#dipping the toes in irony there

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part one]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: a very sweet story of paige and azzi from best friends to lovers 🥰

a/n: lowkey came up with this on a whim bc yall know how much i love angsty pazzi…probably gonna make this into a short series so lmk if you all want another part :)

word count: 1.4k

masterlist

“Ella said she’s worried about you.”

As Paige hovers over her, propped up by a pillow on one side, Azzi thinks that Ella might not have been as dumb as she’d thought. Here she is, with her best friend, in only a sports bra and sweats so low that they’re barely clinging onto her hips. The best friend in question is leaning on her elbow, one hand splayed across Azzi’s bare abdomen, a smirk on her face as soft strands of blonde hair tickle the younger girl’s face.

Azzi slots her leg in between Paige’s, drawing her impossibly closer. “Why would she ever say that?” She asks teasingly, the corner of her lips tugging up.

Paige’s smirk grows dangerous. Her eyes drag down Azzi’s body, doing a slow perusal of Azzi’s chest. “This doesn’t look close to you?”

Azzi tilts her head, batting her big brown eyes under her full eyelashes. “Who cares? I mean, it’s not like you two are dating or anything.” But knowing Paige’s tendency to hide sensitive topics from her until the last moment, her tone drops. “Are you?”

“No.” Paige laughs. “Just fucking around.” Her hands slide lower down Azzi’s stomach, until her thumb is caressing the dip of her V-line.

Azzi holds her breath, trying to ignore the fire uncurling in her stomach. “Does it mean anything to you?”

“I don’t know.” Paige withdraws her hand, replacing it with her head as she settles on Azzi’s chest with a sigh. The action is so casual, so familiar that it makes Azzi’s heart hurt. Sex with Paige is one thing. Intimacy like this, where she can feel her bare skin against Paige’s, feel Paige’s heartbeat, as they lie together, legs intertwined and breaths in sync? That’s a whole other ballpark.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Paige admits, her voice slightly muffled as she speaks into Azzi’s chest. “She confuses me.”

Azzi almost scoffs out loud at the irony. Paige hs always been hot and cold, flirting with Azzi one moment and giving her a look that Azzi swears is only reserved for her, but chatting it up with another girl at the bar the next. It feels like a constant back and forth with her best friend. Sometimes it feels like Paige has her heart on a pendulum, has been since she was 16, yet lately it’s felt like it’s been ricocheting out of control, the string slowly turning into a thread.

“I think she thinks I’m in love with you or some shit.” Paige has been yapping for the last few minutes as Azzi’s lost herself in her thoughts, but it’s this sentence, thrown out so callously, that freezes her blood. “Which is, like ridiculous, you know?”

Azzi struggles to catch her next breath. But Paige has turned her head and is looking at her now, expecting her to say something, so she forces out a dry laugh. “Yeah,” she mutters. Clearing her throat, she forces herself to steady her voice. “No yeah, that’s crazy.” Azzi is confident - she knows she’s drop dead gorgeous, knows she could mess around with as many guys or girls as she’d want. And she knows full well the effect she has on Paige, how the older girl always goes speechless whenever she’s in that pink lingerie set, unable to keep her hands off her ass even when she’s covered head to toe in an unflattering sweat suit. Yet something about her has never been good enough for Paige, for her to want to call Azzi hers.

Seemingly pleased with her answer, Paige plops back down. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” she says decisively.

Azzi lies there for a second before checking her phone. The only notification she has is from PT. She needs to come earlier than usual tomorrow for another progress test. Azzi swallows. “It’s getting pretty late,” she says.

“What?” Paige checks her own phone. “It’s only ten.”

“I know, but it’s been a long day. My knee hurts.”

Paige’s bright blue eyes round in concern as she quickly gets off her best friend, scrambling to sit criss cross on the bed. “Was I hurting it? Lying on you? Shit, Az, you should’ve told me.”

“No,” Azzi waves her best friend off. “It’s just throbbing. I think I just need to take some meds and sleep.”

Paige frowns. “Okay.” She pads out of the room, returning a few moments later with a bag of frozen peas and Azzi’s pink Stanley. “Here. And I moved the Advil to the top drawer of your bedside table right there.”

“Thank you.”

Paige falters. Usually Azzi asks her to stay, to scratch her back until she falls asleep or just hold her as she grits through the pain. “Do you need anything else?”

Azzi doesn’t even look at her. Sliding on her headphones, she shakes her head.

“Okay.” Azzi ignores the hurt and confusion in Paige’s voice. The blonde wears her heart on her sleeve. “Night.”

“See you.”

Paige turns off the lights and shuts the door, and Azzi feels the darkness like never before.

••

8:15 pm, January 8 2024

P: yooo

P: we talked for like hours and i think we’re going somewhere

P: i think im gonna ask her to be my gf

A: oh shit Paige

A: that’s great

A: happy for you 💗

P: i’ll be over in 20 min

P: have you eaten? i had dinner w ella but i can pick up some food for you if you’re hungry?

A: can’t do movie night tonight P

A: knee’s hurting

A: next week?

P: oh okay

P: i hope it feels better

P: don’t forget to use your compression sleeve

P: i doordashed you some food from chikfila, lmk if you want anything else

A: thanks paige

5:27 am, January 14 2024

A: hey where are you?

5:32 am

A: we gotta leave soon or i’ll be late

5:40 am

A: Paige???

Missed call from Azzi💗

Missed call from Azzi💗

A: nvm i’ll just take an uber

8:15 am

P: shit Azzi

P: i’m so sorry

P: i told aubrey to tell you that i couldn’t take you to rehab but she must’ve forgotten

P: i should’ve just texted you

A: it’s good

A: where you at?

P: impromptu trip to nyc

P: ella wanted to go to the knicks game

A: nice

A: hope you had fun

P: how was rehab?

P: any updates?

1 pm

P: dude look

Attachment: 1 Image

P: reminds me of belarus

P: i remember you were so fucking wasted lmfaoo

5:45 pm

P: are you ghosting me now

P: jk

P: but fr

P: you good??

6:45 pm

A: sorry still at pt

A: there’s an issue with the healing in my tissue or something they said

P: i’ll be there to take you to your next appointment i swear

A: actually i was thinking

A: it’s probably better if i just take an uber from now on

A: it’s a four hour round trip and you’re stuck waiting for me during the appointment too

P: it’s not an inconvenience

P: i like talking to your doctors

P: janelle was just getting to the part where she broke up with her bf

A: paige

A: i overheard ella complaining about it the other day

A: you’re getting up at 5 am every saturday to spend 7 hrs with your ex fwb

A: it’s not fair to either of you guys to take up your time like that

P: well when you word it like that ..

P: but you’re still my best friend

P. and ubers are expensive as hell

P: you’re seriously not gonna let me take you?

A: you’re gonna be thanking me once you realize how nice it is to sleep in on saturdays

P: i like spending time with you more than sleeping

Read 6:58 pm

9:40 pm, January 23 2024

P: hey sorry i meant to stop by yours before ted’s but ella needed to change

P: we’re in the back near the pool tables

9:55 pm

P: you’re coming right?

10:40 pm

A: don’t feel too good

A: i’ll just stay in and watch a movie or smthn

A: go have fun

P: bro

P: don’t be boring

P: u haven’t gone out with us in so long

P: i never even see u anymore

A: you can’t be serious rn

A: drinking with everyone after another win i couldn’t even contribute to is the last fucking thing i wanna do tonight

A: i thought you of all people would understand

A: but apparently not

P: I’m sorry

P: I didn’t mean to say that

5 minutes later

P: I miss you

P: Can I come over right now?

A: it’s fine

A: didn’t mean to snap im just tired

A: you’re with your gf and the team you deserve to celebrate

A: you did great tonight i’m proud of you

A: don’t worry ab me

P: i always worry about you

Read 11 pm

12:40 am

P: dude idk what the fuck happened but you’re so weird all the time now

P: do you hate me

P: am i stupid

P: jk

P: think i took too many shots

P: was tryna keep up with nika

P: i miss youuuuuuu

P: so much

P: i wish you’d let me come over

P: don’t tell ella but i kinda miss how things used to be

P: when we were just fucking around

P: now she’s so uptight ab me and you

P: but it’s whatever

P: shit i’m sorry az

P: i was hella drunk last night lmfao

P: ignore everything i said

Read 11 am

[strawberrysainz]

racing in the street. charles leclerc.

“ it’s a dream that has surpassed many others in both of your lives. to win the monaco grand prix - it had evaded him for many years. this year felt different. ”

charles leclerc x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, suggestive themes.

this is a love letter to his win - years and years in the making. ❤️‍🔥

The first time you had known Charles would win in Monaco one day was when you were both seven, in the back of his dad’s car on the way to a friend’s party.

You had passed Mirabeau, and Charles had pointed out the red and white on the ground as you whizzed past.

“One day if I get to-“

“When,” his father had corrected from the front, and Charles had rolled his eyes playfully.

“-when I get to Formula 1, this is going to be very cool to pass by,”

You had nodded briefly - a seven year old’s attention span could only focus on something abstract for so long - and you had paused. “You can win it, right Cha?”

He had shrugged modestly. It was terribly annoying how modest he had been, even back then.

“You can. You win everything you want to win.” You were certain of this, even so many years ago.

Hervé had laughed loudly and you had blushed crimson.

Charles had smiled then, looking out the window, eyes shining with the hope of it all. The look in his eyes had startled you, one of wisdom only an adult could have.

One day in 2017 Lorenzo called you and Charles had staggered out of the hotel bathroom, face white. He had sat there next to you on the bed.

“I lied.”

“What?”

“I told him a few weeks ago I got to F1. So he would be happy knowing I achieved our dream. And I haven’t.”

Tears burned in your eyes.

He had fallen into your embrace, sobs shaking his whole body.

Standing on the top step in Baku three days later, you had stood there below him, crying, his mother on the phone.

You were eating sushi you’d ordered in at his place a few months later, and he’d had a sneakily happy look on his face the whole day.

“What’s up with you?” You’d said with a mouth full of california roll.

“Sauber is giving me a seat for next year.”

You’d broken a glass jumping up and soy sauce had stained both of your shirts as you screamed.

That first Monaco race day in 2018 had been a magical affair, up until the sixth-last lap, when his brakes had failed, spinning him into Brendan Hartley as they approached the Nouvelle Chicane.

You had winced in the garage, and he’d been dejected when he approached you a few hours afterward.

You’d thought of that day passing Mirabeau when you saw him. “Was it as cool as you thought doing it in F1?” You’d said quietly.

Tears had shone in his eyes. “I got to race it. Dad knew I could race it in F1.”

You had nearly choked months later when he’d told you over a glass of wine dipping your toes in the sea that he’d been called by Ferrari.

Shivers had run through you as you thought of Jules, and of Hervé. All they all had ever wanted.

“You know, your dad would have not been prouder. He would have dragged you to Rampoldi to celebrate.”

“Shall we go?” He had asked, and you’d both made the trip back to Monte-Carlo and when you phoned the restaurant in the back of the Uber, they’d said it was full with a little bit of regret.

But when they’d heard Charles was going to be there - oh, they’d all loved him from the beginning - they’d gotten a table for you both near closing time, when everyone was dispersing.

You’d both laughed and cried over the plates of his dad’s favourite ravioli.

Monaco had felt different in 2019, more eyes on him.

He’d started P15. Then on lap 16 - the irony - his puncture due to contact had called him back to the garage.

Pure grief had decorated his face as he got out of the car, shaking his head. Finding you after the Grand Prix, you saw the light dimming from his eyes and gave him the biggest hug you could.

That night you’d both cycled back to his place and sat all night in his kitchen, the dim light doing little to hide his sadness.

2021 was even worse; he’d had no chance to even start, and this time he was angry.

You hadn’t even seen him and had gone to bed when he called up at 2am, drunk, asking for a lift home.

You had gone in your pajama shorts and glasses, and he had sat in the back seat and asked why he always had worser luck here than anywhere else.

You didn’t really have an answer. “I just know one day it’s going to work out for you,” you said softly.

2022 had been spent in his friend’s apartment, watching from their balcony with a cocktail in hand, watching his girlfriend smile on the television.

You’d watched on as disaster had struck, Ferrari making an awful call, sacrificing his P1 for a measly P4.

You’d seen him two days later, out for breakfast, and he had just sighed. “Fucking stupid,” he’d murmured. “I think we have to accept I might never get this.”

That belief of your seven year old self was still strong, cemented in your soul when you shook your head.

In 2023, he’d just been annoyed at sixth place once he came back from the stewards. You’d left the paddock and he’d just gone home, bidding you a good night. As you walked to your apartment, you’d thought of all the nights as teenagers racing on bicycles in the streets.

Monaco would love him back as much as he did it one day. You knew it - deep down, he knew it too.

Well, Saturday in Monaco this year had felt different. He’d oozed confidence all weekend. And you felt different about him.

After he’d broken up with his girlfriend, all you’d been thinking about was him. He had been making unnecessary trips to see you, inviting you to more races than usual.

It had culminated a few months ago in Miami, where things were just different; he had come on the podium, and you had kissed his cheek when you saw him an hour later. You swore he almost moved his face to meet your lips.

You’d both spent the night partying with Lando, the drinks making you both different, dancing sensually, eyes dark. He had kissed your neck, and you’d both realised what the hell you were doing, moving back.

The next time you saw him you both pretended it had never happened.

You hadn’t seen him again until last Sunday, at your place. He’d come for your birthday dinner, handing you a present and flowers with two kisses to your cheeks. You’d blushed amongst all your friends, champagne flowing.

On Wednesday night after a long day of press, he’d come over again. “I have a feeling about the race this year.” You nodded, silently inviting him to expand.

“It feels different. Like I can definitely do it.”

You smiled. “I know you can do it. And you’ve been really strong this year.”

“I was cycling last month through Mirabeau and I really remembered one day when we were walking around there or driving when we were young and you told me you knew I could win.”

“It was when we were driving with your dad.” He’d let out a little sigh.

“I can do it this year for him. And me and Jules and you.”

You’d gotten emotional all of sudden. “I know you can do it, Cha. I’ve always known.”

He hugged you, his body soft and warm against yours in the dark room. You’d wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

Well, he’d got on pole on Saturday, reinforcing his determination and confidence. You’d seen how calm and collected he looked and it had been noticed by nearly everyone. You’d given him a fist bump and he’d grabbed you, hugging you, the smell of his sweat a testament to how badly he wanted it.

You’d gone home after a dinner with the Leclercs (minus him, he had sponsorship engagements to fulfill) and there was the quiet knowledge amongst all of them that this was the year.

Your mom had phoned on Sunday morning, and you spoke about your lives, then about Charles. “I hope he knows how loved he is by all of us. And I know Hervé and Jules are watching on today with the utmost pride.”

You nodded. “I think he does know, mama.”

You had picked out a red dress, short and flowing to accommodate the welcome heat. As you did your makeup, you thought of all the years that had come before, previous versions of yourself that had wanted him so badly to win.

The entire race you’d had stubborn tears in your eyes, blurring your vision. The last two laps you could barely look, too emotional at the thought of even seeing this happen.

Joris had gently guided you up to look again in the room and you just knew Charles was crying too on that last lap. The thought of the little boy in the car staring out at these streets made you wonder how he must be feeling.

All these years of this dream.

He had crossed the finish line and you had erupted into tears, turning into Lorenzo’s chest to take a breath. Later, you’d seen the camera footage of your teary eyes and the glimmer of hope in them as you looked back.

Then everyone had run down to the podium and you were in the second row, all of his team in the front. You saw him jump in slow motion into the air from his car and saw the joy in his steps.

He had jumped into the roar, and didn’t manage to see you but you could tell he was looking. Then he’d done the post race interview and him talking about his dad made you burst out crying again.

Someone had found you and dragged you to the front of the barrier underneath the podium. You must have looked awful. As he walked to the cool down room he cast a look back and your eyes caught his for a fraction of a second before he disappeared.

You had used the five minutes to take big deep breaths, multiple hands grasping you.

Then he’d walked out onto the podium and you saw how Prince Albert had gripped him like a son, tears in his own eyes. And Charles had held up his flag, full of hopes and dreams.

And then you all sang the anthems and then he was given the trophy and you were taking videos and photos as if in a dream.

He’d not seen you again, scanning, but gave up when the attentions of everyone else were cast on him.

You hadn’t caught sight of him again until you were hanging around in the paddock, wondering. Your phone rang and your heart skipped a beat.

“Hello?”

He was breathless and you couldn’t hear him, really, over the sound of the wind.

“Wh-“

“I’m cycling home…”

You had snorted. “Alone?”

“Yeah.”

You had paused.

“I wanted to just think of all the years and moments I raced and rode these streets and prayed I would win here one day. It felt right.”

You had laughed. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah… meet me at home? Then we go out?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He ended the call. You saw videos of him on TikTok later on the bike on speakerphone and he had grinned as the people drove past him.

You had stopped at your place first, freshening up, and grabbed a bag and a power bank and downed a shot of vodka (to ease the nerves). Putting on heels with the red dress this time, you ordered an Uber to his place. You had used your key to get in and music was blaring when you opened the door. He was shirtless, trying to find an appropriate one.

“Hi,” you smiled.

He had forgotten what he was doing to basically run over and hug you, the force of it nearly knocking you over.

You were in tears again when he pulled away. “Love you,” you whispered, and he smiled. “I’m so proud. I keep thinking of little you.”

“I could never be here without you throughout the years. Never. You have picked me up and glued me back together so many times.”

You let out a small sound of emotion.

“I thought so much of all of you the last laps. I couldn’t see I was so emotional.” He laughed.

“And just all the times you told me you just knew I could do it. And my dad. And Jules. And my mom and brothers. Oh, I want to cry even now!”

You laughed as he ran back to his room to get a shirt.

“But-” he called from the room- “now we have to party like crazy!”

The next morning, you woke up at Arthur’s apartment with a pounding headache and a few missed calls and texts.

Charles 🕺 4:37

Let me know if you got back okay?

Charles 🕺 5:13

I think I’m going home now

Charles 🕺 10:52

I’m going to come pick you up I think Arthur won’t wake until 3pm

You checked the time. 11:04. Getting up from the couch and groaning, you went to the bathroom and pulled your hair into a ponytail, trying to wipe the makeup and finding a disposable toothbrush in his drawer to brush your teeth and the stale smell of tequila away.

You heard his car horn outside and you pulled on your heels that had been thrown on the ground a few meters from the couch. Leaving and letting the door close quietly you walked down the stairs, wincing at every loud noise your high heels made.

He was in his car and thank God there was no one around because you looked crazy. “Hiii,” you said, and he handed you a pair of sunglasses you thought you lost (but clearly just left in his car).

“How’s the race winner doing?” You said, and slid into the seat.

“Incredible,” he said dramatically and his voice was raspy, nearly gone. You laughed and then grasped your head.

Coming out of your bedroom with your hair wrapped in a towel and a crop top and sweatpants, he was making coffee for you both. Finding leftover pasta from Saturday night that Pascale had sent you home with, you heated it up and offered him some. He shook his head.

When you turned around from the microwave with the pasta in hand, he kissed you.

Your eyes widened. He set down the pasta, not breaking the kiss, and hoisted you onto the kitchen counter. You let him open you up, your body leaning into his. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his hand rested underneath your shirt.

“You make me feel so lucky,” he whispered.

Your mouth fell open slightly. “Well, you deserve all of it.”

He did. He did.

omg i just started crying over this stupid fic for the third time. i feel like this encompasses all i feel for him. i hope you feel it. ❤️‍🔥

[electricalhuzzah]

One day I will find more Billford friends and stop annoying you *but* I was rereading Chapter 8 and just. The Stan and Bill interaction was so chef’s kiss. I need them to enter their besties era and Ford to be in the back like “um? Stop stealing my man Stanley wtf?"

(Also every time Dipper says “at least I have Ford!” and we jump cut to Billford *railing* I cackle. It’s a joke that never gets old)

my brother in christ in case you can’t tell by the entire fanfic i wrote i am a big billford yapper. ALWAYS annoy me with billford.

that being said, ford SO WOULD. i think ford probably views stan as the rugged-charmer-ladies-man type, and the conversation would probably go something to the effect of “stanley. you could have any lady, gent, or individual in between whom you so desired. let me have this ONE THING. just the ONE.” and stan would be like “ignoring the fact that you’re insane. i don’t want your ugly reincarnated boyfriend. he’s all yours, all 180 degrees of ‘im.”

^ in this conversation ford has like bloodshot eyes from tear suppression and is shaking. y’all remember that part in tbob when fords like “where was [bill]?? off INSPIRING some other scientist???” hes so insecure and jealous and im so excited to explore that.

I AM SO GLAD EVERYONE ELSE FINDS THE DIPPER THING FUCKING HILARIOUS BC EVERY TIME I WRITE IT I GIGGLE A LIL TO MYSELF LIKE “hehe dramatic irony >:)”

pertaining to this, may or may not be working on a (very very short) animatic about dipper being a bill hater. im slowly dipping my toes back into the art waters after doing no drawin whatsoever for a while.

OK THANK YOU FOR ALL UR INTERACTION HOME BRO ‼️‼️ UR SO FUCKIN COOL

[chris-continues]

Only for me..

A Jennifer’s Body AU w/ Uncanny Vash

SUMMARY: in which Vash is your part demon boyfriend.. who has a rather interesting diet.

TW: mentions of murder, corpses, cannibalism, blood, light gore, slightly suggestive (you kiss and get close to one another w/ some suggestive touches), mentions of not eating (nothing too heavy)

NOTES: Ray said smth along the lines of “I need to kiss him when he’s covered in blood” and I felt that. Jennifer’s body is one of my fav movies ever (and while I was watching it w Ray and a few other friends he was like “…so uncanny vash-“ AND I WAS LIKE “YES.”) so take this thingy hehe

TAGS: @h4venpha @vashfantasy @lune010 @captaintweet @millionsvash @beanibon

“..I hate that you have to- to lure them in like this.” You were well aware of how beautiful and captivating your boyfriend was, charisma rolling off of him in waves.

He was inhuman.

“..I know mayfly, I’m sorry..” his gaze drifted towards the ground, swinging the corpse around like a rag doll sheepishly. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” Blood covered him, head to toe, splattered across his cheeks and even the lens of his glasses.

You stood, arms crossed on one side of the room pouting. “Mm.. ok.” Your foot tapped on the ground of the abandoned house- you’d made it habit to meet with him afterwards, terrified at first but soon warming up to it. He didn’t enjoy it either.

There were days you had to convince him to find food. Starving himself, for the sake of others- which was selfless, and perhaps it wasn’t morally correct of you to cast others aside but you needed him alive. So you compromised. He wouldn’t do this alone. He was eternally grateful for that, really. He much preferred his other, more temporary way of feeding. When the.. incubi part of him gave way to you. He’d never bring himself to hurt you- god no! But you seemed to have your own allure, feeding him in waves. In some irony, you were the dessert he fed from after a meal from one unfortunate victim.

He gently lays the body down on the couch for others to discover later, making his way toward you. His pupils contract unnaturally, stomach probably making room for it’s assumed second course now. A rumble erupts from his stomach, hungry, depraved, even. It's a bit scary to you still, even more so when you'd first found out about his little secret. That the likable tennis nerd in your bio class was secretly a serial killer- not by choice. He was such a sweetheart, despite the feral look glinting in his eyes he held you tenderly against the walls of the rickety house at the edge of town.

"..'m only yours.." He murmured against your neck, nipping gently. His jaw creaked, bones rearranging from the previous tearing of flesh with his teeth. "All mine.." You smiled into his hair, stained a slight pink. "Mm, you gotta shower." Your hand found its way into the strands, ruffling his hair affectionately. The hum he released was rather otherwordly in pitch, content chirps growing closer and closer until-

"Clean your mouth first, uh uh."

Of course you made him use mouthwash before kissing you, duh. Cross contamination was a thing. You truly wonder if that applied to your situation, however either way you weren't too fond of the idea of having his leftovers between your teeth.

He whined, tossing his head back and rummaging throughout his pockets. "Fine, fine..." a cute pout settled on his lips. One you couldn't wait to kiss off. "Hurry up.." you tapped your foot impatiently, "Had to wait so long earlier." "You act like you're the one getting fed!" Ah, the irony. Amusement dripped from his tone as he hurriedly spat the mouthwash out the half opened window. "I'm a very lucky person to be feeding you. Now c'mere." You slung your arms over his shoulders once more, his neck craning down as he dipped you playfully, pressing you to the wall once again. His lips met yours briefly- a warning for what was to come- before he groaned. The demon in him had yet to be satiated.

Vash craved you immensely, and would go to extreme lengths to truly prove it to you. So dutiful. Devoted to you.

Warmth emanated from him, as if he were a heated, weighted blanket. Everything about him made your head spin- although that may be apart of his quite literal otherwordly charm and aphrodisiac. Well, that, and the fact you were head over heels in love with him. "Love you mayfly," he groaned, "Only you. 'm sorry, 'm so sorry.." He whimpered, message to you broken between kisses. Oh god, he was so sweet.

"You're the only one for me." He continued, pressing into you further. His breath mixed with your own, his arms encasing you. He was your safe haven, yours. And he'd do anything for you. Blood trickled onto your shirt, chest pressed to his front. Crimson tinged every article of clothing he wore when feeding, you both had to make routine trips to the thrift store in town nowadays. It made for cute dates out, though, so you weren't complaining. "Love you too.." You breathed out, barely able to get a word out as he kissed you deeper, and deeper, inhuman tongue plunging into your mouth. He seemed to always crave more of you, the taste of you intoxicating. He hummed, hands rubbing up and down your biceps before tightening around you once more. Everything about him was exhilarating, always giving you so much it almost felt overwhelming in the best possible way. A coppery taste still made its way into your mouth, but you'd grown to not mind the taste. Not if it was Vash, the boy who'd cherish you through and through. Who would bite at your bottom lip, practically devouring you with such need as he continued to cling to you in full.

You'd love him through and through, making this all work. You had so much love to give him, pressing back against him in an attempt to match his feverish need in your kiss.

He was yours. And in return? You were his, unapologetically, unconditionally, and that would remain unchanging.

[ghostmartyr]

I don’t really think Ymir went back on anything her arc built up to, I think her goal was to live a life that she could be proud of, and by saving r&b she followed her principles. It’s tragic but that’s the irony of Ymir, she always wanted to be selfish but couldn’t escape her nature of being a good person. Historia on the other hand…yeah her arc is fucking infuriating

I'm breaking my own commitment to not dip my toes into this, because impulse control what impulse control.

Here's my starting point problem with that:

Ymir does not save Reiner and Bertolt.

At best, her actions get them a pat on the head by their oppressors. They continue to live out being child soldiers for a society that considers them devils. Bertolt dies in their service almost immediately after. Reiner is a suicidal mess whose will to live is bound up in other child soldiers he's responsible for.

No one is saved.

That's a fair tragedy, with someone trying to repay a debt only for it to amount to nothing because the cycles they're all caught up in are larger than any one personal act of altruism. Even trying to good can't undo the harm of systemic cruelty. It's a valid plot for a story like this.

Except Ymir is one of the few characters who realizes how fucked the world is. She's a better person than she ever wants to be, because being good gets you jack shit and she knows that -- but she can't help but lend people the hand she was never given. On its face, that makes her a good candidate for a hopeless sacrifice that saves no one.

The core problem is that, again, Ymir knows how fucked the world is.

You’re going to kill yourself, the ultimate act of submission. Is that how much you want to please the people who treated you like a nuisance?! Ymir, Chapter 40

Ymir kills herself for Reiner and Bertolt, providing the people who left her with decades of living a nightmare a weapon.

Doing stupid shit to help Reiner and Bertolt out tracks. If they hadn't shown up, she'd still be in that nightmare, and she killed their friend.

But she specifically kills herself in a way that aids people who violated her, who will continue to abuse Reiner and Bertolt, and continue to launch offensives that put Historia's life at risk. Ymir has the knowledge to understand that she's not saving anyone from anything here.

There are many potential layers of story that could have been approached with this, but the bottom line for me is that Ymir's most solid convictions are all ignored when she goes with Reiner and Bertolt. There are facets you can examine to make it make sense, just as there are all kinds of things you can examine with Historia's reversal of her arc. It's always a tragedy when someone fails their principles so stunningly. It's the Bad End coming as was dreaded.

It's just that the story does not examine any of it. It's taken as a given that Ymir goes through with this, leaving us with Ymir killing herself for people who hate her in order to give Reiner and Bertolt a temporary reprieve that only condemns them to a familiar suffering.

Even then, you could make a case for characters doing stupid things if the story at least admitted that it was a ridiculously bad idea on all fronts. Our protagonist's arc is built on that. Eren makes bad choice after bad choice after bad choice and every character in his vicinity rightly goes "what." Characters can utterly fail the best of themselves and it can still be a compelling story.

With Ymir, there simply is no story. She chooses to die, and it's taken as inevitable that a character who is so anti-fate and so anti-dickheads would die in a way that benefits a "fate" she rejected and a bunch of dickheads.

Ymir kills herself, and it makes Marley happy and saves no one. She knows enough about the world to understand that.

I do not personally think that the story should get credit for tragic irony that amounts to "what if everything went to hell" without actually bothering to come up with a why for everything going to hell.

Eren's a tragic disaster; Ymir's a dropped thread.

[a-random-fandom-friend]

As a french person who followed Antoine Daniel since his youtube carreer in 2012 and has seen him play with Etoile and Baghera for several years,but is only now dipping their toes into qsmp... it's fascinating how international people, who only know him from qsmp, percieve these three.

Like. It... both endears and frustrates me how much people take them literally. Those people (especially Etoiles and Antoine, ESPECIALLY Antoine) use so much sarcasm and irony that it's impossible to take anything they say seriously. They use haters arguments against them that they've read on twitter as memes in everyday conversation (like Antoine "Je suis vieux" or Etoiles "It's only pixels, bro"), enought that it becomes a speech pattern, enough that breaking that pattern becomes funny (for example, Antoine responding to etoiles in a "fun fact" voice : "Ah, not for me ! If i die in game i die irl. Yeah it's a condition, i have not told you before because i didnt want people to take advantage of that" and then just continuing doing whatever he was doing). It's fun and exhausting all at once, like when a friend always does a bad pun when you say a specific world , or keeps up a bit so past its relevency that "doing the bit" becomes in itself a bit.

Saying insane shit (because of five levels of sarcasm) with a straight face is their bit. Antoine even keeps it up when people in his chat ask 'is this a bit', and usually adds one more layer of sarcasm. He doesnt care. And seeing people care SO MUCH about what he says is so frustrating but so endearing.

Anyway keep up the good work you qsmp lore digger. With a bit of luck it will some day loop back to being unintentionnally reavealing,

[ashfae]

A03 meme

A03 meme time, except I've been writing and posting fanfic to the internet since before A03. And before fanfiction.net. And before Geocities. And before the World Wide Web. There's fic of mine with ASCII doodle illustrations somewhere out there where the wild BBSes once roamed…I was tagged by @moveslikebucky; thanks Buckie, here goes. <3

how many works do you have on Ao3? 54. (and yes if we added in all the fanfic outside of A03 it'd be a larger number but I can't be bothered to consolidate it all)

what’s your total Ao3 word count? 341,744, which is better than I was expecting, yay.

what fandoms do you write for? At the moment it's just Good Omens, but there's been a lot of Dragon Age, some Lord of the Rings, and way back in the day there was Harry Potter and a lot of anime. I am toying with dipping my toe back in LotR, there's a thing I wrote ages ago that's entirely finished and just needs editing and I've been meaning to get it out there for ages. It's long though, so that'd be a commitment.

what are your top five fics by kudos? What Custom Strictly Divided (507) Like an Echo Far Away (415) (this one wasn't in the top five last week when I first started writing this post! So I think @mielpetite gets all the credit for boosting it with amazing fanart) What Comes From Your Hand (402) Give Me Your Illusions (346) Nightswimming (307)

do you respond to comments? Yep! Sometimes just with "Thanks!" or hearts but I try to. Though they get away from me sometimes and then I do a bunch all at once.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Definitely Warmaiden, which is my "What if Éowyn got the One Ring?" fic, from an idea that occurred to me one day and wouldn't leave. Clearly that doesn't end well for her, or anyone. From GO fandom it's probably Silent Night, which I still want to expand into a larger fic to be a set with Give Me Your Illusions. Someday, someday.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of them! But for the happiest I'd say Swan Lake Revised, cowritten with @mostlyjustgoose. And if we ever get part three up it'll be even more happy. And smutty. Very smutty.

Do you get hate on fics? Very rarely. I've been lucky there.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Oh here's the irony. I used to do a lot a lot a LOT of online roleplaying and mygod I wrote smut. So much. So. Much. I don't do as much rp these days but even so the threads I have going are still frequently pure filth. But in fic, much less so, even though I want to. Why it all gets channeled into rp and not as much into my fanfic I do not know. Honestly I want to write a lot more of it. Smut forever!!

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Sometimes, when I have a good idea. But the craziest one I ever wrote, ages ago, was a pure crackfic for my 21st birthday, where I imagined a bizarre party for myself in which LOADS of fictional characters (mostly from anime) showed up so I could make them interact in wacky ways. It was utterly ridiculous but amused me. Making all the characters voiced by Megumi "She's Everywhere!!" Hayashabara meet up and wonder why they all sound alike, for example. Also I wish I'd written an Artemis Fowl breaks into Gringotts to rob it fic before I became so disillusioned with both Artemis Fowl and Harry Potter. Heigh ho.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yep. It was impressive how lazy the person was about it too, they stole all the html as well. Someone brought it to my attention pretty quickly.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Twice, yes. Into Portuguese, as I remember.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Hi @mostlyjustgoose, I adore you, please co-write things with me forever. <3 Our baby is Unusual Strings, a reverse omens AU love story, and it's SO. CLOSE. to being done. So close. Aughhhh. I love our angel!Crowley and demon!Aziraphale so, so much.

What’s your all time favorite ship? Aziraphale and Crowley, Faramir and Éowyn, Hiccup and Astrid. Don't make me choose between those three, my head will explode.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Shut up shut up I will finish all of them ALL OF THEM I SAY…sigh. Beauty and the Battousai. Though I should probably mention A Demon in the Dreaming and The Queen Bee. (they're plotted and outlined and parts are written aaahhh come on ADHD meds help me out here)

What are your writing strengths? Dialogue, definitely. I'm good at putting humour into things. Got compared to Patricia Wrede once and honestly, life goal achieved there. I can do memorable phrases and descriptions and edit well.

What are your writing weaknesses? What is plot. Why does it hate me. Why are my original characters one-dimensional cardboard. What is worldbuilding and how do I do it without getting stalled into paralysis. Baaaah. This is why my original novel will never be finished and I keep running back to fanfic instead.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Hoo boy contentious subject! I love reading it so long as it's translated somewhere in the footnotes, I'd be happy to write it if I knew other languages, the question of whether it should be italicized or not has apparently Officially been settled by The Publishing Industry on the side of Not.

First fandom you wrote for? Oh gosh I think it was the Dragonlance books by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. The first that ever got shown to other people was Ranma 1/2 though.

Favorite fic you’ve written? It's still What Custom Strictly Divided. Though Unusual Strings comes very close.

Gaaah I'm always worried I'll tag people who don't want to be tagged so, erk, um...if they're willing, @racketghost, @indieninja92, and @holycatsandrabbits! And you, if you're reading and want to do this, please say I tagged you. I meant to really, honest. ;)

[heloflor]

You know, considering that new untitled Peach game is a bit like Luigi’s Mansion with how it puts a Mario character in a new environment with new game mechanics, I’m kinda hoping Peach gets her own original villain the same way Luigi was given King Boo.

Hell, with Super Mario RPG coming back, which has many original characters, and with the characters from the Peach teaser being something other than Toads, it seems Nintendo might be willing to dip their toes into original characters again. So what’s better to start making new characters than by giving Peach her own bad guy ! Also the new Mario Bros game has some new characters as well from the looks of it, so again, it’s possible !

And don’t get me wrong, Bowser is absolutely iconic and I do enjoy the irony of Peach battling against him. But with this game not being a platformer, and again taking into consideration Luigi’s Mansion, it would be a fun change of pace for Peach to have a new villain in her own series (god I hope this game becomes a series of several games!!!). Plus, it seems Peach will be more and more playable in mainline games, meaning more Bowser beat-up from her anyways.

And yes, part of me wants that new villain to be a female character as it's been forever since Mario games has had one and I am very much aware of how people would go crazy over it for the shipping.

(Also going back to Bowser, it’s more of a “me” thing but I always found it slightly weird to see Bowser attack Peach, since he’s supposed to be in love with her (Paper Mario games prove it well) and in all the games she gets captured, there are no indications he ever raises a hand on her. Hell in Odyssey he’s very gentle when putting Tiara on Peach’s head. Also Peach is never particularly afraid of him despite how horrible he can be, which implies he doesn’t physically hurt her.

Fun fact : this is why I headcanon Super Princess Peach as taking place very soon after Super Paper Mario, since the two of them would have just spent weeks working together and getting along. So it would work for Bowser to lose his shit upon getting rejected yet again “despite doing everything right” and thus be willing to fight her. As for 3d World, there’s three other people Bowser can focus on to avoid hurting her)

[kradogsrats]

I started writing a much too long post about the new short story and the choice to convey plot-relevant information in external media that (to be extremely real) only the people most embedded in the fandom are ever going to encounter, but really it's like

I have mixed feelings about it in general, because on the one hand, I deeply enjoy picking this shit apart. The payoff of comparing the disparate and evolving accounts of how magic came to humanity has literally been more satisfying to me than anything else I have done academically or professionally in my life.

I have also personally witnessed it drive people away from trying out the series, because "there's also important stuff that's revealed only in the spinoff comics or the online short stories, and then there's the RPG sourcebook" is understandably a fucking insane ask for someone dipping their toes into a new fandom. I saw this in Star Wars fandom a lot, too—people literally afraid to engage because there's so fucking much spinoff content that they would never be able to catch up. The thing is, for Star Wars, I can say with 100% confidence that you do not have to have read a single fucking thing, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a) a goddamn liar and b) not someone you want to hang out with. For TDP, I truly... can't. I can't say that. So I can't ask people to get into this content speculatively because the barrier to entry is honestly too steep.

Like, on some level what they are doing only works because they can afford to essentially cater to the deepest fans. They're not worried about creating the "TDP Media Universe" that is simultaneously hooked in to deepfan obsession and instantly accessible to new viewers from any new release entry point, and therefore simultaneously overcomplicated and shallow.

And while that really speaks to the craft that has gone into this series, that it's written tightly enough to deliver this rich multimedia experience, it's also on some level a reminder of just how ephemeral it is—nothing on the internet lasts, and the Reflections stories will one day be irretrievable. Which would be sad enough if it didn't also remind me that this is a fucking Netflix show, so it's not an unlikely outcome that after s7 finishes it may not even be a year before you literally can't watch it ever again. Even if it hangs around, how long? Five years, maybe, after the finale until half of this content is no longer accessible to new fans, because of its format? The irony that we will all have our physical copies of TTM when the material it supports is long-gone is... hm.

It's just... a real choice, that they've made.

[trash-raccrow]

Not exactly how I wanted to christen this account, but I'm going to look back on this day as a watershed moment. I ignored and excused so much of what made me uncomfortable in his work because I bought into the persona, completely and comprehensively. The fact that these poor women had to go to terfs, to have their story exploited for shock value, just to be heard, is such a compounding tragedy to the horror of the abuse.

Thank you to Shapiro for her empathetic and thorough reporting. I hope this article is shared in every corner of every industry he's crawled into. I hope everyone he respects turns away from him in horror and disgust. Since I severely doubt he'll ever see criminal charges, I hope his enduring legacy is that everything he's ever written will be viewed through the lens of a serial rapist and abuser.

And this is the end of my parasocial experiment. I dipped my toe in and absolutely no thank you. I'll take the art and the art alone, and if I find out the artist is a sack of sh*t in human form at least I won't feel personally gutted over it. I don't know if it's sick karma or a cruel irony, but Gaiman seems to have singlehandedly slaughtered the innocence of every person he once inspired. Put THAT on his tombstone.

If the paywall comes up, try to put the link into this: https://www.removepaywall.com

Posting in the spirit of not staying quiet about this.

I strongly suggest you read this—all of it, because it’s long. Lila Shapiro is the journalist who wrote the investigation into Joss Whedon btw and won an award for it, so maybe people can finally stop making this all about Tortoise Media.

[theritualofourexistence]

01/09/2025: Reflections

It feels a little bit like I lived an entire lifetime in 2024. I’m maybe too aware of a handful of things, that, if I were less aware of, I would probably be more comfortable—happier. 

I’m too aware of the political state of our country and the risks it poses to me, to my family and friends, to my clients, to us all. I’m too aware of how long it takes my body to heal even the smallest bruises and scrapes. I’m too aware of the damage we’re causing the planet—see out-of-season devastating fires on the West Coast at the same time as 12 inches of snow in Virginia. I’m too aware of every twitch and twinge in my body; too aware of my heart beat; too aware of every single pin or needle—sniffle—cough. I’m too aware of how my shirts pull tight across my belly and upper arms and too aware of the stretching seams in my pajama pants. I’m too aware that time feels faster the older you get. I am, in a lot of ways, too aware of things beyond my control. Too aware of the weird and wild irony of being allergic to anti-inflammatory medications *and* being diagnosed with a chronic inflammatory disease. Too aware of the distance between me and Memphis, Tennessee. Too aware of never feeling like I get enough time with the people I love most. Too aware of how much money it costs to live—to try and live comfortably. Too aware of the minefield of burdens me and my existence places upon others. 

Being too aware is part of my brain chemistry, and in many ways, it has served me well. It has helped me stay organized, it has helped me navigate emergencies, it has helped me feel prepared. And I have done a lot of work to learn how to live with this part of myself. 

These days I find myself really, extremely grateful for that work that I’ve done. It’s impossible to imagine how 2015-Veronica would be navigating the world we face today. Not that this is going particularly smoothly, but I think *that* would be a whole lot messier. 

In 2024 I battled to find an MS treatment that my body could tolerate. I fought with my insurance, argued with providers, underwent trips to the ER and testing and so many blood draws that the only good vein in my arm is now calloused. But—and this is a big but—for now, it seems that I’ve landed on a combination of things that I can tolerate that are (again—for now) managing my disease progression and daily symptoms. 

I have marveled at my brother and his wife’s journey towards parenthood. I got time with my best friends and their incredible, beautiful, smart, sassy babies. I spent wonderful evenings on the couch with my mom and the cats watching football or some goofy show about the unquestionable overlap between historical achievements and alien intervention. I reveled in the ocean’s persistent ability to calm my soul. I spent couch dates with my partner as we laughed together over dinner. I dipped my toes back into performing with a deeply meaningful staged reading. I got to do a job, really multiple jobs, that I absolutely love with people I am honored to work beside. I saw (and met!) some of my favorite actors on a whirlwind trip to Canada with the bestie. I listened to so many good, powerful audiobooks. I ate as many Culver’s cheese curds and root beer milkshakes as I could fit into one trip through Kentucky. I saw Wicked, also with the bestie, to celebrate twenty years of singing those songs together. I spent too much money on Christmas gifts. I got tattooed by an artist I have loved and followed for a long time. I saw some incredible live music and theater with my dad.

I would never imply that this year didn’t have struggles. I ran into probably my lowest mental health point in the last decade in February after my failed infusion. But, as I continue to be comforted by as I reflect on each year that passes, the good far, far outweighs the bad. It’s so easy to look back on the big challenges and gloss over all the good things because yes, for me, the good things are often a little smaller. But those flashes of sunshine really do add up in just the most magical of ways when you take the time to truly see and value them. Every laugh between February and the end of the year put me one step further away from my lowest low. And gosh, there have been so many laughs. 

One of my all time favorite moments in a book comes when Syrio Forel is teaching Arya Stark how to use a sword. He counsels her in ways that extend well beyond weapons use and often poses the question, “What do we say to the god of Death?” 

The answer? “Not today.”

Nine years ago I got a tattoo representing this exchange in order to carry a permanent reminder of it with me. Even when the ship seems like it’s sinking, what do we say to the god of Death? Not today. 

I know this may seem silly to some of you, but these words have saved my life and carrying them with me everywhere is a significant comfort, even almost a decade later.

In my life, I’ve learned many (often involuntary) lessons about courage. Many of my favorite characters in my favorite stories show courage in the face of impossible odds. I will always draw my own courage from them, and this tattoo is one of many that serves as a reminder to keep fighting. 

The past few years have taught me a really critical variation on those lessons as well: it is absolutely necessary that we don’t take life too seriously. Be goofy. Be a silly goose. Yes, be courageous. But be an absolute ding dong too. Laughter is the fuel that keeps me going these days. In fact, I find courage is much easier to summon the more I let myself find wonder and humor in the world around me. I honor this with my tattoo of the year—which offers a slightly different albeit equally valuable response to the god of Death. 

What do we say to the god of Death? In 2025, we say, “that’s my purse, I don’t know you!”

In 2025, I look forward to more opportunities to experience wonder, to feel all the big feelings, to fight with and for the queer community, to revel in gratitude, to fill my life with color, and to laugh as loud and as often as I can. 

[musicarenagh]

"No Name Lane": Rj Bacon's Smooth Jazz Journey Does Rj Bacon swim? That’s the question I keep asking myself as “No Name Lane” trickles coolly from my speakers like condensation down the side of a vintage cocktail glass, because this album feels like it was recorded at the bottom of an aquarium. Not in a bad way—I’m talking about the way sound gently wraps around you in that slick, enveloping way only bluesy jazz can. There’s liquid in the bones of this album, and not just because it's "dry martini" music. Irony, huh? Dry and wet all at once. I guess that's jazz for you. https://open.spotify.com/album/03LSus5lbOvAozsjkunrI5?si=tQHZmPrETyG-5Y9feWnWkw This is Bacon’s eighth album, though you'd swear he’s been gliding through late-night lounges since the dawn of vinyl grooves. There’s that ease about it all, as if it could play forever in the background of your thoughts—or just as easily crawl into the foreground when you least expect it, stealing your attention with a sly riff. Could you taste a saxophone solo? Maybe you can here. It’s got that classic live jazz club feeling—like at any moment a clumsy patron might knock over a bar stool and make the band chuckle mid-note. Yet it's all studio-polished in Bacon’s Sydney cocoon, dating right back from 2023 and 2024, though it grooves decades back. [caption id="attachment_57083" align="alignnone" width="1284"] "No Name Lane": Rj Bacon's Smooth Jazz Journey[/caption] Unlike so many who dip a toe into the jazz/blues pool, Bacon gets it. The smokiness, the shuffle, the conversation between instruments. This isn't posturing—as Australian filmmakers turned musicians go, Bacon wears it comfortably. The album doesn’t screech, it doesn’t scream—it savors. Restraint is an art, and boy, does “No Name Lane” know it. Could it be too smooth, too cool? It flirts with the edges of slickness. But there’s the catch: the subtle grit, a sneaky slide guitar with sweaty palms that reminds you even the smoothest road collects dust. Final thought? It’s the soundtrack to your next late-night existential crisis. Follow Rj Bacon on Website, Facebook, Bandcamp, and Instagram.

[irkenarcadia]

Greetings!

Behold! Ouroboros! He belongs to my OC Csar (my old IZ OC from way back when, but was “Tallest Czar”…voming my insides out from memory cringe)…but he is also perfect as an introductory post if you understand the symbolism…

I like to dabble in doodles…my imagination is a speshul place.

Thanks for @khaliarart for directing me to the font!

TLDR: A pinned post.

Tags:

My Art

Irken Arcadia AU

More long winded babbling under the cut.

I draw crazy stuff and am currently becoming invested in my old Love of IZ and Irkens…but I also just love Aliens and Monsters and Dark Fantasy and stuff I can’t post here anymore. Sad face emoji.(Yes, I DID write that out…🙃)

My style is wild and wacky. I’ve been told it’s feral; I just like exaggerated expressions, teeth, claws…other “stuff.” Perfect to mutilate characters with.

I have a lot of characters that span from many other things I used to be into so…they are being transmuted for the Irken Empire I guess. Or whatever horrible manifestation of it I’ve created as my AU…dur dur.

That being said; I’m getting my doodle hand back up and going but probably a lot of sketches and other nonsense because reasons.

I work full time and hide a lot so I’m apologizing ahead of time that I’m not super sociable. I’m old…uh yeah…my excuse.

Been a long while since I’ve used Tumblr at all; let alone bothered to post art so for the time being…here we are.

I’ve become reclusive in my older years, haha…

I’ve recently dipped my toes back into IZ; though mostly the Irkens and their Empire which I’ve morphed into some screwed up AU of mine that crossovers a few of my past story concepts and characters from other fandoms that will blend with my other love which is Philosophy, Depth Psychology and watching the World burn through Decadence. Nietzsche would be proud…

It’s like IZ meets Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” and the Roman Empire but incredibly stupid but also probably really adulterated because I’m terrible. Mirroring the stupid corruption of Humanity is fun and depressing to me.🥲

I’ll probably add more as I go along and post stuff; I know there appears to be a lot of other AU business going on with other folks but I don’t creep that hard and have no idea how the fandom is compared to how it was circa 2001. Ugh I was in highschool then…😬

Was a big fan/part of the IZ fandom when it first aired…the Irony of it returning to me now some 20 years later is hilarious since it played a big part in my art style development with extreme expressions. Big thanks to @khaliarart for popping that balloon in my tired brain but it’s nice to be inspired again. PLEASE STAY INSPIRATION!!

ANYWAY! I’ll be posting my art, my horrible OCs, and other stuff probably…

I will also state if you’ve made it this far; kudos.

Some things:

I don’t do requests. Art trades are tentative but not open right now unless I know you.

Commissions are touchy but I may open them up if I keep at it. I’ll post if so.

I don’t RP. I used to LOVE it but I work full time and live REAL LIFE so it’s something I can’t distract my Self with. RIP

I’d like to think I’m pretty friendly but I’m very aloof; I just put this down honestly just in case I get chatted at and don’t answer. Social Media is a strange beast for me now a days - if you really wanna try and get a hold of me I guess poketh.

And that’s that unless I add more later.

G’day!

[tfunai-acmwo-capstone]

Breakdown Series Complete!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Titan Funai (@funaisfinest)

My breakdown series concludes with me connecting everything I talked about back to my music video. I speak swiftly about the premises of orientation, time, production value, and the algorithm and how it relates back to my passion project.

As I kept making the episodes, I would say I got better and better at making quick, creative decisions so that I could get the videos out in a timely manner. After I wrote the script and collected the reference material to other, more established creators, I entirely made up the flow and locations of recording as I went. I think each video in itself represents a challenge I overcame.

Episode 1:

This episode was me dipping my toes into the game. A bit nervous about what people would think, a little desperate to make everything look good, and overall a strong start. The production feels professional, the jokes are there, and the references are smooth. This episode took me the longest to start because it was the foundation of my series.

Episode 2:

I came into episode 2 thinking, "I need to get out of my room or this series is going to get stale quick." I was most excited for this episode because orientation was something I felt I had the most to say. I had to not only feel comfortable recording in public but also alone. My job has slowly made me more comfortable shooting video in public, but I've always had a team or another to make it feel like we were official. For these videos, it was just me, a luggage bag of equipment, and a dream. I think this talking head was probably the most engaging out of them all due to the cohesive transition that flowed with each word.

Episode 3: [Third favorite]

This episode introduced a tedious process that I ended up adding to each subsequent video: captions. I always wanted my content to be consumable to a wide range of viewers, including those who may be hard of hearing. Plus, I have to talk so quickly that I may start slurring my words. I enjoyed my integration of content from other creators, and I made it a mission to make sure that each piece of content was credited to the original creator -- admittedly, I could have done more. I think this video might be the most important for understanding the format of the videos. The techniques I talk about are the very ones I utilize in the episode edits to make the vertical content engaging. I believe this may have been the best episode in regard to exploring other people's content and how that relates to the concepts I was mentioning.

Episode 4: [Second Favorite]

The best version of my talking head. I believe the talking head shots have a swagger and flow to it that makes it appealing. I looked good, I edited the phrases in an intriguing manner, and the location was absolutely beautiful. I wish I shot more talking head shots, but I was battling the nerves that came with recording in public. I was near a busy road and I wanted to climb this tall sign but was too afraid. Now that I watch the video too, I never gave credit to how impressive the height was in my closing shot. I admire the creativity I had in locations for my talking head. The areas I chose were truly mundane but also not expected for someone to glorify in a video about time. The explanation of what can be done with time too is decent.

Episode 5:

This episode felt the most fast paced due to my use of cutaways, movement, and reference material. The episode jumps from reference material to reference material with fluidity and suave. However, for that reason, this episode was the least effective at describing multiple methodologies to control time. Part of the problem was my lack of research, but the irony is, I used my time poorly. I didn't cut the video in an effective manner to discuss everything I wanted to at length. The final methods are tossed in a closing line. Even still, this episode has a flow I'll need to remember.

Episode 6: [My favorite]

At this point, I was getting tired of talking in front of a camera and my nerves deterred a public shooting day. So, instead of completely derailing my project's timeline and forcing something out of me, I used my resources and took this as an opportunity to practice some skills. I green screened the entire shoot; put myself in fun and funky locations for an extra layer of visual interest. This video was me having fun; however, I should mention, the editing for this was not fun. Every visual detail had to be fabricated because I decided not to record IRL. There was an extra challenge of integrating my talking head into the environment in a not-so-bad-I-wont-watch way -- there's a delicate line in intentionally bad and obviously bad. The production value of this video was some of my best work. Everything feels professional as if I have been doing this a long time, and there's a visual style that exudes my personality.

Episode 7:

I just need to be done kind of vibe. I told myself that this will be the easiest video to edit because I wouldn't overdo it. I put in a little more effort than I anticipated, yet the edit was a breeze. The vibe is obviously relaxed because I didn't worry about the glam, lighting a bit low, audio was a bit off, and I recorded it at 2 am -- where I am so evidently raunchy. I think it was the perfect end off for the impromptu series.

A series like this was extremely challenging because it tested my ability to apply myself over and over again. Forced me to quell my paralyzing perfectionism and showed me what I was made of. It makes me excited to see what I create in the future because I would have never expected everything that has transpired throughout my two semesters doing my capstone. Till my final reflection, shooooots!

[zodismegalame]

15 questions 15 mutuals

got tagged by @pensiveabstraction so ya

were you named after anyone? nope. originally my dad wanted to name me Bruno after his grandfather but my mom found a name that she liked and my dad agreed to it!

when was the last time you cried? fuck, good question. tw // suicide: might've been talking about a friend who committed suicide with the therapy group we shared which happened i'd say around a month or so ago.

do you have kids? nah

do you use sarcasm a lot? kinda. more irony than sarcasm if anything.

what's the first thing you notice about people? i can tell if i'm gonna enjoy a person's presence pretty quickly.

what's your eye color? green, although it can be more grey (or brighter) depending on the weather and lighting, apparently.

scary movies or happy endings? i like both. i enjoy bittersweet endings a shitton also, those that are more open or perhaps melancholic while not being outright "bad". sometimes a really good bad ending can be great though (Little Shop of Horrors, for example).

any special talents? i like to think im good at making music, and i do play 4 instruments (at one point i played the trumpet also but i've since forgotten). i'm also pretty flexible and can put both my feet behind my head like a pretzel. also i'm a pretty fast learning.

where were you born? the capital city of buenos aires. i dont remember the hospital's name.

what are your hobbies? listening to and making music, writing and reading, informing myself about other cultures, political stuff, learning about history, drawing (not very well, but still), graphic design, photography, film and occasionally web development.

have any pets? i have a cat who is a demonic goblin and i had a dog who is an absolute angel sent down from the heavens. the dog's still alive but she lives with my grandma now.

what sports do you play/have you played? i played football (or soccer for you filthy americans), went to swimming classes, dipped my toes into volley and i've always wanted to play tennis.

how tall are you? i think around 171 or 172cm. you do the math for imperial units.

favorite subject in school? history, political science, compsci and math occasionally. history because i like informing myself of past events cus it interests me, political science because i like politics and my political science teacher was a marxist so we vibed hard, compsci cause it was easy and we learned some programming by the end and math sometimes cus i like puzzle solving (certain parts were annoying tho).

dream job? making a living out of music, not through some big label tho. just having my own label (or being signed to an independent one), making a modest amount of money, saving up some cash to build a small studio with analog equipment and maybe owning a record shop to promote stuff i like and having a 2nd hand records system that is pretty rare where i live. helping artists i like get promoted here and conversing with labels overseas to help spread the word of music i enjoy outside of my home turf and being able to import artists i like to help them build an audience here as well.

anyways tagging @lukewarmorangejulius cus i don't have any other moots LOL

[ivorypidgeon]

WALKING THE PLANK: OR HOW I LEARNED TO BE LONELY IN THE BIG CITY

For a while, I would just stare at the deep end. 

I had my feet ​​clenched at the cold blue tiles. I had grown friendly with the chlorine swirling 

around my lungs, but 

I hadn’t got used to the cold.

Today, the pool was empty, a joyrare sight. 

Like a sheet of glass, the surface shone, mirroring the darkwood ceiling glown from the lights underwater.

Nothing could break this crystal moment, not even a whisper, on this 

one 

tender 

moment.

When I am ready, I held my breath 

and plunged.

20 years of schooling then out with a rented gown, a no-case degree, and a new bout of self-doubt - 

my first thought was -   

'Is this it?'

I wasn’t expecting to have things figured out after I had left. I had been going with the flow in life up until the pandemic hit, then after a self-pedagogic 9 months of solitude, sobriety and self-flagellation, 

followed by another few years of trying to keep my head above the water.

I got my degree, a nominal stamp, many thanks to Pakistani CAD YouTubers over my professors.

Now, I got a salary, a job, a place. I could be grateful. 

“I won”

My parents think so at least.

I should be jumping for joy but honestly, it feels like it doesn’t really matter. 

Part of me thinks it’s because I spent so much time indoors - I had a block of time that was just that, you know? 

A block of time. 

With no new memories, no real conversations, no doing anything, just a lot of nothing.

It’s hard to think we saw the collapse of so many systems in the world then after we had to just get back to where things left off. To get back to working a 9-5 in an office building. Go back to fighting and peckering over every fucking thing. Get back to falling for the same old tricks.

Back to how everything was. 

To me - it all felt so fragile after. 

Like we had built so many things and forgot to give them any meaning.

When you first dip your toes into the water, for a split moment, it’s like skirting on ice. 

The cold tickles its way up to your knees. 

You feel your spine retract and snap back from the shock. Your chest tightens and your lungs flatten.

But you get used to it. 

When you’re in the pool, nothing matters but your next breath.

The streets are not as barren anymore but they somehow feel lonelier. 

I walk these streets but I fear to call them my home. 

Each alley is another soundstage treadmill of hundreds of voices chattering in succession and me splitting across the crowd. I stand on the train and wait for the eyes to meet mine, tell me you understand that inexplicable feeling, 

that empty feeling that feels like bricks.

I am alone

…or am I?

Ironically, it feels like loneliness has never been so popular. 

Despite The Driver, Travis Bickle, Patrick Bateman, The Joker, and Officer K from Blade Runner 2049 already being huge cultural entities in the modern age, 

they have taken on a new form online - becoming motifs and avatars for masses of young audiences, reskinning their original contextual meanings to be used to relate to being sad, alone, depressed, 

and what have you.

Lexicon has expanded to match this - 

“real”, “literally me”, “it is what it is” trend regularly on TikTok, 

soundtracked to slowed-down tracks from Duster, Deftones, Aphex Twin, and Vacations.

One half of it is fun and games under layers of irony, the other half of it speaks to a 

worryingly sad but growing “statistic” that is actually 

desperate cries for help.

Over 50,000 people participated in The BBC’s 2018 global survey on loneliness. They found that 40% of people between ages 16 to 24 reported feeling lonely very often—the largest group to do so, and 13 percentage points higher than in other age groups. 

In a survey of 1000 people, Harvard Graduate School of Education found that 61% of young people ages 18-25 reported experiencing profound loneliness—including feeling lonely all the time—compared to only 36% among other age groups.

It doesn’t make sense.

In the post-Internet age, we are more than ever connected. 

For virtually nothing, we can call up anyone - have a chat and ask if they want a cup of tea yet why do we feel so isolated and alone? 

Or is it just me? 

In theory, our world has gotten smaller. Lines between communities and people can be drawn out in the sand. You could even engage in conversation with a president or a former terrorist all with a few taps on Twitter.

It's interesting to note that the largest segment of Instagram users, about 45.7%, have between 1,000 to 10,000 followers. Meaning most people have hundreds, if not thousands, of people within reach online. 

But do these numbers feel really real?

1000 followers might seem like a drop in the bucket but if you rounded up 1000 people and put them in a room together, it may feel different. Imagine seeing each person, hearing them. Asking how their day was. 

It’s almost as if behind the screen - we can lose our humanity. 

While our online platforms can provide opportunities for exposing ourselves to way more people than we could have ever imagined, the bottom line is they don't necessarily translate into genuine qualitative relationships even though they may present themselves to be.

How many of your followers are your friends?

How many friends does it take to feel happy?

The words on the video dotted on me, interrupting my session of doomscrolling.

"If you needed to call someone and tell them about your bad day, with no context beforehand, how many people could you call?" 

I stared at the screen, realising the answer was: not that many. 

It made me pause, feeling the weight again. And as I found myself typing how do i make freinds" into the search bar, I couldn't help but wonder how many others felt the same way.

After a deep breath, I enter again and spread my arms to the sides, planting my feet on the side wall, 

I tense up and then launch off. 

Gliding across the water, the only thing I can think of is 

what comes next. 

I don’t know how to float. 

I never actually learnt how to tread water.

“People out here, man, they walk everywhere, we make all this money and go home with nothing in our hearts or our minds. Nobody to share anything with” 

I had just met Mike on a park bench in SoHo. He sat next to me with his French Terrier sitting in his lap. 

I had asked him if he ever got lonely and he told me how he was a ‘self-anointed incel’.

“It’s hard to find much in the city. I was soooo depressed, dude. I think I'm still a bit lonely sometimes but I’m starting to feel better. Things changed after I hit the mat, you get humbled real quick. I fear nobody now, not even myself” 

-Why do you like jiu-jitsu

“It gave me a sense of purpose, for sure. I have my rolling buddies now, we go out even after we roll, it’s nice to do something, you know? I really just had to put myself out there. I had watched all these videos of people doing jiu-jitsu online, but it doesn’t compare for when you’re on the mat”

His dog whined. Her name was Pepper.

“Her full name is actually Pepper V2. She’s named after her mom. I got her during COVID from my aunt.” 

-She seems really sweet.

“Yeah, she’s great, she definitely keeps me in a lot of company. Maybe you should get a pet?”

My head dunked under the current again and through my goggles, 

I glugged to find the end of the pool. It looked a mile away but I was so close, I could feel it.

I could felt my palms wrapping around the barrier, 

that first breath.

One of those evenings came. 

Where you sit at the end of the bed and stare and think. It’s the weight again.

And I just got embalmed in my own thoughts. I stared at my face in the mirror, 

“Put 

Myself

Out 

There.”

Why did it feel so hard? I had been debating sending the invites for a housewarming party for nearly 10 minutes. The thought of rejection stung, I couldn't shake the fear of sending a message and not receiving a reply.  Closing my eyes, I hit the send button. 

I closed my eyes and made the invitations, maybe I’d feel like Gatsby, but the thought was better than a night alone with me and my shadow.

The last few lunges feel like they could kill you. 

If you didn’t know the end was near, you could probably keep going longer than you thought. 

You feel each muscle ripple in your back, 

every tendon push and shove, your lungs shake.

And you take one last

gasp.

I had made everyone a cup of tea. 

-Would you like lemon-ginger, chamomile, rooibos, peppermint, chai, valerian or berries?

There were deli slices earlier, some cheese and a baguette - it’d all been reduced to crumbs. 

The remaining plums and peaches danced around the table like ambrosian morsels 

just waiting to be eaten. I was on my bed in the same position as before but watching these people.

All these people that had given me their time, their day, and their energy just to see me.

How could I say I don’t have friends?

Here, I am surrounded by beautiful amazing people, all these people.

These people have supported me in ways I had forgotten when I was at my lowest. 

All these people.

Maybe it’s easy when you’re down to forget there’s people who have always been there,

Supporting you, giving you love, help, their time.

There’s people there who need you.

I wish I remembered on my twelfth birthday, my sixteenth birthday, April 5th of 2018.

I will not forget now.

The next morning, I walked the park alone with a book in hand - I didn’t bother to open it.

I just sat and stared.

The trees whistled a chorus of swaying leaves and the sky beamed back at me. 

What a beautiful blue. 

Children laughed and chased each other. There was a basketball game going on and I listened to the crowd's oohs, ahhs and cheers. 

I could smell the bluebells and they filled me with the sweetest joy - a euphoria I can still remember.

I couldn’t paint it for you.

Maybe all I needed was to 

touch grass.

My fingertips finally felt it. 

The edge, the big beautiful hard edge. I curled my fingers and pulled.

Air doesn’t feel sweeter than this.

Your heart never feels more alive than this.

You feel every part of you 

take in that first breath,

And just like that, 

it’s over. 

And you’re ready to go again.

Editor’s Note

i have no enemies