#but the me who is me isn't your friend

[twospiritstooprideful]

gods never let me be me ever again please holy shit

[laurellala-comics]

Fun fact! This was the real tipping point that made Edgeworth run away after AA1, they just couldn't show it on screen because they didn't have the rights to Chappell Roan's music <3

(A spiritual successor to my "Hot to Go" joke from this post. Image description under the cut below)

[Image ID: a four page black and white comic of characters from ace attorney.

The Judge stands solemnly at his podium holding a gavel "Mr. Miles Edgeworth, you are on trial for the murder of blah blah blah..."

A cheerful Maya Fey leans over to Miles Edgeworth, who is staring straight ahead and looking very concerned

Maya: "Psst! Mr. Edgeworth! If you win your trial, can I show you Chappell Roan?

Miles: "What the hell, sure." Internally he thinks "Oh God I am going to jail"

A box saying "later" in the top corner of the next panel marks the passage of time.

The Judge smiles as he says "I declare you... Not Guilty!"

We see a full body shot of Maya dancing excitedly while Miles looks on, emotionless

Maya: YIPPEE omg you're going to LOVE this

Miles internally thinks "oh no, the consequences of my actions.

We see Miles standing in between Phoenix Wright and Maya looking apprehensive. Maya beams in excitement, while Nick puts a reassuring hand on Miles' shoulder

Miles: Alright, so what is this exactly?

Nick: She's a pop musician Maya really likes

Maya: You promised you'd let me show you, and it's legally binding because you said it in a court room!

Miles: That is not how the law works Ms. Fey

Maya: Shh just listen!

We see a panel of Miles' pensive face concentrating as he listens to "Hot to Go". He thinks to himself "hm".

Another panel zoomed in more. His pensive expression has grown more tense/confused as he listens to "Red Wine Supernova". he again thinks to himself "Hm" in a larger thought bubble.

We zoom out again to see Nick, Miles, and Maya standing together again. Miles stares forward blankly, eyebrows raised. Maya excitedly leans in.

Maya: Ok, that's her whole discography. So! What did you think?

Nick looks at him, waiting for his response

We get a panel of Miles, looking bewildered. He starts to speak "I..."

We cut again to see the three of them standing together.

Miles: I... don't think I like women?

Miles looks shocked and confused. Nick is bent over laughing, using a hand on Miles's shoulder to support himself. Maya looks outraged and appalled!

Maya: MR. EDGEWORTH! Just because you don' like her musi it doesn't give you an excuse to be sexist!

We see a panel of Miles looking stressed and confused. He leans his head on one of his hands, which messes up his hair, showing how he isn't his normal put together self.

Miles: I should rephrase that. What I mean is, Ms. Roan is clearly VERY assured in her feelings towards women. I was... unaware that anyone felt that strongly. I thought we all viewed these things with a vague sense of distaste and unease but collectively ignored it. Like how we do with climate change.

We zoom out again to see the three of them. Miles stands in the middle looking deeply uncomfortable and lost in thought, vibrating with unease. Nick and Maya exchange deeply concerned glances across from him.

With lingering unease, Miles begins to walk away.

Miles: Well, I should be going then. Goodnight.

Nick hesitantly raises a finger to point out an inaccuracy in that statement

Nick: It's four in the afternoon-

he gets interrupted by Miles who repeats firmly: I said Goodnight

Nick looks in the direction Miles walked off in.

Nick: ...He'll be ok, right?

Maya reassures him: Of cours Nick! I mean, what's the worst that can happen?

Jump cut to a closeup of Nick's hand holding Miles' letter which reads Miles Edgeworth chooses death in all caps. Then, below in smaller font, it says Also femininomenon was really good, thanks.

We see a panel of Nick glaring wordlessly at Maya as he holds the letter in his hand. Maya leans against the wall and looks away, whistling, trying to look innocent to avoid blame.

As a bonus, we also have a page that takes place a year later. Miles and Nick stand talking. Miles looks calmer now, and Nick smiles encouragingly.

Miles: In my time in Europe, I've been examining myself and my approach to law. Ultimately, the most important focus must be justice. We owe it to ourselves and to the people we serve

Nick: Wow, that's really inspiring Edgeworth. And, uh, hows the... the other thing going?

We get a zoomed in panel of Miles glaring menacingly at a suddenly nervous Nick

Jumping out again, Miles turns his back to Nick as he continues to talk

Miles: So as I was saying, justice is truly so important...

Nick nervously rubs the back of his neck wearing an awkward expression as he sweats nervously. He thinks to himself internally "Ooookay then, clearly still working through some things there"

/.End ID]

[buddie-buddie]

Buck drums his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel of his Jeep, his left knee bouncing as he waits out the red light in front of him. His shift ended half an hour ago, but the tension in his shoulders hasn’t budged. He thought the drive across town to Tommy’s would help— windows down, music blaring— but it’s done nothing to quiet the anxiety buzzing beneath his skin.

The light turns green, and Buck presses the gas pedal a little too hard, the Jeep lurching forward. Driving through the quiet, tree-lined streets of Tommy’s neighborhood usually settles him, quiets his mind in the way that only the promise of strong arms and that warm, familiar smile can. But tonight, even the hum of crickets and the soft glow of porch lights can’t soothe the unease twisting in his gut.

He pulls up in front of Tommy’s house and sits for a moment, his hands resting on the wheel. He stares at the front door, watching as a couple of moths flutter around the porch light Tommy always leaves on for him. It’s something so small, yet it hits him right in the chest every time. It makes Buck’s skin flood with warmth, makes those three little words rise in his chest until he can practically taste them on the back of his tongue.

In every other relationship, those words felt like a lifeline— something he had to cling to, something that had to be said and something that had to be heard, just to make sure he wasn’t standing on shaky ground. He found himself constantly waiting for that reassurance, always needing to feel wanted. Even when the words came, they didn’t bring the safe, steady feeling he was so desperate for. Instead, they left him restless, chasing a sense of belonging that slipped through his fingers, no matter how tightly he held on.

It’s different with Tommy.

He doesn’t feel rushed, doesn’t feel pressured. He doesn’t feel like there’s a countdown ticking in the background, waiting for the moment those words will finally fall from his lips or Tommy’s. He’s content to let it be what it is, for as long as it takes.

Because with Tommy, it doesn’t have to be said. He can feel it.

He hears it in the quiet moments that hang between them on slow mornings, when they’re curled up together in bed, limbs tangled beneath the sheets, the world outside forgotten. He feels it when they’re in the car together, when Tommy’s left hand rests on the steering wheel and his right hand settles on Buck’s thigh like it belongs there.

It’s in the small, thoughtful things— like the porch light, glowing softly and guiding him home. It’s in the way Buck’s favorite coffee quietly appeared in Tommy’s cabinets, how his fancy, hard-to-find body wash showed up on the ledge in Tommy’s shower one day.

It’s in the way Tommy leans in close, steadying him when his mind runs too fast, grounding him without a word. How he always remembers the little things— like Buck’s complicated coffee order from the cafe down the street from the loft, or how he always wakes up thirsty in the middle of the night. 

It’s in the glass of water that’s always on the nightstand next to Buck’s side of the bed. It’s in the feel of Tommy’s hand on the small of Buck’s back when they’re out, a touch that says I’m here without needing to say anything at all. How, when Buck has had a hard day, Tommy makes space— quiet, gentle space— for him to just be, without asking for anything in return.

It’s in those little moments, tucked away between heartbeats and breaths, where words aren’t needed. 

Tommy leaves the porch light on. And even if they haven’t said as much yet, it feels like love, all the same. 

Buck leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes for a second, exhaling slowly through his nose. The knot of unease in his chest hasn’t disappeared, not entirely, but it’s loosened just enough for him to get a deep breath and turn the engine off. 

He finally gets out of the car, grabbing his bag from the passenger seat. He walks up the path to the front door, the sound of his boots quiet against the brick. The porch light casts a warm glow over everything, and Buck finds himself smiling, just a little.

Before he can dig out the key Tommy gave him a few weeks ago, the door swings open, and there’s Tommy— hair mussed, barefoot, wearing one of his old threadbare t-shirts that’s too soft for its own good. Buck’s heart unclenches just a little. 

“Did they let you out early for good behavior?” Tommy says by way of greeting, his mouth curling into that little lopsided smirk Buck loves so much. He steps to the side, his back against the open door to let Buck through.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Buck mutters, pausing as he steps inside to meet Tommy’s lips in a soft kiss. While Gerrard didn’t technically let him out early, it was the first time in the last few weeks that he didn’t approach Buck in the last twenty minutes of the shift to saddle him with a ridiculously tedious task–– the kind that takes at least an hour–– and tell him he wasn’t to leave until it was finished. Which meant that Buck actually left the station on time for the first time in the better part of a month. 

“Hi, baby,” Tommy murmurs against Buck’s lips.

Buck exhales, the tension in his chest loosening just a bit as he leans into Tommy, chasing the kiss for a moment longer. His hands come to rest lightly on Tommy’s hips, grounding himself in the familiar feel of his steady, solid warmth.

“Hi,” he whispers back, his voice low and tired. He lingers there, forehead pressed gently against Tommy’s, letting the moment stretch between them. 

Tommy pulls back slightly, his thumb brushing along Buck’s jaw in a way that feels like both a comfort and a promise. “Rough shift?”

“Uh,” Buck toes his sneakers off, leaving them beside the door next to Tommy’s boots. “Weird one,” he says, trying and failing to suppress the weariness that pulls at the corners of his voice.

He lets his bag drop to the floor beside his shoes as Tommy turns to close the door with a quiet click. Buck watches as he locks up and flips the porch light off, a quiet confirmation of Buck’s suspicions that Tommy turns it on for him, a 60-watt beacon guiding him here, guiding him home.

The realization settles deep in Buck’s chest, spreading warmth through him like a slow-burning fire. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of being cared for like this— so subtly, so consistently, without any sort of fanfare or obligation. It’s not something he had to ask for or fight to get. It’s just here, waiting for him.

Buck swallows hard, the tight knot of exhaustion and frustration from his shift loosening just a little more. Tommy catches the look on Buck’s face, his expression softening as he steps back into Buck’s space.

“C’mon,” Tommy murmurs, his hand finding the small of Buck’s back, the same familiar touch that grounds him every time. 

Buck leans into the touch, letting Tommy steer him toward the couch. He slumps onto it, dropping his head into his hands with a low sigh. Tommy sits beside him, close enough that their knees bump, but doesn’t say anything else. He’s good at that— letting the silence sit until Buck is ready to speak.  

“Gerrard hugged me,” Buck blurts out, his hands tugging at his hair. 

Tommy goes still for a second, and then— “He hugged you?” There’s disbelief in his tone, and when Buck lifts his head to meet Tommy’s eyes, he sees that crooked smirk forming again, fighting to stay serious.

“That’s not even the worst part,” Buck mutters, voice tight with frustration. “He— He told me he’s gonna take me ‘under his wing.’” He tears his hand from his hair long enough to make air quotes around Gerrard’s words.

Tommy blinks. Then snorts.  

“Under his wing?” Tommy echoes. “That’s where all the love and joy of life go to die.”  

Buck huffs out a laugh. He leans back against the couch cushions, his hands falling to his lap. “You’re not helping.”  

“I’m not trying to help yet,” Tommy replies, smirking again. He nudges Buck’s knee with his own. “I’m trying to make you laugh so you don’t spiral. Looks like I’m halfway there.”  

Buck shakes his head, but the small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth anyway.  

“Okay, seriously,” Tommy continues, his voice softening. “What happened?”  

Buck sighs, letting his head fall back against the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I– I don’t know. He had us line up at the start of shift. Went down the line and was his… usual self to everyone else. And then he got to me and– and…” Buck’s voice trails off, discomfort curling in his gut as he relives the moment. “He– He told me I saved his life and then he hugged me.” He drags his hands down his face. “And now, suddenly, I’m his pet project.”  

Tommy’s brow furrows. “He really hugged you?”

Buck makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Yeah. A hug. Not, like, a friendly slap on the back, but a full-body, completely awkward, get-in-here-son hug. You should’ve seen everyone else’s faces. I thought Eddie was going to keel over.”  

Tommy lets out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “That’s... something.” He leans back, resting an arm along the top of the couch behind Buck. His fingers slip into Buck’s hair, running through his curls as the silence hangs between them. Buck relaxes into the touch, tipping his head toward Tommy, leaning into the warmth and steadiness of his hand.

“Under his wing,” Buck mutters again, almost to himself. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means you’re officially his new favorite. Congratulations, babe. You’ve leveled up.”

“Oh, yeah. Lucky me,” Buck deadpans, dragging his hands down his face. “Just what I’ve always wanted—mentorship from a guy who makes my skin crawl.”

Tommy lets out a soft chuckle, his fingers still threading gently through Buck’s curls. The silence between them stretches, comfortable but charged, like Tommy is waiting, watching, reading Buck the way he always does. The humor fades from his face, replaced by something softer, more careful. “Okay,” Tommy murmurs after a moment, his fingers brushing lightly along the nape of Buck’s neck. “What’s really going on?”

Buck freezes for a second, caught between wanting to say it and wanting to shove it down. Tommy always has this way of coaxing things out of him without even trying. He approaches him with equal parts gentleness and insistence, like peeling back layers until Buck has no choice but to lay it all bare.

“It’s nothing,” Buck tries, voice thin.

“Evan.” Tommy’s voice is low, steady, patient. His thumb sweeps a slow circle against the back of Buck’s neck. “Talk to me.”

Buck blows out a breath, frustrated more with himself than anything. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair as if it might shake the thoughts loose.

“I don’t even know that I meant to save him,” Buck admits, his voice tight. “I can’t... I can’t tell if I pushed him because I heard the blade, or if I just— snapped.”

Tommy stays quiet for a beat, letting the weight of Buck’s words settle between them. His hand doesn’t leave the back of Buck’s neck, fingers still working in soothing circles. “Maybe it’s both.”

“Both?” Buck glances at him, brow furrowed. 

“Yeah.” Tommy shrugs, his expression steady but kind, his gaze warm with quiet understanding. “You’re not exactly known for your patience, Evan. But that doesn’t mean your instincts aren’t solid. Maybe you snapped, and maybe you also saved his miserable life at the same time. Those things don’t cancel each other out.”  

Buck lets the words sink in, his jaw tightening as he rolls them over in his mind. He exhales slowly, the tight knot in his chest loosening just a bit. “I– I don’t know. I keep thinking, what if– what if it wasn’t instinct? What if it was just... me losing control?”

Tommy’s thumb strokes a slow path along the back of Buck’s neck, and he leans in even closer, their foreheads almost touching. “You’re human,” Tommy says, his voice gentle. “You get angry. You hit your limit. But you wouldn’t have let him die, even if you wanted to knock his teeth out.”

Buck huffs out a wet laugh, shaky but real. “I definitely wanted to knock his teeth out.”

Tommy grins, brushing a kiss against Buck’s temple. “Rightfully so.”

Buck closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself sink into the warmth of Tommy’s presence, the steadiness of his voice, the way his hand stays firm and reassuring on the back of his neck.

“I just don’t want him anywhere near me,” Buck admits, well aware of how petulant and childish he sounds— and yet, he doesn’t care. Something about Tommy makes it easy for Buck to drop the mask he wears everywhere else, to let the frustration and helplessness spill out without fear of judgment. With Tommy, he doesn’t have to be composed or tough all the time; he can just be— messy, tired, and human. Tommy’s presence is like a safety net, one that will catch him no matter how ridiculous he sounds or how tangled his emotions get.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this,” Buck mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“You will,” Tommy says without hesitation. “Keep your head down, lean on all of us who’ve got your back, and wait him out. He's going to burn out or screw up sooner or later. You’ve just gotta outlast him.”  

Buck huffs a tired, bitter laugh. “I’m not good at keeping my head down.”

“I know,” Tommy murmurs, his lips brushing the top of Buck’s hair in a soft, steadying touch. “But you’re good at the important stuff— like saving people. Even assholes who don’t deserve it.”

Buck closes his eyes, leaning into Tommy, the familiar weight of his hand still resting on the back of Buck’s neck. The knot in his chest loosens just a little more, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit under the warmth of Tommy’s words. “Yeah, well... maybe I’m getting tired of being good at that.”

Tommy’s arms tighten around him, pulling Buck closer. “That’s okay, too,” Tommy says simply. His voice is barely louder than a whisper, low and steady and full of quiet, unwavering conviction. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to carry all of it by yourself.”

Buck closes his eyes, sinking deeper into Tommy’s embrace. This time, when those three little words rest on the tip of his tongue, he doesn’t swallow them down. Even though he knows they won’t ever be enough, he can’t think of anywhere better to start. 

“I love you,” Buck whispers, the words slipping out like an exhale, simple and unforced.

For a moment, Tommy stays perfectly still, as if letting the words settle between them. Then, slowly, a smile curves against Buck’s temple. 

Tommy presses a kiss to the top of Buck’s birthmark, soft and reverent. “I love you, too.” 

And just like that, everything feels lighter. Not perfect. Not fixed. But it’s enough.

It’s quiet between them, the kind of silence Buck used to hate. The kind he used to scramble to fill with words, desperate to bridge the gaps. But here, in Tommy’s arms, the silence feels different. It feels easy. It feels safe. 

It feels like home.

also on ao3

[abel-draws]

My faves should meet

[starleska]

psst, hey, fellow selfshippers and lovers of fictional characters!! something i want to share and reassure folks on as a person who gets character crushes super easily: don't be embarrassed by whoever's making your brain light up 🥰💖 i see some lovely folks get really in their head about this. perhaps they've always crushed on a specific kind of character, so when they get one who's a little different, they feel like they can't talk about it. maybe they've touted themselves as having one crush and have been super dedicated that whole time, so feel like it's a betrayal somehow, or makes them less of whichever label (e.g., yume, selfshipper, etc.) they've identified with. i'm here to tell you that's all nonsense!! 💖 this is fandom. you're not an influencer and you don't need to keep up a specific 'brand'!! if you see a character who makes your heart all gushy, don't think up an imaginary critical audience who is going to yell at you for not fixating on the 'right' thing. life's too short to deny yourself happiness 🫂

[garianna]

alright here's my pitch ok:

rory sucks

more specifically rory is a 45 year old mechanical worker brooklyn flirt with no sense of personal space

gary is shy but not immune

aunt arctic is going to blow rory up with her mind

[scoriarose]

The Language of Love

If you are already convinced snakes are incapable of love, this post is not for you. But if you are open to the possibility that maybe they do, and maybe they love us too, this post explores that thought. Perhaps snakes feel it differently, perhaps they feel it the same humans do- though even humans experience love, be it platonic or romantic, differently from individual to individual. Different people also show their love in different ways as well! Yet still even with a divide between species most of us have felt love from our furry and feathered friends. Perhaps our scaly friends are also telling us they love us, we just might not understand.

When I first got my girl Scoria, if I could tell her only one thing it would be, "I love you." When I held her, I wondered if she understood how much I cared about her, and would do anything to protect her. When I pet her, I wondered if she knew how amazing I thought she was and enjoyed spending time with her.

And then I started watching livestreams of wild snakes, and how they act toward each other. (The above still is from Project Rattle Cam!) When the babies see a trusted adult, they slither all over them! How many times had my girl happily slithered all over me going no where in particular? I imagine that my finger petting her soft as a feather was probably quite similar to another snake greeting her in such a way.

Sakura is much more shy, yet wants to form a bond with me. I see it when she fights her fear to vibe with me. Sometimes she'll sit for hours at the edge of her tank nearest me, not wanting to come out, but just be near me.

Snakes like rattlesnakes and garter snakes will vibe peacefully with each other, with baby rattlesnakes sleeping near the adult rattlesnakes they trust to keep them safe.

Perhaps, when our shy snakes sits with us, facing their fears they're saying, "I'm scared, but I want to be closer with you." And maybe when our snakes slither all over us, going nowhere in particular, like their wild counterparts do with each other they're saying, "I'm so happy to see you! You're my favorite to be with!" I wonder if they could tell us one thing it would be "I love you, best friend!" And it's okay, best friend. I love you too, and already know. <3

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Playdate in peril, the homosexual thoughts be upon ye.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[icarusredwings]

What's going on at the X Men Annual Cook out as non black native american. Anyone is allowed to join in with their two cents. Adorablness at the end. <3

SCOTTY MY BROTHA IN CHRIST CHILL

Firstly, Domino wasn't even invited. She was just lucky enough to show up because the universe told her too and just so happened to be delighted to see the nonsense unfolding.

Secondly, let's get one thing straight. Wade is over here, busting it down to Mary Jane Girls and The Emotions, singing word for word.

You really are going to look at this man and tell me he ISN'T folding the second a black mama tells him to settle his ass down? He's sat and silent, ma'am. He's probably gonna say something so stupid and get slapped with a slipper, but you know what? Maybe he'd behave.

Perhaps that's why Ororo can sit him so quickly with a simple word and eyebrow raise. Speaking of which, she's watching Logan very closely on that grill. Them burgers be lookin a little dry Lo... He wouldn't stop complaining until she let him help. And even so, this help is very much supervised. If anything he's bickering that theyre fine and she's very tempted to switch him out with Remy.

Who was, of course, trying to show off to Rouge with his dancing but rouge is too busy comforting Kurt whos currently sat next to the picnic table on the ground crying and lowkey getting possesive over his plate.

"No little german boy! Don't eat those Louisiana baby back ribs, REAL tater salad and collard greens!"

"Oh mein gott.. dis is so gud!" *cries*

Hank is playing corn hole with Morph, who lowkey is about to get slapped because he keeps doing Micheal Jackson impressions. He also keeps cheating at the game 🤨

Just as Rouges turning her freak on. Logan's kicked off the grill and told to go handle the weird dance battle that Wade has started.

"D'Awww but!- but!? Ugh!!" So now here he is, poutily standing at the grill, watching how gently Piotr is holding Kittys hand and is twirling her with a big smile on his face.

Somehow, Out of no where, A cirlce has formed and now all Yukio, Wade, and Rouge is chanting "Go white boy, go white boy, go!"

As Scott is proving just how loose he can get, testing just how streachy these slacks are.

Jeans giggling up a storm, a hand over her mouth as she pushes him away and tells him theres kids near by. Logan is deadpanned, a little disgusted but also impressed. Like who is this man?? Where was the principal?

And there was Jubilee, filming the whole thing for their socials, captioning it "Professor cool" and "We like to have fun here at XUniversity 🕺!"

Nathan has his face in his hands, Bright red, so embarrassed that he's thinking about leaving early.

"DAAAYYMM Your dad is TURNT!"

Both Nathan and Logan blink, staring at him as he runs off.

"...Do you.."

"Nope.."

Neither of them have any clue what's going on, but god Wade is so cute when well socialized and properly exercised.

Somewhere over in a tree, There's two boys sitting on a branch eating various kinds of food, both their hands sticky sith sauce.

"Do they always do this?"

"Nope. Pietro." He puts his hand out.

Putting a napkin around his hand, He takes it with a smirk. "Miles."

"....Wait a second. Do you even go here?"

"Nope. Gonna snitch?"

"...Gimme your sweet potatoes and we'll call it even."

"That's a hard bargain. I like that. Deal."

The boys sit in silence as they exchange food, Watching a scrawny cancer patient trying to force a two left footed lumberjack to dance with him but he's so embaressed that his ears are red and tripping over his own feet.

"W-wade I'm not-"

Soon enough it turns into more of a Waltz. The same Waltz they did at their reception in this very yard.

[skunkes]

that "i wish that being aware of a mindset being ridiculous would make it easier to snap out of it" post hitting hard every single day

[joelscruff]

important psa; if you think you recognize someone from your real life by their selfie on tumblr dot com, don't send them an anonymous message telling them you know them and have seen them around. it's fucking creepy and startling and even if you didn't mean it that way, it comes across as extremely invasive and scary. don't do that. and don't be surprised if you get blocked.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

not to engage in Discourse™️, but i would like to once again remind people that your local dnd actual play show is not a scripted television show that can or should follow the normal rules of narrative flow. this is a collaborative storytelling effort that requires the careful scheduling and coordination of a lot of people. the crown keepers deviation was scheduled before fcg's death. matt couldn't just fuck with all those guests' schedules bc something inconvenient happened just before they were slated to come on. i cannot say for certain, but i'm willing to bet real american dollars that the live show was scheduled and the venue was booked before fcg died too (tho maybe not, i'm not an expert in venue scheduling), but what better place to have the new sam character drop than in a theatre full of your most adoring fans? the most logical time and place to do it? maybe not, idk. but it sure was exciting for everyone watching. not sure when this downfall three-shot was initially scheduled, but there's no way in hell matt and brennan haven't been working on it together for MONTHS, if not even a year. sometimes, things happen when they happen bc that's when you get people in a room together. that's kinda the whole thing about dnd, why so many campaigns fizzle out—scheduling is fucking hard. it wasn't convenient when tal had to miss the session after the huge briarwood dinner fiasco in c1, which was leading directly into the arc that dealt pretty exclusively with his backstory, but that is life! ppl are busy! things happen when they can happen! if you don't like that events and story beats aren't hitting precisely when it would be most narratively satisfying for them to do so, perhaps dnd/ttrpg actual plays aren't for you! sometimes the dice tell the story, and sometimes the google calendar does! that's life!

[i3utterflyeffect]

cursor selkie sc (due to some unlikely plot contrivance) in god with a bag of groceries au would be so funny...bystanders watching god pass by with a bag of groceries, followed by tiny god with a packet of cookies. adorable.

ANON... YOUR MIND..........

[triaelf9]

hey folks who interact with creative works online! just a tiny PSA

If you don't like a character, that's totally fine! If you have a different reading of a situation in a show & have issues with stuff that's going on, that's also fine.

What is NOT fine is to ACTIVELY SEEK OUT fans of the characters you don't like and talk shit about them, the characters they have feelings about, or the content they've posted b/c you, Freddy McHatesalot really needs to tell everyone how much you dislike a...fictional character.

You are totally welcome to consume content in your own space in whatever way you see fit. It is disrespectful of the fandom space to try to drag other people into your space and interact with you if they don't want to. And dunking on a character in writings or art of them is fucking rude as hell to the person who put work into into the creation they made out of some feelings they were having.

Also. side note, it is possible to enjoy a character who is Wrong About Some Things or Isn't Doing The Right Stuff In The Right Situation. Sometimes it's possible to like a character and disagree with them, and shitting on people b/c you can't see what they see in a character is pretty trash garbage and is 90% of why I just make silly little art for me and my own silly feels and hope folks get a chuckle or some enjoyment out of it too.

[gideonisms]

I become 300% more of both a lover and a hater when I'm on my period. just a time of the month when I have strong opinions I would say

[qishylia-adelia]

Lanyan my babygirl,I wish people would treat you more than who they ship you with (when she finally release)