#guess ill have to try try try again...

[lovedrruunk]

‘Awkward meetings ❀⋆.ೃ࿔

Venture (Overwatch x reader)

Authors note!! ＼(＾▽＾); second venture fic!! Tbh I just rlly rlly rlly hated my last one so I’m giving it another go bc I’m actually just so in love with them.. If you see me pocketing the HELL out of a venture mind yer damn business. also im having a pretty tough time coming up with scenarios so id rlly appreciate some ideas!

This was new. Sloane wasn’t nervous; they weren’t the nervous type! They’re bold, and fun, and eccentric (in a good way!) and they most definitely weren’t nervous! So why was it that each time you came around they seemed to trip over their words?

“Young love…” Tracer and Angela couldn’t help but smile, looking at the two of you from a distance as they were enjoying their coffee in Gibraltars HQ lounge.

Any regular person would call them crazy for seeing anything romantic about your awkward short interactions, but knowing both of you when you’re apart tells them everything they’d need to know.

“Yea!... I like your nails! They look… aesthetically pleasing…”

“Oh, thank you! Yea um- painted them myself!”

“Really? Wow! That must’ve taken like… a billion years!”

“Haha!...Yea!”

In the distance, both women were heavily facepalming. They couldn’t help but cringe at the conversation, and as cute as the two of you were, awkwardness had its limits and you two seemed to hit it a while ago.

Sloane didn’t plan on the conversation going this way, they promise! It’s just each time they try talking to you their palms start to sweat and their knees start to wobble and the only thing they can focus on is your face and your voice and trying to think of the right joke to make you laugh and suddenly all those late nights of coming up with scenarios in their head of what to say to you while giggling and kicking their feet are left completely forgotten. All the diary entries describing exactly what they would say and do in order to at least be your friend have now gone to waste.

To be more than an acquaintance to you, that's all they’re asking for, they’ve lowered their standard and yet they couldn’t even reach it!

With a heavy sigh, they turn to look at you, wanting to give the conversation one more try. “Look… I’m really sorry for how lame I'm being. To be honest, I just think you’re really cool and it feels like I have no idea how to approach you!” They smile as they feel their nerves calm now that they’ve confessed to their nervousness. You feel a weight lift off your shoulders, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy they had decided to break the ice first.

“Oh gosh okay, I’m so glad I’m not the only one who felt that way!! I’ve always thought you were cool and funny, honestly I just really wanted to get to know you.”

At this point, you were both smiling and it seemed like the heavy atmosphere had completely vanished now that you were both being transparent.

In the background, Tracer and Angela celebrated quietly, proud of the two of you for finally being able to act normal around one another. You two spent the next couple of minutes warming up to each other as you laughed and joked making plans to hang out, a warm feeling now in your chests.

“Y’know I don’t even know why I was so intimidated in the first place…”

“You could sense my gay agenda.”

[xxplastic-cubexx]

personal happiness or what the fuck ever

bonus:

[niccolites]

promise i have not disappeared off the face of the earth, just am writing an android!price au and it is KICKING my ass rn

general plot is fem!reader is married and price is their new android that her military husband gets her so someone is in the house to keep her safe while he's away. and it's dubcon bc ofc it it. excerpt below while i try to wrangle it into something salvageable lol

-

The night before Arthur comes home, you try to sort yourself out. Routine is only another day away and you crave it so bad that your mouth waters with it. You decide you’re going to speak with Arthur when he gets back, tell him that you understand why he has left John with you, but it’s just not working out.

Standing at the kitchen sink, washing clean cups again, let John stand to the side of you. You’re feeling petty, the thought of being rid of him soon filling you with a specific type of bravery. It’s like he knows, you tell yourself. That’s why he’s being so quiet. Waiting for you to speak first rather than the usual, where he lets you know what he’s going to do, as if to forewarn you to not even try.

You hear him stand, turn around just to see him adjust himself in his trousers. You frown, confused. Perhaps stare a bit too intently at his crotch. He looks back at you, amused in the way that you imagine hunters are when they hear an animal yowl in pain from a shot. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks.

You flush but refuse to look away from him. “Is that just something to make you seem human? I can’t imagine you actually have -” Cut yourself off. Filthy words that have never been spoken in this house. Only the sweet back and forth of you and Arthur’s routine. Would feel like a betrayal of some kind, as if Arthur will come home and hear the echoing of your foul mouth hours after, bouncing off of the walls and settling into the grain of the wood.

“You asking if I have a cock, sweetheart?” John asks, steps closer. Slippery hands clench around glass. He looks like he’s scented blood, like he wants to dart forward and finally catch you in this elaborate game that you’ve been playing that only he knows the rules to.

“Why would you? What purpose would that have?” you return, frowning at him. Disapproving, a familiar role for you, even if it is relatively passive compared to how you feel now. You feel the absurd urge to hiss at him, poison in your mouth. Feel how it burns your gums.

“Most likely a function for bored housewives,” he drawls, dark eyes intent on you.

You freeze, stare at him. You know that he isn’t supposed to speak to you like that. Know that backchat must not be some certain part of his hardwiring. He seems to be challenging you as well, watching you with that half-smirk, half-scowl of his. You tilt your hand under the hot water, let the snapping burn of your skin pull your focus away.

He clicks his tongue, as if disappointed. Feel the point of his stare on the sink. You twist your hand, the squeak of flesh against glass, grating.

Your skin turns red under the water, the flow shattering against the nerves on the back of your palm before it is suddenly stopped. You startle, heat at your side suddenly as he pulls your hands out of the sink, dries them with a gentleness that quiets you.

The hair across his knuckles tickles against the smooth of your own. He holds them, as if he just wants to. Function done, the gap between one order and the next. You stay quiet, watch him. Study him for once.

He’s openly frowning now, thumb against the blotches of red. “Be careful,” he says, suddenly, as if the temperature reading he has just read on you is not to his liking. Body twisting with displeasure. Feel him run it through his synthetic surface and into your skin, running through wiring and into your blood vessels, becomes your own.

Open your mouth to snark back, silenced when he gives you a firm look. “It’s only water,” you mutter, sullen.

“Doesn’t matter,” he barks back. Culls you. “I don’t want you near the sink.” You bristle. “Or will you wear gloves next time?” He looms over you, a threat in the size of him. The urge to behave for someone bigger than you. The way he doesn’t have to throw you around, the shift of his bicep is implicit enough.

“I’ll wear gloves,” you give in, mullish. Desperate not to be banned from the sink in your own home.

He settles with that, one last smooth over the back of your hand, leaves you feeling like static. “Good girl,” he murmurs. You hear it like a gunshot, and spend the rest of the day with music blaring in the kitchen, hoping to drown that sound out before your husband comes home and finds it in the metal of the sink.

Or worse, hears the intake of breath you emitted. Guilty.

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[ashipiko]

Birthday Showcase (Ashi) will be available for a limited time starting June 5th!

This showcase features a limited-time SSR Ashi (Birthday Jacket) card!

EVENT NOTES BELOW ↓↓↓

WHOS READY FOR ROUND TWO. IM NOT??? HAVE I ACTUALLY BEEN ON TUMBLR THIS LONG ALREADY????? 😭😭 well anyway!! got thru the pains of card making and now we’re here </3 not really excited for the groovy but. we will get thru 🫡

THIS YEARS EVENT WILL BE THE SAME AS THE LAST!! <3 send asks and wish Ashi some bday wishes and get an OC interaction and/or doodle in response!!! 🤔 no promises it’ll be a lot but I’ll try my best to get thru them all

I THINK THATS IT? ILL REBLOG THIS IF ANYTHING. hopefully a month in advance is good enough HAHAHA

[buqbite]

it's kinda fascinating to me how welt has been "at the end of his life" for like. several decades by now. he goes on and on about how old and weary he is and how "his job is done" and his story is over but- oh wait i just realized i can phrase this in a very funny way- he's kind of sorta immortal now because he got the herrscher core back, so he's really just stuck in the epilogue for all eternity

[eelektroenthusiast]

Showing off my rin doodle collection☆

(Feel free to try and find some of the song references on my door☆)

+lil mizuena doodle cus i have no energy to draw but they are finally happy and i luv them

[szilverer]

happy holidays flumblr. have a silly doodle that got out of hand

[mousemannation]

serious post time. concerning some thoughts ive had about zverev at LC. nothing too heavy but under the cut in case u just wanna scroll past.

i was talking to my mum about this and i think most of tennisblr share the same sentiment towards him so im not gonna be saying anything too radical. Its also not going to be super concise because im mostly spitballing here.

I was just thinking about how we talk about him and how we as a community navigate his presence on tour. I know that there's a vindictive joy that comes with seeing him lose that's especially potent since he basically got away with domestic violence scot free.

Seeing him lose is a good feeling because he clearly cares a lot and it feels like winning that he's upset, but it also doesn't actually mean anything in the scope of things. Obviously on some level if he lost enough he would no longer be relevant but it's inescapable that he is, unfortunately, very good at tennis. He's number 2 in the world. Call him a choker all you want, he's still vastly more successful that 99.9% of all tennis players.

But it's also just sport- a game. It's not the outcome of the match that amounts to anything outside of a very small community of people; its the celebrity, the money and clout and hero worship. The fact of the matter is it doesn't make a difference to the women he abused if he wins a match because he still abused them and he is still famous. He will always have been famous, even if he retires tomorrow. They will still interview him, laud him in press, put him in ads.

I just sometimes think- what right do I have to feel vindicated by his losses? To weigh his literal actual crimes against the outcome of some silly ball game? In a perfect world he would not be playing, he would be banned by the ITF and shunned publicly by his fellow players. He would not be invited to Laver Cup.

I won't say I don't look at tournament draws and hope for his early loss, but at least at tour events that means an early exit. I can't find it in myself to care if he wins or loses at Laver Cup, not really. Because he will still be there, he is still part of the team, he is still on the bench. It doesn't matter if he wins because he's still an abuser people paid thousands of dollars to watch play a game.

[juniemunie]

Don't you have anything better to do?

Just let them go.

(Yes its based off that pic from Veil)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

How would you redesign Headmaster Magneto? Just out pf curiousity because while he served it didn’t feel like… Erik.

i have to keep it 100 i have no idea without just. rerunning his original design but with a palette swap LOL but we try around here

[astrolotte]

I love projecting onto fictional characters. I can say "Peri has intrusive thoughts" because I do and I like Peri and someone else out there will agree. And I think that's beautiful.

(and yes I'd say this means that Irep also has intrusive thoughts. His are about 'nice' and 'happy' things, but they distress him all the same, which makes them intrusive. Both make them question whether they're a "valid" Fairy/Anti-Fairy if they have these thoughts.... and both need to get their asses in therapy STAT)

[lacertae-dreamscape]

i think what's wrong with me is that everyone infodumps on me but i never infodump on anyone

i should inflict that on someone

[saturfied]

kudos to all kimchay writers!!! y'all are doing a great job🫡👏❤️

[kkoct-ik]

the lesser known did symptom of not knowing anything about your life because not only do you not remember anything (and the memories you Do have are heavily fragmented so you have no idea when they occured), but you also consistently destroy all traces of yourself during dissociative episodes. rip every diary ive tried to keep and almost every social media account. i will never know what i got up to or who i was during those years

i have a spreadsheet i use for documenting memories that turn up before i can forget them again. where i also do my best to estimate what year or season or month they came from. but its all just such a mess. even 2021 onwards which are supposed to be my therapy years are very very patchy. i wish i could just know my life

[kaiserkisser]

can someone nice (!!) please please please adopt me im begging you im requesting you (huge word vomit and vent in tags, pls dont read if u dont want to!! and if you don't want this stuff on this blog PLS lmk!! i dont wanna make anyone uncomfy! )