#anyways i might delete this later its just on my mind

[lesbuoyant]

everybodys all lets condemn people with Morally Impure Interests until all of a sudden you have an interest that is suddenly considered Impure and wanes in and out of Public Opinion for many years because nobody actually knows how to think for themselves online. personally i think we'd all be very lonely if we chose and broke friendships based on.... What Video Games They Like and like absolutely nothing else regarding the person's character

[tsukasalover]

I can think of a lot of reasons why I like and have gotten attached to tsukasa more than any other fictional character and i think if i had to keep it simple (or else id be rambling for hours) id say

1. He’s so interesting. I usually pick up the extremely mischaracterized blonde characters anyways but he gets my brain working real hard. its almost 2am and i cant think straight but theres something about his duality that keeps me glued to him and the amount of Layers he has and how removing even one layer or completely ignoring how both his huge ego and kindness + selflessness coexist can really mess up your perception of him. There was something quite short i wrote about how both sides make him. Well. Him. back when his colofes dropped since i was so annoyed at the people Not getting it (while most never even read the STORIES 😁) anf ive been screaming this for a year now Please. Also the way his dream and being a good big brother go hand in hand have captured me. I really like fictional siblings and they fill something personal i miss and Looove looking at the roots of characters. Discovering where this and that and connecting events to what started their behaviors or helped their personality bloom. So seeing saki and toya play such an important role in his life keeps me HOOOKEDDD. I took the bait like tiny fish. Dont regret it. Never will. I like my fictional characters like layered cake. Thats basically how i see them. I had a yummy chocolate cake with so mant layers the other day 🤤 but anyways. I also really like when characters have to learn and grow as people after making really bad mistakes or being straight up assholes so it really took a while even after mainstory but once i got to see more of him with saki and read dazzling i was like. This is the guyyy. Youre mine now lets go. I dont like perfect characters but.. you see.. when characters who have (sometimes way too much) confidence and are dramatic yet are shown to truly be good people who enjoy making others happy… alright.. now im listening… Sign me up…

But really he has almost everything I’ve ever looked for in a character. Starting with the fact that he’s a theatre kid. And blonde. Of course emu nene and rui + more fictional characters have made their way into my heart and ive gotten attached to them on very Very personal levels but when it comes to this Idiot who wants to be a star and reminds me of a dog its something that i dont even know how to explain sometimes. Why is he here? What are you doing inside of my head. Ill never have one solid answer because he takes up too much space in my mind and i become incoherent too often when talking about him.

2. Ignoring my first answer, He is ugly. My favorite punching bag. Cartoon character. Begins floating when he smells pie. I dont know anymore

3. he just like me fr (Which is terrible i dont like that)

[threegunbrainrot]

yall, i uh...

so that pose from tristamp everybody was freaking out about.

i know this is unintentional. i know.

however-

[joleneghoul]

I feel so bitter and mad and angry and sad and so many emotions as a trans person lately but i don't talk abt it online lately bc i dont even feel safe sometimes to do that and it pisses me off.

[vaguenotions]

Oh, yes, I just love your unannounced sleepover where you both come back from the bar after carefully avoiding telling me that's where you were going, and also neglecting to tell me when you'd be home! I definitely do not want to knock you on your ass and take a bat to your dome! That would be rude and unnecessary :)

Oh yes, please do start talking about shit amongst yourselves and make me feel isolated and othered in ny own room! These moments are what I live for, of course. Naturally. Who would ever have any issues with this arrangement at all?

[baolinagasy]

There is an old proverb in the french language that goes "il ne faut pas donner de la confiture aux cochons" which can be translated as "don't give jelly to pigs". It means don't waste good, high quality things on people who are unable to appreciate them

... anyway, I got reminded of this old saying after finally convincing my partner to play disco elysium and seeing him rapidly skip through half the text

[slu7formen]

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her like this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

[jedimordsith]

Deleted Scene from Latibule

Luke looked up from his reading when the door to the Organa-Solo apartment slid open. Han wandered into the sitting room a moment later. His sense was warm and relaxed, and his attire matched. His formal jacket was slung over one shoulder, his shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his spavat had been untied and hung loose at his collar.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted. “Pretty quiet in here. You didn’t sell my kids to the circus, did you?”

”Not for lack of trying,” Luke quipped back, marking his spot and tossing his data pad on the lounger beside him. “Ringmaster said they were too small yet. Since I have to wait and try again next year, I dropped them back in their beds. They’ve been out cold for an hour. How was the event?”

“Just like every other one,” Han shrugged and flung his jacket over a nearby chair. “Lots of fancy people who like to listen to themselves talk eating fussy hors d'oeuvres and drinking wine that’s more label than taste. Leia had a good time until she and Winter got cornered into a hush-hush meeting with Mon over something.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you go, anyway? You like museums.”

“I’ve already been,” Luke said casually, rolling to his feet and grabbing his glass from the side table.

”This was the grand opening,” Han objected. “What, did you get some kind of special Jedi tour?”

“Something like that,” Luke offered noncommittally, angling past his brother-in-law toward the kitchen.

Han’s demeanor turned smug. “Let me guess — it was one of your excursions with Jade.”

“It might have been,” Luke shot a sly look over his shoulder. “But I’d keep that suspicion to yourself if I was you.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

”Because you have a life day coming up, and if you don’t do anything to bring unwanted attention to Mara, a bottle of Whyren’s gold might find its way into your gift pile.”

“Gold label?” Ambling after him, Han whistled. “How’re you affording that on a Jedi’s salary?”

”Mara’s getting a couple cases at a pretty serious discount,” Luke confided, rinsing his glass and putting it in the cleaning unit. “Someone at the distillery owes her a favor.”

”That’s some favor.” Han cocked his head. “She seems like the type who knows how to collect ‘em, though.”

The Omega in Luke bristled. He immediately quelled the reaction, but not before Han caught it.

“Hey,” he said, lifting his hands, palms out. “You know I’ve got nothing but respect for Jade. The NRI might jump to tawdry assumptions, but that’s just because they lack imagination. Me,” he lowered his hands, pointing at his chest. “I’ve been around the system. Flesh is easy and cheap. You want to collect real favors, you have to get into the weird stuff.” Raising his eyebrows, he held his hands a short distance apart, palms parallel to one another. “Saw a guy trade a whole moon once for this ugly little statue — this big, looked like it oughta be a doorstop at a tacky cantina.”

Amused, Luke felt the tension in his shoulders ease. He clapped a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder as he passed back toward the sitting room.

He’d known, intellectually, that it would take a while for the NRI to warm up to Karrde and, by extension, Mara. The Intelligence community was skeptical of smugglers as a whole and less than thrilled at how deftly Karrde’s organization had shoe-horned its way into the respectable echelons of the New Republic government. The fact that they couldn’t find a single record of Mara’s existence prior to her work for Karrde only exacerbated their frustrations. He didn’t begrudge them their caution, really.

But after three heats spent in Mara’s bed, the Omega in him had unavoidably begun to think of her as his, and he couldn’t entirely suppress the instinctive resentment that flared when she was disrespected.

Their secret Force-healing and training sessions didn’t help the situation. Mara was intensely careful about her shielding, only ever letting him into one small section of her mind or body at a time, but the anxiety singing at the edges of his touch each time left him profoundly aware of the risk she was taking, entrusting him with even that much. There was something incredibly intimate about extending his own control over the Force into her body, knitting together the fine sheathing around ravaged nerves or unraveling knotted scar tissue and seeing her entire body soften as a long-borne pain slipped away. About the way she smiled when they finished, as if he could see a little more light behind her eyes, a little more spaciousness in her breath.

Then there were their “excursions” as Han called them. Mara had grown up on Coruscant and, much to his delight, Luke had discovered that she had a mischievous streak. When the mood struck, she would appear from nowhere with a glint in her eyes that made his heart rate kick up with the same bright anticipation he’d known as a youth when he raced his skyhopper toward the canyons to Thread the Needle or when sneaking round bases during the early days of the war with the Rogues, intent on pranking another squadron. Ditching whatever he was supposed to be doing, he’d follow her at all hours of day or night. It was through those stolen moments that she introduced him to all the intriguing places that existed beneath the surface —often literally — of Coruscant’s glittering cityscape. Private libraries. Greasy cantinas whose menus were as obscure as they were mouth-watering. Junk shops whose backroom shelves mysteriously stocked the most hard-to-find parts for anyone willing to ask no questions about their provenance. And, occasionally, secret tunnels and camoflaged peep holes through which they accessed yet-to-open museum exhibits or dress rehearsals of the most in-demand new performances.

In her determination to prove her independence from her former master and the life he’d shackled her into, Mara was steadily, and entirely accidentally, achieving the one goal she’d believed wholly out of reach: capturing Luke’s heart.

It’s fine, he told himself for the hundredth time, gathering his data pad and bidding Han goodnight. It wasn’t like they slept together outside of his heats, and Mara was genuinely the perfect Alpha. She would never claim him, would never try to bind him or prevent him from keeping his vows of independence and service to the new Jedi Order that he was building. As an Omega, it wasn’t like he could claim her, and her traumatic past meant that even at his weakest he would never ask her to claim him. If she ever found another Omega to bond with, the loss might kill him. Unless or until then, however, he intended to enjoy every moment he could manage with her.

[3motionally3xhausted]

Kiss Kiss Fall into another old hyperfixation

Anyway, I randomly wanted to redesign the main cast of Ouran in my style/ with headcanons and my own embellishments

Here's a screenshot redraw, I'll put all the redesigns below the break bc I did all the main characters & wanna talk about the choices I made. Also I made up that uniform redesign on the spot bc I when I was doing the characters I just put them in casual clothes lmao

(I might do some others later, like Renge, Kasanoda, Yasuchika, Benibara, etc.)

Going in order of my least favorite to top favorite. And dont mind that I didn't color the clothes, that's not whats important here lmao

Mori is only at the bottom because I don't like the drawing that much, I still think the design is pretty good. Though, like right when I finished coloring, I decided a bun/top-knot would look better so it's a bit disappointing there. In my head, Mori is kind of struggling to figure out who he is & what he wants to do, which is why he follows Honey around and doesn't talk much. He does genuinely like being around the other hosts though.

Also, the undercut because A) he has the reputation for being the scary one & it kinda suits that, B) uh do I even have to say it? ...its hot He does lowkey look like Sokka from Avatar tho, especially with the blue accents

(edit: I accidentally deleted Mori's file so now this is the only copy so 😭)

Honey is next because again I think the drawing itself is a little off and the design is pretty close to Basil from Omori, which i didn't notice until it was too late lmao. One of the main things I didn't like about his character in the show was obviously how childlike he was & how girls still flirted with him even though he looked and acted 6; So now he still acts a bit childish but doesn't play it up as much & definitely has a more normal voice, not a fckn child's.

Haruhi! I definitely had to keep her glasses cuz they were really cute and kinda sold the whole 'commoner' thing in a way. But other than that I mainly wanted to balance out her femininity and masculinity to make her more androgynous/nonbinary/gender-fluid since she definitely has some of that going on in the show as is. I also gave her dark circles under her eyes to kinda show that she worked really hard to get into Ouran with low status.

Next up is Tamaki of course, getting into the characters I'm most happy with the designs of. One small thing I tried to do for each of them was give them varying hair tones; so even though Honey and Tamaki are both blond, I went very platinum-blond with him. When I started drawing him, my only real thought was "he has to be a pretty boy" so I dont have much to say about my choices, but i do think I succeeded. Don't mind the modern mullet thing, I can't stop it

Kyouya is definitely one of my favorite characters as is, seeing as he has one of the more fleshed out & heart-wrenching backstories in the show. I think the only thing I really wanted to change was getting rid of the Anime Bangs, so I just gave him this kinda sleek, kinda messy pushed-back look with a blue tint. Even though it's simple, I really struggled to come up with anything, until I found a page from the author saying smth like "I don't like the idea of him wearing neat clothes" with a picture of him in like a track suit so I did kinda the same outfit

My absolute #1 favorites, Hikaru & Kauru. They're honestly the ones that started it all because Kauru has been my favorite since I first saw the halloween episode (iykyk).

I don't know why, but I wanted their hair to be fluffier/curly and more of a natural(?) ginger color. I knew I wanted Kauru's to be redder and Hikaru's a bit lighter/blonder, but only subtly. I also gave Kauru a scar on his cheek from that time in Karuizawa, but most notably, I gave them blue and pink eyes as their signature colors. Lastly, their expressions are slightly different, because no matter how much they are in sync and try to match each other perfectly, Kauru's a much gentler soul than Hikaru, so I made Hikaru's smile a bit more snarky while Kauru's is soft.

Thank you for looking at my art/ reading my thoughts, here's an extra little design edit & comparison

(lol, I think they're mimicking Kyouya in this panel idek) (Also here you can see I tried the bun hairstyle w Mori, I think it looks good, but this is a really simple drawing so.)

[thatdogmagic]

So, there's some posting going around, and after being alerted to what exactly is being made public, it's pretty clear I can't go with my initial inclination which is 'leave this alone.'

First things first:

a) I'm not going to fight any accusations of having done something potentially racist. I'm a white person raised very white; when I was made aware that the default ways I was responding to things were reading very poorly in the context of a white person and a black person, I apologized. No matter how I feel about what's happening *currently*, I still am sorry about it. I really hadn't thought of how it would come off until I saw it in hindsight.

I can't say for sure what all is being referenced aside from that instance. I'm not going to be the best judge, for the reasons mentioned above. The best I can do is absorb, apologize, keep learning to be better, and continue to chip away at the boneheaded 40yo white person shit.

b) re: ableism, the sad irony of the screengrab posted is that I was having an autistic meltdown at the time (which, no, is not an excuse). Use of the r-slur, in reference to myself, is a very sure sign I'm in the middle of one, reaching for an impact word and choosing a really terrible one. Like the verbal equivalent of hitting yourself, giving voice to what are, yes, at root, ableist thoughts that live in my head about my own diagnosis. I can and do get very frustrated with my autism sometimes, especially when I 'fail' to learn fast enough to manage it (read: fail to prevent a meltdown).

I'm also genuinely sorry people had to see that, both people in the chat and now, everywhere. I did, yes, delete it because I hated it being there, and I didn't want especially that to be the footprint I left on the server, if it was ever repurposed/the channels weren't recycled (brief note on that later).

Anyway yeah it's something I really need to work on. And it's disheartening to see it cherrypicked when everyone there was aware of the context, but yea; if you see some really wild shit from screencaps, please keep in mind that a lot of it has already been extremely cherrypicked/context is going to be missing. If the whole conversation isn't present, ask to see it.

That's the heaviest stuff that needed addressing.

The accusations of character theft are another thing, because that involves Ependa, and a conversation I had personally with Jackal that was settled amicably a year ago. Or so I thought.

It's the one conversation I did think to save in its entirety, because I just-- had a feeling it might end up being in the cherrypicked pile, or removed from the record entirely. I didn't expect to have to need it this soon, but here we are.

So here it is, in its entirety:

All of that is true, on my end. I was the one who told Ependa to go with a darker complexion on Lacey, and it really didn't quite occur to me at the time that it'd be much of an issue. It should have. The characters are distinct to me in a variety of ways, but as said in the screengrabs, it's a small pond. Past that, if there was more we could do to differentiate then it wasn't discussed with either of us, and we were both open to making further alterations as-needed.

This is not the first time this conversation has been had among werewolf creators, fwiw, or the first time we've had to chat amongst ourselves about potential crossover. I've had to have a similar talk with another artist I know and respect because there were a few too many similarities going on with a set of pieces I was already working on.

Ependa had to recently have that conversation with Trashasaurus (which I'm paraphrasing a Ependa's request), re: commissions that had requested a character that had taken a lot of visual inspiration from both Lin and Toska. She'd noticed Toska's traits and vibe and wasn't entirely comfortable with it, and upon learning they had been requested asked Trashasaurus not to take on those commissions anymore. Trashasaurus agreed and that seemed to be the end of it, save to drop some warning about the 'Lacey talk' which-- well. See above. That's it, in its entirety.

If Ependa wants to post the logs of her conversation, she can, but I'll leave that up to her.

So, that's the heart of the matter at the moment.

It's yet another fallout of yet another failed project by yet another group of artists. It's a tale as old as time, and I would've really loved to have not given it fuel, but the r-slur thing backed me into a corner and needed to be addressed. And if that was being addressed, then others things needed to be addressed, too.

The thing about character theft, though-- yeah, IDK. If there was a problem, there was a year to solve it, and the offer made to post publicly about the oops/acknowledge it right there in that moment was genuine. So far as anyone knew, this had all been settled, and any time it was brought up after there were a million assurances that it wasn't an issue.

Last: I deleted my presence on the server because I a) wasn't sure if it was going to be repurposed and wanted a lot of very personal conversations/old images removed if that happened, b) was frankly concerned about something like this happening; cherrypicked conversations getting tossed up online if things got any worse. I used undiscord, which deletes chronologically, because deleting everything is easier than finding specific conversations/image files.

Because the worst of the fights happened last, well. Yeah it's gonna look like I'm deleting the worst parts first.

I also wouldn't have willingly agreed to be on a server using third party logging software/deleted message retrieval plugins, either, had I known that was in play, but that's a 'live and learn' moment for me, unfortunately.

Anyway that's it, that's all. I can't tell anyone how to think or feel about any of this. I'll be here and will continue to post art, though, for those who still feel like sticking around.

[stardust-in-your-eyes]

L- words

(this too is from my old account. It does not exist anymore, but I half-liked some things off it, so I'm hosting this one here as well. Might delete later, we'll see..)

Loneliness. Just another L - word.

It is raining again, November descending heavy upon the world like an omen - good or bad, such a thing was not for mere mortals to decide. Just like the oh-so-many Novembers that slithered their serpentinely long days over the lives of men.

...There it is, the familiar whirring of the computer fans, the blue gleam of the screens in the semi-obscurity of the otherwise austere room, the rhythmical clatter as his fingers run over the keyboard, his mind waging its endless war against the famished darkness of injustice. There he is, my beloved L.

It is no longer just a game for him, not after almost twenty years. If I'm to be honest, I don't believe it was ever that simple, no matter how many times I've heard it, from him, from Near,  from Mello - it still hurts to think of Mello, and i guess it always will. That is not a wound L will ever heal from.

He is still gorgeous to me. It's like time barely touched him at all, if not for the little smattering of grey at his temples and the glasses he's still pretending to forget. His posture is less rigid in front of the computers - the orthopedic pillows I bought him seem to be doing their job.

"Star?" he calls out to me, his voice the same low monotone. "Could you please bring me some warm tea, if you can?"

He holds his favorite cup out to me, barely glancing at me for one second - he knows I'm here. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't feel more...taken for granted, the way he's only emerging from his cocoon in his own good time. But when he does emerge, there's so much warmth and care he clads me in, that I'm never left wondering about what's in his heart.

"Thank you," he smiles, as his fingers close around mine after I bring his...sugar with tea - yet another thing that has remained the same.

"Will you be long tonight?" I ask him, my hand warm on his still hunched shoulders.

He just hums in response,  taking a long sip of his tea. "Just...reflecting."

I know what he's reflecting on. It's not like, tonight of all nights, the thought would be far from my mind as well. But it's him I need, his closeness as an antidote against the crimson speckles of fear neither of us was quite able to shake.

"Reflecting on....Kira?" I ask, the name leaving its familiar vitriol taste in my mouth.

"Amongst other things" L admits. "It feels like a lifetime ago, yet the shadows it cast..."

"...they linger." I finish his sentence. There's a tremor in my voice that I don't even try to hide - I swore never to hide from him anyway. "It's been almost twenty years and I still...I still hear that damned teaspoon falling...."

In less than a blink, L swivels towards me and buries his face against my body, his arms wrapping around me with a sort of childlike desperation.  "I still...dream about him looking down on me as I..." his voice cracks and breaks, and I have to keep my heart from doing the same.  I hold him close, my fingers tracing soothing patterns over his back and shoulders.

"I know..." I bury my face in his hair. "I can hear you some nights... But we won, L. In the end, you were the light. You still are."

He breaks away, allowing me to slide in the soft plush chair he always keeps as his side, for me, and his hand casually reaching for a green macaron (his favorite) tells me that his inner world has almost shifted back on its rightful axis.

"I never imagined I'd be grateful to Light, you know," he mutters, amused at the way my eyes have surely narrowed on instinct. "Of course, not for the horrors,  but..." he trails off.

"But it brought us together." As always, it falls on me to form the words to the thoughts he cannot express. "Which means we won twice,  eh?"

He smiles again. "Remind me to never place you in undercover work," he snickers. "Unless you'd actually be supposed to impersonate someone Canadian, that is," he continues apologizingly, making me laugh as I steal one of his cookies in mock revenge.

......And in this brief moment in the grand scheme of things, all is well.

Life. Laughter. Love. All so many beautiful  L - words.

[freshthoughts2020]

No More Big 3! What's Cole's Next Move?!?!

No More Big 3! What's Cole's Next Move?!?!

July 11, 2024

If you haven’t read my previous article, scroll down on the freshthoughts2020 tab and check it out. In that article, we discussed whether Kendrick’s feud with Drake might be pointless if he doesn’t aim for the commercial number one spot. With a clear task ahead for Kendrick (whether he follows it or not), we’re left to ask: What is Cole’s next move?

I.Cole's Strong Start in 2024

Cole came into 2024 in a great position in the power rankings and was a strong front-runner to take the lead. He outperformed Drake on “First Person Shooter,” went bar to bar with him again on “Evil Ways” from the “Scary Hours Edition of For All The Dogs,” and just completed a successful national tour.

II.The Apology and Its Aftermath

Cole was set to answer the call when he released his “Might Delete Later” EP. However, moments later, his infamous apology came, leading many people to write him off and not wanting to hear from him for a while. Then he reappeared on the bubbling New York sensation Cash Cobain’s track “Grippy,” which has been regarded as one of Cole’s worst verses. The verse wasn’t even bad, but if it wasn’t mind-blowing post-apology, any verse he penned was going to get panned anyway.

III.The Dismantling of the Big 3

The idea of the Big 3 has been dismantled. The world waits on a new K-dot album, ready to crown him as number one, while the Drizzy hive stands patient awaiting Drake’s inevitable return. Again, what is Cole to do?

IV.The Two-Part Plan for Cole's Comeback

I believe Cole has to do two things to ensure a great comeback and even get his name back into that front-runner conversation. We know he’s been hyping up his album The Fall Off, which is in a worse position post-beef. Here’s what he should do to make sure his album isn’t swept under the rug when it drops.

First, Cole has to address Symba. Why Symba? People may have forgotten about that freestyle he did on the “Control” beat, but it needs to be addressed. He sympathized with letting Nas down but went on to say he left Bas and Cozz down, the whole squad down. He slammed him for the apologies. Cole has to address how he didn’t have to clout beef with Kendrick, and most importantly, he has to spank Symba for even thinking he can say that. There are a few angles he can go with, but I probably shouldn’t reveal that. If Cole is capable like I know he is, he should know the angles too. There are plenty of lyricists who will probably make fun of that apology moving forward with general bars, but he needs to make Symba the poster child of what happens when you disrespect Cole.

He needs to do this because Symba has enough lyrical respect from peers and elder statesmen of hip-hop that he’s worth addressing, and because Symba doesn’t threaten Cole in popularity. It’s like Pusha T with Drake. Symba can scorch Cole until he’s blue in the face, but modern rap is a popularity contest, and Cole would never lose that. However, for this to be effective, Cole would have to scorch Symba as if he’s going up against JAY-Z himself—no mercy! If Cole does this, half of the two-part plan to dominance will be secured by everyone taking mental notes: “Maybe we shouldn’t mess with this guy; that apology stuff doesn’t really mean anything.”

The second thing Cole must do is very simple: hits on hits! He has to get into his Forest Hills bag. That’s far from my favorite project from him, but it’s his most commercially successful album, and his sound isn’t compromised! He should re-listen to that album hard while creating The Fall Off and study the singles from Vol. 2... Hard Knock Life. He needs smashes—songs for the radio!

With these two things working in unison, we’ll quickly forget the same people saying they “...never want to hear him again,” “he’s soft,” blah blah, will be the same people saying “oh Cole’s the G.O.A.T., Cole’s the G.O.A.T.”

These are only suggestions, and he can take these suggestions and stuff them up Rubi Rose’s ass for all he cares. But if he still cares and wants to get back in that conversation, he’s got to do something along these lines. It’s not even much, but it’ll be more than enough. Trust!

Visit gettothecorner.com

Follow me on twitter.com/onlyonejaevonn

[flowers-in-bloom13]

Another pjo fanfic I made and posted on AO3. This one is still being continued. Here are all the 3 parts of it!!! Btw it is Valgrace. And hurt/comfort<3

------------

Chapter 1. lonely hearts club

''--and then I said 'he's literally just a guy. hit him with your car' but it turns out she doesn't have a car so--'' Piper said, retelling an old story from the wilderness school. ''huh?'' Jason said. ''sorry I didn't catch that..'' Piper looked at him with a concerned expression, her eyebrows furrowed. ''you okay, Jase?'' she said. ''you've been zoning out a lot recently..'' ''yeah...yeah I'm fine'' Jason said trying to reassure Piper with a smile. ''if you say so..'' Piper tried to erase the concern from her face.

~~~~~Later that evening~~~~~

Jason was laying in his bed , starting at the celling contemplating his feelings...his feelings for Piper. ''do I really love her?'' he thought.

''oh no...why......why am I questining this? of course I love her!'' but did he really?

his heart felt lonely.

Chapter 2. Jason's google search history: Am I gay, Am I gay quiz, how to know if you're gay.

Notes:

SOMTHING IMPORTANT: in this fanfic Leo made phones and tech and things that don't attract monsters. why? because plot. ALSO: this goes for the whole fanfic but I'm really sorry if/when any of the characters seem ooc.

also a note to all my friends: if I ever get isekai'd you better be coming with me.

--------

Jason was understandably confused about the situation. ''I don't know what to do anymore...'' he thought. ''I should- I do like Piper...right..?''

why was he so confused. It's his feelings he should know how he feels, it's what he thinks. if only it where that simple...

Jason sits up and takes out his phone and goes to google. ''am I gay'' he types.

he's far too scared to press search, so he deletes it. he lays back down. staring up at the celling again.

contemplating his feelings. ever since the bitch Hera erased his memory he's not known which of his feelings are real and which are not.

does he love Piper? he's been wondering that for awhile now. he keeps ''zoning out'' because of it. Jason decides to google it anyway. ''how to know if you're gay'' he types but he's too scared to actually look at anything that comes up.

he types ''Am I gay quiz'' he clicks on the first result, its a buzzfeed quiz. he takes the quiz. he gets his result. ''Traditional labels are meaningless!'' he reads the description. ''"Gay," "Straight," "Male," "Female"... There's a lot more to the world than those blunt terms encompass! You get to define yourself, and you're free to celebrate your sexuality — or lack of — however you choose! Hurrah!'' Jason reads it, his heart beating, ''oh.'' is all that escapes his mouth. he hears a thump -the Stolls summoning a demon again, probaly- and gets scared and closes the tab and deletes his search history.

'Maybe I should go see Leo in bunker 9'' Jason says aloud.

~~~~~At bunker 9~~~~~

'Hey, Leo...I hope you don't mind me barging in here..'' Jason says closing the door to bunker 9. ''oh hey, Jase!'' Leo says with a grin on his face while he works on fixing the argo 2.

''sooo.....'' Jason doesn't know what exactly to say. he can't just come in here and say ''oh hey, man, I'm not sure if I like my girlfriend anymore, oh also I might like men.'' well...technically he can...

''soo...erm....I need to talk to you about something'' Jason says hesitantly

''oooo got a secret?'' Leo teases. ''you could say that..'' Jason replies.

Leo realizes that this probably isn't the time for teasing. Jason and Leo sit down on the floor next to each other.

''I...I'm not sure if I liker Piper anymore...'' Jason explained. ''In fact...I'm not sure if I ever liked her at all..'' ''hm...well that's a....problem...'' Leo replies. Jason looks down toward the floor. ''yeah...it is...''

''This might sound crazy but.. maybe you should tell her?'' Leo explains. Jason looks back up at Leo. ''but...I.. she'll be sad or mad..'' he says. ''She'll be happier if you do tell her'' Leo says. ''you think so?'' Jason asks hesitantly. ''I never think, Jase'' Leo replies.

~~~The next day~~~

Piper is enjoying the picnic her and Jason are having in the strawberry field. Jason...not so much...he's dreading telling Piper that he may not love her. ''It's such a beautiful(Selina beauguard much?) day, the clouds, the blue sky, the birds chirping, Clarisse threatening to kill Percy..'' Piper exclaims. ''yeah...it is...'' Jason replies ''you okay, Jase?'' Piper asks. Jason takes a shaky breath and looks down. ''the truth is, I'm not fully sure if I....If I like you'' ''Romantically I mean! I do know that I like you but only...as a friend, maybe? I'm still not sure yet...'' Jason explains ''oh...that's...erm....'' Piper says ''I'm glad you're figuring yourself out, Jase'' ''you're not mad?'' Jason looks surprised, maybe even a little shocked, ''you're not mad?'' Jason asks in surprise. ''No. I'm not'' Piper said. Jason starts to tear up. ''I love you, Pipes, I'm not sure if it's romantic or not but I love you'' Jason says. Piper pulls him into a hug. ''I love you too, Jase, I'm glad you're starting to figure out who you are after...Hera'' Piper smiles lovingly at Jason.

Chapter 3.

----

Jason was laying in his bed, wonding, how Piper was so kind and supportive of Jason maybe not loving her romantically - until he heard a knock at the door of cabin one.

Jason got up and opened the door. It's the Stoll brothers. ''Hey, Jasie!'' said Connor...or Travis. it was impossible to tell. ''erm...'' Jason exclaimed ''what are you doing here? and so late as well, It's what 10:30?''

The Stoll's looked at each other and laughed, then looked back at Jason.

''well we're having a...'event' over at the Hermes cabin!'' said one of the Stoll's. ''and we're here to invite you! trust me, there's alcohol!'' said the other butting in.

*so that's why they where laughing...* Jason thought, *wait...Alcohol...*

''uhm...I think I'll have to skip this one..''

''but...!'' the one on the left said, ''You can't skip itttt!'' the other one sarted to speak, '' yeah! you can't! come on Jasiee. stop being such a party-pooper!''

Jason sighed, ''fine. I'll come to your party...'' ''Great!!'' exclaimed one of the Stoll brothers.

Jason wasn't enjoying the party all that much so many...drunk people.. It remined him of his mother. she was always drunk

-----

I'm obviously not the best at writing...also for the "am I gay" quiz result,

I took an actual "am I gay" quiz and answered how I think Jason would and copy/pasted the result... Also I'm sorry it's so rushed- I just really want to get to a certain part. Also my username on AO3 iz "W_itch_With_A_B" if you want to find me on there. Also I wrote the fic in the early rif the morning...it's currently 00:23 rn actually!

[just-a-carrot]

Hey! Just a heads up, I'm sending this to multiple people, since I wanna get as many different viewpoints on this as I can. I hope this doesn't bother you. Also, this is pretty long.

So, I have a question about gamedev, but more on the marketing/presence side.

Most gamedevs I know, even hobbyist ones, keep their accounts relatively professional. Sure, they may shitpost here and there, but it's mostly in relation to their games, the gamedev sphere in general, or very general inoffensive stuff. And, most importantly, I've seldom seen my favorite gamedevs (or any of my favorite internet personalities, for that matter) comment on random videos unrelated to what type of content they usually post.

All of my social media accounts are quite unprofessional. I've also had them for a long time, so there are a few things on my digital footprint that I'd rather people not see. I also, for lack of a better way of explaining, watch and read random shit and like to leave comments on it sometimes.

I feel like, I were to become a gamedev, I wouldn't be able to do that anymore. I'd have to treat my internet presence as its own balancing act, rather than a place for me to express myself unabashedly. I know this is working under the assumption that I would get big and that people would give a damn about me, but there is always the off chance of that happening. Of a random game you make suddenly blowing up because it hit the algorithm just right. So it's better to be prepared. And even if I don't get that big boom in popularity, I still plan to at least make games consistently enough to build a community of their own. Nothing like, huge, but I really enjoy the idea of people enjoying my work and sharing that enjoyment with others. But I don't want that to cross over into my personal life!

I know that's not an impossible feat, but I feel like it kind of destroys the purpose of the internet for me. To me, it's always been a safe space where I could express myself and easily connect with people with similar viewpoints, but I am now coming to odds with this concept as I consider how I want to become a gamedev.

There's also the side note that I don't wanna rebrand. At least not completely. I don't mind cleaning up my accounts or deleting some old ones, but I've grown very attached to being "Quamai". I can't imagine myself having any other online identity, even if there are some cringy moments attached to it.

So, do you have any advice for my situation? How did you personally go about your own online image, and what do you think is the best course of action?

Thank you in advance!

oh gosh what a question ldkjfadl

hmmmm

putting this under a cut because it got long and rambly lakdfa

for me personally i don't think i've ever made that many "right" choices when it comes to how i handle my online presence in game dev, it was mostly just me doing what seemed like the right thing to do at the time. it's also changed a lot all throughout my time as a dev

tho i guess the main thing is that i did create a whole new game dev online identity, so to speak, when i first got into game dev. this wasn't really due to any purposeful thought put into it though and was more just because 1) i didn't really have much online identity anyway at the time and 2) in the beginning i was trying to be more "professional" LOL

when i released easter, i did it without any presence at all. i had no accounts or anything. i literally just finished the game and threw it up on itch and gamejolt using the new studio name i had come up with based on an inside work joke. it wasn't until i started to get a few people talking about the game or linking to it/making vids that i was like hmmm i should have a twitter maybe LOL so like a week later i made a twitter. but i barely posted on it, it was just responding to other people. a year later when i released the 2.0 update i also made a few posts. then thought i might start using it more so started posting just a few random updates of new stuff i was trying out/working on (this was when i made my first couple of posts about early OW stuff)

but then when i shifted out of game dev again for a while, i abandoned it

it wasn't until august of 2021 that i began actively using my account again to post production updates for work on ow. but back then i was a lot more "emotionless" for lack of a better word. like i approached it in a more no-nonsense way than i do today. i also never got that much response from it either, usually lucky to get like 2 or 3 likes on stuff 🤣 over the course of that first year or so though i would change a lot in how i handled my online stuff, acting much more like myself, interacting a lot more with people, and getting increasingly more unhinged(???) LOL perhaps because i'd begun to see that being "super professional" when i'm just a little random person making a game all by myself there's no reason to be so stiff (and it's just much more fun and genuine to not be afraid to be myself and be a bit silly). over this time was also when i'd shift away from using my studio name and just taking the "carrot" identity. because i realized i didn't like people thinking about me as an impersonal studio and wanted to just be me, carrot, interacting with people, making games, and getting unhinged about my chars and stories

is this the right way to do it???? i have no idea. but perhaps since i never have any aspirations of grandeur and don't plan to be any kind of business, it's fine for me. and while it's true that i don't like to post, reblog, interact with, content unrelated to my games or other VN stuff, that's mostly because i don't want to annoy people who i know only follow me for game stuff (i worry about annoying people a lot, actually, it might be one of the core foundations for how i handle myself online LMAO). i don't have any other presence online though. once i started my game dev stuff, carrot became me, and it's all that's out there. so it's not like i need to "separate" anything. but also i'm not a very avid user of social media in general so it's not like i have an active desire to have different accounts so i can tweet about or comment on other stuff lakdjfasd i'm an old socially anxious duck who gets mentally exhausted just scrolling my feed. i don't need to spend any more time online than i already do with my game dev stuff hahaha. i do know some other devs though for instance that have private accounts on twitter just for their friends and more personal thoughts. so that's always an option too

as for what you should do in your own situation with your own online presence, i'm not really sure, as it all comes down to what you want. for me, since i didn't have much presence anyway, and because i wanted my game dev stuff to be its own thing, it made sense for me to create a new presence just for game dev (that eventually evolved into my entire self LKDJFAS). so it's hard for me to say what would be the best course of action if you already have an online presence that forms a core part of your identity that you don't want to lose. it also depends on what you want to eventually do with your games and if you see yourself really wanting to pursue it actively and make it a big part of your life. most devs that i know do have "game dev" presences for lack of a better word, where if you go to their accounts, it's just for game dev. or they create studios and studio accounts. i think no matter what you decide to do, even if you keep the name the same, it would probably be best to at least keep your game dev stuff separate, because people could potentially be put off from following an account for games but then their feed gets filled with a lot of non-game stuff from you that they don't care about

no matter what you decide to do though, i recommend being yourself no matter what. whether you keep with your same identity or craft a new game dev only one, still do what feels right for you on that account and be yourself and have fun with it!! game dev can already be such an isolating and hard experience, so creating a space where you can be silly and have fun with other devs and fun with your chars and ideas can really help so much to give you motivation and just enjoy your time creating games!!!

(sorry if this was a complete ramble that didn't even still fully answer the question; i can only speak from my own personal experiences that i went through after all and i don't really have any good or professional answers since i also have no idea what i'm doing most of the time 🤣)

[ppeachx3]

What is your headcannon for Amy's family if you don't mind me asking?

omg thank you for taking an interest in those tags i made!! but also im crying because i typed up a whole response to this only for my screen to freeze and delete everything i had written

but anyway

i cover it a little in my fic if the glove fits, but my hc is that amy's parents severely neglected her at a young age (this taking place before the events of sonic cd) to the point of rarely coming home. neighbors eventually realized what was going on and reached out to amy's grandmother, who amy was sent to go live with until she passed around the time leading up to sonic cd (which i also hc being the reason amy became so attached to sonic tails and later knuckles as quickly as she did)

i know a common theory is that a majority of sonic's friends are orphans hence the way they live, but i think amy being a case where her parents Are alive but choose to be uninvolved just... i dunno. it clicks for me as someone who has experienced it + its repercussions growing up. i see a lot of familiar feelings of frustration and loneliness in her sonic x characterization (which made her my go to favorite as a kid LOL). but also? i think it just fits well with the whole "ditching amy" schtick previous sonic media was on.

basically. i don't think sonic tails or knuckles have any personal experience with actively being abandoned like amy. we know about knuckles, but as for sonic & tails in the game canon there's like... nothing about their families. they're most likely all gone, and while the circumstances behind that can be picked apart and mulled over another time the bottom line is that i don't think any of them at one point stopped to consider what running off without amy might be implying. they've never had to consider a perspective like hers before. and for amy, it's something she doesn't want to talk about for obvious and personal reasons.

BUT! amy eventually does talk to them about it. maybe not in full personal detail, but she does tell them how being left behind really makes her feel. conversations are had. behaviors are adjusted. i like to think this is why tails especially has been going out of his way to always include amy and invite her along in recent sonic media! that's his sister she isn't allowed to feel sad on his watch.

also also amy has no interest in looking for her parents or finding anything out about their lives after she left. she has her own family now and she's the happiest she's ever been :)

[borealopelta]

10 questions for 10 writers

the beloved @arokel tagged me aaages ago and i'm finally doing it yayyy!

1. Is writing a hobby or a way of life?

a hobby i think. i do write a lot and it's a big part of my life but i wouldn't define myself as a writer you know? i'm just someone who writes :)

2. A journal full of notes or a clean completed manuscript?

journal full of notes!! i usually get tiny snippets of Disjointed Scenes stuck in my head and i recently realised that if i wrote them out i could. come back to them later if i wanted instead of forgetting them like a cool person. so i'm doing that in my notes app for now. but theoretically i'm all for a clean manuscript i'm literally incapable of writing a fic out of order aside from my little notes

3. Who or what inspired your writing?

honestly this question is stumping me a little. i don't know? i've been writing and telling stories from a very young age and i never had Big Inspirations. i do have people who influence my style (see the three authors i mention in question 8....holy shit to be able to write like that) but inspiration? idk i don't think i'm even getting what kind of inspiration this is asking about.

4. Which is worse: Someone you ‘idolize’ reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Definitely singing. i don't mind people i look up to reading my stuff! even if it could be improved!! but singing for an audience is horrible :)

5. Has writing from someone else’s POV changed your perspective?

i'm a very emotional person and experience everything all the time except for when i shut off and stop feeling at all for a bit. the latter is a rare occurrence and i'm generally all about emotions so writing my favourite oc who operates on a Very low emotional spectrum was (is) a really interesting experience. i have to put a lot of thought into how bella sees the world but i Love the way his brain works so he's always worth the effort and i'm thankful to him for showing me something new

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

no wattpad....how quickly forget our dark history. anyway yeah it's ao3!!! i Love the way ao3 works i did Not learn to navigate FFN well enough (not for lack of trying btw) to ever really use it

7. AO3 word count? And are you satisfied with it?

137,805. i'm a notorious fic deleter so it's not representative of the amount i've written over the years but. yeah! i'm happy with that. i obviously want to write more but word count is one of the stats i care least about

8. What movie/book gripped you irrevocably?

for books it's either the hungarian selection aka Verhovina madarai by Bodor Ádám and Termőtestek by Sepsi László - two novels i think about literally all the time - or Tell Them of Battles, Kings, and Elephants by Mathias Énard which i keep recommending to LITERALLY everyone because it's so beautiful. btw read tell them of battles kings and elephants by mathias énard it's so beautiful. for movies i guess dead poets society? aesthetically & also its message is so beautiful and i love a robin williams film

9. What’s the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it?

i don't know!!! any compliment makes me happy. but i love hearing that people came back to reread multiple times. like omg!! welcome back i'm so glad my sillies are in your brain

10. What defines your writing style?

i like to think my descriptions are pretty definitive, i loooooove stacking adjectives and adverbs and stuff with hyphens and commas and ands and other verbal connective tissue i love describing things in very specific ways and i think my writing also has a unique rhythm because of how hungarian works and how that translates to english. but that's just inside my brain idk!! my writing might be the most generic shit to everyone else :]