#guys i’m playing with my touys…

[solidago-j]

DOGFIGHT‼️‼️‼️

[murdknux]

got a couple of anon death threats over this post cause it got reposted on twt

you’re only reinforcing my point that rdr fans are a bunch of shallow minded babies who want to tie little pink bows on this western horror game

big congrats to rdr fandom for having some of the worse moral posturing around shipping i’ve ever seen. like congrats for shipping the canon hetero pairings and your 1 or 2 allocated gay fanon pairings. also congrats for inventing the word “psuedoincest” to scare the crows off any pairings you deem unacceptable.

like i’m sorry, but the van der linde gang are not a family and if you believe that, dutch has manipulated you too. dutch uses the family framework to keep those he manipulates loyal. hosea and dutch are not the “mum and dad”, that’s fanon characterisation. arthur and john are not the sons or brothers, they were both boys groomed by dutch into a lonely and selfish life, robbing and stealing. and though they are close and brotherLIKE, they are not brothers.

another newsflash- you can have messy romantic feelings with a friend that is so close you consider them a sibling. it’s not wholesome, it’s a bit weird and intense. but that’s kind of the point. that’s why people ship it. we’re not getting off on incestuous dynamics because the incest is not in the room w us rn. idk how to make it any clearer.

it just upsets me to see a lot of good rdr artists getting smeared on twitter by fans who think they’re a better person for not touching the morally dubious pairings. personally, it makes sense for me that this group of outlaws in the 1890s, who’ve lived so close to each other, would have intimate relationships. they’re not a cute family living out in the country, they’re a group of criminals who’ve done a lot worse than fuck a guy that they’ve grown up with. it’s so odd to imprint 2024 shipping morality politics onto a bunch of cowboys from 200 years ago. i guarantee your not winning any awards for playing it safe in fandom.

[daddyboyhalo]

HIII GUYS!!! a lot of you probably already know it’s me because of my url but hey here’s my lil introduction post too.

hi hello yes i was nightmare and squash (and a little bit of eclipse)!!! i was the tiny little fox kid who was valibell’s first child, and the og fox along with pip, my side bro!! i got sued and went to court because i brought my gay brother tremorsaurus to a baby fighting ring >:D i was oh so very loved and won’t ever be able to stop calling qtubbo and disfrutalakia mom and dad. god help me. as eclipse i got to be the moon to my mom’s stars, and that was very special to me.

i was also the wolfdog nightmare who went through like 4 different color changes (rgb wolf grindset i guess), survived multiple assassination attempts and, dear fucking god, probably had a worse reputation than most people on the server on account of killing lim liminal sewiders (and killing teal tealotl) (and sending the worst hatemail known to man) (and having this whole weird romance thing with vex vexinoux) (among other things). a friend asked me once if i had a personality beyond being a dad, being divorced, and committing homicide, and i couldn’t think of a good answer.

i’m so glad we all got to play touys together. qblrsmp was one of the best things to ever happen to me. i treasure every second of it (which is um a lot. around 950+ hours on the server). and huge shoutout to the admins, they made this a great experience!! thank you, to everyone i met there. i’ll love you all forever and cherished every minute of it, no matter where life takes us now. <3 (takes a lil bow and exits stage right)

[megabuild]

I have generated some thoughts about guudetho, a ship which I have never before considered, using my two monthly allocated brain cells from the inbox mine union. These are RPF flavored but really just analysis after watching hundreds of hours of etho content over the last two years.

I’ve watched a lot of older videos w guude and etho and honestly the dynamic is like…guude pushes etho’s buttons by saying things etho will have to cut from his videos. lol

There’s more to the dynamic there, though. Guude helped etho come out of his small town shy kid shell and made a space for him to have real close friends to goof around with online. Three clips I’m thinking of:

1. Etho talking to guude about being bummed he wasn’t invited to Mindcrack right away, and Guude saying he didn’t realize Etho wanted to join because he thought Etho was busy doing his single player. (# Unrequited pining tag)

2. Etho basically writing a love letter to collaborative SMP servers in his let’s play where he said they were the future of the medium. (Guys please let him in he wants to play touys let him in let him be friends)

3. The clip from one of the secret streams where he talks about why he left Mindcrack. When Etho got choked up talking about leaving Mindcrack…the subtle betrayal due to the potential that he would have to expose his real identity to the group to stay a member (and potentially some issues related to his other friends including his bestie Bdubs being ousted at the same time)

A lot of Etho’s relationship to Guude is tied to his experience with Mindcrack, which makes it really tragic. The last few videos of his Mindcrack series where he’s walking around and barely anyone is on the server are eerie to watch as a viewer now. The dramatic irony is almost physically painful. Very weird pieces of media to watch as someone who only started watching vids from the Mindcrack era recently.

Guide still has positive things to say about Etho and Bdubs based on that recent drunk stream, but that bridge was probably burned a long time ago.

Juxtaposed with these things:

Hermitcraft six Etho skipping the season of hermitcraft because he thought his viewers didn’t care for it (no one wanted to play touys and he didn’t have strong relationship with any hermits that weren’t former Mindcrackers)

Hermitcraft seven Etho rejoining because (?)

(mostly only hung out with bdubs, beef, and doc. )

Hermitcraft ten Etho’s relationship with the hermits. (Friends to play with and a nice stable community-he feels safe and is coming out of his little goofball shell again)

you seeing this shit guys? My anons are more invested in guudetho than I am

[pastriibunz]

Shhh guys she’s playing with her touys

(yes I’m 16. Yes I got a Polly pocket Barbie compact for my bday. What about it.)

[skuffypaw]

playing with my touys . i’m normal… i’m so normal guys…. guys… gu

[mayonaisalspray]

do you have any roblox game recs for the masses? i assume regretevator, but other than that. if any

yeah I do!

Obviously Regretevator. If you like lots of fun little mini games with character interactions slowly revealing more of a story to you then PLEASE give it a shot it’s SO fun. I am literally enjoying it so much that I’m risking looking like a creep and a weirdo in front of my entire family by putting up a conspiracy theory wall about it that is hastily scribbled on and absolutely incoherent to anyone but me. I beg you, the person reading this. Play Regretevator it’s so fun

Pressure and Doors. Idk which one I would say is better cause I suck ass at both and haven’t gotten far in either, but I think Doors has more in it, while Pressure has a better theme and atmospheric AND has a very very handsome fish man in it

Nico’s Nextbots is a fun arcade style game where you just run from PNGs. I love B-hopping and going soooo fast, the items are cool (especially the possession item, that shit is wild) and the music is fantastic. Good game for just chilling and listening to a video or something in the background

Raise a Peter is a game where you raise Peter Griffin from Family Guy. It sounds stupid and it IS stupid but it knows it’s stupid and has a lot of fun with it. It’s a clicker game technically but after a bit you can just ignore that and do other things like fish and hunt for different endings

God’s Will is a kinda party game? It’s a party game where people compete and there are mini games and it’s fun, it’s also a game where you explode into blood when you die. IIRC it’s based heavily off a movie? It’s good fun and also the hot potato mini game makes me feel like a predator animal hunting people down. Just thinking about it is making me excited. hhh okay I’m normal

If you hate yourself and having fun and wasting time play any game from You Don’t Want To See Us. BUT if you enjoy inflicting pain on your friends in a funny way play it with them

In an absolute shocker to no one the person who likes Wings Of Fire plays the Roblox Wings Of Fire game. I don’t even roleplay with other people I just make my dragons and roleplay on my OWN. I play with my touys off in the corner cause I’m too scared to ask if anyone wants to play with me. It’s cool and fun and you get to customize your dragons. What’s not to love?

Anyways that’s all I can think of right now!!! Thanks for the ask :3

[floweafy]

an intro to the floweafy blog.

hi. i’m harper or pearl, they/them, arospec lesbian. audhd + severe anxiety. once in a blue moon i post art. i also write fanfiction (posting it is another question). my main interest is mcyt (life series specifically), though i also like bfdi, warrior cats, various oc comics, and lost media. the flag in my pfp is the borderline personality disorder flag (scotts also there, i guess)

i block VERY freely sorry i have over 500+ blocked users, mostly because i disagree about mcyt (sorry). it’s nothing personal, if i care about a character alot and/or relate to them, i’m very sensitive on their characterization. don’t have a proper dni list just don’t be weird (i’m a minor)

i’m very very very very very autistic about the life series. more specifically regarding scott, pearl, cleo, martyn, etc. i could spend hours talking about these guys PLEASE ask me about them. i’m also the self-proclaimed biggest scott x cleo (queerplatonic) shipper. i even have a blog about them (@widows-alliance-but-everywhere) and i NEED to talk about them i don’t play about my aromantic cubitos.

i post more often on my twitter (@/widowsalliance), specifically about characters analysis and general thoughts on characters. go check that out if you want. i mostly stay out of discourse about anything, i just wanna play with my touys.

custom blinkies by @/ghostorbz !!!!!!!!!1

[write-kin]

helping hands

cal gets a chance to assist his new benefactor, and ignores an unpleasant truth. (thank you again to @just-a-silly-little-whumper for letting me play touys with your guys)

CWs: violence, mentioned gore, Lord Soren Denholm (just in general), torture, psychological manipulation, typical lord denholm stuff really

-

Cal turns the feather in his fingers, examining it. It’s off-white, long, the size of his forearm. Sturdy, but not as sturdy as it could be. Bryn’s feathers were sturdier, stronger, almost denser. Of course, those belonged to a were-griffin, so they were different creatures. 

“You can keep it, if you’d like,” Lord Denholm says dismissively, “he has plenty more.” 

“He?” Cal asks, and is met with a small ‘mm’ in response. 

“Ah, I forget you’re not familiar with them. When did you say your Master would be retrieving you?” Cal grimaces at the phrasing. “My Lord,” Cal says, insistent on the terminology, “said he had sent a carriage which would arrive at the end of the month.” 

“About ten days, then. Good. Tell me- how is Lord Valdemar these days? Rumors abound that he’s gone quite mad.” Cal sighs, a small sliver of irritability slipping into his tone. 

“Meaningless conjecture, I assure you. He is fine. Honestly, I’m half-glad he’s isolated us, to avoid all the chatter.” 

Lord Denholm laughs a bit, and pulls back from the bookshelf he’s been shuffling through. He looks at Cal, eyes trailing to the feather he’s examining, and then back at Cal’s face.  

“You seem quite enamored with that feather. Would you like to meet who it came from?” 

Cal nods a yes. He has no idea what he’s in for.

Cal hardly expects to be walked down into the dungeons, but he supposes he should have expected it. Lord Denholm gives him a short tour of some of the areas they pass, but all of the information he vaguely processed goes out the window when he sees a humanoid figure cloaked in its own ivory-white wings. He watches his host unlock the door to the cell, and follows him, eyes wide in curiosity.

Lord Denholm holds out a hand, indicating for Cal to wait. He opens the door, stepping in first, speaking so low, so quietly that Cal is sure he isn’t supposed to hear this. 

“Hello, little ruin. I’ve brought you a new friend.” 

He stalks back towards Cal, gesturing him into the room. Cal steps in, hands folded in front of him, feeling like a child being introduced to a class. Instead of several equally-nervous students in front of him, however, there’s just one other person, wrapped in their own wings. 

Lord Denholm looked at Cal before frowning, stepping forwards and beginning to gently tease the wings from where they wrapped around the stranger, nudging them open.

The best way Cal could describe him was an angel, hair golden, warm brown eyes clouded and unfocused. He was dressed in thin clothes, not nearly enough to keep him warm in the cold air of the dungeon, and he stared off into space, beyond the two of them. He was breathing, leaned on the wall, wings wrapped around him. The lights were on, but no one was home. 

Cal moves to ask a question, but he’s interrupted before he can get a single sound out. 

“Completely catatonic, unfortunately. He can’t feel, see, or hear anything. I do try to wake him up, of course, but nothing has worked.” 

Cal saw something twitch in Lord Denholm’s face, but couldn’t identify what it was. He chose to identify the emotion as exhausted resignation, no matter if that was truly what was being expressed or not. 

“On the bright side, it does make for a useful body for experimentation.” Cal was about to speak, to protest, but was interrupted. “He won’t remember anything, and while I typically have… someone else… fix him back up after, I presume you wouldn’t mind assisting me instead?”

It takes a second, but Cal nods. “I suppose there’s no harm in it. What are you looking to accomplish?” Lord Denholm smiles, and there’s a flicker of something Cal can’t place as he takes Cal by the forearm and pulls him closer to the angel.

“I’ve been working on a little something. You brought up a history with studying magic, yes?” “Yes, but- mine’s more of a study of necessity. Of handling the issue of too much latent magic.” “Mm.” Lord Denholm nods. “This is… not that. Do you consider yourself qualified to assist me in testing a spell? Unfortunately, it is one which needs a living subject, and my other test subjects have had… a difficult time. It must be him.” Cal rolls the idea around in his head. On one hand, someone who can’t fight back, who may be unaware of what’s happening… it makes him feel sick, a sinking feeling settling into his throat. But on the other hand, Lord Denholm’s sharp eyes on him and his own desire for power- even over one who is powerless- he can’t help but buckle under the pressure.

“Alright. What do you need?” 

The sharp smile widens, and he pulls Cal closer. 

“I’ve been testing- prototyping, really- a spell. I need you to be on hand as I test it for today. I’m attempting a small medical examination, to monitor him. Make sure he’s well.” Cal pauses, but nods. That makes sense. “Could you fetch him for me? Just up onto the table there, please.” Lord Denholm gestures to a table across the room, about waist height.

Cal looks over. The angel has chains around his ankles- poetic, in any other situation- and he looks like he’s worlds away, eyes clouded over. 

He steps forwards, crouching down a bit. “Hi. My name’s,  um… Cal. It’s nice to meet you.” He paused, looking back to Lord Denholm, who raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to have to get close now, okay?” He knew the man couldn’t hear him, of course, but it made him feel better to talk like this. Soft and low, like one would talk to a child afraid of a new adult. Slowly, Cal knelt down and reached out, clicking open the cuffs one at a time before he picked up the angel- a bit of an odd embrace, seeing as he was taller than Cal and had huge, beautiful wings, which made the whole ordeal a bit difficult and clumsy. After a bit of struggle, he ended up ‘walking’ the angel with his arm over Cal’s shoulders, even as one of the wings kept bumping into his face.

Still, he brought the man over, sitting him up on the table, holding his hands and propping him up against the wall for stability. 

“You don’t have to do that, you know. He can’t hear you.” Lord Denholm took long strides until he stood beside Cal, placing a couple of things down on the table. 

“It makes me feel better. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.” Cal’s reply was met with a sharp scoff, a barely-smothered laugh. 

“And here I was thinking most fledgelings like you took after their sire. You do know what Valdemar gets up to in his castle, yes?” Cal pauses.

“I’m aware. The difference is that we work on those who deserve it.” Another laugh. “And what makes you think that he doesn’t? He could be a murderer. A con artist. Or worse.” Lord Denholm runs a hand over the man’s wing as he speaks, a small smile on his face.

“He’s an angel,” Cal says, “they don’t- they aren’t capable of things like that.” The look of mild, amused incredulity he gets in response to that tells Cal his education at the abbey may have been a bit lacking in more places than he realized. 

“I want you to hold him as he is.” Lord Denholm speaks, and Cal nods, hopping up on the table so he can support the man. He gets another amused chuckle from his host as he shifts to put his hands on the angel’s shoulders, supporting him quite awkwardly.

“Good. Keep him like that.” There’s an odd tone in Lord Denholm’s voice, one that makes Cal almost wonder if something else was going on, but instead he just focused on keeping the angel in place. He tried to keep the two of them as comfortable as possible. After all, it was for the good of research, but nobody had to be uncomfortable, right?

A flick of the wrist, and his host’s hand has a faint shimmer of magic over it. Impressive. He smiles, a look that says ‘watch this’, and then his hand is pressing into the angel, right under his collarbone, on the side where Cal holds him. 

It’s equal parts fascinating and nauseating as the hand pushes through the flesh with all the effort of pushing your hand through mud. No claws, no blood, nothing but a simple, easy, smooth motion. Cal isn’t sure if he’s blinked while he watches the display. 

Against his best interests, Cal lets out a low whistle, wide-eyed and impressed. Denholm grins, and moves his hand, slowly, like he’s pushing through molasses. There’s no visible wound left when his hand moves, but there’s some bruising on the angel’s dark skin.  

“His muscles are in good shape. There’s the same ratio of muscle to fat from last time I checked him.” Cal nods, feeling like he’s supposed to be taking notes. Something in his brain calls bullshit, and he tells it to shut up before any doubt can settle in. 

“You’ve done this before?” “I have to make sure he’s not deteriorating. What kind of a host would I be if I let my guests break down under my care?” 

Cal decides that’s good enough, and shifts the angel when Lord Denholm waves a hand, moving him so he slumped forwards a little. The hand inside of his chest presses in further, and there’s an uncomfortable bulge visible on the man’s shoulderblade as Denholm searches for something. Cal feels a little nauseated. After a bit of this, Denholm presses down, and there’s a sudden, violent jerk of the angel’s arm, shoulder going up and almost hitting Cal. After he settles back down, the man’s breathing steadying back to low, shallow breaths, Denholm removes his hand, coated in blood. 

Cal’s stare as Lord Denholm lazily draws his tongue along his thumb, tasting the man’s blood, doesn’t go unnoticed. His fangs have extended, and he hadn’t realized just how hungry he’d been until just now. 

With a chuckle, Denholm extended his hand to Cal.

“Would you like a taste?” He was… hungry. But the idea… it sickened him a bit, even as the orange-scarlet caught what little light there was in the room and shimmered in its thin coating on the man’s hand.

“I’m okay.” “If you insist.” The smug grin returned, and Cal’s host knelt down a little, so his face was roughly level with the man’s stomach. 

“His reflexes work. Remind me if we do this again while you’re here, alright? I want to see what I can do with that.” Cal nodded again. “Move him so he faces forwards.” The man was shifted from his slightly diagonal positioning, and Cal settled down, watching his host and the angel in equal parts. Idly, he looked at the feathers next to his face. Bryn had preened before, so he was used to dealing with feathers from winged humanoids. They were pretty.

A soft grunt echoed from the man, which caused one of Denholm’s eyebrows to raise. Cal looked back down, and saw that his host had a hand inside of the angel’s stomach. “Are they… like human organs?” Cal asks, against his better judgement. He’s only met with a shrug in return, though. 

He stares as the hand runs through intestines none of them can see, sometimes eliciting small noises that seem to come more from bodily instinct or pressure on the lungs than anything else. The only movement Cal makes is to push up his glasses. The movement is almost hypnotic. In his mind, he’s imagining the movement of intestines, the idea of pulling them out like unraveling a skein of yarn. It’s oddly, disgustingly beautiful, and he almost loses himself in the mental image. 

Then, after what felt like moments and eons, the hand moves, pulling out of the flesh slightly, never fully leaving. 

“I want to try something new, alright?” Denholm asks, and Cal gets the feeling he’s not the one being spoken to here. For a stark moment, he’s just an accessory to this exchange, a pawn in- 

No. No, no, this is research. Denholm is talking to himself, nothing else. He moves the man so Denholm could more easily press his hand back in, at the shoulder, searching with intent this time. 

He presses in, just a bit farther, and his wrist shifts like he’s grabbing something. 

Cal didn’t expect to see the man’s pupils come into focus. He expected the sharp intake of breath even less. And when the wings stretched out and one snapped to hit him directly in the face, he was taken completely off-guard, knocked to the floor with surprising strength. 

His hand flew up, and Cal wasn’t sure if it was the fact he’d just been hit in the head with a wing- and then shortly after, the floor he’d fallen onto- or not, but he was momentarily delighted when a small trickle of blood came out of his nose. He was circulating- which meant he was healthy, for a vampire. 

He came back to his senses relatively quickly, though, and he realized what was going on. Denholm was shaking his hand off, and the angel was breathing heavily, eyes wide, having moved drastically. 

“Sir- Mister- Lord Denholm, we woke him up!” “No.” Cal’s excitement was cut short as he saw Lord Denholm step closer, and something- magic- snap around the wrists of the angel, pinning his hands to the table. In a panic, Cal scrambled back up to his feet, darted forwards, trying to dispel whatever this was- he was awful at figuring out what magic was what, if Bryn was here he’d have it figured out, if Bryn was here he’d have some salve or herb or potion or incantation that could free the man in seconds. 

“Hello, my little ruin.” Lord Denholm’s voice had lost the gentle, if sleazy, kindness it’d had when he spoke to Cal. It was now equal parts predator and poison, calm and cold and slimy. 

“That’s not my name.” The angel spat, struggling against the bindings. 

“Altair, then. Don’t get used to it. I trust you enjoyed our experiments?” 

Altair. Elze’ith- from two nights ago, the nice one he’d spoken to, the pretty thing- had spoken of him. Of being separated. Of longing, and desperation, and wishes for him to be safe, wherever he was.

Cal made a mental note not to tell Elze’ith of this. 

A hand pressed against Cal’s chest, pushing him in a smooth motion so he stepped back, hands pulled away from where he was trying to dispel the magical restraints. 

Denholm had brushed past him like he was nothing, and the way he looked at Altair was sickeningly hungry. 

“Did you like your new friend? He’ll be staying with us for a few days. I thought I’d show him a few of my favorite things.” Cal’s stomach turned in knots, and he stepped forwards again. He can explain, he’s sure this is some sort of misunderstanding, there’s a happy ending to this. There’s a way things work out where nobody’s mad and he can do the right things and everyone likes him. He’s sure of it. 

“Are you- are- are you okay, I-” “Quiet.” 

Denholm’s voice catches him off guard, and Cal shuts up. This is different. Lord Valdemar- Montresor- has only spoken to him like this a few times. It’s gotten the message across. Enough for Cal’s voice to die in his throat, even as it’s another lord giving the order. 

Altair snaps something at him, hisses some insult Cal isn’t privy to, and Denholm hisses something back. Cal feels like a foreign element, and he just wishes his legs would let him run, let him get the hell out of here, try and find his way back home and not stop running until he’s back in his king’s arms. 

“Cal,” Lord Denholm says, and he looks over his shoulder. Cal stares back, and he hopes to everything he considers powerful that he doesn’t look half as scared and sickened as he feels. “You seemed interested in Altair here. How about I leave you two alone to get to know each other?” The tone shift catches him off-guard. He’s done something wrong. He’s not sure what. It’s like he’s back at the abbey again, and when Denholm waves his hands to extinguish the torches across the room, Cal realizes he’d probably told the man a little too much when they spoke by the fire a few nights ago. He can’t make himself speak, can’t make himself move. He doesn’t have half the fight Altair does- Altair, who’s still trying to free himself, wings fluttering wide.

Denholm’s smug smile returns, and Cal suddenly, painfully understands how it feels to be on the other side of the power dynamic here. 

“And don’t bite too hard, if you need to feed. I like him alive.” 

And then he closes the door, the magic dissipates, and Cal and Altair are left alone, to stare at one another in the darkness.

[helwyrn]

GUIDE.

❌ PEDO INCEST RAPE ANTI-TRANS RACIST ↓↓↓

* Neither pro- nor anti- ship, don't involve me in the rhetoric.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI’m …Roe-Rue? / 25↑ / It/itself / White / Updated 1.9.24 Hai! My friends call me Swub. I'm a kind and normal poster. Lets play touys. You can find me on @elplus and @4dearlife.

01.     ㅤUse tone indicators when joking with me. Feel free to ask me for indicators as well, I know OOCly I can be confusing. I like to think I’m friendly?!

02.     ㅤ18+ ONLY.

03. I won't say 'all common sense and etiquette apply' because, well, kinda ableist— so if you need clarification on something, ask.

04.     I USE TTS TO READ REPLIES. I WON'T BE ABLE TO READ 𝕤𝓹ⓔ匚ιＡⓛ 𝔠卄ᵃ尺𝕒𝕔t𝐄尺Ş, PLEASE DON'T USE THEM IN THE BODY OF YOUR REPLY. Aside, I don’t mind however you like to format your replies, or the lack there-of!

05.     Tag anything with sexual intent behind it. Please, let me be able to choose what I see and when I want to see it. I use #cw word for tagging.

Don’t feel obligated to explain yourself to me if you want to request something tagged. Your heart is yours, I’m random guy number 930 on the rapidly declining microblog site.

06.     Please hard block instead of soft blocking. No, you don’t have to explain to me. No, I won’t take it personally. No, I won’t assume the worst of you. We will be ships passing in the night, you and I. If I've hard blocked you on only one account, it's because mutual was broken/didn't happen and am just reminding myself not to interact. Feel free to follow here to your fancy. (If you're blocked on all accounts, that is a Real Block, and you wouldn't be seeing this.)

07.     Shipping is hard for me as-is, and impossible without communication. I'm open with chemistry and interest. Be direct with me, the worse I can do is say no, but you'll very likely get a "let's talk about it". Flings and sex-havings are fine too, again just... talk to me LOL.

08.         Horror and comedy are my favorite genres. I’ll explore heavy topics, and it will always be tagged. I can’t give a huge list of what I’ll write here, because… well, I don’t know. See DNI for what you'll never see from me. EDIT: Soooo I found out CANNIBALISM + DEPRESSION are gonna be common writing themes here.

09.         How I operate as a person is very outside the norms of Tumblr RP. I get that I can be 'a lot' as a person, but I hope that doesn't intimidate or scare you! I like to play and laugh.

[coltonclay]

The more I’m slowly letting myself heal from the trauma of childhood bullying by letting myself enjoy comic books, the more I realize that I don’t think anyone actually should be caring that deeply about it. There are fifty billion variations of the same plot line. These guys just had a big universe reset so now we can do it all over again but slightly to the left. Artists and writers can change mid-run. There’s so many inconsistencies between pieces of media. Characters can change so much, especially if some of them are older than your grandparents. As far as I’m concerned, the weirdos (respectfully, lovingly) on AO3 are just as correct as anything I’d find in my local comic book store. Anyone who dedicates themselves to reading all of everything and then decides to harass people about lack of knowledge truly has nothing better going on in their life.

At the end of the day, it’s all just touys. We’re havin fun. “Oh but do you know what happens in XYZ issue #283??” No. I don’t care. Take my hand, and we can get over ourselves together. We can just play touys.

[sunnetrolls]

I guess what I want to know is just. Ok

I think I try and make characters for target audience me then veer way too far into it so that the oc is no longer interesting to anyone but me, then I proudly present them to my friends and followers to see if they wanna play touys with me and my sparkly new touy and nobody wants to play. Then I have to go back and either put the toy up again even though I really want to play with it really bad or just play toys by myself which is fine, but like, all my friends are playing toys with each other except me and it’s a bit more lame to have to play toys by myself. You feel?

I think I’m gonna put Flora and Chimera and the deepdwellers away somewhere else. I run into the issue VERY often when I get particularly into the weird stuff that fascinates me the most and accidentally make characters that are impossible to plot with if you just make normal guys. Because I put so much time and effort and love into a freak I have to trigger tag for and send myself asks about.

So. What I want to know. Do you guys ACTUALLY like seeing content for my weirder muses? I DO notice that I get a HUGE bump in activity if I draw one pf my normal guys versus the strange ones. If people do actually want to see the weird robots and plants and fish I will play toys with myself about it but if people don’t find them interesting I’m not gonna stress about putting them out to the world. They can be my toys just for me.

which of my guys do yall like actually want to see

[gmanweatherreport]

Hi welcomr to my Lego island 2 blog

hi um ok revising (PART 3 IM REVISINV THIS yet again AGAIN) (im changing this whole damn thing part 4)  I’m the gman................................... I’m halfway a furry a;lso i like jazz and stuff  I’ll get in2 specifics below 

uhhm yeah I like rpgmaker games quite a bit my favs being Witch’s Heart, Space Funeral and SHTDN computer guys got me cracy ........... I also like some valve stuff half life whatever although I haven’t first hand played a whole ton of the games as I’m a visual novel boy in the soul sorry.......................

Other stuff I like includes YEAH JAZZ............ and OCCASIONAL electronic such as YMO..........................and god i love some claude larson. 70′s stuff is my prime taste hmmmmmmm yeah I guess i lost interest in a lot of the stuff I had listed on my old about uhh....... god now im getting scared do i not have many interests anymore uhhhhhhhhh i mean I still like finfin I’m playing umineko right now idk when I’ll finish ...... same goes for jimmy and the pulsating mass ............

keeing this old part -> I post art not excellent art but I fool around with fanart and oc stuff. it gets covered in reblogs pretty quickly though... if you want to ask me about anything&&&& or my ocs i am open............ ANDDD DID I MENTION I LOVE JAZZ IF YOU WANT TO ASK ME BOUT THAT OR WANT RECCOMENDATIONS DO THAT TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

also my frriennds @ komodocomics and @ commonexistance. look at their posts boy

MY TOUYS BTW    AND MY FM RADIO

[falling-pages]

Fight for me: Hikaru x Renge

Renge tends to Hikaru's wounds after he gets in a fight to defend her.

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Renge Houshakuji x Hikaru Hitachiin

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, first kiss

Warnings: None

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Hikaru knew how to throw a punch, but holding his own against three men was above even his own skill level.

It was amazing he had lasted so long in the fight until Mori spotted him and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten, tossing him from the circle and finishing the fight himself. Those three upperclassmen didn’t stand a chance--yet he felt his blood run hot at the thought that he had to be saved when he was trying to save someone else.

Toui Kendarishi and his dumb fucking mouth just had to get under his skin, again.

A sharp scrub against his cheekbone jerked him back to reality. He hissed, going to swat at it, before the girl grabbed his wrist and pushed it back down.

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m just trying to help you,” Renge grumbled.

Yeah, some help she was. With every dab of the cotton ball and slab of ointment he relived every moment of the fight, every right hook and gut punch and kick he had endured for her, and she had no idea. The only soothing thing about this therapy appointment was her nails scratching his scalp, but only to distract him from a bad bout of pain.

He only rolled his eyes, jerking away as she moved on to his mouth. “I know you didn’t just roll your eyes at me,” she said, tugging at his bottom lip. His top lip had taken the brunt of Kendarishi’s fists, and all he tasted was his own blood in the back of his throat. He was sure he was a monster to look at, blood staining his teeth and tongue. As it dried against his skin, Renge thumbed it away, smearing it against her hand before she took a washcloth to it.

“So observant,” he hissed, resisting the urge to spit at the taste clouding his senses. Sarcasm was his trusted defense mechanism, and he relied on it heavily now to distract himself from the feeling of her fingers playing with his lips.

A harsh scrub against the wound was her own way of backtalk. “Sass me again, and I’ll stop, and you can explain to Kaoru why you look like a fucking Picasso,” she said.

“Tch.”

But he listened. The blood and spit and pain rendered him essentially mute, much to her amusement, as she worked. His eyes wandered around her bathroom, impossibly pink and frilly for a college apartment. Like the rest of her place, it was like Paris had vomited itself inside, the chunk of the concoction muddled in the bathroom. A pink fuzzy rug was below him as he was perched on her gilded toilet, a gaudy shower curtain boasting images of the Eiffel Tower, and even her mirror was embossed with rhinestones. Everything, from the toilet paper pile to the cosmetics cases, were perfectly stacked and organized, with not a speck of dust or dirt to be found.

Geez. And he thought her shrill demands of perfection in high school were bad. Their host room was spotless thanks to her dictatorship, but this was on another level.

“Admiring the bathroom, I see,” she said, sucking in her cheek as she fiddled with opening a band-aid. Her nails, long and purple, couldn’t quite find the purchase to pinch the covering from the adhesive side.

His life and health were quite literally in her hands, but Hikaru couldn’t hold back the snicker from his bleeding lips. “It’s mental,” he said, reaching up to help her with the band-aid.

Renge ripped it away from him, glowering down her nose at him in the most egregious French expression she could muster. He hadn’t known her in France, but he imagined that was the look she gave every servant, every waiter, every busboy who didn’t fit her exact demands. “I’ve got it,” she spat, turning her back to him. Her shoulders shook, but because of the effort of unpeeling the band-aid or some unknown emotion, he didn’t know.

“Here,” she resumed, turning to face him, and Hikaru’s heart cracked at the tears welling up in her pretty brown eyes, the heaviness in her voice. It sounded so heavy, despite its usual nasal tone, and exhausted, defeated. What had she gone through when her back was turned?

He made her cry. He knew he could take the teasing too far sometimes, but bringing a girl to tears was childish, a middle school prank he had sworn to leave far behind him. But he had done it again, not even to a nobody, but to the girl who was fixing him up, his friend, whom he had grown up with and bruised two ribs defending.

As she leaned down to apply the bandage to his cheek, he tried to meet eyes, to apologize without aggravating his poor lips, but she evaded his glance, pursing her lips and focusing on her work. Her hands shook, lightly grazing his temple.

“Renge, hey, I’m--” he grabbed her wrist, and she jerked away, stepping back until she hit the wall. His voice forced more tears from her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands as she sobbed, massive pink bow bobbing with every movement.

“Just stop, Hikaru, stop!” she yelled, muffled by her closing throat. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep stitching you back up when you snap, I can’t take how mean you are. We aren’t in school anymore, we’re adults, we’re in college, and you’re just puffing your chest like you’re invincible, picking fights and losing them.” She finally showed her face, anger and fear and… something he couldn’t place etched into the lines beneath her eyes. “You want to know what’s mental?” She gestured to him, waving her hand up and down his whole form. “This is mental. You getting into fight after fight and not learning a damn thing from them, that’s what. It’s amazing you didn’t break your nose.”

Blood and anger coiled in the back of his throat. He lunged forward and grabbed her arm again, firmer this time, and yelled out, “I did this for you! I got in this fight for you!”

Renge pressed further against the wall, but she stopped fighting. Her hands shook in his tight grasp. Eyes as big as a silver dollar gazed up at him, heart thrumming wildly in her chest. “What?”

“I got in a fight with Kendarishi, right?”

“Yes.”

“And who is he to you?”

Renge blushed, letting her eyes drift to his chest. She spotted a new bruise mottling on his collarbone. “My ex-boyfriend.”

“Exactly.”

Hikaru released her wrists and watched as they fell to her side, like all the resistance had been sucked out of her. “Every time I fight with him, it’s because he said something bad about you. And then he started saying stuff about me fighting for you, so I just can’t win. I just have a lot of motivation and a lot of anger.”

“Why do you care so much what he says about me?” she asked, still not meeting his eyes.

“Because it was some bad stuff, Ren,” he said. “And I know we haven’t always gotten along, but you’re my friend, and I’m not gonna stand there and while he calls you a ‘fucking French whore who screws every guy she meets.’”

She swung at him, but he blocked, whining, “Hey, he said it, not me!”

When he put his hands down, she was shaking, with rage and sadness and something that looked an awful lot like determination in her eyes. “Bold of him to call me a whore when he’s the one who cheated.” Her hands ball into fists, and her eyes scanned him again--with a less medical glare, this time, and more of a vengeance. “And he did this to you?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be back.”

“Wait!”

Hikaru grabbed her by the back of her shirt and suddenly realized exactly how Mori must have felt watching him fight it out on the academic lawn. Renge’s feet scrambled on the tile, but he held her in place, dragged her back in front of him to block her path. “What, so you’re going to go fight him now since he fought me?”

“That’s not a good enough reason?” she pouted.

“No, but…” Hikaru rubbed the back of his neck. “You were just lecturing me about fighting him. Seems a little hypocritical to me, Ren.”

“Don’t use words you don’t understand,” she huffed, leaning back against the wall. She didn’t fight him when he leaned in closer, securely caging in her body. “You were just defending my honor. Let me do the same.”

“Mori dragged me out of the fight, so I’d say he fucked them up good enough,” Hikaru said, and his heart thumped especially hard when she laughed. Oh God, it was like the tinkling of a bell, cool and clear and exactly what he imagined confectioner’s sugar to sound like. He felt himself dragged with a current, down the slope of a well, but he didn’t mind; he looked into her eyes and allowed the feeling to bouy him along. If he weren’t bleeding, he might have just kissed her, but he didn’t need her slap adding to his injuries.

Renge’s breath hitched when he leaned closer, resting his forearm parallel above her head. She was so busy in high school that she never noticed how soft his eyes were, almost golden, like the rising sun over a field of wheat. It reminded her of mornings on her family’s country estate, when she would meditate and do yoga and drink tea while the world quietly joined her in consciousness, when everything was soft and drowsy. Such beautiful eyes, bruised and marred and bloodied for her.

“Renge, I--”

“Don’t,” she whispered, lacking her usual venom. “Let’s enjoy what we have right now.”

Hikaru bit his lip, immediately regretting it as the pain surged back through him. When Renge laughed again, he couldn’t help it; he leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, drinking in that sweet, drawled perfume that he so often used to make fun of her for wearing. She smelled like a doll, but she was anything but--smart, outspoken, a firecracker all wrapped up in that pretty pink bow.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, lowering his hand to her hair without thinking. He caressed the silky locks, trailing his fingers down to touch her temple, tucking the stray hairs behind her ear. “And so soft.”

“You know I’m anything but soft,” she grumbled, but his touch was warm, and like a moth to a flame, she went to him, brushed her knuckles against the bruises on his collarbone. If it hurt him, he gave no indication; from the way he was looking at her, an asteroid could have hit earth and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“Sound pretty soft right now.”

Renge rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“Gonna make me?”

Never one to turn down a challenge, Renge pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him, as gently as she could manage. In an attempt to avoid his wound, her mouth only landed on half of his, but he could still taste the cinnamon on her breath, the stickiness of her lip gloss on his skin. Some hell of a first kiss, but at least it was a kiss, so he didn’t mind.

He ran his hands up her sides, tickling her ribs above her shirt. She broke the kiss with a giggle, bumping his nose with his as she threw her head back in laughter. What a beautiful sight he had there, all at the expense of a busted lip and a bruised eye.

“Remind me to get in a fight more often, if this is the payoff I get,” he whispered, grinning at her pointed glare.

“Don’t you dare,” she ordered. “You need to let this lip heal so I can give you a proper kiss.”

Hikaru raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t a proper kiss?”

“No.” Renge lowered her eyes back to his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back in. “Once you’re healed, I’ll show you how the French really kiss.”

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Kofi & Commission