You fix him with an un-impressed stare. “You got distracted so you decided to stalk me?” You deadpan.

He tightens his fists in agitation, scoffing at you. “Well maybe if you weren’t walking around Gotham at night I wouldn’t have to keep you from getting kidnapped!”

You throw up your hands in poorly-contained anger, approaching him to jam a finger into his chest. “I’ve done fine without you up to this point! I hardly need your help.” You seethe.

He grits his teeth, holding eye contact with you from behind his mask. If you didn’t know better you would say that you saw a flash of regret on his face. “Fine then. Have fun fighting off muggers.” He practically growls as he pulls out his grappling gun and disappears into the night with a gust of cold air.

You start walking back, much more content now that there’s no strange shadow following you. As you drift off to bed that following night however you can’t help but feel a dash of regret.

————

3.

You’re regretting telling Drake to leave you alone.

You’re really really regretting it.

You watch the group of large men discuss you in hushed voices on the other side of the room, all of them dressed in black. You’d been brought into a small room of what you think is the office of a warehouse. After all, this variety of common criminal are never original with their plans.

You stretch and pull against your binds, trying to find any weakness in them, you grind your teeth in frustration when you fail to find any. One of them notices your twitching and after muttering something to the rest of the group approaches you. You watch, doing your best to conceal your fear, as the rest of the men leave the room.

The man crouches in front of you, balaclava covering everything but his eyes as he analyzes you.

“What do you want.” You spit out, attempting to kick him with your bound feet. The man easily swats them to the side, huffing at you in irritation. “Your soulmate is Red Robin.” He doesn’t phase it as a question, but an objective fact, making your stomach twist anxiously.

“Why the fuck would you think that.” You growl out, baring your teeth at him, doing your best to use your anger to mask your true feelings.

A series of bangs and shouts interrupts you from outside the room, causing the man to stand and turn quickly. He stands in front of you, staring at the door a while before he turns to face you, giving you a look that you roughly decipher as his best attempt at telling you “I told you so”. He pulls you up roughly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and shoving a gun to the side of your head, making you wince silently.

He tugs the both of you into the corner that’s immediately visible from the door way. It feels like an eternity of standing there, trying to maintain a balance of getting as far from the man as his arm wrapped around you will allow while not pissing him off enough that he decides to use the gun. In actuality only 2 or 3 minutes pass as you listen to the sounds of fighting that echo outside the door. Despite your expectation of it, you still violently flinch when the door slams open, a painfully loud crack filling the room.

Drake looks frantic, he’s covered in dust and his Bo staff is sticky with a dark substance that you can only surmise is blood. He barely glances at you, eyes finding the gun that your kidnapper presses into your skull before his eyes trail up to the man holding you.

He holds out a hand, other gripping his staff tightly, and you can’t help but remember your last meeting. “Let them go.” He says firmly, like his trying to will the man’s action with only his voice.

From where the man holds you against his chest you can feel him shake with fear, but how did he think this would go? His friends would get the drop on Red Robin? Yeah right. You silently hope that Drake finds a way to get you out of this soon.

“Let. Them. Go.” Drake says again, approaching slowly. You can see his fingers shifting on his staff, attempting to feel out the man’s next move. “There’s no way you get out of this. So let them go and you can get off easier.”

Apparently he didn’t enjoy the sound of that as he throws you to the ground, points his gun, and fires. Drake’s mind and body are both quicker than any reflex this man might have however as he ducks under the bullets with ease, knocking the gun out of hands with a practiced flow.

You don’t see what happens next, and you don’t want to. All you see as you pull yourself into a corner are the scrapes on your hands from where you caught yourself. You bury your head in your knees and try to fuse into the corner. You don’t want to be here. You want to be able to pretend this entire situation doesn’t bother you. You want your soulmate to be anyone other than the vigilante across the room from you right now who’s beating a man to a bloody pulp.

Time doesn’t seem real, you don’t seem real as you stand in the doorway, watching yourself struggle to breath in that corner. You don’t know when you reentered your body but you know that Drake is in front of you, blood on his knuckles and dotting his face as he frantically unties you.

You struggle to breath and Drake presses his palm to your cheek, you flinch at the feeling of a sticky fluid meeting your skin. “Hey, hey it’s okay. You’re okay now.”

Your soul acts ahead of your mind and you press you face into his chest with a sob, you feel him physically startle for a moment, before he slowly and tentatively wraps his arms around you. “I’m sorry.” You choke out between cries, digging your finger into the fabric on his back. “I’m so sorry.”

You’re sure that in a day or two the memory of this will embarrass you, but for now his arms wrap around you and squeeze firmly, centering you in the here and now as he mummers comforts into your ear.

And for now, that’s all you need.

————

4.

It’s been almost a month since you were kidnapped, and then rescued by Red Robin. Your parents had begged you to come home and recover with them, but you had turned them down every time they asked. Under other circumstances you would’ve agreed in a heartbeat, but your apartment had something that their’s lacked. Red Robin. The man who saved you that night, and your soulmate.

Every night following your capture he’d come to visit. As he handed you off to the police he’d promised he’d keep an eye on you, and it seemed he intended to follow through on that promise, as for the last four weeks, like clockwork, you’d awaken to a soft tapping on your window, opening it to Red Robin.

The first few nights he’d simply crouched on your windowsill and exchanged a few short words with you, turning down your offers of bandaging his wounds or a glass of water before he was disappearing into the night as silently as he came. It took you nearly a week before you managed to convince him to come inside for the first time.

You had to practically beg him to come in, promising over and over that it wasn’t any trouble and you were sure that you didn’t mind. You’d never been so happy Gotham’s rent was cheap enough for you to live without a roommate so you didn’t have to explain to someone why Red Robin was in your apartment at 4 am. It took a while for the both of you to warm up to one another, especially after the rough start you’d had, but once you two actually had a conversation without gritting your teeth at each other you found you had more in common than you thought.

That brings you to today, nearly a month after Tim had saved you from your kidnappers. You’re currently both seated at your small dining room table, cups of cold coffee in both of your hands as you chat about everything and nothing at the same time, his mask laying on the table between you. You glance at the clock on your stove and startle slightly, it reads 3am. He had come by for a brief pick-me-up before he headed out on patrol, now it was about the time he should be done. If the things he’d told you were anything to go off of, Batman would be sure to express his dissatisfaction.

He follows your line of sight and winces when his eyes land on the clock. “I guess this means you have to go…” you say softly, trying to keep from seeming to disappointed.

He leans back in his chair and lets out a sigh before shrugging unceremoniously. “Eh, it’s okay.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Won’t Batman be mad?”

He gives you a grin that turns your muscles to jelly and makes your stomach erupt with a swarm of butterflies. “You think Batman’s never missed patrol because of a cutie distracting him?” He asks, looking you up and down in a surprisingly respectful manner that you find yourself wishing was a little less gentlemanly.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks and you rub at the nape of your neck in a futile attempt to disperse it. “I uh- I certainly find it hard to imagine.” You stutter, suddenly finding your floorboards completely fascinating.

He lets out a soft chuckle and a warm silence settles over the both of you like a blanket. You sit there and stare at the coffee sitting at the bottom of your cup as you swirl it around mindlessly. Your trance is only broken by Tim softly clearing his throat.

“So- so uh. I was wondering if you uh. Maybe wanted to go out with me sometime? Well not me.” He says softly, gesturing to his Red Robin uniform. “Tim Drake.”

Despite the warmth gathering in your own cheeks once more you place your elbows on the table and lean forward, taking pleasure in the pink you see on him. “If I didn’t know better I would say you like me birdie.” You tease.

He fixes you with a playful glare and copies your body language, similarly leaning forward. “What if I do?”

You click your tongue and pretend to be deep in thought for a moment. “Well…” you say slowly, “I guess I won’t have a choice but to take you up on your offer.”

He flashes you a smile that could rival the sun and stands up suddenly, prompting you to do the same. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 5, wear something nice.” He says with a wink before he’s opening your window, slipping his mask back on, and disappearing into the city with a short wave.

————

5.

You hadn’t slept much last night. But who could blame you? After Tim had left all you could think about was what he had in mind. You spent several hours slipping in-between consciousness and sleep and when you finally woke up for good you found yourself thankful that you didn’t have to work today as your mind darted over all the different possibilities of where he would bring you.

His cryptic fashion advice did you no favors. What exactly qualified as “nice”? You certainly had no clue, and as a result spent entirely to long scanning your closet for something. You considered several outfits. Too formal. Too casual. A shirt he had seen you wear as pajamas. A pair of shorts that would’ve been perfect had it still not been to cold. A top that showed off a little to much. Nothing worked.

It took you an embarrassingly long amount of time to settle on an outfit that could be okay for a variety of activities, even longer for you decide what accessories to pair with it. After several hours you still had time to kill before Tim picked you up, which you spent doing small chores around your apartment, mind too preoccupied to get any real work done. As 5 pm drew you near you found yourself checking over every aspect of your appearance, nothing seemed quite right but as the sound of your doorbell rang throughout your apartment you found yourself grinding your teeth and having no choice but to deal with it.

You smooth out your outfit one last time before pulling the door open. Tim stands there with a soft, nervous smile on his face, a bouquet of red roses in his hand. He’s dressed more formally than you’d expected, in a simple white t-shirt, with a dark grey blazer and slacks, finished off with black leather loafers.

He blinks in shock as he looks you up and down once, his ears turning a bright red as he seemingly snaps out of it, offering the bouquet to you. “You look lovely.” He says softly, looking away from you and towards the floor bashfully.

You feel your cheeks warm as you roll your eyes playfully and take the bouquet from him. “You’re one to talk birdie.” You flirt as you move into the kitchen to get a vase.

He follows you into your apartment, closing the door and leaning against its frame as he watches you work with a fond look in his eyes. You finish filling a vase with water and place the roses on a windowsill. You gently mess with the blood colored petals, moving them around softly before you turn to look at Tim. “Thank you for the flowers.” You say softly.

He gives you a small smile and rocks on his heels, “Ah don’t mention it.” He says with a wave of his hand.

“So, what exactly did you plan?” You ask, unable to keep the excitement from your voice as you approach him.

He gives you a smirk and opens your front door with a flourish. “After you.”

You can’t keep yourself from letting out a short laugh as you let him escort you through the hallways of your apartment building and towards a nearby parking lot, where an entirely too expensive car is waiting. You startle for a moment, but recover as he approaches it and opens the passenger door for you.

“Do you even have a license to drive this?” You tease as you slide into your seat.

He balks and stares at you in open mouthed shock for a few moments, causing you to let out a full bodied laugh.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He splutters, ears turning red as he looks at you in confusion.

“D-don’t take this the wrong way,” you say breathlessly “but you don’t look like someone who knows how to drive.”

He stares at you for a few more moments before wordlessly rounding the car and getting into the drivers seat.

“You’re sure you can sit there?” You snark.

He gives you a half-hearted glare. “And to think I was gonna take you out to a nice dinner.” He mummers under his breath as he starts the engine.

You give him an exaggerated look of shock and lean over as best you can in a mock-bow. “I am so very sorry my lord. Please forgive me.”

He considers you out of the corner of his eye, trying and failing to hide a smile. “I suppose your apology is acceptable.” He quips.

You straighten and give him a large smile, giggling as you turn your head to look out the window at the streets you’re passing. There is no denying that the start you had was rough, but now? Now you wouldn’t change what you had for the world.

[bimir]

it's not something strange or unique to say that after the last haikyuu movie, most of us got into it again, but at the same time, I know for sure that I'm not the only one who benefits the most from this re...union.

I went to see the haikyuu movie alone, and at first, it didn't hit me that much. maybe it was because I couldn't help but wonder how much I would have enjoyed it with my best friend, but we are grown-ups now and long distance.

after a couple of days, the internet was full of haikyuu content again, just like during lockdown, and because of that, I also got into it again and realized how much of a masterpiece it is.

haikyuu is well known, but in my opinion, it is underestimated and categorized by others as just a silly volleyball-sport anime. it saddens me so much that there are so many people who will never get to embrace this piece of art.

Furudate not only created a coming-of-age story, a story that inspired and still inspires generations to fight for their dreams, to engage in the complex mess of relationships, teamwork, and partnerships. haikyuu teaches you that if you really do have a dream, and if you are really ambitious, if you work hard for it, your time will come too. but it also teaches you that not choosing to be great is not a tragedy; your dreams of what a good life means can be different from the ideals of others: "life is unfair, but damn it, at the same time, it is really fair too."

so why did I go on writing about this? because I can't comprehend how haikyuu manages to be there for me at the best time—or the worst, better said—how it really took its "comfort anime" title seriously for me. I started haikyuu in my last year of high school: extremely stressed, depressed, and anxious, so scared of what the upcoming end would mean for me that I'd tricked myself into living by coming to the conclusion that I'd simply not make it to 18 if I didn't see a future for myself. it seemed only fair and the universe would do its thing, no? I know, kinda depressing and triggering, but it did help that miserable me then, it did help but not in the way I prayed it would. the universe didn't send me "death," it sent me life and hope through haikyuu. feeling so empty, so bland for such a long time, haikyuu managed to make me laugh and cry. it doesn't sound like much, but real ones know what I'm talking about. seeing their connection, their ambition, the troubles and feelings I was so desperate to put into words right in front of me saved me from my misery. I began to wish to live, to wish to be like them, to wish to fight, to wish to connect again with people.

now, after almost 4 years, I'm in my last year of uni. the main reason for my depression back then in high school was because I didn't know what to do with my life, what uni and career to choose. hell, I didn't know I would take this path until last autumn, but here I am, on my way to becoming a teacher. it's hard, really hard, but right now, after the new movie, I finally committed to start and finish the manga even though I knew bits and pieces of what happens. it was the best time to read it now. over these 3-4 years, I pondered why I couldn't start getting into the manga and see for myself what happens, but damn it was the best time to read it now. seeing them go all out on their path, learning that in order to succeed you need to fight and fight and fight, to push through, to overcome your limits, to push yourself, to not take it easy if you really want it, came at the best time as I got into a slump and a burnout from learning too much but also not learning enough. I've got to see all of the characters continuing to be pros while fighting for their way, but also choosing to let go of something they once loved in order to live a normal life.

haikyuu is like a reminder that there is more to life than just your high school/childhood years, that your path could take a 180-degree turn at any point, but at the same time, it makes you appreciate those times and not want to sweep your childlike wonder, your growth, and mistakes under a rug. Furudate was a genius for creating haikyuu, and I really hope and pray that haikyuu will continue to be there, to comfort and save future generations until the end of time.

[bearsintreesofficial]

a recreation of a sonic fanfiction i wrote when i was 10

ok y'all, some context is needed.

we have a song called cassiopeia coming out tonight. i made a tiktok that said if the sound for cassiopeia is used 100 times, i'll publish the sonic fanfiction i wrote when i was 10 that i joke about a lot but have never shared. anyway, this happened in an hour. i am shocked. i did not expect it to happen so quickly, if at all. i begin my search.

well, it turns out i can't publish it because the places it was published no longer exist, and 10 y/o me didn't back it up (although i thought i had). bummer. an early internet relic gone.

either way, the plot details are seared into my memory because honestly? for some reason, that small act of creativity was a core memory in my life. so while i can't share it, i can retell it, because it's silly and pretty accurately captures what it's like to be 10 and obsessed with a piece of popular media. so here goes.

enjoy, and stream our new single cassiopeia tonight.

SCENE OPENS

the fanfiction was about a page long. the story opens with me - in school, as i did most every day of my life up to that point. in the story, sonic/tails/knuckles live in the human world, and essentially function as superheroes. there's no explanation for it, they just are there keeping the earth safe and such. we are also friends. there is no explanation or backstory for that either.

with the setting established, we're straight into the action; an alien pod crash lands in our school playground after school. me and my friend are the only kids left. where are the teachers? who knows. as is evident, worldbuilding was not my strong point.

anyway, in this alien pod is...an alien. it was a spider that looked a lot like the facehuggers from the alien film franchise, because i'd seen a clip of that as a kid and it freaked the hell out of me. i call sonic (where did i get a mobile phone from?) and let him know something Serious is going down. sonic and tails arrive - knuckles is too busy trying to get the master emerald back from doctor robotnik in this instance.

my friend and i take a back seat and let sonic and tails deal with the weird alien thing. they deal with one, but as soon as they get rid of it 10 other capsules drop in the area. sonic and tails can't take them all, so me and my friend join in to help take them out. i didn't really account for how, but we're fighting all back to back and it's very epic. (sonic x was the prevailing sonic show at the time, and it was y'know - very dramatic. so this was like a scene from that.) tails even brings in the tornado two, his personal plane, to run rings around them. after we finish the final facehugger alien off, a final alien pod descends. but out of this pod emerges...

shadow the hedgehog.

the aliens had been sent by him, and he was here to take sonic down. this was all part of his master plan.

the piece then ended, because i suppose i was going to follow it up at some point. but alas, that did not happen.

moral(s) of the story:

archive the silly stuff you wrote when you were a kid, it'll be fun to look back on later.

stream our new song, cassiopeia. it has nothing to do with any of this, but i think it's neat regardless.

thank you.

[ladykettlechips]

It's Not That Deep

Being kind is a choice. Sadly, so is being a dick.

I absolutely adore being part of a community where I can share my passion with others, be it as a writer of fanfic or simply a bystander. However, there are also downsides to being within a community, and sadly, it is other people who can ruin that joy and our experience of creating something for other fans, who want to devour content while a series is still being created, or has come to an end.

It seems like it is a frequent thing for a handful of people to ruin the fandom experience for others. They become anonymous or hide behind a name in order to actively go out of their way to harass creators within the community. There have been threats and vile accusations thrown about, and for what? To scare people off of AO3 and tumblr, just because you don't like something they created for a FICTIONAL character within a FICTIONAL setting?

Loves, it's not that deep.

Sadly, these kinds of people have run creators off of various apps and websites with their continued harassment. They have gone above and beyond to act horrible towards people they don't know, for a story or a piece of artwork they could have clicked the back button on. For something THEY can actively turn their back on and ignore.

If they had as much passion and energy for real world issues, their time would be much better spent. Instead, they have chosen to take a cowards route and harass other people online for something that is, in truth, insignificant to them. It is as if these people are consciously ignoring tags or warnings, because they WANT to start a fight and act in such a disgusting manner.

I can't understand it, really. Your time is much better spent doing things you enjoy, rather than coming after people who are doing the things that they enjoy.

Now, if the creators were actively promoting bad things, then yes, call them out on it or report them. Half the time though, these creators put disclaimers about how they don't promote certain things, but it is there for fictional purposes.

Our time and energy is precious, and for those taking time out of their hectic schedules to share their passion with us is a wonderful gift. Yet there are those who want to destroy that passion, and it is a sad thing when they win; sadly, cruelty often trumps kindness, and I have seen one too many creators fall to the whims of people who prefer to be dicks over being kind.

I would hope these people eventually see some sense and stop what they are doing, but trolls don't always see reason or see the light. I just hope that someday they get the hug they have been craving, or perhaps the talk they need to understand why they act like this. Until then:

It's not that deep.

It's not that serious.

It is FICTION, not reality.

Your favourites won't notice you regardless of how hostile you become.

You are not making the internet a better place with your harassment.

Have a hug, eat a snickers. I highly doubt you'd act like this in real life to people you know, or to someone else's face, so go have a nap and chill a bit. Don't make a mountain of a molehill, and remember that these fictional characters you are getting into a tizzy over are not real.

Thanks. Peace out.

Edit to add: I have yet to be harassed. I know it will happen one day, because it is inevitable at this point, but I am speaking out for my friends and fellow writers who have sadly experienced it.

[year2000electronics]

And of course Super Paper Mario and 4. Convince me to give this game another try perhaps :]

4. …why you should choose to check out the world of this story and choose three gifs that should underline my point.

NOTE: i will be forgoing the GIF part and using pictures instead because every single GIF search result has been clogged up with mouth-breathers on the internet who have been arguing over whether SPM is good or bad and have been doing it in GIF form for years. don't believe me? search "super paper mario" on discord's gif search. you'll see it. you always see it.

oh jesus. see the thing about liking super paper mario is that there's a lot of SPM fans out there who really like the game but can't really connect a very important dot as to Why they like the game. (HINT: THEY PLAYED IT WHEN THEY WERE YOUNG AND ARE NOSTALGIC FOR IT SO THE FLAWS IT HAS IS WAY LESS FOR THEM, AND BY PROXY, ME.) IM self aware. i will never be able to hate the game, but i am incredibly aware that the gameplay can be fairly lacking sometimes. if the story doesnt already grip you, it probably wont ever be worth it to go through the gameplay. thats my bit. thats my piece.

(but then youll have people who see how SPM defenders dont like to critique it when it deserves to be critiqued and start going after stuff like "oh the story isnt even that good"? MAN WHY DID YOU BRING THE STORY INTO THIS.)

but i digress. the life of a paper mario fan is a long and hard one.

POINT THE FIRST. MARIO'S "EXPERIMENTAL" ERA.

you can argue that ttyd also fits this bill, and i think it does, but this is about SPM so im focusing on that. if the mario series has never really Gripped you or you havent really been a lifelong fan, i always think the gamecube-wii era of mario has been one of its more interesting moments. the switch renaissance has allowed a breath of creativity to come back into mario, and mario's allowed to be Weird again, but gamecube-wii mario is weird in a really SCUFFED way and i love it. the gamecube's flagship mario game was a LUIGI game where he cant even jump. super paper mario came out before mario galaxy or NSMBwii. that was our mario rep on the wii for a while. mario games get a little crazy, a little weird here. and so what you get is a more melancholic story about the end of all worlds, and exploring what it really means to be a hero, and the closest many games will get to acknowledging that the mario characters can have emotions that arent Perfect. its just such a fascinating era for such a perfectly-marketable franchise and i adore it. it's a testament to what mario can Be, for me. Mario Is Weird. say it with me now!

POINT THE SECOND. GOODBYE TO A WORLD.

i just really like the theme of All Worlds Coming To An End. usually in these sort of things, it's "save the world so the world doesnt end!" but in this game, it really feels like "the world is ending and you have to fight even to have a chance to succeed". it colours the tone of the game in such a fantastic way. many songs in the OST have a ticking clock in them. the inescapable void is even in the hub world. it's like the majora's mask of paper mario. many people talk this up but the fact that in chapter 6, you're beholden to the traditions of a silly king who REFUSES to believe the world is ending even when HIS ENTIRE SKY IS PURPLE, and youre trying so hard to beat this 100-man duel faster and faster, only for the world to end and then youre forced to go back into the chapter and see this GRAVEYARD. it makes it so much more tangible. THIS is what will happen if you fail. and this overhanging melancholy paints the themes of love so much stronger. it's not just a love story, it's a love story in adversity. love conquers all, but what is the "all" in question? well, this. bleakness. sometimes the bleakness is part of the love. sometimes you make a sacrifice in the name of love, and nobody likes it, but you know it must be. the whole game is actually a love story between bleck and tippi and it just grips me so. it's such a multi-faceted depiction of love and loss that it feels so much more real to me, that love isn't always the Magical Solution. love is a sword, a shield, a prayer, a wish, a curse, a blessing, an order, an act of cowardice, an act of bravery, a sacrifice.

(you see what i mean? i can literally only be talking like this because i grew up with this stupid ass game)

POINT THE THIRD. FUCK ALL THAT THOUGH LET'S TALK ABOUT THE BLECK MINIONS.

so, the whole kind of crux of this game is that it's a love story between bleck, the main antagonist, and tippi, your companion, right. if you can't flesh both of them out you're in a bad way. obviously for tippi, she's hanging around you all the time, and you get to hear her journey play out throughout the entire game. BUT WHAT OF BLECK? HE'S HIDING IN HIS CASTLE! how are we supposed to know more about him and learn his story if he is IN HIS CASTLE? well that's why after every chapter, there's this interlude where we CHECK UP ON THE BAD GUYS.

i blame this game entirely for my love of villains. this gang of baddies has so much quirks and personality that i find it hard NOT to love them. they're not just gormless minions of the count- each shows their own personality in their relationship with him. mimi has a puppy-love crush on him, o'chunks has a sort of warrior's bond with him, nastasia pledges herself to him and almost uses the minions she controls as a conduit for her dedication to him, dimentio is like a cat in a bird store, and mr l clearly isnt supposed to be here but i dont think he knows that. the minions bicker amongst themselves but clearly have a bond of cameraderie because it all feels like teasing of people who've known each other for a long time.

you fight each minion at least twice, and even though the lackluster gameplay kinda comes in full force again, you get to see so much PERSONALITY in these guys. mimi is super-bratty but seems to know most people would see her as a monster so leans into it, dimentio is playful and jovial while also having his own motives, o'chunks is bold and brash but asks you to finish him off the second time he fails, mr. l is cocky to a fault and reeks of insecurity. i just love having these guys we can always check up on. it's like lord crump but MOOOOORE.

and through a combo of you inferring things about these people and some of the Deeper Lore (flopside bar stories), you kinda come to learn that these minions were kinda manipulated by bleck when they were at their lowest. mimi is a failed creation of SOMETHING. o'chunks' men all died because there was a traitor in his midst. nastasia was saved from a cage by bleck. and the more you learn about bleck the more you see that he is a man grieving the woman he loved, apathetically trying to end all worlds so the pain would end. he lies to the minion, he says he aims to make perfect new worlds, and they believe him, and they love him, because he saved them.

this sort of birth of a relationship through bleck's pain and manipulation comes through by the end, as the love the minions have for bleck is a KEY part of the final act. and idk it's a bunch of deeply-hurting misfits binding together and accidentally finding love in a world they found loveless. i think thats really cool. i think THEYRE really cool. such an awesome cast of villains.

but yknow. again. this is my childhood game. the special feeling i have for it can't really just be put into words. it's my diamond in the rough and nothing can really change that. it's Home.

[boilingcowboy]

so uhm remember when I said I could write two essays about how Percy probably misinterprets Annabeth being stressed/frustrated in a situation as her wanting to punch him because of the abuse he received growing up not only from Gabe but from his peers too.

And then two people told me to do it ? yeah so I have actually never written one good essay in my life so this will be a total shit show but I present to you:

Percy Jackson is actually just deeply traumatised and poor dude is just in full survival mode because of that like 24/7 ALSO stop hating on my girl Annabeth she has done nothing wrong.

Okay first off I will be talking about what happens in the books and the show (although I will mention I have only read book 2 fully and know bits and pieces from the other books and the show I need to rewatch so if I talk shit I apologise but then again this is the internet so why the fuck would you trust anything that comes out of my mouth ? Internet safety kids. Practice that shit it's important!).

And with that let me finally explain my shit.

Okay so my first point of why I think Percy is misinterpreting Annabeth in the first place is because almost every time Percy talks about he thinks Annabeth's gonna punch him she dose the complete opposite (either she hugs him or kisses him) so it wouldn't make that much sense in the first place.

Second is his history with Abuse and just the Trauma and the Trauma response that comes from that because not only do we know that Gabe was abusive both in the physical and non physical sense but Percy has mentioned multiple times how he was bullied by his peers again both in a physical sense (getting thrown stuff at and I think he mentioned fights also literally Clarisse dunking him in a fucking toilet) but also a non physical sense (mocking, getting left out, etc.).

Now not only dose that give Percy the trauma response of being on edge 24/7 but also the added fact that before Grover he only received love and care from his mother and no one else because well ADHD and dyslexia basically the hole being neurodivergent thing doesn't really get you plus points from neither your peers or your teachers and add the hole Demigod thing ? yeah poor dude is fucked.

But what i´m trying to say is that because Percy was 99% of the time met with violence in some shape, way or form from everyone around him except his mom for the first 11/12 years of his life so it only makes sense that he expects the same treatment from everyone else. And add Gabe and how he was only showing frustration and anger at him it only makes sense that because that's how he grew up and what he's used to, he immediately in his brain connects anger/frustration on someone's face when given towards him as "okay this person looks like this which means this person is going to punch me" (also the hc of Percy being autistic too here makes even more sense cus of so called bottom up thinking meaning him thinking first "she looks like she's gonna punch me" and then only after realising "oh no she's frustrated/angry" but that's for another post).

To somehow put this together basically my hole point is that Percy is just incredibly traumatised and on edge 24/7 because he had to be this way to survive. And that will affect the way he views people and how he processes their emotions because his brain is basically wired to do so, to recognise danger and anger so he can prepare himself which for him means expecting the beating before it even happens. And that's not to say he doesn't fight back because he dose but he also accepts it to cope with it better (if that makes any sense, really hope it dose).

Anyways if I said anything wrong I do apologise!! I am not trying to spread misinformation about trauma and etc. so please feel free to correct me!!!! (the spelling mistakes ignore those okay the english language can personally suck my dick)

[gendervapor14]

because some have proclaimed me as the bell-mère expert…

here are my thoughts on bell-mère’s role in the one piece live action adaptation.

tldr: i’m not happy.

i will preface by stating i am just Some Guy on the internet. do not let this rant negatively impact your opinion of the series. i thrilled with this adaptation!! i had a lot of faith it would be excellent going in so i wasn’t too surprised it delivered. it was comforting to kick back and watch such an incredible first season. i understand they had a somewhat strict timeline they could work from so certain characters and elements had to be cut. this is to be expected and i’m impressed with what they were able to squeeze in.

however. i am disappointed by only one thing. and of course, that one thing is bell-mère.

first, i will address characterization. or the lack thereof. seems like they stripped her entire character away by taking the time to bring her to life. if nami or nojiko explained what happened verbally, rather than sanction so much time and finances towards a flashback-style backstory, maybe they could've given bell-mère some individuality. that is mostly why i'm upset. bell-mère, to me, was one of the first interesting women in one piece. she got herself in trouble, she was violent, she was brave, but she was also a loving mother. we lost all her nuance bringing her to life. they captured only a small fraction of her character. to me, it felt like it wasn't even worth having a physical presence for this version of her.

in terms of her death scene, they took her fuckin' spine. she stood there in front of her kids, okay, she used her shotgun, that was nice. but her death was NOT it. it wasn't nearly as violent, gory and jarring as it was in the anime/manga. had such a low impact to me as a viewer. she just. got shot off-screen, and collapsed. she didn't try to recklessly fight arlong, she didn't face the entire crew. she didn’t put her gun in his MOUTH to BLOW HIS BRAINS OUT. that was the first time a woman in one piece, especially a former marine, fought so dirty. and they took that away from her. she seemed so docile so normal so. flavorless. not easy to remember or get attached to in the slightest.

i told a few people who only watched the live action adaptation that bell-mère was one of my favorite characters. they did not know who i was talking about. her name should be memorable. she should be memorable.

i understand power levels of the villains from what we’ve seen have been decreased. so some may argue if bell-mère DID put her gun in arlong's mouth, that would not end well for him. he was not shown to be capable of biting through wood or metal, after all. but i propose the suggestion that, if they put in the time and effort and stayed true to bell-mère’s character, they could have come up with another way to make her a true threat. that moment was simply not enough.

the death scene wasn't all bad though. she gave a nice speech to the girls, and although it still made me ask "bell-mère, why", it seemed a little more clean than her sacrifice in the manga? i did cry when nami and nojiko called her "mom", too. that was not in the original and cut like a knife. good play, opla. good play. i also liked bell-mère telling nami how she found them herself, it was nice to have that moment from the horse's mouth. the tangerine peel pinwheels were sweet but it signified the distinct lack of genzo. which also made me quite sad :(

i will reiterate: i am very happy with opla, and very happy bell-mère existed. but i almost would rather her be a dialogue-given backstory if it restored her character. nami’s backstory felt weak as a result. imagine how much harder the new viewers would cry for bell-mère’s death if she had zeff-level complexity. she hit nami before the runaway scene, but that was not enough to reveal anything significant about her. she was a little stern when nami took the book but that wasn't the right impression, either. bell-mère isn't stern. she's a very casual parent with a temper. without seeing that side of her, the slap kind of played off as random, or even cruel. that was a big character-development moment for her!! but she dies and zeff lives so i suppose there's no point adding too much depth to her. there was never a point in this season where i was like "this is a waste. we could use this time for bell-mère instead." everything felt necessary. so it's okay. she did what she does best and she took the sacrifice.

in the meantime, i’ll keep writing stories for her ♥️ if you liked this mess of a rant, here’s an analysis i threw together about her role/death in the anime. maybe that’ll make my disappointment feel even more warranted XD

love you all and i love you too opla 🥰

[pan-nerd]

Alright, I'mma throw in my 2 cents about the Minecraft movie, cause the trailer really caused my low expectations to drop into the unfathomable, infinite pit of the unknowable universe.

First off, what the hell.

And second, WHAT THE HELL?!?!?

I am genuinely so disappointed that this is what they've decided to make with Minecraft's IP. Not only is it disrespectful to the fans, it's disrespectful to the very essence of the game!

The plot is so utterly stupid to me. Yeah, sure, I know they're probably gonna end up fighting the ender dragon so they can get the other piece to open the portal and go back home, but I honestly don't think the movie should have a plot about something stupid like that. Minecraft is a sandbox game where you have the freedom to do anything.

Bare basic plot for the Minecraft movie could literally be just 2 people living their peaceful (mostly) life until they die and have to restart with no knowledge of their previous life, hardcore style. A lot of people who play MC don't play to beat the Ender Dragon. They just wanna build, or pick flowers, or do redstone, or all of the above and then some!

But if you wanted to have a plot that involved defeating the ender dragon, here's how to do so:

Have Steve and Alex wake up, start building their home and surviving while coming across pieces of past civilizations (see Game Theory's MC videos for the lore bits), and realizing that there's a monster out there that they need to defeat! It would be a much more rewarding plot than what we currently have.

Moving on from the plot, the look of the MC world is absolutely horrendous. To tell you that I wanted to pause and throw my phone is an understatement. I wanted to throw my phone into a fire, watch it burn and then hack it into pieces with the weed wacker my ex step-dad used to try and kill my mom.

Honestly, It looks like they put the prompt "MC 'mob' in real life" into an ai image generator and used that. Also, it is so disconcerting to see live action people in the MC world. They should be blocky because it ruins the suspension of disbelief otherwise.

It is also so clear that they really thought that shoving A-list actors into this movie could make up for the travesty they have heaped upon us. I love Jack Black in his acting roles, but this is a disservice. Especially after he did a phenomenal job voicing Bowser in the Mario movie.

And what gets me is that there are great stories being told through the medium of Minecraft that are genuinely so much better than this shit show of a movie.

A few examples include:

MINECRAFT STORY MODE

Minecraft Diaries and My Street by Aphmau

Hermitcraft SMP

White Pine by IvoryTV

Any old Herobrine lore video

The adventure branch in Diversity 1

You get the picture. I know that unless this whole movie changes, I will not watch it. Minecraft was such a big part of mine and so many other people's childhoods and it deserves so much more respect than it's currently being given.

Warner Bro's, I genuinely despise you for making the decisions you have with this movie and I hope the Internet's outcry will make you change those horrible decisions you made.

[dropped-stitches]

The Death of Hope

I am wrung out by war and tragedy, the cruelty of capitalism and the transgressions that people are driven to commit. 

I am neither rich nor poor, I’ve worked (like the vast majority of us) in jobs where I knew I was a cog in a capitalist wheel. I live, work, love, think and create - I exist - in the safe confines of a small life untouched by war and want. I feel smaller as the world gets bigger, here in my snug average life.

I am tired. So very tired. What can I do to help the world? I meditate, I think, I strive to be a better friend, partner, writer, to be a better human in the small ways that we are told will be good for us and for the world. I educate myself, I witness, I speak (loudly in real life, softly in the vastness of the internet). I cry, I rail, I rage against those injustices I know of, in the past, present and the future. 

And through it all, I lose hope. 

I lose hope atom by atom. I feel tiny bits of my soul being burned off with every new atrocity I hear of, and with the awareness of all the atrocities I know must be going on that I don’t know of. How heavy we’ve made life and living. How impossible it feels to hold on to humanity when our individuality is subsumed by the overpowering presence of the group. 

My life is filled with small, significantly insignificant interactions with people. I’ve found most people, one-on-one, want to be good to each other. Or, at the very least, most people, one-on-one, do not want to be bad to each other. Most of us just want to get on with our small lives, maximise our small wins and minimise our small losses. 

But put us together in a group, bring our - entirely human - need for belonging to the foreground, and we end up losing our small, harmless humanity to become part of something greater, and uglier, than the sum of its parts. 

I truly believe we were not made for the digital age. We were not, most of us, made for the sheer volume of information we have access to. We were not made to live our lives with the billions of people on the internet just a thin piece of glass away, shouting at us through the windows of our devices. Our minds are not made for a 24-hour news cycle, for living our lives online, or for consuming the amount of ‘content’ we do. Our brains, poor human things still stuck in the evolutionary rung of some distant pastoral past, are too fragile to handle the noise, and crave peace in the form of moments of silence and moments of boredom.

I also truly believe in the power of stories, in the inherent value of art and in creation. I’m using my luck and privilege now to get back into education and hopefully tell stories, but my voice feels small and selfish. But the very act of creating and writing feels self-indulgent, and posting online feels like adding to the chaos and cacophony on the internet and the world. What does my small, quiet, safe life have to offer in a world gone mad, but more noise and less peace?

There was a thread on r/askhistorians about completed genocides, and that’s where I found out about the people of the Banda islands, a whole society completely eradicated within a couple of decades by the Dutch because they wanted a monopoly on nutmeg and mace. A monopoly! The Banda were happy to trade with them, the way they traded with everyone else, but the Dutch policy was to have a monopoly on whatever they wanted to trade in. This information is going to live rent-free in my head, this event that happened four hundred years ago, that I can do absolutely nothing about. I sit on my comfortable sofa, warm and safe, and draw parallels between cruelty in the past and the present, and anticipate the cruelties of the future. What fresh horrors are we going to unleash upon the world this year, and the decades and centuries following? 

I think of the bloody dots that connect our shared history of fighting for land, fighting to take, to colonise, to retake, recover, fighting for wealth that masquerades as righteousness. All the while, most of us, the average cog in the capitalist machine, are fed intellectual and militaristic opium in the form of the idea that a group of people, of ‘peoples’, bound by made-up concepts, deserve some part of the world. We’ve been taught that humanity has inherited the earth, as though we own the whole world, and don’t share it with millions of other species. 

I think of how Palestinians, who have lived and loved, created, procreated and died on that blood-soaked land for thousands of generations, are been exterminated in the name of someone’s ‘Holy Land’ because...why? Because of something in the Old Testament? Because the British could not stop fucking up every land they touched? Because we have not been taught, as a species, to stop, just for once to please just fucking stop wanting more and more and more of everything? 

How can I not lose hope when we’re all caught up in this ugly mess of capitalism, geopolitics, nationalism and fundamentalist religion that cares nothing for the children buried under rubble. 

[artfightdramaconfessions]

So, this year I did my first Art Fight; I had joined in 2021 but kept myself as a spectator to observe it and see what the rules would be like, how things are done, the general etiquette of it - and I think, being involved in the fight is very different from watching it.. Wholesome, sweet and kind on the outside; very distant, lazy and disorganized on the inside.

Personally, however, I had a wonderful time! I think I pumped out loads of art and I am proud of what I did for others; high-quality, fully-rendered, respect being given to character features and everything being on-model. I drew exactly 80 pieces, majority of them being waist or fullbody, and only about 5 simple-shaped characters and 3 mass attacks. It was heartwarming to see much of it later being posted on Toyhouses, in the character's reference pages, and elsewhere. All around, I was satisfied in what I was able to provide and enjoyed drawing characters I wouldn't personally design, like drawing really cute girls and ferals when I usually lean to monsters and men! I found unique designs, novices and beginners, all sorts.

And while I got a quarter of defenses in return which I absolutely cherish and some sweet comments on a majority of my pieces, I saw how others have complained about not being given responses for work that they've poured hours into... That made me wonder if that's just.. Generally the mentality of artists now; either too introverted to show appreciation to fellow artists in spite of us collectively knowing how challenging it can be to make art, or just joining to farm and then acting too tired or busy to actually participate. - And then the other half almost kill themselves and psychologically drain themselves in the parasocial cycle that Art Fight has to offer in its "trading environment". Sure I could be classified in the latter group too, but I still practiced self-care and got shit done compared to the burnout horror stories I see. It's quite a wild contrast to observe, and leads to psychological turmoil on both sides when one only gives and the other only takes.

There's also the case of people joining the fight and not contributing at all; just picking a side, dropping some characters, (sometimes a broken promise) and then disappearing. I do not want to hear the "they have real lives off the internet, they were busy" excuse, either - I too have a life: I am a teacher during the week /and/ I have a weekend job. When it is summer holidays for the Northerners, I am down in the Southern hemisphere, dealing with the winter, working and freezing my hands up to the point I don't want to create art sometimes when I get home - but I was still perfectly diligent and on top of things.. But hey, maybe I'm built different, and some people are simply just lazy and want rewards without the effort, or quickly assume they deserve more than what they should.

On the bright side, I'm glad I didn't deal with anyone hostile or disrespectful, and I only encountered two genuine art farmers who pretended they didn't know how to draw or "weren't skilled". Always the same excuses, at some point we have to stop giving them the benefit of the doubt so often; As gatekeepy as it is, I'd imagine a game for artists should be reserved for artists, it's not like an unfit marine biologist would want to participate in the Olympics, let alone be allowed to, so why should people who otherwise hate drawing or don't want to learn the skill and deliberately say such things want to join? In a sense it feels like a mockery towards art and the exchange of creativity in general, and I've been on porn sites that check the quality of your art before they post it better than this! There should be at least an entry requirement for signing up for Art Fight where you send in an artwork before the mods verify your account; there would be a fuckload less farmers, for certain.

I'm hoping that maybe, just because it was my first Art Fight, that /maybe/ this high-attack low-defense ratio of mine is to be expected, and if I just manage to spread my art to even further crowds and find new people to attack, I'll find others who will like my designs and be eager to draw them with the same level of eagerness I had to draw theirs. All that matters to me is if I find people who /want/ to draw my characters, not feel obliged to, in the same way I was never obliged to draw that pink, ridiculously-well-endowed Succubus or stocky, angry little Pokemon - but I did it anyway! I simply enjoyed the spontaneity and diversity of character design and unfamiliar fandoms. In the end, after all I've said, it doesn't matter how much art you get in return, it's about how proud you feel about what you contributed to the fight, and what you learned and discovered in the fun little world of character design.

I don't feel discouraged to draw less next year, I'm going to simply relent, but I can see why other artists hang their heads after their first time when they encounter hostility, are ignored, or don't get what they want out of it.

I think these are some things that I would want to improve if I could:

The ratio should calculate points, that will really incentivize people into prioritizing quality over quantity with their attacks. If you want to see how many attacks VS defenses someone has, just go and check on their front page (if you want it to specifically see how many attacks and defenses they had in one year specifically, they should add a sorting filter for that). The only "downside" I can imagine is an increase in mass-attacks, a joy for some but not for others.

After July, I think that we should still be able to submit Revenge-Only attacks during August - and to not have revenge chains be exploited, only be able to post a revenge once on a Level 1.. Level. I see a lot of people seeming guilty for not being able to attack back within the month or being a minute too late to submit a revenge, and then also just being too shy to submit the attack off-site / not being able to do it offsite / not thinking it's worth it without getting points / etc. - and easy resolve would be to allow revenges to still be posted during August, and Moderators can calculate the event scores and winners in September; trying to cram all of the admin into 12 days is insanity and I am speaking from a perspective that deals with a painful amount of admin. Also, get a fucking search bar that's accessible for everyone, holy Hell.

I'm.. Not sure if my tangent was in good spirits or not, it's rather just thoughts that have been rolling around in my head while I've been reflecting on my experience. Hope everyone else had a good Art Fight and reached their goals, or met and made some friends through it. :)

.

[maranull]

Thought dump —I guess rant— prompted by the last rb. If it doesn't make sense it's because I don't give a shit about how easy this reads, actually.

Some folks, queer and not, see trans people as trans first and people second, if they even view us as people at all.

Every piece of media, of social voices, of queer history, of everything screams that a trans woman wants and has to fight. Has to be out and proud in a country that wouldn't think twice to attack or kill us. Has to be strong, has to be a rock for other queers, has to be the idea of the legends that were Sylvia Rivera and Martha P. Jonson and all the others. We also have to be pretty. We have to want to fuck every single person. We have to be loud and we have to be funny and we have to be this idea of a trans woman that internet people have.

I personally can't be that ideal of transness the internet has. I'm constantly scared as hell. I'm both on hrt and also stealthing like my life depends on it, which tbf, it does in one way or another. I now have to bind and I hate it, yet I do it and a binder is on its way to continue to do it better. I look like shit and that's not self-deprecating bullshit, rather a fact that I accept more than I accept your expectations of me. Would I prefer to be out? Yes. Can I do that without placing my livelihood and potentially life at risk? No.

And again and again, both media and other queer people try and tell me if my country, my culture, and my social circles are safe or not. As if they know better than me. "It's hard but it's manageable," says the rich trans woman on the TV. "It's fine, really," says the one with a supportive job and social circle. "You're overeating," says the asshole from a progressive culture.

None of them have seen the disgust and the hate in people's eyes. One has a car, the other is with company and the third is miles and miles away. They haven't seen a whole train wagon quiet down the moment a trans woman enters, they haven't seen how they looked at her. How her shoulders and head were fallen and how tight her jaw was. They haven't seen how ready to fight she was and more importantly, had to be, just taking the train for two stops.

Only one trans woman, a random one in a random article, said it how it is in Greece: Every step as a visible trans woman is a risk. Every walk through an empty road, every interaction at a store, every conversation with a stranger, every appearance in a public space and every time you let someone learn where you live is a potentially life threatening risk. It's a coin flip each time. Do I return home unharmed or not? Heads or tails? Will I be safe in my own house? Heads? Or tails?

And some are brave, some have support, some are rich and some pass perfectly and some do make it unharmed. Others get assaulted, forced into sex work, killed in their own homes, go "missing", get buried with their dead-names by families that hated them. I'm not able nor willing to take that on, until I reach the point were I'll have to. I'm not the internet's idea of a trans woman. I am a trans woman, like an actual fucking person, in a highly hostile environment with absolutely no one having my back.

And I come here, and the progressive internet in general, and I occasionally see cunts from progressive states and countries that act like that being conforming is the most vile thing you can do as a trans person. Passing? Wanting to live without turbulence? Wanting to not have molotovs thrown at your window? Fake tranny. Acting as if transness is a specific nonconforming ideal that all "real" trans people must achieve. And as if we all have to want to be queer ambassadors. As if we all have the freedom to be. (Since this is the zero reading comprehension website, I'll add that I'm not saying that being non-conforming is somehow bad or that everyone that has that as their gender or appearance goal is an inconsiderable asshole.)

I don't have a point to make, I don't think. But I do have a gigantic FUCK YOU to anyone that sees trans people as their idea of transness and not as individual people in varying cultures, situations and mindsets. Guess that's my point. We are people, not ideas. And stop enforcing your ideas on our individualities.

[xarrixii]

to those of inquiry,

my name is @xarrixii / arri

cis. white. panromantic. (refer to me with any pronouns you want)

some more about me if you're not a COWARD:

i have come from a land not so far away (planet earth) to share the nonsensical nonsense of my brain (my writing).

i am irregular. half my will to write is completely dependent on zoning out in the middle of something else that has almost nothing at all to deal with what i'm writing about.

i swear. i also talk too much, so if you'd like to know something about me, uh... i encourage you to remain anonymous in my ask box so i don't think too much about it. i'm not afraid to answer. kind of. i am afraid of going into other peoples' asks and messages.

professional overthinker. an adult of the u.s.

i've got like (counts on hand) like three FOUR things i wish i could actively write all at once. you get to see one of those. you can ask about the other three if you want. i'll share.

this is like, internet published first draft work, too. i'll take all comments on my work. you can be anonymous in my inbox.

FLASH/BURN—

Harlow Collins is pyrokinetic. He's been in and out of the kinetic rehab centers for most of his life. He doesn't summon anymore. Alph Roy-Wolford is also pyrokinetic. They've managed to dodge the rehab centers and have been working towards becoming a cop for the latter half of their life. When one of them crashes their truck and a favor's called in, they get sucked into the criminal-fighting criminal organization of Alph's mother—Cinder.

Placeholder Name #1—

An alchemist-sorcerer on the run and a famous knight cross paths and learn that their lives have more in common than they thought.

Vaughn was accused of high treason. Leon has a string of murders to solve for her Lord. Vaughn has the missing piece to solving the murders, but Leon has to accept the cost of trusting a wanted criminal.

YELLOW MEANS FEAR—

An emotion-manipulating vigilante, her unknowing cop friend, and someone with wings from a remote magic-bound civilization end up taking on an incredibly elaborate trading ring.

When Delta showed up years prior, Fare had scraped out the serial killer and locked him away—for good. She thought it would be the largest case she'd ever have, but after coming across a strange, beak-masked vigilante, she quickly began to uncover the largest slave trade Krusing had ever seen.

Placeholder Name #3—

An airship pirate who doesn't want to be forgotten meets a ramshackle inventor busying themselves as an interpreter while intercepting a cargoship.

Earwyn Sol had always wanted to do something revolutionary, so when the military failed he took the next available option—piracy. Just when he thought he wouldn't go down in history for more than a few squabbles, he met a sleepless inventor translating between five languages and countless encryptions to barely scrape by alive.

looking for more? ask me! use my ramble box so i can talk and hopefully have less crises over small parts of conversation

🇵🇸 vetted campaigns

[ishouldreallygetofftheinternet]

What if I just had a breakdown here because it's the only fucking social media that won't end my fucking career, not that I have one, if I say how I'm actually feeling. I don't want 12.4k people over on Instagram to know that I'm a self-hating, self-harming, self-serving piece of shit with extremely treatment resistant depression, that I know will never, ever even get a tiny bit better but I wish to god I could delude myself into believing that it would to give any one of the six different meds I'm on, or the TMS a fighting chance.

And don't anyone dare come at me with a *hugs, or a *pat, or a "none of that is true!" because it is. Even implied digital physical contact makes me squick. I have heard it all a million fucking times and I don't want to fucking hear it ever again. Even in this state, I know that's going to hurt some people to hear. But it's how I've felt this entire goddamn time and I only haven't said anything because my fucking feelings don't matter. I have to be as small and as palatable for my chosen people as I possibly can be and if I dare hurt their feelings I should slit my fucking wrists, claw my insides outside until I'm covered in my own vile blood, kill myself in as painful and as grisly a way as possible.

And I have these thoughts and visions constantly. They never go away and they never will and I wish so fucking desperately that I could make them a reality. That I wasn't a fucking coward and I had the guts to kill myself, and actually fucking succeed for once in my pathetic life. And I know I've used this turn of phrase already, but this is my fucking breakdown and if I don't give a fuck then no one else gets to: don't you dare come at me with the "it's actually braver to go on living uwu", "you're so strong for keeping on going" because it's bullshit and if you actually believe that horseshit, then you're deluding yourself and/or you've never fucking been through this and have no idea what you're talking about. And I don't even want people who HAVE come out the other side of this going "I felt the same... etc etc" because great. I am actually genuinely happy that you found a way out. I love for you that this too really did pass, and all the other bullshit they say. Idk how in this venom filled rant to make it clear that the sentiment is genuine, but it is. But it does not change the fact that I don't want you dropping into my reblogs or replies or inbox or whatever because I KNOW that yours is the majority experience. Or at least it's the one they advertise. Majority is not all. I've spent my whole life going there's no way I could be part of the exception, that I could be the worst kind of special, because I don't matter, I'm not worth shit. Well I guess I believe I have some value because I am in the minority. I am the exception. I am the experience that they will never tell you about on the official websites, somewhere between life and death, and you have to track it down in random anecdotal Reddit threads because it's one of the few places on the internet that hasn't been sanitised beyond usefulness. But you already know all that internet bullshit and, for once in my fucking life, this is about me.

Oh Emily but you post about yourself all the time on Instagram! First of all: fuck off. You are smarter than to fail to recognise that anything anyone posts on IG is the most sanitised, best, most productive facsimile of themselves. That is not me. That is a character I play. I play her every fucking day because I don't want the pity, or the disgust, or the contempt, or the hatred that I know is inevitable if I were to put her away for even one moment. If I were to show this side of myself that I hide from everyone but I am locked inside my own head with day in day out.

And I'm also aware that, probably a few paragraphs back, you were thinking about how best to alert the authorities, friends who actually live in the same town as me. To which I say really? You're going to get me locked up in a useless psych ward and for what? I'm not a danger to myself. We've been through this I'm too pathetic. The worst that'll happen is I'll have a few more cuts on my thigh that will be healed by the time I go home, if you let me, not even scabs. That is all I am capable of "oh but Emily, what about your previous overdoses!?" What about them? Did any of them ANY OF THEM do a single long term thing to me? No, so sit down and shut up. Psych services are less than useless to me - all they serve to do is to remind me that I am a problem. That I am difficult. That I am a complex case. I fucking know. How DARE you assume that I am not fully aware of my reality. That I haven't been in this fucking swamp long enough to know what everyone's next move is, what they think about me, what they want for me. Misplaced hope. After a decade I have seen it all before. There is nothing you can throw at me that I cannot anticipate, that I haven't thought through on my own, that I haven't tried yet. If I told you that I hadn't tried something you suggest in the last five or so years, I was lying to make you feel better. Maybe I'll be proven wrong about this, I fucking hope so. I'm a scientist - we fucking love to be proven wrong (or at least those of us who aren't a particular flavour of arsehole do)

And I can feel myself calming down. So there's even less reason for anyone to act. Just let me lie in my bed and cry myself to sleep as usual without the cops or the paramedics or whoever the fuck busting down my door. I'm autistic. Do you know how much fucking extra stress with literally no positives that puts me under? If you actually care, if you actually want to help first, I'm sorry that I've tricked you (and yes, I'm fully aware that that is the bad thoughts talking. We've been through this: in this moment I don't care) then do something practical. Do my taxes, fill out forms for me, clean my flat, make me actually nutritious food and then force me not to snack because no matter what it is, I'll want to eat within an hour, take me to go exercise, respond to the 27 men in my socials inboxes at any one time, make my appointments, manage my money, secure specimens and collections visits and collaborators, manage the multiple emails I get a month asking for my advice or expertise or to communicate my science and everything else, explain to the people I love who I desperately desperately want to be happy and unbothered and flourishing, explain to them why I am a constant disappointment. I know those people are reading. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that you had to see the ugly creature behind the curtain. If this rant ends up as a copypasta, or in some video so be it, exploit my pain as you do dozens of others for your own gain, be that monetary, fame, or just sick satisfaction and delight. I want to actually post one of these rants. Know that I will not answer the door to the authorities and for once in my life I will not be the placid little lamb who follows their every order even though I am dying inside even more than I was. I will kick and scream and run and fight. If you bring that upon me, you will actively ruin my life, so have fun living with that for the rest of yours. I will have my visa taken away, I will be barred from working in any country other than my own, I will be forced back into the NHS system that I am actively working through the trauma of to this day. But if you've decided you're going to do that then there's nothing I can say that will change your mind because in this moment I am not human I don't have rights and I need to be detained for my own safety. So fuck it post tweet

[bartibit]

Introductory Post

Uhhhh... Hello! Greetings! and Salutations! random person of Tumblr! You've stumbled either on this post, or you decided to check on my Blog in whichever case, Hi, make yourself at home.

I am Bartibit, or Barti - A random internet person who wanders around the interweb, trying to find the place that suits them. Shy in person, Introverted from hell and back, trying to find non-toxic side of the internet. I've only recently stumbled on here, quietly watching to see if this site is to my liking after... whatever the fuck is happening on Twitter / "Nobody will call it 'X' Musk". Yes, I'm a Twitter Refugee (woe me). And from so far I've observed, I really like it here, so this post is more for me, finally breaking ice.

I actually have a lot of interests, so follow me at your own discression, I will be unapologetically me, I will vent, I will post about my interests, I will make typos, I will share my accomplishments, I will post random sketch once in blue moon. I will randomly fixate on some series, I will post about my thoughts. Maybe you'll find something new, I don't know. I will be fucking random because my mind does not know how to segue naturally. I will probably have reflex on liking instead of reposting which I'm sorry about, I will fight the demons of not reposting.

I am a digital artist, mainly doing some silly doodles and seldom full pieces. I drawed comics in my addolecense instead of studding, making me also interested in storytelling. I dabbled in flash cs6 animation, video editing, writing reviews/video essays (i'm kinda bad at them) and making source maps for TF2 and CSGO.

I also play a lot video games, like I am obsessed with this medium; I love it, it's my entire personality because it carried me through a lot of hardships. I mainly play on PC, as I find it the most comfortable, most flexible and I already have most of my hobbies be tied to computers.

Some of the games I'm obsessed over, in non specific order, more will be added probably:

Disco Elysium

Undertale & Deltarune

Hollow Knight

The Binding of Isaac

Ultrakill

Doom

Omori

OneShot

Bloodborne

Sekiro

Hi-Fi Rush

Persona 4 Golden

Lisa the Painful

Metal Gear Solid

Half Life 1 & 2

Silent Hill 2

Darkest Dungeon

Portal

Hotline Miami

Fallout New Vegas

Celeste

Wandersong

Pyre

Risk of Rain 2

I also have interest in computers and coding (I can do basic C/C++ stuff), currently studing computer science, I like math. Maybe want to make games one day; I am interested in game design, design decissions and discussion - I just find it neat!

I like stories, like everybody else lol Movies, Series, Animation, Anime, Webcomics, I even look after good unique stories in video games.

Movies or series I'm obssesed over? here they are, again, in non specific order:

Mob Psycho 100

JoJo Bizzare Adventure

Dungeon Meshi

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

One Piece

Saiki K.

The Good Place

Arcane

Breaking Bad

Bojack Horseman

Adventure Time (currently watching)

Infinity Train

Amphibia

The Owl House

Over the Garden Wall

Captain Laserhawk

Knifes Out & Glass Onion

Spiderverse

Everything Everywhere all at Once

D&D: Honor Among Theives

John Wick

Atlantis: The Lost Empire

Emperor's New Groove

Hope you will find the stuff I do here at least interesting Here, have random sketch be upon yee:

Oh also, LGBTQ+ rights are cool. Queerness is cool as fuck and you're welcome here - bigots, get lost to the void >:)