#ill try to share that later

[hezekiahwakely]

I would actually kill to hear your post 200 jmart messy divorce thoughts you alluded to in those tags

Woof OK let's get into it then

My foundational piece of thought for this comes from the fic it will be this, always by bluejayblueskies on ao3. That fic is basically the closest I consider canon to the 'jon and martin managed to survive somewhere else, with consequences' ending (if you're an 'optimist' like me and you choose to believe in that option :P) Their relationship in that fic has similar tones to the show-- the writing captures the feeling of TMA well--and the fic in general is very bleak and cathartic, clinging to the edge of a damaged relationship that's about to fall apart. So, I enjoyed this fic A Normal Amount and it's stuck with me ever since.

Now I don't actually have the brain cells or the energy levels to write the fics that're floating around in my head atm, but here are my scattered thoughts on the subject of jmart post-mag 200:

Basically, they can never truly come to terms over the final decision

(Jons desire to end the world's suffering, vs Martin's POV, the betrayal of their relationship and Jon's self hating suicidality)

At least, definitely not in the first few months when they're forced to live together bc they're stranded in this brave new world and have no one else.

Both fall back on negative habits. Jon starts smoking, withdrawing, becoming paranoid; obsessively searching for signs of the fears.

Not one person in the world understands what he's been through. What kind of sacrifice he made. And they don't know how much he failed them all.

And his body hurts. All of his wounds hurt. His head struggles to clear and the empty space in it seems so silent. He sometimes gets mentally lost without the eye to guide him.

He almost wishes they had died. He wishes he hadn't cut the tether. But hes so happy Martin is alive---even if he seems to hate him right now. That's ok, hes alive. Even if he can't smile at him anymore.

Jon craves any sort of comfort. But the only man who had ever wanted to give him that is now enormously angry with him and maybe rightly so. And besides, of course, he's so unworthy of comfort that it's shameful to even desire it. He deeply wishes he could stop wanting it, to stop feeling so disgusted with himself.

He feels disgusted with himself regardless. Helpless and hopeless and confused in this floundering relationship and so very guilty of the things hes done.

He's sinking deeply, deeply into self hatred and despair.

But he still lashes out at Martin occasionally bc he's a bastard

(And bc he deserves to a little bit, y'know? He's angry about a lot of things right now and he has a right to be! And some of those things might be bc Martin uhhhhhhhh. Did not always treat him with the most compassion, understanding, or patience during the apocalypse.)

NO I don't think their relationship in show is toxic or abusive. I think it's realistic that two people who love each other very much in terrible circumstances are going to fuck up. and them hurting each other makes for good drama. anyways

Martin also withdraws, becomes cold and passive aggressive. Assumes the caretaking role for Jon (again) and walls off his feelings

He just can't forgive Jon for leaving him like that. For betraying his trust. For abandoning him. For hurting him immeasurably deeply by forcing him to kill him

And he can't understand his reasoning for doing so, when he thought that there was a chance for them to get out and be ok, and it could have all been so easy, but Jon didn't seem willing to take it. He chose to die instead because of his guilt, and martin is so, so angry at him for that.

And now he's stuck. Again. Forced into caring for someone who has treated him badly, AGAIN.

And he has no one to talk to. No one outside of Jon to go to for comfort, and being around Jon hurts. He is increasingly alone. Again.

Martin's fine. Everything is fine. He doesn't want to talk about it. Would you like some tea? I.e., it's time to shut the fuck up, Jon.

His anger and resentment sometimes turn his tongue as sharp and cold as an icicle. In those moments of icy rage, Martin thinks his voice sounds like his mother's.

Except when he finally can't hold it in and he explodes at jon like a sadness volcano, because Jon can't even look him in the face anymore. And then he leaves to go cry alone in their bedroom

Eventually communication breaks down. Then I have a few fun ideas for what might happen

Jon has a full-on mental break. Becomes catatonic. He's paralyzed by the need to stay here for Martin... but he's also held in place by the webs he sees now tying around his whole timeline. He was never going to be able to stop what they had planned for him. None of his choices ultimately matter --so he stops doing or wanting anything. It will all be taken away from him eventually. Whatever's going to happen will happen regardless of what he does

At the same time, he is experiencing so much pain and so much guilt and self hatred and lack of love in their relationship that he's desperate to escape it. When he finds no relief from any quarter, he becomes extremely suicidal. The only two things holding him to life are 1. not leaving Martin alone, and 2. his hopeless resignation to the web.

Starts having severe panic attacks.

Has that PTSD 'avalanche' where, now that he's finally somewhere he can be relatively safe, everything that happened to him is hitting him all at once.

He's scared of everything. He's scared of what might happen to Martin. He's scared of himself. He's scared of Martin.

Then there's the vomiting, anorexia, agoraphobia, bodily neglect, other passive self harms, the whole nine yards. He's physically falling apart.

Jon has a very bad time.

And he's moved almost entirely beyond Martin's reach

Martin is suddenly forced to come to terms with the fact that Jon needs immediate, intensive medical help if he's going to survive

Fate turns slightly in their favor, and they find a good physical rehab doctor, a good psychiatrist, and a good therapist for both of them. Perhaps at this point they're separated, maybe just bc of a hospitalization, but they're attending counseling together.

In my happiest ending, Jon responds well to the meds and is able to start talking to someone about his overwhelming feelings. Martin is actually able to find therapeutic help for his trauma, finds other people to help him and Jon so it's not all on him anymore, and he starts getting more of the love and support he deserves from his boyfriend

they recommit themselves to the relationship and to making it work. slowly, they start healing.

While also beginning to rediscover all the reasons they loved each other in the first place :)

In a sadder ending, one of them dies ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Eventually both, if we're being honest. One would not last long without the other. Not with that kind of connection

Or perhaps they do separate. Maybe they keep in close touch, in which case I think it would lean more towards a happy ending. Orrrrrr they make a hard break of it. Maybe it's sudden, urgent, painful and messy. Maybe they dont see each other again for years.

Regardless of what they do, I don't think they could truly be apart forever. They would visit. Even if it hurt every time. They would want to see each other again.

Because they care about each other.

But maybe, in one timeline, they need some space to heal and rebuild their lives and themselves. Maybe when theyre ready, they'll try again.

I may continue this later with my other branching ideas possibly but I wanted to get this bit out while it was fresh and I was thinking about it. This line of thought continually haunts the back of my subconscious so I'm always happy to share it

[xxplastic-cubexx]

filler

[missescalientee]

Finally revealing one of my other blorbos, Niccolo Sonata! A mixed genre troll who poses as a Pop Idol up until world tour

He's a complicated bag, he's half rock half classical, his mother kind of low-key hates him, and his dad does care but is kind of paralyzed with various anxieties that comes with the fact that Niccolo is half classical (worried about his constitution and his wings) and things related to his mother (she doesn't want Niccolo to become like his dad and puts a lot of restrictions on him)

Both of his parents don't really know what to do with him, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

He has a lot of internalized hatred towards himself and the two sides of his musical families, plus he is a secret third genre (symphonic rock) which he doesn't fully understand. He got picked on a bit in Volcano Rock City, they're a lot rougher than he's used to so he just kind of took it, which is why he looks so roughed up in one pic and the other he says they hate him in VRC

Again he's really complicated even tho he doesn't look it, if you have questions about him lmk

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[random-lil-illing]

carmen deserves to have twitter, argue with the wall

[swingstep]

hey hey, hope you dont mind me once again rattling my commissions page at you all, but hey. economy's in shambles.

so, i've neatened up my comms info again! so if you've got a hankering for some art, hit me up on ko-fi! right now there's two options listed, but if you want something that isn't on that list, feel free to shoot me a dm here or there and i'll gladly talk it out with ya!

that's all folks, keep it fresh, and have a lovely day! o7

[ Ko-Fi Link ]

[telesodalite]

Woe, unfinished, mildly edited, fulfire fic tid-bits be upon you

-

Like a magnet, his optics kept drifting back to Misfire's face. His stupid, strangely charming face.

For a short while, after Clemency, it had been that face that haunted some of his nightmares. His recalls blurring the lines between the strange reality of Misfire's hands reaching into him to lock his fuel pump back into the very spot he'd pulled it from, and the fear that just as easily he could pull it out again. They had been bloody dreams. Dreams that had him startling awake, gripping his chest in the vain attempt to close what wasn't open, before spending the rest of the day avoiding Misfire's optics.

But now things were different. Not Misfire's face. No, that hadn't changed much. But Fulcrum's dreams had definitely changed. To say the least of what all rolled around in his processor as he slept nowadays.

Some of those newer dreams had crept to the forefront of his mind as he sat there on the couch, staring as the lights of the screen reflected dully across Misfire's plating in hazy blues and greys.

The lighting made his colors seem muddy and faded, but Fulcrum didn't really care, nor did he care to think what it made himself look like. He was too busy bringing an empty engex can to his lips while he watched the crinkle of Misfire's nose as he barked a laugh at something Fulcrum didn't catch onscreen.

He'd started noticing it months ago, all the ways the silvery mesh of Misfire's face would scrunch up with his emotions. Those little crinkles along his optics and nose when he laughed or glared. The creases indented along his cheeks when he grinned. Fulcrum found himself quietly logging away these little details. Idle notes and observations that had suddenly started piling up in the corners of his processer.

He… He'd never really done that before? He'd never really noticed those sorts of things in other mechs.

The faces and expressions of his past colleagues never seemed terribly important. All the details of every smile and frown were never worth filing away, outside of few notable moments where those expressions reflected his work performance. But besides the smile that meant promotion, and the frown that meant he'd screwed up, nothing else was noticeable. Nothing was worth remembering.

But now the memory of every genuine laugh that bubbled out of Misfire sat comfortably besides memories of warm joyful optics that Fulcrum found himself collecting every time Crankcase cracked a rare half-smile for him, or when Krok placed a reassuring hand against his back, or the times Spinister spontaneously pointed out something odd but ultimately nice about his stupid frame.

He didn't really know why he was doing it, memorizing all these mundane little things, just to have them flit through his processer randomly. Maybe it was because those expressions, those details, felt… comforting? Comforting in such a strange and unfamiliar way. But, a good way. A good sort of strange, much like the mechs themselves.

-

-

He had stared for a long moment, the credits and their rolling tune playing somewhere in the background as Fulcrum stared back. But Misfire was never one for personable silence, even as the sound of some likely long dead Iaconian orchestra filled the room.

"What is it?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping him as he brought a hand to his face, "Don't tell me I've poured it all over myself again."

It had taken Fulcrum longer than usual to unstick his glossa from the roof of his mouth as he watched Misfire run a thumb over his lips, but eventually he had coughed out a small, choked, "No."

That had earned him an odd look at first, but with their fields loose and open, Fulcrum could almost feel the exact moment something clicked in Misfire's mind, as the idle comfortable static he projected in pulsing waves evened out into something openly curious and almost subdued.

It wasn't often Fulcrum felt him that clearly.

Misfire tended to keep his field fairly close, though, maybe not as close as the others did, what with how Crankcase kept an iron grip on his, and how Krok's always held an air of strained control, even when it slipped from him. But still, Misfire's was always hard to read, no matter the reach or depth of his field.

Even then and there, with it loose and unfiltered and buzzing with the engex running through his system, there was an ever present undertone of something indescribably jumbled about him, like too many feelings at once, each too vast and hurried for Fulcrum to really feel or understand.

It always seemed to stir the passive anxiety Fulcrum must've been forged with when Misfire's field brushed against his own. As facing the indescribable vague mess of Misfire felt like trying to untangle a pile of live-wires he couldn't even see.

It was almost frustrating in a sense, the need to try and sort and understand what wasn't even his to begin with. But at the same time it was almost exciting as well. It was like a game, like a puzzle he had yet to solve.

-

-

Finally letting his own can go tumbling to the floor to join Misfire's, Fulcrum had brought a hand to cover his face as he drew his legs up and leaned back against the arm of the couch, trying to suppress the fit as the sly look slipped from Misfire's face at the sounds.

While Fulcrum had laughed, and… snorted, embarrassingly, he had felt Misfire's field change again, brushing something fizzy and almost warm against his plating as Misfire's features softened.

"I'm looking at you," Fulcrum had said then between gulps of air, letting his hand fall from his face as he reached out to poke at Misfire's chest, "Dumbaft."

His finger had lingered over the thick plating there for maybe a little longer than necessary, drawing Misfire's attention as it slid down a little before pulling away.

Looking back up again with his helm angled slightly, Misfire had followed the sight of his hand leaving his plating to where Fulcrum let it fall between them.

"Wow…" Misfire had chuckled a little dryly, "I was gonna make it real easy for you. I was going to say something like, ''Do you like what you see?'' or-… or something like that. But now you've ruined it. Good job."

Meeting Fulcrum's optics again as he pulled his own hand back from Fulcrum's shoulder, he brought it to rest between them as well.

"And you're laughing at me," He said next, faking a small pout as his hand drifted closer to Fulcrum's, "Which totally ruins the whole vibe I was going for really. I mean, it's sort of hard to be all nice and suave-like when you're being laughed at. Total vibe killer. Bit of an ego killer too if I'm being honest. So thanks for that loser, thanks for saying I have a funny face."

With Misfire's fingers brushing distractingly past his own, Fulcrum didn't think before the words stumbled out of him.

"I like your face."

It came out almost matter of fact sounding, Fulcrum's laughter having died down while Misfire complained about it. But at the same time the words felt so simple, they came out so easily, and in a weird way they felt nice to say. But Misfire's optics had widened in surprise, his frame frozen and his field suddenly struck quiet, and despite the engex numbing his usual nerves, Fulcrum felt a sudden pang of anxiety because of it.

The silence in Misfire's field was terribly alien. It felt wrong, and something in Fulcrum spiraled to think he had caused it. But slowly, almost as if it were creeping forward, an odd almost scrutinizing uncertainty fanned outward in a careful wave. Misfire moved with it, leaning closer as he searched Fulcrum's expression for something.

"Oh yeah?" He'd said lowly then, and that sly look returned. But that vague uncertainty didn't fade with it, if anything, Fulcrum felt it strengthen. Caught between what he saw, in Misfire's easy smile and dimmed optics, and what he felt, in the growing hollow distance within their fields, Fulcrum found himself frowning and pulling back.

-

-

Growing frustrated with himself, and wanting that feeling back, he had pushed forward, shifting onto his knees as he reached for Misfire's face before the other could pull away from him entirely.

"I like your face." He said firmly, maybe too firmly. His expression still drawn into a frown as he pressed his fingers into Misfire's helm, brushing his thumbs across the silver mesh he'd been staring so intently at before. "I like your optics, and your nose. I- I like the way you smile. When you really smile, and when you laugh. I do. I'm not lying."

And oh there it was again, that little curl of warmth in Misfire's field. Almost a tangible thing, like a brush of ventilation, but Misfire wasn't venting. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, but no breath left him as he stared at Fulcrum with widening optics.

Spurred on by that tiny bloom of warmth, Fulcrum chased after it with slightly slurred words and clumsy hands as he tried to fix whatever he'd done wrong, hoping with each word that Misfire might soften and smile again.

"I like your expressions, and- and I like your voice," He said, glancing down at Misfire's parted lips, and laughing softly, nervously, as he continued, "Even when you say something so stupid. I like- I like the way it sounds. I like your accent, I like the way it makes your words sound. I- I like your- your mouth?"

Once more that weird but nice feeling settled in Fulcrum's chest. Those simple words felt good to say. It felt like a weight off his shoulders, like an admission he'd been waiting to say. About what and why? He wasn't really sure. But the warmth grew, and Misfire took a sharp vent inwards, and that felt right, so Fulcrum kept on.

"I like your helm," He said with a smile, reaching up to brush his fingers over the jutting finials there, before dropping his hands to settle lightly over Misfire's chest. "I like your frame, the colors of it. I like your-"

Before he could finish, Misfire was surging forward, knocking their helms together and nearly bruising the mesh of their noses as he tried for, and just barely missed, Fulcrum's lips.

-

👁👁👍

[skishie]

just some simple humanoid designs for them

[dootznbootz]

Odypen definitely and equivalently adore each other BUT I weirdly can't see them as the type to actually say "I Love you".

They still definitely vocalize their love for each other but it's more so in "My Joy", and "Extraordinary Woman", "Strange Woman/Man", etc. And very cheesy lines (both say some cheesy shit in the Odyssey, and he definitely does in the Iliad as well. "Joy like a drowning sailor seeing land" bit???)

I could see "I adore you" but even then, that's probably during very specific moments but the actual "I love you"??? I just typed it just now for fic shit and... It weirdly just didn't feel right and I don't know why. 😅

Idk maybe it's kind of because I see them as over the top in ways, they love wordplay and riddles and I think they'd almost think "...That's not good enough >:( " about it??? I don't know???😂

[lucabyte]

i need to know if the people who are following me who are currently in the process of reading homestuck for the first time are doing it through the Unofficial Homestuck Collection because if you aren't please say so because um. Veteran homestuck here who wants to give you the best possible experience . please. <- guy who's prepping for an upcoming homestuck reread and as such has a whole list of reccomendations

[good-beanswrites]

Same Lights, Camera, Sing Your Sins anon here (you know if I'm gonna keep sending anon asks because of ideas, I need a shorter name...) Glad they're getting time to cool off on what happened during the trial. This project is hard on them all QvQ

Okay another thought! While working on the Trial 2 MVs, you think the prisoners get to watch everyone's first MVs? Like, maybe praise how each video looks ("Oh my gosh, Amane you look amazing!"), making comments with Jackalope's artistic choices (Shidou's flower mummy) and how stiff some of the prisoners look ("Fuuta you're walking like a tinman." "Shut up!"), some singing along to songs they've overheard earlier (Kotoko singing Weakness), and...er...shirtless Mikoto ("Amane don't look!"). Idk, this makes their filming for the next MVs sound more fun as they hang out.

Hello again!! omg Thank You for sharing once again, I’m obsessed with that 🥺🥺🥺 That's so wonderful picturing a little movie night... (And yes, feel free to pick a name :D else I will dub thee 🎬 next time given the theme lmao)

Okay so my original idea was that those first videos were actually watched on the down-low. There were a few days of nothing going on while the prisoners debriefed, made plans, and communicated their song ideas to the writers to start working with. (Minor detail but I think they’re cut off from the world still, no internet access though they can exchange a few messages/visits with family). They do, however, get access to the others’ T1 videos on their phones/ facility computers. Everyone gave permission to watch them, but there’s a bit of hesitancy. They haven’t started filming their new videos yet, so no one has gotten a look that deep into anyone else’s hearts. Just because they’re closer in this au doesn’t make them better communicators -- there’s still a lot that’s been left unsaid regarding near-murders and their true selves. So they only watch them in secret out of respect.

Haruka hides under the covers to watch After Pain on loop late into the night (going “she’s just like me fr”). Fuuta doesn’t care much for the others’ songs but tries to decipher the crimes as best as he can. He probably gets one stuck in his head the next few days that he finds really embarrassing. Mahiru gets very emotional over the other lovers, doing a poor job of hiding her sympathy toward Yuno, Shidou, and Kazui in the following days. Kazui is embarrassed to watch Throw Down so often, but Shidou is such a subtle man and it’s nice to see a more open side to him (who admits to lying as well). Amane takes a while to watch them -- they’re videos supporting murder and sin, after all -- but once she convinces herself it’s to help the experiment, she allows herself to enjoy  them. Kotoko does the same as Fuuta but jumps straight into Fandom Mode and starts taking notes and analyzing the others’ videos. She keeps a secret folder on her phone of theories and symbolism and screenshots for reference. 

HOWEVER

You have opened my eyes to Milgram Movie Night 👁️👁️

Everyone realizes they’re going to need to get comfortable with a lot of personal info really quickly, since T2 filming starts in a few days. Rather than Jackalope’s suggestion of undergoing a painful group circle talk, they go with Mikoto’s idea to all sit down to watch the videos together. This keeps the atmosphere up while they watch, allowing for many compliments and encouragement. It also lets the singer defend things in their video if they see fit, though most let it speak for itself. (Fuuta: “ah, back when I was a menace online.” “You’re still like that Fuuta.” “I’m a changed man!” “You got one guilty verdict and nothing’s even happened yet.”)

I love all of those reactions so much ahhhh! Amane getting showered in compliments like she deserves. Honestly, all of them getting showered in complements because it's what they deserve ;-; Playful teasing getting thrown around for everyone. Not even Jackalope is safe from their heckling (see: Throw Down flower person), and he's not even there to defend himself. There’s lots of blushing and eye covering during MeMe. And a singalong aspect!! I don’t know I didn’t think to incorporate that into the fic so far -- there’s nothing quite like heckling your friend onstage by echoing their lines really loud from the wings asdfsdfsd. Mikoto recognizes the video game from Fuuta’s and makes his whole day. Mahiru and Shidou realize they have both flowers and food in common, and get to talking. All at once, everything clicks into place for why Amane hated Shidou him so much.

I'm also realizing Kazui would have a Moment TM while seeing all the prisoners talking so comfortably about their deepest selves and struggles. I don't think he'd break down and open up just yet, but I bet it's be a pretty big change of heart for him to see such honesty/vulnerability...

Plus, most of my original ideas can still stand after the fact! There's no shame in seeing too much personal info about another prisoner, the only shame comes from just how many time the video was looped in private lmao

[spacexseven]

hello hello!! a newcomer here with uh, first ask/im not really used to using tumblr ahhdgjd

ive been religiously reading and following you for . the past two months now methinks? and i really wanted to say that holy shit, your writing is absolutely beautiful </3 im sure you get a lot of comments about that,, but !? i really wanted to say that because i adore your posts sm 💙 and its gotten me looking forward to your next post, whatever it may be!

i !! also know you're considering moving blogs and all that so,, i wanted to wish you the best of luck!! and that even if you dont know me i care about you :] so yes!! thats uh. what i wanted to say (im very awkward at these things im so sorry 😭??)

sincerely, wren (also i . dont mind at all if my username is revealed or not its hhhh up to you !!)

ahh hello wren!!! thank you so much for your kind words i am really at a loss of words (lol) this is just so sweet of you ㅠㅠ two months is kind of crazy i am really grateful for your support :) about the blog thing mmmmm hmmm i still dont know tbh and ive put off thinking about it too because irl stuff is my priority right now (and i hate to say it but this blog is my baby and im stuck on whether i want to keep it up as an archive at Least or not...im very indecisive im sorry)

i care about you too ^^ this really means a lot thank you again!! dont worry about being awkward we are all friends here (and i am also very awkward so.)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

How did you read the X-men comics?! Do you collect physical copies or..do you read them digitally? I really want to get into the Krakoan era but cannot find any place to read the comics. Pls save me friend

I do both!

I buy comics whenever im out and see something interesting and wanna take it home (or make an impulsive decision while browsing ebay…..) or i just really like an issue ive already read online (like 309 or the flashback issue) and i wanna be able to pull it off my shelf to reread it over and over. I read digital if i just wanna know what people are talking about/im curious about a run/issue, or if the run i wanna read’s too large for me to buy at the moment (like all of house of m)

I generally prefer to buy physical comics because im a stickler for physical stuff, esp if theyre used. Plus its easier for me to actually feel incentivized to read them lol. also, should i ever have friends interested in comics, i always like the idea of being able to pluck the issue/s off my shelf and lend it to em :]

If you’re strugglin with a krakoa reading list, i made this list a couple months back that should still relatively hold up! Also worth checking out the original 70’s Krakoa in Giant-Size X-Men #1. Just for funsies tho: it’s not really necessary to read the current krakoa era, but it doesnt hurt to have a peek….

And if you need a site to read comics, Read Comics Online is your best friend (just make sure you got an adblock- its miserable on mobile, so id say read it on a laptop..)!

Happy reading my friend :] !

[cavefairy]

happy valentines day to The Ship Ever

[goblin-enjoyer]

I swear why are half the things i like/fandoms im in made of mostly younger people while the other half are mostly older people? what are the zoggin odds with that?

How it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 30-40 somethings.

VS how it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 14-17 somethings.

like am do i just have extremely odd luck with things i like or is this just what being 20 is like?

[aether-friskarts]

quick doodle of. blorbos from my brain

the punishment chair is actually a thing, I got it from this video:

i was trying to come up w something to draw with these guys and i remembered this video so. boom