#but genuinely i love to look at my beloved mutuals art and art they like

[officialgleamstar]

can anyone recommend jodie art for me to use as my discord icon. i was sad today and ive decided i need to change that. with jodie

[aethelwyneleigh27]

TF141 Scenarios and Headcanons

(Them interacting with the mini and pink version of Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley) Inspired by my previous post

Credits to @puff0o0 for this wonderful art that I requested and all the other art that's used in this post, she delivered and slayed. I genuinely love your art style because the textures looks like crayons were used and it's just so cute, thanks so much Puff <3

Pairings:

Ghost x Wife!Reader

Justice for Soap? Poor guy has been a victim in this entire set of scenarios.

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

❥ Simon bringing mini Ghostie for her to interact with the Taskforce again. Safe to say Soap got hit at the back of his head for even trying to make fun of the pink carrier (that you, his loving wife bought for the baby), while the little one was fidgeting with the red bow that decorated the front of the strap carrier.

❥ Ghostie didn't earn the nickname till the second time Simon brought her with him bringing the mask along and she proudly wore it. They actually went through the effort of getting her a tailored camo print uniform with a little patch embroidered with the words "youngest recruit" and "Riley" embroidered on the back of the shirt.

❥ Mini Ghostie keeping herself busy with the crayons and papers provided by uncle Gaz, drawing herself, her dad and the other Taskforce members then proudly showing it off to them after they're done being busy. (It earned a spot on the base's fridge, Price bought a magnet for that purpose alone because it was held up by tape for the longest time)

❥ A little visual for you guys provided by my favorite and beloved mutual @puff0o0:

❥ Ghostie and Gaz exchange drawings on a basis, more oftentimes it's funny faces that Soap makes. Soap saw them..

"I DINNAE LOOK LIKE THAT"

*Gaz raising a brow at him while Ghostie was giggling at Soap raising his voice*

❥ And yes, Gaz was responsible for the shrekified version of Soap that was on the fridge.

❥ Soap tried to draw something as an insult towards Gaz but it backfired and little Ghostie ended up loving it and taking it home to display it on the wall of her room:

❥ Gaz tends to be pursuaded by every little pout Ghostie gives him, probably the reason behind him being her favorite uncle. Ghostie made a drawing of Gaz once with an outlined heart around the picture, he now has it framed on his desk.

❥ Safe to say that Ghostie was amused by Soap getting hurt in any way possible, at first it started with her dad playfully punching the sergeant that made her giggle but then it slowly started to turn into her taking matters into her own hands and actually hitting uncle Soap herself. (Poor Soap)

❥ Little one constantly either slaps Soap or pulls on his mohawk. Yeah Ghost probably taught her that, she loves seeing her dad amused and giggles when she makes her dad chuckle. (Cue annoyed Soap noises)

❥ Uncle Gaz calls her "Boo" sometimes because he thought it was fitting and yes he took it from that one animated movie character, more likely sets his phone up and let's her use it to watch Disney movies because he's the only one who has Disney plus. (Frozen and Mulan were playing non-stop and now they all know the song "I'll make a man out of you" word for word)

❥ The idiots encouraged little Ghostie to chug a bottle full of milk as if she was chugging beer while cheering her on, Simon sipped on his whiskey not knowing he'd regret it later on, they all had to deal with a massive spit up because they made her drink too much and too quickly. (Soap had to wash that shirt 3 times before the smell of milk became more faint)

❥ Little Ghostie calls Price her grandpa and nobody's correcting her even if she genuinely thinks that Price is her dad's father. Price was definitely the one who had a uniform tailored for her but it was Gaz's idea.

❥ Believe it or not, Little Ghostie is loved by almost all of the recruits. Lieutenant Riley has a DAUGHTER?! He has a wife..? Yeah that was their first reaction. But ultimately they loved her because Little Ghostie was a sweet bundle of joy who loves giving flowers to female recruits and uncle Gaz.

❥ Despite all the bullying uncle Soap has been through, he still loves that kid to death and couldn't be more prouder when L.T. Riley and his wife chose him, Roach and Gaz to be godfathers.

❥ Speaking of uncle Roach, him and Ghostie get along really well. Even though there's not much of a verbal conversation going on, they still manage to cause chaos together. She likes to fidget with the makeshift antennas that come with the helmet of his tactical gear.

❥ Nobody can stand it when she's crying, she's not even loud, she's almost so quiet when she cries but gosh is it heart breaking. Especially for Gaz, Ghostie's teary puppy eyes looking up at him while her arms are in the air. "Uppies uncle, please" she hiccups.

❥ Gaz is the one always carrying her around, if everyone's being honest then I don't think she was ever down on her feet at some point unless she was playing around with the recruits.

❥ If Simon was being honest, he enjoyed the sound of Ghostie's feet thumping around base.

❥ Ghostie loves handfeeding her dad, she does it all the time. Technically she still has a difficult time using utensils so hands would do for now.

❥ Roach gave the little thing a sip of his coffee and she was practically bouncing off the walls. Yeah that wasn't a very bright idea.

❥ She was a late teether, Soap was the victim. Not only was she caught chewing on the strap of his tactical gear, Ghostie actually bit him with her baby teeth that were only halfway out when he tried to swat her away.

❥ Uncle Gaz and grandpa Price taking out the little one for ice cream so her need for sugar is satisfied and to cool her gums off.

❥ Ghostie's uncles taking her to the park/playground. (Gaz was the one recording)

❥ Soap got in trouble for teaching mini Ghostie how to curse, you weren't too happy about that because now your daughter is saying "bitch" endlessly in the wrong context.

A/n: I hope you guys liked it, I put a lot of effort into this and the last post. Please check out Puff's account if you don't know her yet, I promise she is the sweetest person and her CoD content is a big hit.

[lorelune]

of carnage

|| blade x reader || E/18+ || shared toxicity, band au || wc: 8.8k  || ao3 ||

You and Blade are mutually assured destruction. You know this, and yet it does not stop you from chasing after him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c this fic is part of a trade i did for some LOVELY selfship art with MOST BELOVED @rabbbitseason!! they asked for toxic bladie and reader and i come to DELIVER 🙏 setting and au are heavily inspired by my time in my local music scene and all of the 💀that came with it. i'm glad it can be all get repurposed into blade smut 🫶 THANK YOU!! to bitti for giving me so many fun wants to craft around!! THANK YOU!!! as well to @ofmermaidstories and @2kmps for beta reading!! now, please mind the tags on this one and enjoy <3

CW: dark content, band au, dubcon, pain during sex, bleeding during sex, toxic relationship between blade and reader, angst, hurt/a little comfort, manipulation, gaslighting by blade and the reader @ themselves, face slapping, spanking, spitting, reader smokes cigarettes, reader drinks, self destructive reader, past blade/dan heng, implied unrequited jing yuan/dan heng, kernels of jing yuan/reader

“Are you going to the gig tonight? Fu Xuan asks as if the answer isn’t obvious already.

You crane your neck back to look at her from your roost in front of your full-length mirror. Your knees dig into the carpet and the tips of your fingers are tinged with black. You’ve spent the better part of the last thirty minutes attempting to perfectly smudge the smoky line of eyeliner on your lower lash line. A tube of dark, red lipstick (his color) and sticky gloss rests on the fluffy carpet beside your folded knees.

“Of course.” You can’t make yourself smile, not when your stomach is in knots. “Are you?”

“I should if you are going,” she huffs, leaning against your doorframe. “You need a chaperone.”

(She’s probably right.)

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You grimace and turn away, unable to meet her gaze. She’s too good at reading you. “I’ll be just fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“... He’s playing, isn’t he?”

“I mean, yeah.” You rub more aggressively at the widening smears around your eyes. “But that’s not the only reason.”

“Sure.”

“It’s not, really.” You meet her gaze with a glance in the mirror. It’s hard to keep, her stare intense and full of judgment— (And worry.) “There’s a bunch of good bands tonight. There’s a touring group— all the way from Pier Point.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have no faith in me, do you?” You pout, keeping your voice light, and hoping it comes off as a bit of a jest.

When you finally turn to face Fu Xuan fully, she dips to sit beside you, on her own folded knees. She plucks your soon-to-be-worn lipstick off the ground and uncaps it, just long enough to see the color, before sighing and closing it once more with a pop. 

“Not really, no.” Fu Xuan leans against your side, cheeks puffing out. “Not when it comes to him—”

“You can say his name, you know.” You smear chalky highlighter on your cheeks with your fingertips. “It’s not a slur. He’s just some guy.”

“‘Some guy’,” She groans. “If he’s really just some guy, why don’t we skip the gig tonight and stay home? We can order in some nice food, and I could invite Qingque.”

“... I—”

“You know that going is a bad idea, right?” Fu Xuan sighs. “We’ve gone over this before.”

“I’m aware of that.” You can’t suppress your scowl any longer, turning to face her. “Blade is fine—”

“He treats you like shit.”

“He treats everyone like that.”

“That doesn’t make it better. If anything, that makes it worse. You deserve better.” Fu Xuan sounds genuinely upset. “And you can do better. Easily. With literally anyone else, even if you find them at one of your nasty house shows. Try entertaining the thought?”

“You don’t have to be so—” You turn to her, fist balling up on your knees— “So mean about it.”

“It’s messy.”

“And it’s not your business.”

“It’s not!” Fu Xuan says, exasperated as she rolls her eyes. “I really shouldn’t even be bothering, but you are my friend. And it is painful to watch you chase the tail of a man who will hardly give you the time of day or bare minimum respect. Excuse me for showing concern.”

“Your concern is noted.” As it has been before. “But I’m fine. I wasn’t lying earlier— there’s other groups I want to see tonight. You... don’t have to come along just to babysit. I’ll be alright. I know you hate them.”

“I do.”

Fu Xuan crosses her arms and exhales, something angry and burning. “At least let me drive you. I can pick you up later too. Rather I do than some stranger or him—”

“Blade. His name, Fu Xuan.”

“Blade.”

“God, you do say it like a slur.” You roll your eyes, the pit in your stomach having become larger and darker. You swipe below your eyes and thank an Aeon or two that your eyeliner is waterproof. 

...

The house venue is a bit out of town, in the rural suburbs on a lot that’s big enough to host a crowd and not bother the nearest neighbors. Fields streak by during your journey, humming with junebugs and chirping with late- summer crickets. Low hills roll by as a harvest moon rises, waxing and half-full.

Fu Xuan drops you at the curb and idles as you collect yourself. A crossbody bag carries your essentials (your phone, your sticky lip products, a lighter to go with the pack of cigarettes that you actually don’t smoke, and two condoms shoved against the bottom). You fiddle with the strap against your shoulder.

“Call me when you need me to pick you up, okay?” Fu Xuan taps the steering wheel. “I’ll be awake.”

“Okay, mom.”

“I mean it—”

“I know.”

“Don’t go home with Blade. Or let him drive you home. He handles a car like he’s trying to kill himself.”

It’s a fair assessment but you still shake your head, trying to seem good-natured despite the rot you feel curling in the back of your throat. Bile, rising, before you have a drop of liquor in you. It’s a little pathetic; you’ll really think so in retrospect. For now, you walk toward the venue itching for a drink in your hand or familiar company. Thundering bass and ripping guitar vibrate from the basement windows, shaking the ground beneath your feet.

A crowd clusters at the back of the house. Folks swap cigarettes and clutch cans of cheap beer and flasks decorated with stickers. You quickly survey, looking for, searching for him—

(He’s usually out here before his set, hiding away somewhere with Kafka sharing cigarettes and glaring at anyone dumb enough to make a pass at her.)

A hand grabs you by the shoulder, and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Oh my gosh, you’re here! I didn’t know you’d be coming to the gig!”

It’s March, you know. She is easy to identify with the sweet, candy-like perfume she wears and the slight press of her almond-shaped gel manicure into your shoulder.  March turns you abruptly, throwing her arms around your shoulders and squeezing. Too tightly, knocking the air out of you in an instant. You give her a tentative hug back and pull away quickly. The contact scalds you.

“Have you seen—?”

“Blade?” March pouts and tilts her head. “You know, I feel like you only come to these things to see that guy. He’s nothing special. And I have seen him. He was off sulking a while ago, by the sheds in the back of the lot.”

“... I’ll have to check. Thanks, March.”

She sighs as you walk away from her, before calling out to Stelle (who is always a step or two behind her anyways.) 

You feel— bad about how you treat them. They’re both good people. So is the third in their trio, Dan Heng, a man with a beautiful face and an eerily calm demeanor, especially when compared to his companions. The group of them was introduced to you back when you first started attending these shows, hanging around the scene, and sweating in the basement of mildew-filled houses. They were some of your first friends, and easy to mesh with when you gave yourself the time and space to. Stelle always had a flask with lukewarm vodka or tequila, and March kept a case of seltzers in her trunk. Dan Heng was the ever-reliable sober cab. 

(It was nice back then. Before you had become so entangled with Blade and the subsequent social politics that came with chasing and occasionally fucking the hot, albeit emotionally-unavailable bassist of HUNTERS. It was far easier to hold those friendships than to orbit around a man who you can never tell if he hates you or wants to fuck you in his back seat.)

You find Blade tucked away around the side of the house, cloaked in shadow while taking long drags of a cigarette. The cherry glows in the dim light. From the basement window peeking out from the ground, a red glow pours out, illuminating the well-worn combat boots he wears. They’re crusted in filth, falling apart at the toe. 

(You’d still lick them if he asked you to. Hump them if he asked you twice.)

Another figure stands across from him. Serene, arms crossed, with storm eyes visible even in the poor lighting. Dan Heng keeps a perfectly neutral expression as he speaks, hushed, to Blade who wears a scowl so perfectly that it looks like he’s carved of immovable stone rather than not flesh. 

You’re not quite within earshot. You can’t make out their words, only their tone. It’s an angry exchange, one that’s charged with heat lighting and ire. Blade spits something at Dan Heng, venomous in his tone like he so easily is. Dan Heng replies back something so cooly that it’s like a low-tide wave lapping at your feet.

If you were better, you would turn around and leave. Neither of them know that you’re here, so close. It’s invasive to listen, but you know that there’s... history between Blade and Dan Heng. You’ve always wondered what it is, and considering that Blade has the emotional availability of a rotting vegetable, you won’t be getting those details out of him.

Maybe witnessing their dynamic (yet again) could provide you some clarity—?

(And maybe, if you know why Blade was so, so hurt by Dan Heng, you can do better. You can be the exact thing that Blade wants, and then he will want you, just as much as you want him.)

You listen more keenly:

“I’ve asked you to stop booking shows where the Express is already playing.”

“And I’ve asked you to get off my dick and stop being such a priss, but it doesn’t look like you’ll ever do that.”

“I’m asking you to be reasonable.”

“Sure, because clearly asking me to not play prime gigs is ‘reasonable’. Not to mention you should be taking this up with Kafka or Elio, not me. Did you just want an excuse to talk, Imbibitor Lunae—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, have something else you’d prefer to be called? I remember plenty of things you liked hearing. Want me to name a few?”

“Hold your tongue—”

A stick cracks behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Bladie~” Kafka purrs behind you, hands sliding up over your shoulders, hot breath over the back of your neck. “We’re on soon. Soundcheck in five, Firefly has a vodka shot for you if you want.”

You’re frozen.

Blade grunts from around the house, and as he does, Dan Heng emerges from the shadows quickly, on hastened feet, and nearly stumbles when you see him. Your expression must be— fucking stupid. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed as Kafka runs her nails up and down your neck. 

As Dan Heng practically sprints off, Kafka croons quietly into your ear, “And what are you doing all the way back here? Looking for Bladie again?”

You don’t need to speak for her to know your answer. Blade’s steps thud against the ground over the short, dry grass. 

Part of you knows you should scramble away and pretend you weren’t just lurking like a stray dog begging for kitchen scraps. It’s humiliating to be caught by Kafka (yet again), doing the same shit on a different day. Another part of you, one which is much louder, more persuasive, and saccharine sweet, urges you to face Blade. If you get caught in his maw, good. 

Your hands shake as Blade emerges from the dark.

He looks like death. Ghostly pale skin with deep purple eyebags, like bruises. His eyes are cut carnelian, ethereal and volcanic against his parlor. A cigarette hangs between his plump lips, threatening to burn and melt the pieces of his fringe that hang around his cheeks. Long, wild black hair, tipped in faded crimson, falls down his back in frizzy waves. His arms bulge obscenely in the tight, black shirt he wears. A carved jade pendant hangs off of his belt.

Blade stares you down and his scowl deepens, turning even more sour. He mutters something under his breath, something unintelligible but cruel. It’s not the first time he’s spoken to you that way. He’s done so more loudly and more brutally. 

You—

(Hate it. You love it. Well, maybe not love, but you crave the way that Blade is awful to you. You’re horrible.)

“Better get inside now,” Kafka hands drift to your waist, tugging on the belt loop of your pants. You let out a little yip. “I’m sure the front row is filling up fast. No need to spy on Bladie if you get a prime spot during the actual set, hm?”

She’s right; she usually is.

Kafka leaves you with an elegant twirl, humming one of HUNTERS songs from their new EP under her breath. You know the tune. You’ve been playing it on repeat for the last two months. 

It’s easy to follow the jarring trills of soundcheck as you float inside the home, following the trail of people headed toward the basement. Descending down the rickety, railingless stairs into thick, humid air that reeks of sweat, beer, and fledging mold. Down, down, down you go— maybe to hell, where you perhaps belong.

...

Moon Drinker by HUNTERS

You taught me that the high moon 

Was our lovers’ sigil

How quickly did you throw away our runes

How empty is your cup

Moon Drinker

That you would break mine too

...

The gig is decent. That’s how these shows tend to be and you enjoy them just enough to tolerate the stench and humidity of grungy basements like this one. 

Three bands play, IP3, the Express, and HUNTERS. The interest you expressed to Fu Xuan about Pier Point’s IP3 was a lie, but they’re not bad. The frontman, a blond with eyes like inverted crystals, has a sultry edge to his voice that verges on sexual. It’s a cleaner sound that rips into something dirtier, filthier, as their set goes on. 

The Express follows IP3. You’ve seen them more times than you can count, but the trio is still nice to listen to, even now. March always plays with the crowd in between her harmonies in a way that riles folks up just enough without causing abject chaos. The band plays a new song you don’t know, one that is angry and loud and so unlike their normal sound. Dan Heng is on vocals, rather than solely on guitar, and you’re reminded of how mournful and melodic his voice can be. The exact words of the piece get eaten by the cement foundation of the basement, but you imagine that it’s an elegy.

HUNTERS is last on.

They usually are, as their music is the loudest and gnarliest, and they’re typically the most well-known (even if they have a shit reputation and their crowds leave trashed venues in their wake). You feel— insane when they start playing. You know all of their songs, even if you don’t really like their music. Kafka’s voice is hypnotic in a way that’s disarming, even on a recording. Silver Wolf is too good of a drummer for the caliber of band that they are, and Firefly shreds easily on guitar, trained on strings since childhood, but using her talents in a grunge band rather than on a world stage.

Blade’s bass playing is messy. Though his tempo is sure and unwavering, the actual rhythm drags and punches in intervals that verge on unnerving. You have never been able to place if this is due to whatever rage and poison he carries into music making, or if his fingers are as arthritic as Kafka jokes that they are. 

It doesn’t really matter, in the end. The sound blends together in a cacophony that sounds like the way bursted flesh looks. If you could taste the way their newest EP sounded, it would be the iron tang of blood and the acrid burn of bile. 

You’re fucked for it— for Blade. You’ve been since you first became tangled in this web.

A pit opens in the middle of the crowd, small at first, but rapidly widening, with more and more people throwing themselves into it. They bounce around and bash against the individuals at the sides of the pit, only to be shoved back in a moment later. 

You try to stay away from it. Instead, you watch Blade like a fucking pervert.

The basement has gotten hot. Steamy, if you look hard enough at the air that barely circulates against the low, pipe-ridden ceiling. Blade has thrown his hair up in a high ponytail, wisps of hair still cling to his neck and temples, sweat visibly rolling down his neck. His shirt sticks to his toned chest as the overclocked speakers try to keep up with the HUNTERS most recently released song— ‘MOON DRINKER’.

Blade doesn’t look at you. Not once.

His eyes are fixed elsewhere, deeper in the crowd, beyond the bodies in the pit and those who hang at the outskirts by the house’s ancient boiler. Blade’s attention is fixed on— something (someone. You can assume who.) Not once does his gaze drift down his instrument, and never does he acknowledge the way you stand in the front row, so close, with your attention squarely on him.

(This is normal. So normal, it’s painful.)

The pit expands even further, widening as more gig-goers jump into mosh as one song bleeds into the next. You almost get swirled in yourself as a stranger slams into your side with enough force to nearly knock you to the ground. 

A broad, warm hand catches you by your bicep, hoisting you up before you even have a chance to fall. 

“Be careful now,” It’s Jing Yuan (who is much too powerful and rich to be at a basement show, but yearning pushes you both to do stupid, nonsensical things) who speaks directly into your ear, so you can hear him even as your ears ring muffled. “Are you alright?”

You turn to nod at him, flashing him a thumbs up and nervous smile. The cologne he wears permeates the space around you, overpowering the sweat and mildew with ease. He gives you an easy smile and a squeeze, before letting you. He sidesteps your frame to be closer to the pit, crossing his arms over his chest and shielding you from the worst of the throng. 

You’re grateful for the cover; it would be embarrassing to topple over right in front of Blade.

It takes you a moment to recenter yourself, lost in Jing Yuan’s scent and the roar of Firefly’s final, aching guitar riffs. You look back to HUNTERS once more as they finish out their set in a loud, carnal flourish. The expensive speakers they’ve dragged with them are going to fucking blow out—

Blade is staring at you.

Not into the crowd, toward the placid face and cold heart that so clearly plague him, not to his bandmates or instrument, but looking at you.

In the red-lit basement, his eyes nearly glow, unnatural in their anger as they always are. It seemed more concentrated, feral and crystallized in its intensity. Rage. You want to cower under it while your insides feel hot and frigid all at once. He pierces so easily, so thoughtlessly. As the crowd erupts into cheers and shouts as the set ends, you cannot move. Staked in place. 

Not once does Blade look away from you, and his mouth does not deviate from the twisted frown he wears.

... 

Swordmaker by HUNTERS

If I were forged alongside you, 

Do you think I would forgive you then?

If iron was your skin,

Steel your lungs

and lead your heart,

You would be easier to hold.

Empty are memories

Full is the garden

And bloody is the blade.

…

You should be better than this.

Blade slams you up against the back of the shed, the motion jarring and far too fast to be pleasant. Your head knocks painfully against the wood and peeling paint, and despite how you whimper with the impact, Blade doesn’t react. He doesn’t seem to care. 

(You know he doesn’t.)

He hikes your leg up over his hip and grinds against your core through your pants. The motion is rough, clumsy and far too harsh to be pleasurable. The dry friction through your panties makes you squirm and dig your nails into his shoulders. Blade grunts in your ear. You think he likes the pain.

The gig was only let out half an hour ago, and plenty of people are still milling around. Whispers are circulating about if and where there will be an afterparty. You weren’t paying much attention to them— they’re easy to ignore— especially when Blade had been dragging you by the wrist just far enough away from the main house to fuck without being overtly noticeable. 

(Barely, though. Blade can be loud and you can be loud when you’re with him. You’re tempting fate to be caught, seen with him in this way. It’s an open secret that you’re the scraps that Blade entertains himself with, but you would rather not be caught with your literal pants down.)

Blade smells like cigarettes and sweat. The scent of unclean smoke tangles in his unruly hair as you get a grip on it and tug. The juncture of his neck has the faintest hint of some cologne you’re sure he doesn’t know the name of and stale sweat. You press your lips there and dare to drag your tongue across his skin and taste him. It’s not a good taste, not necessarily, but you love it. Salty and filthy. (It’s disgusting, but familiar and morosely comforting.) You are drunk on it and it makes you feel pathetic at the same time.

A growl sounds in your ear as Blade pins you with his weight to the shed. Dragging you back from his neck, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him fully. 

“Don’t leave marks.” He paralyzes you with his stare and sneer. 

“I’d never.” You try to sound earnest, even if it’s a lie. Because you would— you’d bite and tear at his neck (like he does at yours) until the skin there is black and blue. Happily, you would leave hickies above his collar. Split his lip and bite his jaw hard enough to bleed. You could wear his blood on your teeth and smile for once at these fucking gigs.

Instead, you do not bite him. You just let Blade maul you as he desires.

He grinds against your core. The pressure is unpleasant at this point, too much and too little all at the same time. When you whimper now, he just ignores you and slips his hands under your shirt. He grabs your waist in both hands and squeezes.

“Turn around,” says Blade, already twisting you himself, so your front is pressed against the shed.

“H-Here?” You laugh nervously. Despite your... reputation, something cold, unwelcome and uncomfortable settles in you. “C-Can’t we go to your car? Or inside?”

“Maybe later.”

(It’s awful. It’s sick, the way your heart flutters at the implications of ‘later’. ‘Later’ means more of him. More of Blade’s time, his touch, his hardly-there care. More scraps for you to gorge yourself on, more time to beg for more. It’s sick. It’s sick how fucked you are for him.)

Blade reaches around your front to undo the button at the top of your trousers. In a swift motion, he has them around your thighs. Just enough that he can bend you over and access your cunt with some amount of ease. He keeps your panties on at first (he usually does this. You’re never sure why. You can delude yourself into thinking it’s him taking his time with you, but you know that that is a lie). 

Blade places one of his hands on the back of your neck to flatten you against the shed, while the other must be unbuttoning his own pants to get his cock out, based on the jingling of metal and shred of a zipper. You swallow, your mouth dry. You’re dry, but you know that if you try to touch yourself to prep at this point, Blade will only be meaner.

The most he does is run two fingers over your slit, over your panties. It’s barely enough contact on your clit to be felt, but you gasp and shudder anyway. Canting your hips back, you try to encourage more contact. Anything he’ll give you.

He sighs behind you. Disappointed. Aggravated. It makes you want to cry.

Blade peels down your panties. The cold air shocks you, your core tightening up, but you hardly have time to adjust to the temperature before Blade’s equally cold hands fully part your folds. He sighs again, pulling away only to spit on his fingers, and smear his saliva around your hole. It feels dirty. You feel dirty.

When Blade pulls away, you whine at the loss of contact (at how cold it is, at how the crowd milling around smoking cigarettes and cheap weed is just on the other side of this dilapidated shed crows and laughs into the night). You swear you can recognize March’s giggle above the din of conversation.

You’re brought back to your entanglement with a harsh slap to your ass. Harsh and audible. The sound that escapes your lips is choked and high. 

“Don’t get distracted,” Blade huffs. He spits again, presumably on his dick. 

You nod, latching onto the pain radiating from slap to your ass. As if sensing it, Blade lays down another strike. This one is hotter, harder. He isn’t holding back. It is sure to bruise the tender flesh there. A mark. Something that will tangibly ache, something leftover from your tryst.

You could cry.

The velvety head of Blade’s cock nudges your folds. He brackets you into the wall, arms on either side of you. Heat radiates off his chest and sinks into your spine.

“‘Feels good?” He asks, voice hoarse as he coats himself in your meager slick.

“Y-yeah,” you lie. It’s not enough to feel good. You don’t care.

Blade seems content enough with your answer as he bears down on you. Flattening you to the dirt-covered shed, he hitches his hip down, then up, trying to fit the tip of his cock into your hole. He maneuvers your hips as he pleases, grunting when the tip of him catches on your cunt. When you dare to whine, even the smallest sound, he cracks his hand down on your ass again. Your vision speckles into darkness with the shot of pain and—

(The roar of anxiety and subsequent shame when you realize how much quieter the milling crowd nearby has become.)

“Hold still.” Blade's voice has sunk low, gravely with the cigarettes he’s been smoking all evening. 

The next time his cock touches your opening, he presses in without hesitation.

It’s—

It’s too fucking much.

It is, it always is, every single fucking time he fucks you. Any prep he gives you is perfunctory. Blade will never lavish you with attention, not in the way that you probably need. That you—

(Might even deserve.)

No, the most that Blade will do is fuck you filthy behind a shed, near some of his more well-adjusted peers and probably come inside of you. On past occasions, he has let you suck him off in the backseat of his car. He’s only accidentally (‘accidentally’) came on your face a few times. Less than ten, more than five. Once, he ate you out for a few minutes, but you swear to god he was groaning someone else’s name as he did.

(You’re fucking pathetic.)

This is always too much. Blade is too big. Too big, even if you were stretched and primed with a few fingers like would be right and proper. As tight and dry as you are, it’s painful. He has to grind into your cunt with rolling little thrust so he can fit himself in at all. Each one shocks a breath out of you, a shattering, fragile sound. 

When Blade bottoms out, he lays flat over your back. The weight of him is suffocating. His corded muscle is all dead weight above you as his cock twitches inside you. You can’t tell if he’s idling to allow you some time to adjust, or purely for his own leisure. You can’t be sure. You don’t want to ask him either.

“You’re tight.” Blade’s voice threatens to break.

(Of course you are. He’s the only person you will let fuck you, and these trysts only occur every few weeks, when there’s a show that you can be cornered at.)

He bucks into you, deeper still. The head of his cock is touching parts of you that shouldn’t be touched.

You whimper, “Blade—”

He growls in response. It’s a raspy and low tone that makes arousal burn in your gut and leak down your thighs. (You hope so anyway— it’s more wet and you don’t think it hurts enough that you’re bleeding.) Blade fucks you in earnest, then. There’s no delay, no waiting, no potential for momentary, perceived niceties. He pulls out of you almost completely, then thrusts back into you in one single motion. The friction burns and your vision wavers. 

(You still moan like a whore.)

You feel— dirty. Disgusting. Pathetic as he fucks you like. You don’t feel like a person as he fucks you; you never do. How could you? The grip he uses on your hips is too bruising and the force and strength he’s using to brutalize your cunt is just too much. He fucks you like he’s taking anger out on a piece of drywall. Blade shares physically with you in the way a dog shreds a chew toy to bits, then leaves it on the ground to fester.

Blade grunts next to your ear, nipping there.

He doesn’t kiss you— well, not often. He can’t with your current position. You wouldn’t expect him to anyway. Sometimes he leaves a ring of dark hickies across your neck, like a collar. You like those, but he always waits an extra long time to see you after he marks you like that.

(You presume to make sure that the bruises have fully yellowed, then faded. A clean canvas.)

Blade’s pace increases, just before he pulls out. His cock rests on the cleft of your ass and he tips his forehead to rest on the shed, just beside yours.

“You’re still dry.”

“Sorry—”

He cuts you off. “It’s fine.”

...

It apparently isn’t fine. 

Blade drags you toward the house. He barks at someone, then Kafka, to find a room. You feel dazed as he does. Out of your body, as you receive a number of knowing and unknowing stares from the lingering show-goers who cluster around a firepit. 

(How many of them heard you just now? How many know the exact sounds you make when in barely-there pleasure? In certainly-there pain? How many of them know the sound of Blade’s too-big cock slapping into your too-dry cunt?)

It makes you feel sick to think about.

A room must be found for the two of you, as Blade drags you up the stairs of the back porch. 

As he does, he hesitates.

(He has so rarely done this.)

His gaze is not on you; it pierces elsewhere in the dark. A floodlight off the back of the house illuminates a section of the yard, and just beyond its reach, nestled somewhere between the dark and light, he fixates. His jaw sets and locks. 

There are figures, you realize.

They’re easy to identify once you actually focus. One is lithe and short-haired, the other broad-shouldered and long-haired.  Dan Heng and Jing Yuan. Speaking on the outskirts. It feels private. Their attention turns from their hushed conversation to the two of you as Blade stares daggers and swords into them. As if he could pierce them with nothing more than his silent rage and angry eyes. 

You freeze.

Their expressions are obscured in the lowlight, but you can almost feel the looks they give you. Like a sickly mucus that gets stuck to you and rolls down your flesh in slow, cold globs. 

Dan Heng (once so dear to you, still probably dear to you—) looks guarded, thought darkened. Contempt twists his expression, anger following just after. You’d ever wager that he’s disgusted, maybe. Probably with you, because he knows you’re better than this. Beside him, Jing Yuan wears an expression of careful passivity, of geniality, as he always does, but it’s tinged with something sad and old. For all parties involved in this silent, momentary exchange.

Jing Yuan regards you directly, slowly blinking at you, as though he was a large house cat intent on making you feel safe, and not a presence that only drives the bubbling anxiety in you higher. 

It’s a seconds-long encounter that stretches for an eternity. You cannot make yourself move. You cannot feel anything other than rotten and small.

Blade lets out a harsh exhale and yanks you away. The scene breaks and you’re dragged inside. He whispers under his breath, vitriol-tinging his tone. Your panties feel sticky and wet as you walk.

Kafka had found a room for you, on the second floor of the house. God knows whose it actually is. You don’t get a good look at the room as Blade pushes you inside.. It’s dim, the only light is licking in from the dirty window, an afterburn from the raging bonfire outside. You hear muffled voices still, leaking in like a draft. 

Blade locks the door and pushes you onto the unmade bed.

It’s a cheap mattress with flannel sheets. It smells like old weed smoke and cheap incense. Fu Xuan would tell you that you deserve better than this. You think you might.

Blade climbs on top of you, jaw still locked, and eyes far away.

(You do wonder what happened between him and Dan Heng. Something did. Something gutting and heartbreaking— you hear it when Blade sings. A betrayal, an intangible knife cut but still so painful. Dan Heng has always spoken about Blade with a type of protective neutrality. He warned you to never get involved with Blade. To stay away, to not get on Blade’s bad side, and if something did entangle you with him, Dan Heng could sort it out. He has always cared so fiercely for those he loves; it’s a shame that you have squandered it.)

(Blade is a sentimentalist. Blade is so held in the past that it chokes him. It always has, during every moment you’ve shared with him. He lingers in the bloody past, he holds it in his hands with a grip that’s meant to snap bird wings and flay flesh. He hates Dan Heng. He still loves him, though. You see it on his face sometimes. You hear it in Blade’s music. The ache, the death, the unending grief and mourning and rage that the man simply won’t let go of.)

(It is obsession.)

It shouldn’t make you bitter to think about. Yet, it does. It’s not your place to hold those types of feelings, let alone express them. For so many reasons, Blade will never see you as anything more than a cheap fuck. You think Dan Heng is the primary one. Over time, you’ve grown bitter. Resentful. 

Blade pulls off your shirt in one swift move. He’s slower than he usually is. More deliberate. His hands are shaking, like how they do just after he finishes a set. It’s… off—

You hate it. You hate that the lingering pain of someone else will effect Blade more than you ever, ever could in the present.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. His breath catches as you do.

”What the fuck is your deal?” You sneer at him. There’s a cruel edge in your voice that does not sound like you. Blade brings out the worst in you, and you fall prey to it, so easily. 

Blade glances up at you, eyes sharp like cut gems. He says nothing.

”You and Dan Heng,” you laugh. You don’t mean to— you don’t, you don’t— and you yank Blade’s hair so he has to look at you better. “It’s pathetic, you know. How you look at him like a kicked fucking dog. What happened between the two of you, anyways?”

Blade freezes. So do you.

You’ve misstepped so brutally. So stupidly and tragically and idiotically. You’ve pushed too hard for what—?

Blade is on his haunches in an instance and he slaps you across the face.

Your head follows the force of the impact, forcing your face to the side. Your cheek smarts. It wasn’t— that hard. Blade is strong. He could do worse. Still, it shocks you. The pain is enough to make you gasp and reel.

”What the fuck—“

”Don’t,” Blade grabs your jaw, “open your mouth about things you know nothing about. You should know better.”

You should. You do.

”I could know more, if you ever told me, I don’t know— anything?” You laugh in his face, manic behind your eyes. You’re crushing the delicate nature of your cheap arrangement like how a child would crush a flighty butterfly’s papery wings. 

Blade shakes his head, smothering a laugh. He wrangles you forward, half-off risen from the bed, and parts your lips with his thumb. Before you can react, bite, claw— he is raising himself higher than you, dwarfing you in height, and spitting down into your mouth, onto your tongue.

”You don’t know when to shut up, do you?” He pats the side of your face, over the cheek that he struck. It burns. In another world, this touch would be tender. Here, you can only wince. 

Before you can reply, continue to run your mouth and rile him up further, Blade kisses you.

It shocks you, stuns you. 

He— he hasn’t ever kissed you before. It’s never been an explicit boundary, but never once during these trysts has Blade ever initiated this type of contact. It has felt dangerous to do so yourself. Something that’s too intimate, too personal to share. The core of your entanglement is the way he uses you. It’s impersonal. 

A kiss, you think, implies something more tender.

You gasp into his lips, and he takes the opportunity to all but violate the inside of your mouth. His tongue plunders inside, licking at his own spit that you have yet to swallow. A noise chokes off in the back of your throat. Something desperate and shocked that you hardly recognize. It’s filthy. He nips at your lips and pushes you back down.

Blade devours you. 

It’s too much, really. It’s a gesture of tenderness that has been so thoroughly mutilated, calling it a kiss feels paltry. The way his lips are on your own is much more like an argument and a subsequent conquest. One in which you lose ground. He nips at your lower lip, snags it between his teeth, and tugs it as he pulls away.

You pant, the sound of your own breath roars in your own ears. Your hands are still buried in his hair, grip unyielding, anchoring you.

Blade smiles, something poisonous and satisfied. You are too drunk on the singular kiss he gives you to care that much.

“That’s all it takes, is it?” He laughs, the sound dark and rolling, like the sound of an earthquake cracking the earth. 

He already knows you’ll beg for scraps. God forbid he gives you even a morsel more. 

The bed squeaks as he flips you by your hips so you’re laid flat, belly-down on the dirty sheets. Blade spanks your still-clothed ass for good measure before rustling around behind you. Assumedly to disrobe, just enough to fuck you. Assumedly, to ignore the condoms you brought (knowing he would disregard them—). Assumedly, to fuck you with every inch of your life. 

You want it. You want him so badly it physically hurts.

(Or, maybe you tore while he had you behind the shed. Who is to say?)

Blade clamors behind you, shaking, arthritic hands tugging your pants by the waistband. He doesn’t even bother to unzip them this time. Your panties get pulled down along with them, and they get tossed elsewhere in the barely-lit room. Blade spits behind you, and a sound of too-dry stroking follows. 

“D-do you want me to suck you off?” you ask with a hum. You’d let him fuck your face, if he asked. Or, if he wanted. Blade wouldn’t ask.

“No.”

“Just let me know.”

Blade sighs behind you, but you think little of it.

You brace yourself up on your elbows, lowering your upper half to be flat against the bed, and arching your hips as high as they’ll go. It’s as if to make yourself look appetizing. You hope it entices Blade, even a little.

(Please, you need him to want you. You need him to want you so badly. Please, please, please—)

The head of Blade’s cock rubs as your hole, down to your clit, then back up again a few times. He’s so hot, it’s like he is burning you. Contact that scalds. The contact against your clit is... nice. It’s the most warm up he has graced you with in a while. You could crave more, but settle for this. 

“C’mon Blade,” you whine. Your voice sounds airy. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t reply, not with his voice. The rocking of his hips becomes more pronounced, and the slide of him against you becomes slicker. Still too big, too hot, but wet at least. Which is a bonus. Pre and blood are probably leaking onto the shaft at least a little bit too.

It makes it easier once he slides home in a single blow. 

It’s too fucking deep— especially with this angle. The head of his cock presses against your deepest parts, bruises them in a place where no one can see or feel but you. Blade is huge, the girth of him stretches you as his hips rest against your ass.

A wretched noise bubbles up past your lips. Something between a cry and a plea, for more, for less— to go home, to be in a warm, clean bed with someone who actually cares— you aren’t sure. Your desires have been twisted up and wrong for so long, you can’t tell what you really want. 

It makes you feel rotten, and then there’s only one thing you want.

(To hurt.)

Blade fucks you, then. Fully in, fully out of. Long and deep thrusts that carve out your insides in a brutal way. It’s violent. He leans over your back, and braces himself over you. You feel small, stupid, and hurt. A horrible swirl of things that make tears spring up at the corners of your eyes. You bury your face in the crusty pillow you’d manage to snag nearby—

And Blade tugs it away immediately. His big, calloused hand curls to hold your jaw up, so every pitiful whine and whimper you let out can’t be muffled. The bed squeaks as his thrusts slow.

“Don’t hide.”

“I-I won’t.”

“You were.”

“I won’t a-again—”

“You want this, don’t you?” Blade growls in your ears, then moves to the most fragile skin of your neck and bites. 

(You do, you do— god you do. You need this.)

You nod, and Blade keeps biting. His jaw nearly locks. You’re sure that you’ll be bruised for a week.

Blade scoffs and rears back, grabs your hips in both hands for leverage. And he fucks you.

That’s all it can be, really. You can’t get a solid hold on anything. The pillow has been thrown off the bed, and you struggle to find purchase on the sheets. All you do is take it. Pleasure, or something like it, builds in your core and goes nowhere. It simmers but never crests anywhere near orgasm. 

You don’t mind. This is enough.

Blade’s pace increases, never frantic. Never with him. Manic maybe, insane, tortured and damaged, but never frantic. Not with you. His rhythm falters as his cock slides in and out of you, slick beginning to stick to the inside of your thighs. 

His hand comes down on his ass. The other cheek, this time. It’s enough force to bruise again. You’ll have trouble sitting for a week.

As Blade nears his peak, his rhythm stutters. His breath grows harsher and more strained. His grip goes from bruising to breaking. You gasp with the pain, but don’t tell him to stop. His cock brushes against your cervix, and never your sweet spot. 

Blade flattens you to bed, prone, and puts his entire weight on top of you as his orgasm hits him. A strangled cry shatters from his lips into your ear as he fucks you too fast and too hard. A gush of warmth fills your insides, spilling to your outsides when there isn’t enough of you to hold all of him.

The bed frame slams into the wall with his final few thrusts. 

You lay there, in the filth, in the pain and the dissatisfaction of the tryst, and rot.

...

Blade leaves you there, at some point.

Not right away, but eventually. He rolls off you at some point, catches his breath for a while, checks his phone, then rises to right himself.

You cannot make yourself move. The only thing you can make yourself do is take slow, measured breaths. Each ache in your body is punctuated, loud and unignorable now that the fizzling pleasure of sex has dissipated. What’s left of it is this: carnage. 

“You have a ride home?” Blade asks. He must be near the door, based on the sound of his voice.

Fu Xuan’s warning words come to mind, and shame fills your belly. 

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

And he leaves.

You rot for a while longer.

This is not the first encounter that has gone this way. Blade fucks you like this and leaves. There’s no reverie or sweetness. There is using and being used, and the conclusion that always follows is this. Cooling, soon-to-be dry cum leaking out of you in thick droplets and a bite mark on your neck you’ll need to conceal for the next two weeks. Blade will ignore you like he doesn’t know you, next time he sees. But still fucks you like a toy.

It’s awful. It’s all you want.

You force yourself up at some point.

You’re surprised to find that your pants and panties are in a heap on the end of the bed. You are sure that they were tossed farther, but perhaps you misremember. Painstakingly, you rerobe yourself. Moving your legs in such ways hurts so bad, you could cry. You probably did cry while Blade fucked you. 

The quick stop in the squalid bathroom confirms this. Mascara smudges around your eyes and down your cheeks. The sticky gloss you were wearing has been smeared away. Not even a stain of the crimson remains. 

You feel hollow as you walk down the stairs, outside, toward the bonfire and its rapidly dwindling flames. A few folks still millaround, people you recognize, just barely, though no one you could call a friend remains around the pit. Stelle, March, and Dan Heng are long gone, probably. You’d feel too ashamed to look them in the eye anyway.

Someone offers you a warm beer and you take it. Your hands shake.

Hollow and wordless, you move around the backyard like a specter. Part of you wishes you were one, just something mostly formless and shapeless. Transparent. No one could see you make a fool of yourself that way. There would be no witnesses to your desperation and perversion.

You swallow back bile when it rises in your throat, and wash it down with a chug from the can.

You’re surprised to find Jing Yuan idling around the corner of the house. He looks up when you near him, and he greets you with the same genial smile he always wears. He nods to the space next him, already plucking a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket on his shirt. You take one, and he lights it for you in the next instant.

“It looks like you needed that,” he hums. He doesn't take one for himself, only tucking the carton away and out of sight.

“Maybe.” You want to vomit. Or slide down the wall of the house and rot there. 

He laughs then. It’s too... warm of a sound for how you feel. For how dirty these venues are, and for the company that you have come to hold, it feels dissonant. Jing Yuan is too kind, too patient. 

(He cannot be your friend because your ruin would spread to him, maybe.)

“Take as many as you like,” he urges with a hum, and settles next to you.

Silently, you ruminate. Descend into yourself. You suppose, given the events you’ve seen tonight, that you’re both stewing in something akin to yearning. 

(Jing Yuan is better than you for it. He, at least, doesn’t sleep with his unrequited adored in someone else’s bed after a messy house show.)

“Do you have a way home?” asks Jing Yuan, breaking you from your slow-rolling spiral.

You shake your head. It would be rude to call Fu Xuan so late. You— you hadn’t really thought about a ride. Not yet. 

Jing Yuan looks you up and down and his smile looks sadder, “How about a ride home?”

“Sure.” You nod. 

The ride back home in Jing Yuan’s (too nice, too expensive, too decadent) car is quiet. An album from a band you don’t recognize plays at a low volume. Soothing, soft voices, so juxtaposed from the venue you leave behind. Maybe you just can’t recognize the words because you’re decaying. Your phone lays in your lap, over your aching thighs. 

[no new messages]

(Because Blade never messages you after a fuck. You’re not worth that much to him.)

...

Gingerly, you unlock your front door and enter your little apartment. Fu Xuan lays on the couch, on her back, with her phone against her collarbone. Her mouth is parted in peaceful sleep, though her hair is still done up, all of her pins are still in.

(She waited for you, again. And you failed her, again.)

You don’t know how she puts up with you. Or why either.

Some part of you wants to vomit. Wretch, like it’ll purge the awful, disgusting thoughts warming you. They do not serve you. You should just—

(Know better. You gain nothing from entangling yourself from Blade. The sex is... enough. Because Blade doesn’t know his own strength sometimes and makes it hurt, unintentionally toeing the line between too little and too much. It’s still not worth it. It shouldn’t be worth it. You’d be better off never going to any gigs, ever again. You wouldn’t have to disappoint and embarrass yourself to your old friends then. You wouldn’t have to linger in the yearning of others while never having that affection given to you.)

You collapse atop your bed. Your makeup has been roughly scrubbed off with an old towel, and you can feel the crunchy remnants of mascara clinging around your eyes. You can’t make yourself care. Burying your face in your pillow, you burrow into your blankets. You’ll probably be sore and hungover tomorrow... today? The songbirds are just beginning to chirp their morning arias. It makes you sick to your stomach.

As you begin to doze, your phone vibrates. 

[one new message]

blade: did you get home 

Your mouth feels dry and your chest feels so tight you could die. 

you: yeah. jing yuan drove me. 

[seen: 5:11 AM]

You hold your breath as Blade begins to type. Then stops typing. Then begins again. It goes on for several volleys and you really do think you might puke.

blade: get some sleep

You drop your phone somewhere in your sheets. Giddiness fills your chest, despite the exhaustion and ache and bone-rotting fatigue. Elation causes you to smile, something wide and girlish that you have to hide in your pillow, lest it be beared to the world.

(It’s a scrap. It’s nothing. It’s worse than the bare minimum and the bar is already in hell.)

But, it’s something.

A morsel. Something to clutch onto and hold and cherish.

You want to put his words between your teeth and swallow. 

[megabuild]

bit of a ramble below! tl:dr; i have insane person problems and realised that this blog isn't healthy for me so won't be coming back until i'm in a better place, i have no intent on deleting it but may password protect it in the coming days for my own peace of mind :P love yall!

the absolute basics on my situation is that i almost certainly have OCD, have been vocal about this likelihood in the past, and while i was aware i was susceptible to obsessions and compulsions irt online interactions and my posts on here i was not actually aware of how debilitating the effect this was having on my life was until i went completely cold turkey and blocked tumblr from all my devices. like genuinely night and day. i have so much more free time when i'm not spending it constantly name searching on every platform available and scrolling through my blog over and over to be sure that i didn't post a slur by accident lol. i'd rather not get into some of the stupider details of shit ive done in the name of perceived moral purity because that's nobody's business but trust me when i say it was like a weight got lifted off my fucking shoulders lol like i was having regular delusions about making a post so bad grian himself would say i should kill myself on stream and believing it was possible 😭 really good disorder guys i love having this

i have a lot to say about the way this community treats each other, both good and bad, but i think i'd rather hold off and make more informed and thought out posts on that when i'm not still reeling from all the bullshit life's been throwing at me. i do love and value this community so much, especially all the mutuals and friends i've made here. i've also been made extremely uncomfortable in the past by the easiness that people slip into very strange relationships not just with CCs but with their fellow bloggers. including me ! and i am a relatively small blogger in the vast scheme of things. this is no hate to anyone who's sent an anon or whatever, many of you are lovely people, but it's also like, well i have been literally stalked on this blog before so i feel i have justification for being a tad uncomfortable . again, a lot to be said on the celebritification of average people and the obsession on making sure one makes "Objectively Correct" choices when doing something as simple as watching a minecraft series and having opinions on it .. but alas, no brain for it right now, and also i would rather not risk the ire of twitter teenager #48 lest i be qrted by thumbnail artists telling me to lighten up and accept the steady decay of all that is good in this sphere in order to make room for more #Content. Sit down and eat your yaoibait you stupid faggot! sorry this is a serious post ignore that part

to any of my beloved oomfies you are free to message and ask for my discord though i am also being a bit difficult to reach over there rn my bad (and i may not get back to you quickly because as soon I post this I am logging straight the fuck back out).. i have made a separate tumblr account from this one which is less social media and more a little archive of images and art i like (and also is not related to mcyt at all, outside of maybe one or two art reblogs if i see something that really catches my eye) so if we've hung out and you don't exclusively post mcyt you might see me around in your notifs but i'd prefer not to be linked back here. any projects, fics, other blogs etc. i have been working on consider on pause for eternity, with the only exclusions being 3rd life miraheze (which i'm currently looking into options for but will certainly never go away! much love still to all our contributors who have worked tirelessly through wild life to update our various spreadsheets and tables) and aoyuer which i'm sort of picking up and taking away and hitting with hammers until it's sufficiently divided from mcyt and i can call it an oc story for real. peep my toyhouse if ye are so inclined and wont tell the adoptbrained callout squads over there that my oc once upon a time was lowkey rpf.

anyway this has already gotten far too long as i'm a chronic yapper and overexplainer but thank you very much for hanging out with me and talking about these stupid ass blocks. i have a handful of posts in the queue i wont be getting rid of and don't doubt i will come back to chat more shit in future but at the end of the day i'm here to have a fun time on the computer and i just was not having that anymore. i was having a scary and fucked up time on the computer, and life is too short to put yourself through that out of some butchered sense of responsibility to the niche follower base you've cultivated. if you also have ocd delete your blog as soon as it hits 1k like actually. if you worked in the askbox mines and are now facing redundancy then go follow my enemy thecoolerliauditore. or dont im not your boss anymore. im too busy homebrewing my 3ds. smooches mwahs !!!!!!!!!

[paper-starz]

Hi hi hi! So, quick question, what's your opinion on The Amazing Digital Circus? It's been trending and I wonder what's your opinion on it. Also, your amazing!!!! (And if you do like it, who's your favorite character???)

OH I LOVE TADC! Its a VERY interesting show! As for my favorites, i absolutely ADORE KINGER AND CAINE!

Kinger because... well, look at him

silly lil guy energy right there!

As for Caine, he is MUCH more gentler and sweeter than he seems. A lot more interesting then the regular "sentient AI that wants to torture humanity"

He seems like he does genuinely care, but he has no idea how humans work.

also, a cool thing my beloved mutual @ch3rie-pop figured out! (<-go check out her lovely art too!)

Cherie said that Caine doesnt have the ability to watch over everyone (since Pomni DID find herself in the VOID) and only says these kinds of stuff just to discourage everyone from doing stuff that they obviously shouldn't!

ALSO HE DOES CARE SOMEWHAT! look how considerate he is of Zooble's feelings

AND YOU ARE AMAZING TOO @lemoncoffee-or-bored!!!

[lastoneout]

Making this it's own post bcs I don't want to detract from the racism discussion on the last post I reblogged(and also this is rambly as hell, sorry) but like I always find the critique that "x genre of music is only about drinking, sex, and violence" wild bcs....almost ALL music in every genre is about that?? Like with rap/hip-hop it ofc this argument ties directly back to racism but even with other genres that get shit on like country people are like "they just sing about getting beers with the boys and driving their trucks" like???? Yeah, I could grab 50 songs from other genres that are about that and beloved regardless??? Getting beers with the boys is a fucking cherished meme on this webbed site!! Or that one Ed Sheeran song people roast all the time like "how dare he write a song about finding his girl's body attractive" bro, are you new here. 99.9% of popular music is "my partner is really hot and I want to have sex with them" and that's like the ONE song of his I know of that's just about fucking like he writes about other stuff, people just ignore those bcs it doesn't fit the narrative of him being a shallow misogynist everyone here loves to drag around and beat like a dead horse.

Why is this a bad thing when people you don't like do it, but fine when the people you do like do it, huh? Hozier is one of the most popular artists out there rn, this site worships the ground he walks on, and yeah his music has a lot of layers of poetic meaning but a lot of it is just about sex and falling in love and violence and drinking. The two are not mutually exclusive!!

Which is kinda the root of it, them not being mutually exclusive, bcs imo even if a genre was entirely saturated with songs exclusively about drinking and sex(which no genre is, you just haven't gone looking for the other stuff), I just don't think that's a problem or means the music is bad or less artistically meaningful?? I genuinely don't think there's a damn thing wrong with writing a song or twelve about finding someone attractive or talking about the violence a lot of people live with every day of their lives or even just churning out a fun party anthem for people to play while they get white girl wasted at a tailgate. Who cares if the art is shallow, why does it have to be "deep" to be worthy of respect, and why does deep and worthy of respect mean "no sex, violence, or drinking", three things that have been part of the human experience since we fucking became humans!

Honestly if you really are looking down on rap and country for being about sex and drinking and violence I want you to ask yourself why you think some artists should be denied the right to write about shit everyone else is writing about all the damn time to massive critical acclaim. Why should black people and rural poor people and women(bcs this is also a critique I heard a LOT aimed at female pop stars) be denied the right to explore the full spectrum of human experience and emotion in their art. Why do they HAVE to tell stories about something else to be taken seriously when their fellow artists can churn out entire albums full of songs about sex and violence and partying and not have anyone bat a fucking eye.

And, on top of that, please ask yourself why you think that something can't be deep while being about sex, drugs, partying, and violence. Bcs that is some fucking discount moral panic bullshit that needs to get knocked out of your head before it festers and you start insisting people who like horror are weird because violence can't be art.

[dickgraysonsptsd]

(hey this is Barks 👋 this is my main)

Thought it would be fun to ask what your fav Nightwing adventures are :) they don't have to be 'good', just the ones you vibe with!

HI BARKS i love your art sooo much btw. thank you for saying they don't have to be "good" because what i would say while trying to look like i have good taste and what i would say for my actual faves/the ones that stick in my head the most is. different.

i'm keeping these specifically to dick-as-nightwing stories, so no robin or dickbats stuff! and i tried to go for self-contained single issues or short arcs where possible. and tried to minimize my nw '96 picks because otherwise this would genuinely all be nw '96 (my beloved). OKAY YAY LETS GO

🚨🚨LONG POST WARNING🚨🚨

batman: year three

i usually go for robin annual #4 (juvie) for my personal dick backstory rather than the one presented here, but there's so much to love about this arc and so much that sets up alpod and eventually nw '96!! bruce as a character defined by and constructed upon his grief (over his parents) and dick coming to try to intervene in a time of their mutual grief (over jason) that overlaps with an event related to DICK'S grief (over HIS parents) is such a great layered story!!

showcase '93 #11-12

just a fun little nightwing/robin team-up circa azbats era, written with tim as the narrator. we get a lot of tim fanboying over dick and an aside in #12 where dick is clearly rattled by how he left the titans (in the aftermath of his breakup with kory) + feeling adrift as nightwing (yum!). and this panel has really stuck with me:

dick won't treat the robins like kids in the sense of talking down to them or babying them, because he knows what that feels like (bad! like your grown-up doesn't trust you! like you aren't capable enough!) but he also knows, as the grown-up himself now, that they do have to be kids. they have to have childhoods. and they have to acknowledge their limitations and their capabilities as children, but without being treated like kids for it.. urghh it's so good!! it's so like him!! it's so consistent with how he interacts with damian in dickbats era!!

there's also this bit of classic Dick Grayson Blaming Himself For Anyone Dying Ever And Craving Atonement For His Sins:

it's a very straightforward little story, but there's a lot of great characterization and tim+dick relationship stuff packed into it!

nightwing (1996) annual #1

dick goes undercover as the new groom of a suspected black widow! this issue reveals that BRUCE TRAINED HIM BY ASPHYXIATING HIM ON DOZENS OF TOXINS SO HE COULD "PROPERLY DIAGNOSE THE SYMPTOMS OF DISTINCT FORMS OF ASPHYXIATION" which is so kinky it makes me ill (positive):

it also has a scene where dick takes the suspect's son to the circus and they bond over both having dead dads, and later there's a moment after dick reveals to his "wife" that he was just there to investigate the murders when he seriously considers staying with her and the kid and like... give this man a baby NOWWWW!!!!!!

nightwing/huntress #1-4

this is such a classic devin grayson "everything in dick's life is ultimately about his relationship with bruce" storyline (she's right.) (don't check to see how much of this list is by devin grayson btw!!!) and i really like the art in it! i think huntress fans generally don't like this story so i'll reassess after i read more huntress :pensive: but for now i enjoyed it a lot--devin grayson's voice for dick is my favorite!

nightwing (1996) #86

dick gets shot in the arm, becomes manicwing, and alfred + babs force him to take time off to heal against his will (and deal with him climbing up the walls when forced to slow down). i love the entirety of the tarantula and blockbuster arc but this issue is a stand-out to me for being weirdly funny, involving multiple relationships in dick's life, and letting you see what happens when he CAN'T work, which reinforces why nightwing is so essential to him (which then plays into why he and babs break up soon after). this issue does a lot for this arc imo!

also featuring dick's burgeoning obsession with america's most wanted, which will flourish in outsiders (2003) when he goes full autistic hyperfixation and literally calls john walsh to guest star

titans (1999) #10-12

slade comes to the titans for help rescuing addie from the remnants of the hive organization. i love to see dick acting as team leader and i LOVE when there's pushback and conflict involved and i LOOOVE so much of the titans' history (and therefore dick's history) coming into play!! and most of all i love dick being relentlessly, devastatingly heroic at all costs:

yeah he ties himself to a falling bomb in an effort to disarm it in midair knowing that even if he succeeds he'll probably die. and he does it. successfully. madman.

batman: gotham knights #8-11

there is so much to screencap in this arc, it's insane. the iconic "complicated... sticky and hot..." scene, dick saying bruce can't be dead because dick would know if he were (which connects forward to bruce's "death" arc in such a painful way... he WASN'T dead!!! and you DIDN'T know!!! SO WHAT DOES THAT MEAN DICK, HUH??? DOES IT MEAN ANYTHING?? IS YOUR SOULBOND REAL OR IMAGINED?? IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM REAL OR IMAGINED?????), dick reciting the oath to amnesiac bruce, dick flinging himself off a building, tim and dick eating popcorn while they watch strange and batman fight, the buildup to murderer/fugitive... it's soooo good!!!

batman: gotham knights #14

JPV: Are the women safe? Dick, sarcastically: No. I let them get shot.

this is the dick writes a letter to bruce issue (you know the one), which would land it here anyway, but it's ALSO the dick has to work with jpv and is a huge cunt about it because he remains deeply jealous of jpv for somehow earning bruce's approval in a way dick didn't issue. god bless! we love him at his most petty and uptight!

battle for the cowl (2009) #1-3

people hate this event so much and for what!! this is a great comic for dick and his relationships with bruce's legacy and the other robin boys. and it has what i lowkey think is the most beautiful single page of nightwing art:

and then uhh yeah the entirety of nw '96. the whole thing.

[13tinysocks]

Just finished re reading ycyd once again. a wonderful read,

the last time I read it, was in Turkey and I got ghosted by a really hot punk guy and I was so violently depressed. BUT The idea of getting fucked by Toby unimaginably soothed my aching soul, I felt like a newborn fawn standing for the first time, perceiving an unseen world, and it’s vast beauty. More importantly, I may currently be frantically drawing all of the sex scenes with Toby for my own personal perverted enjoyment , so hypothetically do you know where that reference photo of the loft is?? for science of course.

Also partially blaming you guys for the period where I only went out with guys that looked like Brian and Tim, because y’all injected an uncontrollable lust in me, Alas, not sustainable in the long run; trying to get your man to wear a masky cosplay 24/7.

Anyways, you guys reignited Toby being my muse, and please if you do respond drop all of your art of Toby this is a stick up and I need it

So now I’m gonna go read spill your guts again bye!!!!!

This was my spill your guts Toby I drew last year and some ycyd tob which i’ve drawn eating him out alot artistic reverence, yada yada yada



1. Show me his cock.

2. I've always been very boring and Ill traveled so I've only ever really dated Abby (my beloved I love being boring) How are you pulling this many people? I want to study you under a microscope actually. (I am NAUGHT slut shaming I love sluts)

3. I once knew a Brian doppelganger. He was my sister's shitty boyfriend. Good riddance but I mean the resemblance was uncanny.

4. I love your art and I follow you from my main. If Toby had the means he would be like a freak Strade/Mason hybrid. Already kinda is but you get me.

5. I haven't drawn Toby much in the last year or so but I've got a few things for ya.

This mornings warm up and a shitty drawing of the loft. I always imagined it as kinda shallow with indented shelves.

Stuff from my Insta of Toby. Left is from last year. Right is part of a wider print well be selling with interruptions of the manor fellas but make it ho1c teehee.

That's all Ive got for Toby. I'm sorry beloved mutual. I wish I had the energy to draw him as much and as cute as you do.

However. I've been working on pinup prints you see. Tim and Brian double slutted up you see.

Brian's done but Tim's still in the works and very bald and has triangle nipples.

Toby is genuinely the reason we started SYG in the first place. It was his birthday and I wanted to widdle COVID times away by writing. We all know where that rabbit hole went.

I also have a piece of YCYD's novelization Toby art. Since I can't use the real thing I wanted to keep him close but not too to Toby in looks and personality. So here's that

Erm ☝️🤓 thank you for reading. I really do love your stuff teehee kicking my feet.

[ursachaotic]

Ok this might be a little weird and I want to tell this to you anonymously because I don't want to make you feel pressured into answering ^^' (let it be known I am a mutual of yours & I know we don't talk but I think you're really cool <:) Your genuine love for Gravity Falls and you excitement about The Book of Bill is kind of. Helping me rekindle old love for the franchise. I stopped interacting with it more or less involuntarily (bad experience with bad people) and felt bad that I can't get into it but honestly your interest did help me rediscover it, or at least start to do so. Like I've picked up my old Journal 3 a couple times this week, I thought about re-watching the show, I bookmarked the cheapest "to be released" listings for TBOB in the online shops in my country, I have the thisisnotawebsitedotcom bookmarked too. I've been picking up my hand-made-from-a-towel Bill plush and just looking at him. Thinking about trying to find his hat and make him a new bow because I took them off when it was just too awful to perceive.

I hope this isn't weird. I genuinely don't mean to be weird or trigger your anxiety or anything, I mean it. Your love for this show and everything around it is helping me a bit to rediscover my own, which is great, because as someone with interest in folklore, the paranormal and cryptids, GF was an amazing thing to discover. I myself made a grown up version of Dipper, who's a full-on cryptid hunter and wrote a lot of stories about him, later turning that concept into my own thing because it was too painful to keep but I loved all of the creatures I made and the lore and stuff. So I just took my ideas and moved it into my own thing, which is currently my most developed universe with my most beloved ocs.

This is lengthy. Sorry. Again, I genuinely don't want to creep you out, just, I'm glad I found you and your art and your comic and that you're so excited about your interests. Please know that you are never bad or annoying for loving what you love, please continue being so passionate about things, because it's really cool. You're cool. I hope you know that ^^ and, well, if not, I'm telling you. You're cool and your work is amazing.

(If you would prefer me to pm you feel free to post about it here or your personal? blog, whichever you're cool with, I'll probably see it and can just pm you with like "haha yeah I'm the long rekindled-interest anon" or you can answer this or just read & delete, I really don't mind if you don't want to answer ^^. Just, wanted to say this. Again I hope this isn't weird ;w; I swear I'm just a little adhd guy who used to love GF a lot, and possibly might be okay enough to start interacting with it on his own. And your love for the franchise helped.)

Hi this made me tear up (iN A GOOD WAY I PROMISE AHSDOFISADH I CRY WHEN I'M HAPPY LOL), this is seriously so, so sweet. Thank you so much for sending me this!! 🥹 I'm really glad that all of my silly Gravity Falls stuff has helped you get back into the show, and I hope you enjoy it and enjoy the Book of Bill if you get it!

Also, this seriously means a lot to me, especially because I'm actually really self-conscious about my interests and passions haha. I'm terrified of being seen as annoying, and there's been a lot of times recently where I've shut down out of the fear of being annoying about my interests. But I'm starting to not give a shit about whether or not people find me annoying online?? I want to be super vocal about something I adore so damn much cause it makes me happy! I've also been burnt out on drawing for a WHILE, but reading this book has given me so much inspiration, and drawing feels really fun and exciting again for the first time in a while! I struggle with depression a lot too, but my love for Bill and excitement about what's to come for the series has helped me feel really happy and kept me going for the first time in a bit. So, while I'm still scared of being perceived as annoying, I'm really happy right now and I want to keep doing stuff that makes me happy, even if that's just drawing Bill antagonizing me / my sona lmao. Seriously, thank you so much for sending me this! It's incredibly sweet and I'm really grateful that you did ;w;

Also you can absolutely reach out over DMs!! I would love to talk, but I hope you're having a wonderful day!! 🥹❤️

[edsbacktattoo]

hi lets show some love for our mutuals. tag your favorite mutuals and tell them why you love them

oooh bet u thought i forgot about u anon. i didn’t. i’ve been here. scheming and plotting. and i am soooo full of love to give. hold onto your hats

i’m putting the gushing under a cut because this post is getting too long haha whoopsie

@tisziny my darling beloved and dearly cherished friend. one of the first people to reach out to me and i am eternally grateful for their wonderful heart and friendship. my sweetest cheese! 🧀 an incredibly skilled writer and artist who i sincerely admire <3 not enough words to describe my love for them tbh

@skysofrey kaitlin my beautiful and cherished friend and wife. we were cut of the same cloth and then separated at birth but we defied to odds and joined forces anyway! so insightful and kind and sweet and hilarious and overall wonderful (and also sooooo pretty have u guys seen my wife she’s sooooo pretty wtf) 🖤💜❤️

@blackbeardskneebrace miles blackbeardskneebrace the absolute marvel that you are <3 so incredibly nice and extraordinarily talented! every time they post art it adds 100000 years to my lifespan and puts tears in my eyes. genuinely astounding

@blakbonnet despite the angst and antagonising me for Ed’s beard, i will always love Meow with my whole chest. and she can do it all!!! she writes, makes art, makes gifs! she’s even funny and smart and hot and NICE! save some for the rest of us babe come on <3

@gentlebeard ohhhh my sweet wonderful Ella (now with a new and improved url!) so incredibly kind and friendly! always willing for a hot makeout session in the bathroom and will gladly kill someone to defend your honour (i’ve seen her do it). makes edits that make you laugh and then WHABAM!! another that makes you feel like your lungs are being pulled out. love you ella <3

@snake-snack-stede we all know that olivia is the funniest mfer on this whole idiot website. it’s literally not even a contest. but did you guys know she’s also extraordinarily talented? she makes art and animates and makes edits that are gorgeous to look at. also i’m in love with her. she’s the sweetest candy apple at the fair and i’m a snot-nosed kid with an appetite.

@flightoftheconnie sex on legs. i become hot and flustered and feint when i think of her. makes me blush and giggle and kick my feet and she’s funny and smart and hot enough to be in a gallery but she’s here with us instead. give her kisses or die by my sword

@bizarrelittlemew we may not talk often but goodness gracious do i adore you 🥹 my god you’re hilarious and you make some of the most gorgeous gifs ive ever put my gay little eyes on. and yet another blessing to the world of ofmd fanfic <3

@saltpepperbeard JODI!!!!!! if jodi has a billion fans i’m one of them. if she has 100 fans i’m one of them. if Jodi has 0 fans then i’m dead. literally so sweet and kind and enthusiastic and an absolute treasure. and my GOODNESS can she write!! her work feels like a warm hug (just like her!)

@sherlockig literally too hot to be on the hellsite with us but we are so blessed to have her. an absolute TREASURE to this fandom and to anyone who knows her. the amount of lockscreens i’ve got that are just alexz screengrabs is absolutely insane. thank you for all your work i love you forever

@dickfuckk josh — a living breathing legend. any time you need a file? a link? an image? josh has got your back. one of the funniest people i’ve ever interacted with. also makes edits devastating enough to kill a man <3

@xoxoemynn Em my wonderful Cherub From Heaven!!! pure charm and grace, and one of the most enthusiastic and delightful people i’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. such an accomplished and skilled writer as well!

@vampirebutterflies my #1 date to the observatory and my partner in crime <33 so effortlessly funny and kind and has the best taste in music ever. every single song they’ve sent me has been an absolute banger and has been put in the frequent rotation (huge shoutout to Vacations)

@bunnyandthejets my dear and darling friend Bunny who is so incredibly kind and sweet. has been so vocally supportive and enthusiastic since we met and i’m so grateful to have her friendship and support. she’s also made me cackle like an insane person on enough occasions to be criminal.

@wearfinethingsalltoowell don’t let the angst fool you, Joy is actually wonderful and a ray of sunshine <3 i’m convinced she just enjoys causing us pain for fun. she’s creative and wonderful and the World’s Number One Olu Enjoyer (and therefore objectively correct)

@sassygwaine is one of those unabashedly kind souls who simply oozes love into everything they do and create. so genuine and resilient and smart!!! writes like an absolute dream too

@chocolatepot a complete sweetheart who was one of my first friends in this fandom, and who has been consistently friendly and supportive ever since. unwaveringly kind and nice. also her writing. oh my god. 😭 a huge inspiration to silly little me

@jellybeanium124 nina is so effortlessly hilarious. she’s had me giggling and twirling my hair on numerous occasions. she’s also full to the brim with good and correct takes. (also a Button’s truther and the world needs more of those.)

@awkward-fallen-angel heather is just soooo lovely!! another one of the people that’s been here since the very early days and i’m always so grateful for her insight and enthusiasm and the sheer joy she puts into everything.

@stedebonnets i mean this so sincerely and with my whole heart: Ara is one of the nicest and most loving people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. an absolute angel who drops in to consistently check on her friends and spread love and joy. we need more Ara’s in the world. also has one of the most beautiful ofmd tattoos i’ve ever seen <3

if you haven’t been included in this list, please know that i love you so so so dearly and that i genuinely am just a little bit stupid (on account of the short term memory issues lol). if you’re feeling left out, send me a message and i’ll say something sooo niceys about you 🥹 i love you all. thank you for being here. <3

[love-songs-for-emma]

Shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. Then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals. 💌💛

OMG ty adrey!!! i love any excuse to share my music!!!!

songs BE SHUFFLED‼️

1. With A Little Help From My Friends (Remastered 2009) by the Beatles :3

2. death bed (coffee for your head) by Powfu & beabadoobee

3. How To Never Stop Being Sad by dandelion hands

4. Sitting, Waiting, Wishing by Jack Johnson

5. Ocean Man by Ween

HOLY COW. WHAT A GENUINE SHUFFLE ALCBKSCN USUALLY SPOTIFY IS SO BAD AT SHUFFLING WHAT!!!!! I love all of these songs actually omg

This was not apart of the task but im using this as an excuse to talk about these songs below the cut:

1. Beatles songs fill me with such warmth. Hugs. My sister loved them sm and anything my sister loved, I loved. She was ten years older than me. I was raised on the Beatles. Plus they remind me of my beloved emma ( @love-songs-for-maria ) and her family/her mom. My second family being a Beatles household is so nice c: I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends :')

2. There was a time period where i could Not stop listening to this song. I started making art about it back then; this is absolutely reminding me to finish it omg. Also, this song actually /sampled/ beebadoobee's song "coffee," it's not just like a song they made together. So check out "coffee" for a song about healing that makes me CRY and also feel like I'm being HUGGED. Love u beebadoobee

3. Wow. What a classic. How To Never Stop Being Sad was my ULTIMATE cry song when I was like 13. I still think about some of lines (it reads more like spoken word/poetry with backdrop) more as How To *Stop* Being Sad, yknow? Motivational. Like "Become a background character to your own motion picture" -> Be the main character in your life. Take up space. EXIST. ♡

4. The album this comes from, "In Between Dreams," sounds like childhood. Like sitting on the lil fold down square seats in the back of my dad's old lil red pickup truck as we drive to other side of the island to go dirtbike riding with my mom and brother. It's also become something I dont /have/ to associate with that. I got a vinyl record of it when I was about 15/16 and used to play it while dancing around the front room and making breakfast (various friends and partners over the years there or not). It's also mine. My solo drive peaceful music. Sittin, Waitin, Wishin :)

5. This is the sound of the Spongebob Squarepants Movie ending. That's it. That's what it is. First credits song. One of the rare movie endings where the credits actually go SO HARD and I actually prefer letting them play out. I watched this movie a billion times since it came out when I was a kid. The end credits when this plays show waves crashing and it looks like you're surfing and reminds me of Hawai'i, which is where I was still living when it first came out and I'd watch the DVD endlessly!! Perfect song. 0/0 notes. Ocean Man, Take Me By The Hand, Lead Me To The Land That You Understand

Lastly,, I probably would have skipped a song if I didn't like it bc I've been unliking a lot of my Liked Songs on Spotify lately so that my shuffle on Liked Songs is better and bam! There's the payoff! Didn't even skip one for this ask! Wahoo!

If anyone read this to the end, thanks for sharing these memories with me. :) Much love, always. I'll send this out to a few peeps, but if anyone wants it sent to them specifically so they too can be involved and/or ramble on, DM me/let me know! MWAH

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

so 7 rewatch

- headlines are about a rapist being poisoned by his wife…. i smell jason on the way

- Yaaaaa here comes the relationship dynamic montage

- zoueyteena: mutualism. nuthphop: protocooperation. captainkeen: commensalism. firstsoong, jasonporsche, porschejump: parasitism. aobpuen: competition. promnont: predation

- the fact nuthphop don’t need eachother but are better when they’re together i feel implies that zoueyteena do need achother….

- jason booooooo tomatoes tomatoes

ep 7 time for revenge

- firstzouey bedroom argument scene my beloved omg

- captain as the moderator looking into the camera skdjdjsj

- i’m with zouey on this one first leaving his crumbs and wrappers and cum on zoueys comforter is too far

- these absolute fucking clowns i love the baddies so fucking much

- nont looking at zouey and saying “what if nuth didn’t make him disappear” im screaming....

- ok but the framing of nont walking away, porsche looking at zouey, and the rest of the baddies watching nont leave but zoueys positioned further away….. the visual storytelling the foreshadowing the drama

- the way porsche wasn’t included in the framing this scene either yall

- captain IS so baby tho….

- the way the rugby guy just takes out his phone to record captainkeen is nasty the world truly is a place

- NUTHPHOP BEING CUTE IM GONNA EXPLODE AHHHHHHHHHHH

- no one talk to me about this the way we get to see phop through nuths eyes im gonna scream

- i think i may love zoueyteena too much….. like teena being pouty. zouey teasing him. i’m gonna punch my computer

- the sound effects skejdjjejrufh

- let’s go promnont gun scene enthusiasts

- “i will leave quietly like how i arrived” is still so funny like nont nothing about you has been subtle skejjwej

- jump saying he’s been a sugar baby’s sugar baby before….

- aobpuen scene of all time

- i forgot about the revenge montage

- captain is a MENACE

- NUTHPHOP AHHHHHHHHHHH

- a bird in a cage a bird in a cage

- thinking about zouey telling teena he’s the first person whose been let in the secret art room voluntarily… but the art room feels like a metaphor for zoueys secrets and emotions……. screaming screaming screaming

- no one talk to me about this scene

- “even if you think badly of yourself and think you’re imperfect i still see and remember a better version of you” AND WHAT IF I LOSE MY MIND

- about revenge zouey says “those who have done something wrong should be punished. i guess it it happens naturally it’s fine. we will never know if what we do is much more than he deserves.”............

- nuth was obviously a red herring cause in no mystery thriller is the character whose house is covered in blood and feels the urge to kill would genuinely be the murderer

- the way nont opens the door is so fucking funny

- obsessed with nuth being like “bro why would you come here after the shit you pulled….. hold on HOW are you here after the shit you pulled?!?!?!?”

- the way this scene had us all in a chokehold when it came out…..

[bxleeding-bxunni]

Something that positively tickles me about Oona’s design is that she’s got skin that’s much dark than everyone else’s, DEEP dark eye bags, and these pale green eyes that bore into the soul of anyone who looks at her. Like, genuinely, her appearance is unsettling to pretty much everyone around her- and it’s up to them if they’re alittle scared of her, or they find the fact that she looks like a ghoul on land somewhat endearing, and dare I say, attractive at times??? Just some silly thoughts, but her character is so silly to me,,,,I LOVE HER SO MUCH UGHHH 😫

First time ever talking about my BES oc but a very recent interaction with a beloved mutual woke my silly ass up and SUDDENLY I’m in a creative mood!!!! YIPPEEE!!! I might post some doodles of Oona on here sometime soon if I’m in the mood, not 100% sure yet. I’m still waiting to get my new Apple Pencil, but when I do eventually have it in my grimey clutches I think I wanna try and post some art ‼️

On another note, suck my FUCKING nuts statistics, I hate doing 50 homework problems every night. THIS IS SO BALLS UGH.

[blobbyboiblob]

Hello again yes I am active so suddenly and stuff but I jus gotta let everyone hear my minds thoughts and let them make speculations of their own 😭

Also, fair warning canon 😨! And opinions and inlook 😭!

So my friend kept talking about this and I realized smth..

1. Some ship kids in Undertale fandom need justice(I think y’all know who I am talkin about cuz I mentioned them before-

These are mainly my own opinions as well as speculations from canon!!

Alr so: Lurik is cute to people but you have realized that Lotus only has some drawings and words said by Nekophy for their entire person.. so does Goth shshshsh-

And Rurik actually has more stuff on them as well as development and a personality. Lotus and Rurik were cute while it lasted.. kinda- but it ultimately was toxic and a really bad relationship for Rurik and Lotus’s mental health.

If I would have assumed Lotus to date anyone I’d say Ray(friends made the speculations and idea of the two and it’s so adorable!)

Rurik and Dante were infact adorable as they lasted, even if in some points it could be written as toxic or a very obsessive relationship Dante had character and actual funny things to him! And I am saying canonically I have heard some people say Dante and Due had no development yet they have so much more than Lotus and Goth.. Goths entire personality was, and from everything I read and know, to love Palette and keep it one sided while having a cringe romance that Palette never actually reciprocated.

For Lotus and Rurik it was for Lotus to just be a fell version of Goth that was the same but ultimately Lotus was exactly like Goth just harsh and in the end made Rurik feel untrusted and disliked, which was mutual, and caused him to go to Dante.

Remember: Fell versions aren’t perfect and never come from good lives. It takes time and canonically Lotus never genuinely grew while Rurik soared and grew up- even PHYSICALLY

Which I’ma poke at- canonically every art of Goth and Lotus show them small and that’s their forever height to physically look like kids.. imagine them all grown up and you see Rurik or Palette with the physically small Lotus and Goth 😭.

Not hating, headcanons and fanon exist but until I see Nekophy finally put a blessed hand onto Goth and Lotus their characters will never grow older than who they were no matter how much you wanna wish.

And no matter how much some of you wish Dante and Due are so much better than Goth and Lotus. I know some people ship Palette, Goth and Due which that’s super cool and inclusive! Who knows maybe Due can charm Goth into actually being open and no longer secretive and keeping Palette’s innocence? It could work!

Doubt for Lotus, Rurik and Dante though- I’d need to see a long history of growth with them as they are fell variants..

But yeah. I know that some people showed hate to Keko, the creator of Due and Dante and it’s just horrible and wrong! Even people showed a hate towards Ange with Palette and Rurik. They are allowed to develop and grow their characters and the creators have made mistakes it’s life you can grow from them and the creators DID grow and they are still growing. Their human. And yet I never saw people ever go to Nekophy and yes. Nekophy has made a lot of mistakes yet basically never grew or tried apologizing for them just changed their everything.. I am not hating. Honesty hurts and if you hurt and attack people who genuinely wanna change or because they created characters you like and never adapted to what you wanted than who really is the bad guy?

Do think hard because I love every creator and ship kid- well, kinda all creators- and I wanna see more growth and development for our beloved ship kids! Their creators hold the pencil, pen or stylus to make the characters good and I am happy to watch and learn about them! Their flaws, backstories and all!

It’s sad that Goth and Lotus don’t genuinely have a stable one or any reference sheet made. But it’s fine! I am just glad I don’t call headcanons or my ideas canon for them because sometimes you gotta accept what your given ☺️!

[doodleduds]

YOU !!!! I WAS HOPING I’D SEE YOU IN MY NOTES !!!! YOU’RE MY SONIC MUTUAL !!!!

hi 🥺👉👈 hello i think i would like 2 enter the sonic fandom. how do i partake in sonic. i dont know where 2 start 😢 ive been vaguely watching some of the fandubs and i just played the murder mystery steam game and !!!! i didn’t grow up with it bc i was a pokemon and mario baby but yea [: ALSO if you see me perusing your art that is why [:< !!!! (and because you are very talented and a beloved bestie mutual)

HI!!!!! Always love seeing u beanie I hope you’re good!! This might be a long response so I’m preemptively putting a cut lol

HI AGAIN BEANIE!!! Disclaimer I’m certainly not an expert BUT i’ll try my best 💙💙💙🫡🫡🫡

The murder of sonic the hedgehog is REALLY good. Its definitely got a lot of love packed into it and it shines through the whole thing. Its a favorite because its a little silly but they still work to take the characters seriously (idk. U can tell the devs really loved doing it. I think its all around a fantastic introduction to the series!)

I’ve been hooked on Sonic from a SUPER early age. Like playing on hand me down consoles and stuff. My favorite game ever was sonic and knuckles or sonic 3 and then it was sonic the fighters. And then every game after that until Sonic The Hedgehog (2006) for the xbox 360 came out and despite the glitches and everything else im sure anyone could tell you about it younger me just found it SO striking. Everything about it. I used to sit and watch all the cutscenes on youtube on the family computer like it was my JOB. Idk where the turning point was I’ve played all the other titles except for a couple here and there more recently but I def think you could start where-ever you want!!!

Theres some games I think most people in the fandom would agree are unplayable or just Bad (for any number of reasons, everyone has their opinions! But think like notoriously bad like sonic boom..or specifically sonic colors nintendo ds version) BUT I’m a firm believer that if Sonic 06 specifically didnt have game breaking issues it would have been a masterpiece (look up project 06…! its a labor of love and it made that game feel like what I thought it did when I was itty bitty and more. Beyond my expectations. Genuinely impressive and really shows how much could have been fixed/polished for gameplay/overall) obviously I’m very biased but 06 is something I’ll never get over and I think more people should see Project 06 because the work put into it is immaculate and really showcases what I loved and still love about that game

The fandubs are good! If you’re looking for more watching stuff instead of playing stuff the original remastered Sonic OVA movie is up on YouTube for free and I think you’d really enjoy that too! There’s some design choices (like knuckles just flying for half the movie/not gliding like he would in later titles) that are more timeline based (like they hadnt gotten a firm grasp in franchise what was what yet etc etc) but it really sticks to that charm that drew me in to begin with so its a 10/10 in my book.

Games I think you could start anywhere you’d like (even if people say you’ve GOTTA play x or y or z or whatever you do what you think you’d like) but as a die hard fan you know I’ve got to mention Sonic Adventure 2 or Heroes or one of those. More ‘recent’ games I’ve really enjoyed that didn’t feel rushed/scrapped halfway through.. Sonic Generations is good, Sonic Unleashed is good (and theres a short film called night of the werehog thats official you could watch!) Frontiers obviously is the best I think we’ve gotten in a while narratively.

And im biased but I really. REALLY like sonic and the black knight. I think it being on the wii was a little bad controls wise but it has some charm! The storybook ones (Sonic & The Secret Rings and Sonic & The Black Knight) were super interesting to me when they came out just because it was a fresh art style lol.. Still very charming to me

The Shadow The Hedgehog game will always hold a special place in my heart and I know you like that guy so if you haven’t checked out that game (it has so many endings.) I think you’d personally love it!!

Other than that I think IDW comics are really great if you can get your hands on em! I don’t read them very often if at all anymore but I keep up to date on new characters in gen (more out of interest for the designs and direction theyre going) but if you EVER get the chance to read the arc with the metal virus you absolutely should. All the comics are great but I think you especially would think that arc in particular is incredible

I’ll link the ova and the werehog animation below but every games cutscene you can find on youtube if you’re ever interested! I can always find more stuff and link you if you want : - )

ONE FINAL NOTE IS THAT SONIC GAMES SOUNDTRACKS DO NOT EVER MISS A CHANCE TO GO HARD AS FUCK FOR NO REASON!!!! All of the games OST’s EVER have at least one song for everybody on planet earth and I will not retract that statement ever. If u havent listened to any I highly recommend it

THANK U FOR THE ASK!!!! Always love to talk about whatever so holler if you want!!!

LINKS FOR U:

SONIC OVA:

NIGHT OF THE WEREHOG:

[happi-tree]

(♣️) hands you this while looking at you with my big wet creature eyes

Takes this gently in my hands while also looking at you with my big wet creature eyes and slowly stepping into a puddle with my socks on. Hiya, Rain Puddle <3

You’re my: Mutual, A3B roomie beloved, pianist friend, fic writer extraordinaire, au enthusiast, etc etc How I met you: On here! You reached out to me and asked if I'd like to join a little server called Apartment 3B, and not to be cheesy, but my life immediately got so much brighter <3 Thank you for that! Why I follow you: Literally so much talent in every possible way - visual arts, writing, music, anything and everything!!! But much more than that, you're one of the kindest, funniest, and most genuine people I've ever had the pleasure of talking to, and a phenomenal friend 🥰 Your blog is: A second home. It's like a little ranch house far away in the countryside, and while the drive can be long, the views are more than worth it. There's mountains in the distance and there's countless pictures covering every wall and doilies on the side tables and a pitcher of lemonade in the fridge. All in all, a lovely place to stay! Your URL is: Your sick YouTuber intro, obviously (minus the like-and-subscribe-and-follow-me-on-Patreon!) :]c A random fact I know about you: Absolutely gorgeous singing voice. Outsold every version of "Awakening" by Oh Geeez out there, including the original. This is true and indisputable btw <3 General opinion: Beloved friend and mutual and hypeman and much more! You are a man (gender neutral) of many hats, and you rock every one you wear! A random thought I have: Forever thinking about the state of the textile industry in Amphibia and it's all the fault of the moth fuzz-lined cloak Marcy wears in one of your fics <333