#don't worry my friends i will be okay

[tragicscripture]

fuck my life dude i wanted to cut that part of my life out forever and now i'm mentally back struggling. you don't want what they have daymii. you just want to be fucking cared for and you made that realization through an unhealthy hyperfixation on a south park ship. i hate this i hate you daymii

[hatsbuckets]

[i do not need a fwb situation, i tell myself repeatedly. (i'm in college it'd be way too easy lmao)]

Head Canons (some suggestive stuff in this but not much)

Thinking about John Mactavish volunteering at animal shelters whenever he can. It ends up being like a few spattering of days every month, but he'll spend all day there. He loves being around the animals. And he loves getting to be useful and help wherever he can.

You, a longtime volunteer, there nearly every day, love having the enthusiastic, charming... strong... muscular... funny... extra help too. You were the one who showed John around on his first day, a volunteer event day that he happened upon. A few dozen people showed up, and this mohawked, military man was among them.

He was one of the few who came back to the shelter after the event, and on some random day every week, he's there to lend a hand, listening intently to whatever instructions you give him (he's very motivated to listen to you and help the animals out) and even after a couple weeks of absence, he comes back again, apologizing that work took him away so suddenly.

And after a few months... this silly, mohawked, (might I add effortlessly charming, handsome, pretty?) military man's scattering of volunteer days has become a welcome surprise every time. He's always so sweet when he talks to you, throwing a friendly, "good mornin', love. Survive without me?" Carrying on easy conversation throughout the day, and occasionally something that feels like flirting, but you don't read too much into it.

He's a blessing to have. Dogs need a run? He's the first to grab their leashes. Cats' litter boxes need cleaning? He's there with a scoop in hand. The small collection of rodents' pens need a new layer of bedding? He's already headed to storage.

He comes back drenched in sweat from runs, his tank plastered to his chest. Sweaty thighs peeking out from below his shorts as he squats down to pet the happy, panting dogs. And you pass him a towel, and his smile just beams up at you. God he's adorable and hot all at once.

His arms flex against his shirt sleeves when he hefts the heavy bags of food up onto his shoulder and god if only he'd do that that you.

His hands are so gentle with the tiny new litter of cats that just came in, helping you clean them off and place them safely into the crate with their mum. need I say more

You learn more about each other. Where he's from, what he does for work, and of course you'd pinned military, but he doesn't quite go into the work that he does. He talks about the men he works with, and you start to recognize names like Price, Gaz, and Ghost. He even shows you pictures of the first two. Not the latter though.

And then another few weeks he's not there... You're starting to miss the loud Scottish voice that normally fills the space as you hose down the concrete patio in the back the shelter. Your thoughts drift to how last time you did this with him he had sprayed you very intentionally with the hose. And you nearly tackled him to wrap your soaking body around him. His hand discarding the hose and wrapping under your legs as he hoists you happily up into his arms and oh you were so close, laughing, smiling, teasing about getting soaked. You were definitely blushing as much as he was.

a couple of days later, just like he'd never left, he's back, helping you organize the larger storage closet. Sharing jokes and teasing. Until you have to reach across him and his face is so close to yours and he completes the distance, catching you oh so off guard but you melt into that kiss. and he presses and prods until your job to reorganize is interrupted by the sudden to fuck each other into the next dimension.

and then a few days later it's the same... You had simply gone to grab a new leash from the closet... he had come for a bag of dog food... or that's what he'd told you at least...

And then your bodies are close, his hand at the back of your neck, your hand travelling down and down, his mouth on yours, hot, needy, quick, and amazing. You're both happy to do it. And it seems you both don't think much of it.

This becomes a routine, in his oh too few volunteer days each month, you make a habit of occupying small, mostly private spaces of the shelter, the small break room, the storage closet, his car, your car. It's only been two or three months, and it's not like it's a big shelter, not that many employees, but damn if it doesn't excite you all the same.

And then after one of these sessions, as you're slipping you shirt on in the back of your car, he pecks a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I'll be gone a few weeks this time, bonnie. Jus' though' I might warn ya." (his accent gets thicker when it's laced with lust, you've come to notice.)

And he is, gone a while, that is. And during this time one of your old flings comes to town... some business trip... and God is this one always a good time, so charming and kind, buys you chocolates and all, a good person truly, just not one to settle down. That's fine by you. So, you let them take you home, let them in your bed, and have a good time. And then they head back to whatever the hell fancy job they have in whatever town they live in now.

It's longer than you expect before John comes back. And when he does, he greets you with that charming smile and you put him to work almost immediately, and he's happy to get to cleaning the dog kennels with you. You get to talking, he asks how your past few weeks have been. And John is so easy to talk to. And you mention your old friend you visited, how they visited your home, even bought you chocolates, the goof. But John gets quiet at this... you don't mention it, not yet...

And then of course, he walks you out to your car that afternoon and of course you end up in the back of it (I should mention here that you do not own a small car, after being the animal lover you are, you need the space to load crates in the back seat) and something about how John takes you this time is needy, needier, possesive in the way he nips at your skin and presses against you.

And at the end of it, he leaves with the same gentle peck at the corner of your mouth, but this time there's no quip, no tease, just a "drive safe" and a gentle smile...

A few days later this man returns to the shelter and before he even asks what needs to get done, he's offering up a small box of chocolates with a bashful little smile.

You thank him and accept the chocolates. and then it's back to work. That evening though, after a particularly long day after getting three new dogs and a new cat, when John walks you to your car, you ask if he wants to go home with you. You'd thought about it all day... somewhere between cleaning and intaking the new animals, mustering up the courage to ask. He accepts with that same enthusiasm that the dogs have when someone walks in with their leashes.

You wake up tangled in him, his arm slung heavy over your waist, his chest warm against your back, one leg thrown over yours like he’s actively trying to wrestle you into the mattress in his sleep. And this man sleeps light, military training and all, but the second you start shifting to sneak out of bed, his grip tightens. "Where ya goin’, love?" all rough morning voice and sleep-heavy slur, nose nudging against your shoulder like he could just sink right back into you and stay there. (You do not go anywhere.)

And things stay the same, mostly. He still only comes around every few weeks, still volunteers, still fills the shelter with that chaotic, obnoxious, charming energy. Still gets drenched in sweat from running the dogs, still lifts those massive bags of food onto his shoulders like he’s personally showing off for you (and he is), still sneaks off into the storage closet with you when no one’s looking, grinning against your mouth before pressing you up against the nearest shelf.

But then, one evening, right as you're closing up the shelter, he lingers by the front desk. Hands shoved deep in his pockets. That telltale shift of weight from foot to foot like he's got something rattling around in his skull, something he's been turning over for a while now.

"Was thinkin'..." He exhales sharply, rubs a hand over the back of his neck, looking down at his boots like they’ve got the answers. "I've gotta go again, but maybe next time I’m back, we go out somewhere. A proper date, aye?"

And fuck. That shouldn’t make your stomach flip. But it does. You should say yes. You want to say yes. But you don't.

Because life is a cruel and petty little bastard, your old fling had waltzed back into town. Just for you. A familiar, easy thing. The kind of person you don’t have to think about too much. And for some reason, you say yes when they ask you to dinner. Maybe because you don’t want to wait for something uncertain. Maybe because John is John—flirty, gorgeous, disgustingly good at making you weak in the knees, but never around long enough for you to be sure. (And John doesn't show it, not outwardly, but it breaks his heart.)

And then John comes back. Finally. And he’s not alone. There is a mountain standing next to him. Big. Broad. Dressed head to toe in dark clothes and hoodie like he’s ready for spying, the lower half of his face covered by a black medical mask. He looks like he could crush a man with one hand and still have fingers left to spare. And his eyes, dark, cold, sharp as a fucking blade, land on you like he’s personally offended by your existence. Oh. Oh, this must be Ghost.

John, completely unfazed, grins. “Ghost wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” Ghost says nothing. Just stares. (You have never felt more judged in your life. The fuck did you do to make this walking fortress glare at you like that? You know he doesn’t know. There’s no way he knows. Right?)

And things go back to normal, kind of. John keeps showing up, keeps doing his usual thing. But there’s something off this time. A shift in the way he looks at you, something quietly considering behind his eyes. It all comes to a head one evening when you’re closing up together, standing in the back room trying to fix a shelving issue. He’s quiet. You’re quiet.

And then, you break first. Spill it out like you didn’t mean to—how your old fling wasn’t what you thought, how you shouldn’t have agreed in the first place, how you let yourself get caught up in something easy instead of something real. And John? He leans back against the counter, arms crossed, listening, nodding along like he’s already pieced this all together. Until you mutter, "And I don’t even fucking like chocolate."

And that is what makes him pause. And his brows pull together. Just a little. And then, in the softest, most John way possible—"...Oh."

And the next time he walks into the shelter, it’s not with chocolates.

It’s with a small paper bag. He hands it to you with a little smirk, and inside.

Fresh strawberries. From the farmer’s stand down the road. You’d only mentioned them once. Some passing comment made one day while you were both cleaning up in the yard outside. And John had remembered. And with a charming little smile, he takes your hand. "Let me take ya out properly." And you blink up at him, caught off guard by how easy, how simple he makes it sound. "I—yeah."

And yes, you go on that date. And yes, you end up back at your place. And yes, you have a very, very good night.

And yes, eventually, John introduces you to Ghost properly. (and Price and Gaz too, ah John and Kyle.)

And yes, somehow, someway, you end up with not just one, but two terrifyingly strong military men helping out at the shelter—John still enthusiastically doing everything he can, and Ghost looming in the doing every little thing you ask without question, surprisingly good with the most feral old cats, somehow terrifying and begrudgingly helpful all at once. (He makes it a point to lift two bags of dog food for every one John carries. Jesus Christ)

And yes, eventually, Ghost ends up in your bed too.

But that’s another story.

Thanks for reading.

[izaacs-notdeadyet]

I think about this image often

"The gang hates me and only lets me stick around cause of Darry and soda!"

BOY YOU'RE THE GANGS LITTLE BROTHER DONT PLAY WITH ME

[teaboot]

Question:

I have a Sikh coworker who only wears his turbans on alternating days. I'm curious about why but don't want to bother him about it. I can't find anyone mentioning it being common practice online- Does anyone know what this means? It's not really any of my business and I don't intend to change anything, but the curiosity is killing me. Is this an appropriate question to ask the internet at large? Is this common practice? Please tell me if I'm out of line, I can remove this post

[ranvwoop]

— some sort of doctrine in which you're already missed

bisexualdomtorreto / tinyhappy / the worm king’s lullaby - richard siken / in a dream you saw a way to survive - clementine von radics , for m - mikko harvey / the world is ending - judas h. / loose lips - kimya dawson / arcuiedbrunestud / scp-6476 - tsercele / catalogue of unabashed gratitude - ross gay / no one belongs here more than you - miranda july / creatinghelen / the light that shines when things end -  iaon s. thomas

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

cannot stand yn in fics that be doin alot..like yall get what i mean ?? like you just gotta sit there n think "ugh girl you doin tm.."

[blondeaxolotl]

I sometimes feel bad for not liking a ship but at the same time I rather just slowly remove myself from the conversation than angrily complain about the ship in front of friends/moots who might like it

[nebulous-rain]

i always get mixed up on the anniversary date so while i'm here HAPPY BIRTHDAY MSA you're a whole decade old now. holy shit

[monstermoviedean]

if you have a good vibe/kind thought to spare and could send it my way. i'd really appreciate it.

[kanerallels]

Girl help my brain won't brain AGAIN

[arc852]

how are you so open about G/T with your family i’m jealous 😭 i keep just trying to drop subtle hints i’m just like ‘oh have you seen that movie The secret world of arrietty’ and mentioning g/t movies like epic

That's kind of how I started with it too! It's been so long that I barely remember but when I eventually ended up fully telling them, they said they had already known lol. Which I think means my hints were being picked up on.

You just gotta tell yourself that G/t is just a trope. It's just another interest that people can have, it's not anything weird. And if that's how you act when you tell people, then they'll see that too.

[fckinloserbby]

"omg by the way if you think about it you and me r basically stolitz" -me 7/26

literally not even 10 minutes later we got into a joke argument except my autistic ass did not get that it was a joke and I got very mad so because of our stolas and blitzø "unable to communicate" asses, I ghosted them for a solid four hours (they were also mad at me though) and then came back and apologised 🤪

so like I guess we're stolitz^2 LOL

[toffeebrews]

DON'T KILL ME PLEASE!!! i think i have some unpopular opinions in there so-also i don't hate any ships (aside from the ones listed) at worst i feel neutral about them!!

another big disclaimer: I do realize this could be very wrong haha i don't know everything about these aus and I don't claim my opinions to be correct or in anyway canon.

i would love to explain the reasoning for all of them heheh (also ngl only know like... maybe half of these aus more than surface level so most of this was based off vibes alone. im not doing research for all the aus just for this chart im sorry LMAOO)

sorry bad sanses enjoyers 😭

Ship chart from:

Blank chart:

(remember to credit or ill skin you! joking but do credit)

[rexcaliburechoes]

does anyone else find it fucked up that moon's friends protect themselves from her with the skyfire at the end of moon rising?

[tricksterlatte]

I've always been fascinated by fandom history, and I know I'm not the only one. It's interesting to see how fans of pop culture can create a culture of their own, and in the modern age of social media and the internet in general, that culture is as widespread as ever. Unfortunately, that also means downsides are becoming bigger as this culture becomes widespread, and it's saddening to watch, maybe even concerning.

I don't discuss these things to be preachy, especially considering how I've fallen into several of these pitfalls before, and have perpetuated some of this behavior in the past. To say otherwise would make me a hypocrite and a liar, and I firmly believe this goes for most people in any fandom. I was just thinking about this recently, and how a lot of the biggest stressors in what should be our stress relief really can be pinned mostly into a few central talking points, which I would love to discuss to know if I'm not just going crazy here

The concept of Big Name Fan has evolved into a position of authority on fandom, which does not fall to anyone regarding subjectivity. No one in a fandom is an authority except the creators themselves, who have every right to stay away from the fandoms they have birthed.

Popularity in general being conflated to intellectual authority as well, especially on websites with public stats, particularly following counts. The algorithm is no benevolent god, but people will sometimes see someone with 30k followers and think they are correct on a minor non-issue that has spiraled into discourse, especially when compared to someone with 30 followers. This also is just...a bummer when fanon evolves into perceived canon, and newcomers to the fandom can't post even innocuous meta or headcanons without it being perceived as morally/intellectually incorrect.

Monetization of fanworks, but especially zines, have led to a hypercompetitive atmosphere that only escalates the bitterness and resentment. This is not a universal problem, but many zines across all fandoms habitually accept the same artists and writers, or diminish the value of fanfic due to the limitations of physical printing. The application process has devolved into such a disheartening debacle for a majority of people I see, and the way it is often framed as "your work just wasn't good enough" when it's really about what the mods deem mass marketable will destroy just about anyone's self-esteem after repetitive rejections, and will give some frequent zine runners a false sense of final say over the community (not usually, but it can happen).

The level of distrust for anyone new attempting to start a fan project is just so depressing nowadays (and this one we sadly can blame on a few people by name, but the ones who have sent this issue spiraling still don't care and that just sucks. I feel horrible for everyone who has been tricked).

Somehow comment and anonymous asks have gone backwards from "don't feed the trolls" to "suck it up, at least you're getting comments." I have seen some of these comments people have been told to suck up. It's not okay in general. It's particularly gross when it's an anonymous hate message unrelated to the fanworks themselves, perhaps born out of resentment or bearing an ulterior motive. And some will even attack and defame character due to identity. It's not subtle. It's not okay. People should absolutely be dunked on for this, and I gotta say I'm sick of unsolicited concrit being enforced as positive either. If they didn't ask, don't give it. There's a reason a lot of fic writers some people adore suddenly go ghost, and they can't even talk about it.

Don't like, don't read has been discarded in favor of don't like, tell others don't read and also don't write. Transformative works don't have to fit into a canon or even in character mold. That's why they're transformative! It's a different type of artistic expression. If you don't like it, chances are good it simply wasn't meant for you. It's not bad. Don't shame others, god especially not for non-issues such as a t/b preference or a different gender hc, preferred haircuts, types of animal you imagine them as in another lifetime, I could list literally anything here and I bet there has been a fandom fight over it.

Exclusive yet publicly advertised community Discords that will bar you from invite if you're not one of the cool kids. I have unfortunately fallen into this trap before, and refuse to ever enable or endorse that behavior ever again. This isn't about friend groups either, it's about fandom-dedicated servers that flaunt themselves as a VIP club instead of what they are: a friend group. I also don't even know how to broach the subject of private accounts that turn into fandom tea accounts with dozens if not hundreds of followers, only for people to be angry if someone isn't exactly okay with horrific stuff being said in general, let alone about their mutuals or friends.

I know none of this will likely ever change, and tbh i'm so tired of it all, but...does anyone else know what I mean? I'm stressed out whenever I try to enjoy myself, because popularity and a strange business mindset is steadily taking over fandom spaces. I'm not saying people should stop trying to make stuff that sells, or that people universally do any of this, but fandom is evolving into a thing I'm not sure is good. idk anymore

[waitineedaname]

“I’m the emperor. I could have a dozen alkahestrists on my doorstep tomorrow if I wanted. What I need, I only trust a couple people with.” He was being cagey, and Alphonse knew it. “Get to the point, Ling,” Al said, exasperated. Ling’s mouth quirked briefly in a smile, but he remained serious in tone. “I want you to help me bring Greed back,” Ling said, as though he were commenting on the weather and not talking about something that had haunted him for years. Alphonse stared at him, wide-eyed. A piece of eggplant slipped out from between his chopsticks and splatted on his plate.

if I want to read the content I want to see in the world, I'm gonna have to write it myself. please enjoy my "here's how greed can still live" agenda <3