#im not sure i like my writing in this but i feel like its been too long since i posted anything so.. tell me if u liked this !

[sparrowlucero]

i enjoy ur bird abode thoughts! I was a genuine enjoyer of the show when it was airing, I’m no die hard fan though and love to see ppls personal takes on the overall story/plot. Im curious if you also would agree or have any thoughts on the impacts The Mouse’s cancellation had on the shows ability to be more than it was? srry im not super eloquent with my words, but basically ur response to that ask got me wondering if part of the reason the show like genuinely wasnt all that ground breaking or unique in the end plot wise (other than the villain faces consequences in the end ig) as far as YA/Teen animation goes, was because of The Mouse’s inability to let the writers flesh out the show before gutting it? i have a negative bias toward The Mouse franchise and obviously dont know anything about how writing a show under the eyes of a franchise that big would work, its just smth that rattles around in my head and wanna know what u think!

Well to an extent, but I think it's much more the effect the studio had on how the owl house started out as rather than it not getting a full season at the end - It didn't escape my noticed that the show was initially announced as being a "horror comedy" when it doesn't really seem like either, especially by the second season, and yeah, the original pitch bible is obviously aiming for that much more than the show proper is as it goes along (and is honestly seems quite a bit more funny, weird, and dark, with an overarching plotline about a giant bug being used to religiously suppress people, eda able to cure her curse by killing luz, and one of the major characters being a teen boy awoken from a sleeping curse who ends up being a weird little bigot because he's from the 13th century, among other things)

(side note, i just noticed they actually specifically describe the thing i assumed the show was gonna be about here. huh.) but ultimately the bulk of the show that was actually made seems very influenced by a writing team that was genuinely interested in making a tropey YA fantasy story rather than just being mandated to. I mean even in what aired you can see the show sort of settle in ways that feel less like studio interference and more like, you know, art students creating their ideal fantasy show, like how King is clearly Eda's roommate who's funny because he looks like and sounds like a little dog despite being an adult man at the beginning but by the end they've made him her adopted sad backstory son who's explicitly a child. While I think a third season would have made the show as it existed better, because they clearly didn't get to finish the plot they wanted to (frankly to the point where some major aspects of the show are a bit confusing, I'm still not sure what a grimwalker is), I don't really fault the show for that but also don't think that hypothetical season (which pretty clearly would have been mostly about the magic school teens going to normal school) would suddenly flip around into something that I personally found interesting and subversive. Nor should it, really; again, it being Queernorm Harry Potter thing is clearly the intended appeal of the show, it's not really a flaw but just not a genre I'm personally interested in when compared to what I initially expected the show to be.

HOWEVER I will say they robbed little weird girls of their representation and that can't be forgiven

[faithshouseofchaos]

Could you make a lando norris x male reader/oc (maybe its a oneshot or more you decide) where lando has been in love with his best friend since they were in dipers and lando is just obsessed over reader when their not there(ex. Their always what he talks about, always staring at pictures of him and getting supremely angry when anyone talk bad about male reader), and when male reader is there it's like he's high and he always has to be touching you (he could even secretly touching in areas hes not suppose to but male reader is just used to it because he's done it so many times in the past that he doesnt see anything wrong), the other drivers get concerned when lando that you have a crush on someone on the grid (not knowing its him because male reader is equally as obsessed as he is but just hides it way better) and as reader is mclarens media admin, actor and occasional song writer their both too infatuated with each other that the other drivers have to force them to tell each other so lando doesnt hurt anyone on the track.

This has sat in my inbox for a long time 💀 it’s not exactly what you want but I am writing something for male!reader and Lando getting high together 🤭🤭.

Also im definitely going to be writing blurbs for them.

I’ve always been yours — Lando Norris x male!reader

Word count— 990

Warnings — slight jealous Lando and possessive Lando slightly angsty

It had been a long day at the paddock, but that didn’t stop Lando from keeping you within arm’s reach at all times. He was more touchy than usual, his hand constantly finding your shoulder, his fingers brushing your arm or neck every few minutes. It was subtle—probably no one else noticed—but for you, it was impossible to ignore.

Lando had always been possessive, sure, but this was something else. The look in his eyes, the way he practically bristled whenever anyone else took your attention… you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“So, any plans tonight?” Carlos asked, nudging you as you finished up with a few media notes. “A group of us are heading to dinner if you’re interested.”

Before you could respond, Lando’s arm slid over your shoulders, pulling you just a bit closer than necessary. “Actually, he’s busy,” Lando said, not even bothering to look at Carlos.

You blinked, glancing up at him. “I am?”

Lando shot you a quick, sideways look, and you caught the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw. “Yeah. We’re grabbing dinner together. Already planned it.” He said it with such confidence that you had to stop yourself from laughing. But his hand lingered on your shoulder, his fingers flexing slightly, and something in the way he held onto you made you decide not to argue.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you with a smirk. “Ohhh, alright then,” he said, winking before heading off.

The second Carlos was out of earshot, you turned to Lando, arching an eyebrow. “Did we actually have dinner plans?”

“We do now,” he replied simply, not loosening his grip on you. “Didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Carlos? He’s just being friendly. It’s not like that.”

Lando’s gaze darkened, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Don’t care. Don’t want him looking at you like that.”

You knew he could be intense sometimes, but this was new. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or ask him what was going on, but the fierce glint in his eyes made you hold your tongue. Besides, a small part of you didn’t mind—Lando’s possessiveness felt good, like he was claiming you in ways he hadn’t before.

Later, after the debrief, you ended up in his hotel room, sharing takeout on the bed as you usually did. Lando’s leg pressed against yours as he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

“Hey, uh…” He looked away, fidgeting slightly. “Have you… ever thought about someone on the grid? Like, actually thought about them that way?”

You paused mid-bite, caught off guard. “Someone on the grid? What’s with the random question?”

He shrugged, eyes fixed on his food. “Just… curious. I’ve heard people talk about you. Heard you might have a thing for someone.”

You narrowed your eyes, laughing a bit. “And you believed them? Please, Lando. You know how people talk around here. They just like to gossip.”

“Still. It’s not funny.” His tone was firm, more serious than you were used to. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were filled with something intense, a possessive glint that sent a shiver down your spine. “Don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they have a chance with you.”

You blinked, taken aback by the bluntness. “Lando, why do you care so much?”

For a moment, he seemed to consider backing off, but then he leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. “Because you’re mine.” The words were soft, barely more than a whisper, but they were filled with a raw, undeniable certainty that made your heart race.

Your breath caught, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “Yours?”

He nodded, his hand reaching out to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek with a touch that was both gentle and possessive. “Always been mine. Don’t want anyone else even thinking about you that way. Can’t stand it.”

A part of you wanted to push back, to tease him for being so intense, but the way he was looking at you, the heat in his eyes, made any words die on your lips. Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your heart pounding as you let yourself feel the full weight of his words.

“Lando… you’ve never said anything like this before,” you murmured.

His grip tightened, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched. “Because I thought you’d think I was crazy. But then today, hearing those rumors—” He shook his head, his jaw clenched. “I don’t want anyone else. Just you. Always been you.”

Your chest felt tight, your heart swelling with a mix of disbelief and relief. You’d known him forever, but hearing it out loud, feeling the intensity in his voice… it was almost too much.

“You could’ve said something sooner,” you whispered, barely able to keep the smile off your face. “Would’ve saved us both a lot of time.”

Lando’s face broke into a grin, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a kiss—deep, intense, filled with years of unspoken feelings. When he finally pulled back, he didn’t let go, his hand still tangled in your hair as he whispered, “Just so we’re clear—no one else gets to have you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your own possessiveness finally breaking free as you wrapped your arms around him. “Good. Because I don’t want anyone else either.”

The next day at the paddock, Lando was practically glued to your side, his arm around your shoulders, hand possessively gripping yours whenever you had a spare moment. The other drivers noticed, casting curious glances, but Lando didn’t seem to care. He was too busy keeping you close, his every glance and touch a reminder to anyone who looked that you were his.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

[hailthedoll]

Hiiii i love your blogs i’ve been following gaga for AT LEAST a year now and i’m so happy your back! Could you write a NSFW Euronymous hc? Anything NSFW please i'm needy.

✭ euronymous nsfw headcannon ✭

i love you so much for one requesting and two following my page for that long. thanks bitch<3 PSA, if you do not support or agree with my post or feel the need to leave a hateful/judgemental comment kindly fuck off and move on. with much love-knotty<<<333

LISTEN

im gonna say this flat out, i feel like he lowkey is childish with stuff like this

like giggly

a friendly reminder euronymous and øystein are the same person with different personalities

so øystein

this man was BLUSHING the first couple times he saw you naked

then that turned into just staring at you in awe and he hasn't really stopped doing that since

hes gentle

hes more of a giver than a receiver imo

its easier for him to finish than it is for you and he knows this

so making you more so of a priority in his mind is the obvious choice

he wants to make sure you're okay and it feels good for you before he worries about himself

but when he does worry about himself this man is vocal

not necessarily dirty talk

more so like quiet moans, whispers, small grunts and sighs

he loves head tho

when he gets head those are the moments where he can be GREEDY

he pushes your head down, you choke

"shit sorry"

and then the motherfucker will do it again

i see him being very much into missionary

he wants to see you

how you react to things

how you're feeling

the look on your face tells him what he needs to be doing

he will go down whenever

for however long

if it takes all day he's got time

he enjoys it

is it the taste? is it your body twitching under him? is it your moans?

he doesnt know, but its addicting

and he's got that "nobody else makes you feel this way" or "nobody else can make you sound like this" attitude

that really gets him feeling some sort of way

he will practically beg for you to sit on his face

a million pleases until you say yes

and its like he's more excited for it than you are

him praising you

AGAIN not in a dirty talk way but more like

"you look so beautiful" while you are FOLDED

definitely would keep a polaroid of you(iykwim) in his wallet, hidden behind some cash or maybe behind a more appropriate picture of you

possessive in a doesn't want a threesome way

like doesn't want anybody touching you or seeing you the way he does

he absolutely loves to show you off and brag about you to everyone and hear people compliment you but he would never let it go past that

pre show sex

it may take some convincing or teasing him to get him to actually do it in public but after the first time he is all for it everytime

after show sex

if this man is wanting to fuck you after a show, he is still in this mindset where he isnt øystein, hes euronymous

and if that's case you're getting a cocky motherfucker

hes high on adrenaline

he just spent a solid what hour? two hours? listening to people cheer for him

like yeah this mans ego is FED

this is the time he'd be more aggressive

more vocal

yes ACTUALLY dirty talk

PRAISING

he is still more focused on you than himself but its closer to 50/50 than what it normally is

i think his actions are based on your likes

if you like your hair being pulled itll more likely happen when he's in this mindset where isn't himself and he's this persona

because øystein is worried about hurting you

not saying he wouldnt

im just saying its more likely when you get him out of the mindset of you being like this person he wants to love and protect

lets face it, he is a small man

he is not tall and he is not big nor buff

in his eyes hes like your protector

hes the man in the relationship

or the masculine(?) one

and that's just nature for him

so hurting you?

is the LAST thing he wants to do to you

ok aftercareeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

at home he's gonna cling to you

hug you, hold you, kiss you

you ever seen that picture where he was staring at the bird

did you see the way that man was staring at that bird?

you're the bird.

thats how that man stares at you

softly smiling, his eyes full of love

would probs just have you fall asleep in his arms

if you are not home

sly looks

smirks and grins coming your way

little whispers commenting about what y'all just did

and how nobody knows what just happened

like a proud moment

like yeah we did that

he'd kiss you a couple times

hold your hand

or just stare at you and smile

no matter who he is in that moment that man is GEEKING

HE just did the deed with YOU

how did he get so lucky

[puckpocketed]

hello i was tagged by @18minutemajor for WIP Wednesday. it is not Wednesday but i am also not a cop so . here we gooo!!!!!!! tagging my esteemed colleagues (very politely and with no pressure!!!):

@neonfretra @oensible @sorrellegiance @moregraceful @stereax

@wheelsnipecelebrini

@korshrimpski (EDIT: it won’t?? let me tag you. unless these are on separate lines <3)

what's in-progress in your life <3 writing? art? recipe? skill acquisition?

if any crafty people see this - if ANYONE sees this - and would like to join in, feel free and consider yourself tagged <3 (and tag me back so i can see your stuff!!!) link to 18minutemajor's post if yall curious :3 my VERY long wip dump + ramblings under the cut!

its christmas soon and i like to paint gifts for my friends + and i'm finally revisiting my anime/lineart/inking era (here you are K!! my lineart past, present, and future!! <3) so here are some things i've been working on/coming back to/MAY NEVER FINISH: hockey related:

this is juraj slafkovsky and his dinky little middle part which he can absolutely learn to style into something a little less dinky but never does. i am so charmed by him. i imagine he just rocks it because his pretty privilege supersedes dinky middle parts . LMAO!!

here is Sasuke from my Naruto Hockey AU. I am a little stuck on jersey mockups lol. here he is. our haunted little 1OA who is absolutely normal and regular about his captain (LOUD incorrect buzzer):

personal oc art

wanna know some puckpocketed deep lore? i've never been one to make OCs. i was just not a very creative kid tbh. spent all my time drawing sailor moon instead. i still go back to her sometimes because she is one of my favourite shapes in the WORLD!!

in my 20s i took up playing d&d because of the. uh. plague. <3 and got pretty close to having OCs!! those count right? anyway. here is my tavern-wench-turned-wizard!!! i think i painted this 2 years ago? <- put dates on your works guys it saves lives. her name is Mel (short for Melins (pronounced like melons. on account of her knockers. can you tell i never grew out of my 12 yr old booby/cock joke era?) i revisited Mel recently and have started painting her in earnest again!! :3

I briefly dated someone who was very into streetwear and fashion, and I fell down a techwear/gorpcore/cyberpunk rabbit hole for a couple days out of curiosity. i remember literally zero salient info on any of it except the broad strokes of silhouetting and Vibes. what i emerged with, however, was a ?? sorta OC?? im not sure what to call them. they dont rly have a name or gender. I did this little sheet ages ago + the aborted attempt at a portrait later:

Here are my most recent explorations (i have been doing SOOOO much art. <3) which include:

unfinished character sheet + chibi art. I played with their jacket (much more structured/square/tailored thing) and added a lotta random buckles and belts. i took textiles class years ago and have a little experience in garment construction. and i know for a fact this thing does not make any sense. it hurts me to look at a little bit LMAO so i've paused it while i go draft patterns (badly. i was never good at drafting. i think i may have to break out my scrap fabric stash and hand sew a real life mock-up. HELP!)

here is me having fun with them and imagining them as some kind of cyber-fisherman. the best part of every game is the fishing mini-game to me. i love fishing mini-games so much. I made their hair really big because i wanted them to have big unwieldy hair and the vibes told me i should add more movement to the piece aside from the fishing line. I messed with their jacket AGAIN because i can't stop thinking about what kinda jacket they'd wear. gorp-core ? idk. it sure is something!

gifts for my friends :3

back in my weeb era for real YAYYYY!!! up til now i'd been making hockey art using a zero pressure sensitivity pen brush because i simply did NOT want to deal with that. it is and has always been a barrier to me making art that uses line art. <3 easing my way back into it though!

I used to paint gifts for my friends and then get them printed into lil posters and mount them on nice backing :3 i am now ready and back to painting.

Here is my girlbestie's OC. just a rough pose sketch. i think im pretty unsatisfied with the gesture of the head/hand. i wanted to include her gun in some way. i fear i may have to rework the pose entirely <3

For the genshin girlies.. here are some of my friends fave characters.

Yelan - this one i started many holidays ago and put on the backburner because the colouring was wigging me out. you can see where i started rendering stuff + got sidetracked and started on something else (the crystal choker IM LAUGHING @ past me...)

Ayaka - I reaaally like what i did here with the perspective + foreshortening. I don't know if the pose or expression is in-character or not, but i had fun :3 got stunlocked looking at references of genshin weapons so this is where i left off:

if you made it all the way down here hi... <3 ice hockey really cracked the ketchup bottle open for me when it comes to making art again. i love the communities i've found, and i'm inspired by every artist on here every day. thanks for being so cool + have a great day :)

[minimujina]

wanderer in his season of healing makes me so happy. i love that he is safe enough to become softer again, that he is regaining some of his previously “weak” attributes and finding peace with them. he is becoming measured and introspective, and thinking before he speaks, perhaps a result of both his healing and his melancholy; i think it’s beautiful that he is finally able to safely feel his sadness and process the things that have happened. he is simultaneously finding peace and feeling all the difficult emotions he previously consumed with anger. it is painful, but right.

his sense of humor is still intact, certainly rough around the edges as you’d expect, though much less biting than before. it’s easy to tell that most anything aggressive he says is a front, a front that he is no longer concerned with presenting as absolute truth. perhaps the front is his sense of humor, and his affection is all thinly veiled behind jabs and sour grumbles—he is not willing to divulge the intimate details of that, however, preferring to leave it up to interpretation.

i just think of him and his healing and i feel like if he were to fall in love, it would be such a sweet and gentle and quiet sort of thing, just like his newfound peace. he ponders over many things, brooding by himself as much as he can, though he occasionally allows space for others to brood with him. that, i think, is something unique he may grow in. there are people who cannot tolerate strong emotions in themselves and certainly not in others—but he is the kind of person who can. he is the kind of person you could sit with and exist in your sadness and just be sad, and that’s okay. he’s not offering words of comfort or anything, but he doesn’t need to. anything he’d say would be useless anyways, he knows what it’s like and knows that a presence is enough and existing in your emotions safely is enough. he can appreciate someone who is straightforward about feeling unwell, who doesn’t seek pity, who is alright with sitting in the mud. he will gladly sit with you, then, as long as you don’t expect him to get all mushy about things.

he would do well falling in love quietly, not having to beat around the bush. naturally, pieces would fall into place, and he’d find himself yearning to be in the presence of another in a way he’d never before experienced. he had never really wanted to be around anyone, had never sought out anyone’s presence. but once he has been treated gently, has fallen softly into the arms of a likened soul who has the patience and understanding to touch his rough edges without recoiling, he finds his third space being with this new safe person.

and despite his reluctance to be anything but mysterious and nonchalant, i believe wanderer in his healing season would become quite the romantic. not in the sappy sense, but in the quiet love sense i’ve been talking about. firm and protective, subtle and gentle, almost gentlemanlike if it weren’t for his falsely rotten attitude he enjoyed projecting. romantic in a princely way, in a reverently respectful way, in a grotesquely wholesome way.

only the most chaste touches and kisses; he’s still getting used to affection, and would abhor pda. in private he’s much more open to being touched, because he is safe. if he is not safe, he is deeply conditioned to be conscious of his vulnerabilities, and it’s something that will take a lot of time to override, if even at all. but it’s a massive and beautiful step that he is even willing to receive affection at all, that he would want it from a partner in any amount.

hates eye contact, likes playing with hands. likes tracing veins and creases in skin and freckles and scars; he finds them fascinating, as he has nothing of the sort on his artificial body. one of his unique ways he shows affection is what could be called “studying” you. he likes to brood (with you there; perhaps it could be called parallel brooding) and take your arm and trace all the splotches, imperfections, veins, tendons he can find. he likes to touch more than he likes to be touched i think. perhaps he becomes amusingly selfish in this way. perhaps he is more averse to receiving than giving the affection because his disgust towards himself still lingers. perhaps he still has harmful core beliefs to unlearn.

i think he is full of a love that is strong and quiet, a love that he gives so sparingly, and only in pieces, never all at once. unless, that is, someone comes along and manages to drag it all out like a magnet—his carefully crafted exterior is in pieces, just like that! but oh, once someone is in possession of his love, he begins to know them so intimately, more intimately than he lets on. he so deeply knows who he loves and he knows how to give and to take action and so he does it, silently, for he is adept at perceiving the needs of his loved ones. reading body language and facial expressions is second nature to him at this point; nothing can get past him.

he studies you wordlessly with the expression of a cat who loves and reveres its human, except it’s the kind of cat who believes it owns the human, not the other way around. you’re his responsibility that he has taken on like an extension of himself because he loves you, and you have loved him, and now he hardly wants you out of his sight. his journey of rediscovery and learning self acceptance has been mentally and emotionally arduous, but ever since you came in and made loving him seem so easy, he’s felt much more at peace, and has had the capacity to reflect and process with much more freedom to sincerely feel.

stupid fictional character i hate him i hate him so much he is not real and i hate him

[realbeefman]

stacy is sooo interesting because she's in love with house but knows that they will never ever be able to have a healthy, stable, sane relationship because they're too similar so. she finds house-lite instead and marries him and. essentially moves on with her life! and is successful in this because she's a moderately well-adjusted person!

wilson, in contrast, never manages to escape the inevitable, in spite of his best efforts to find a house-lite of his very own, because he's an absolute fucking freak and ends up glued to house to the bitter. bitter end

[sacchiri]

Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

[atsoomi]

It's been exactly 2 days, 4 hours, and 32 minutes since you and Kuroo got married.

It was the kind of wedding you thought you’d never get the privilege of having— small, comfortable, and filled with familiar faces— not to mention, the most memorable day of your life. You’d never thought you could be that happy, or that you’d be surrounded by so many people who shared the sentiment. But if Kuroo has done anything through the course of your entire relationship, it’s prove your negative thoughts wrong.

And then, of course, came the honeymoon. 

Previously, you’d argued with him a lot about where to go for the honeymoon period. He thought somewhere in Japan— like Hokkaido with its breathtaking natural scenery, or Kyoto with its countless temples— would do just fine. But you’d nagged him about taking you somewhere outside the country, reminding him of the fact that you live in Japan; you have the rest of your lives to travel around Japan, but who knows when you’ll get the chance to go to Europe again?

After a few weeks of going back and forth, discussing all the possible locations and looking up things till one in the morning, you finally agree on Italy, specifically, Venice. It’s the perfect mix of culture and fun for both of you, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t dying to see The Grand Canal, especially with all the lights at night.

So, after a day of post-wedding packing, and a long day of traveling, you’re finally in Venice. In Venice, on your honeymoon. And it would be absolutely perfect, if you hadn’t lost your husband of two days in the crowd of locals. 

You’d done a lot, a lot, of research on spots in Venice that you wanted to visit during the 3-week stay. And you’ve always known (after a lifetime of fantasizing about this trip) that if you come to Italy, you have to try their gelato. So you went through a few articles, bookmarked a few websites, and found this shop, Gelateria il Doge. 

It’s been described as a hidden attraction, and you’ve always loved discovering hidden gems. The excitement was so overpowering that the first thing you decided to do once you settled down in your hotel room is go out and find it. Kuroo can’t say no when you’re so excited, so it only took twenty minutes to find yourself at the desired spot.

You went in, without Kuroo because he insisted on slowing down and taking some more pictures, and you finally ordered the gelato you’ve been thinking about since you agreed to come to Italy. But it seems to have cost you your husband.

He’s not where he was standing five minutes ago, you turn and scan the mass of people walking by, but you don’t spot the familiar head of dark hair. Your phone rests in your cross bag but your hands are full with gelato, so you hesitantly accept your fate and sit on the nearest bench you can find, assuming that you’ll just spot him when he comes back from wherever he went. 

You sit and admire the cold treat in your hand, it’s beautiful and inviting and it makes you feel like you’ve never had ice cream before. It makes you feel like your life is about to be altered permanently, even though you’re not completely sure what flavor you got— something about poor Italian skills and taking risks.

You’re about to taste it for the first time, practically salivating at that point, when a strange guy sits on the same bench, seemingly popping out of nowhere. You pause, mouth shutting, as you peer at him with caution. He’s undeniably good looking, skin-kissed tan skin and brown hair falling over warm green eyes, but he’s not exactly your type. No other man could be.

You attempt to ignore his presence, but he turns his head and you make intense eye contact. Your mouth hangs slightly open as he scans your face, it’s awkward and you feel the awkwardness paralyze you into speechlessness. You’re sure you look incredibly dumb but your mind is too busy malfunctioning to save you. 

His eyes go down to your hand and he says something in Italian that you don’t understand. A few seconds pass by before he reaches for it, your hand that is, with wide eyes. You reflexively flinch away, alarmed at the sudden approach. What the hell is going on?

“Oh my god, you idiot, the gelato.” He speaks, frustrated, this time in the language you can understand, with a heavy Italian accent. 

You look down at your hands and you’re surprised at the trail of melted gelato on your hand. Oh, he’s not a creep, you realize, he was just trying to help.

You bashfully keep your head down, embarrassed at how you reacted and the fact that you were too tense to realize he said the word gelato about 3 times. God, this is embarrassing, where is your husband when you need him? 

“Sorry about that,” you lick the melted sweet off as discreetly as possible, “I don’t speak Italian.” 

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Yeah, I can tell.” 

You’re silent, ashamed to be specific, as you eat the rest of your gelato before something else happens. He observes you for a few minutes, as you eat from both cones to prevent any disasters, before he chuckles quietly. 

“Tourist?” He asks. 

“Kinda,” you answer, slowly relaxing as the embarrassment wears off. 

He nods, “How did you find this store then?” he points to Gelateria il Doge. It stands there proudly, almost mocking you for making a fool out of yourself in front of a local.

“Oh, lots of research.” You laugh to yourself, remembering the sight of a very tired Kuroo by your side while you’re on your thousandth new tab. “It actually wasn’t that hard.” 

“Do you like it?” He asks. 

“The gelato?” 

He shakes his head, “Italy.” 

“Oh,” you smile, “yeah, it’s lovely and I’ve wanted to visit for a really long time.” He hums approvingly so you go on. “You’re Italian, aren’t you? Grew up here?”

“Kinda”, he retorts and you giggle, “I grew up in the south, but my brother lives here.” 

You nod your head in understanding; more questions are on the tip of your tongue (like his name for example?) when you’re interrupted by a familiar voice. 

“Oh I thought you looked familiar.” You turn your head and see your husband of two days walking towards you and this Italian stranger. He beams at you, happy to be reunited with the sight of your lovely face, but halts for a second when his eyes shift over to the guy. He tips his head to the side, silently asking about him, and you just smile. I’ll tell you later. 

“You weren’t going to eat both gelatos yourself after all,” the Italian says, which reminds you of the two cones you’ve been holding yourself the whole time, and the fact that your husband walked off and left you all alone, in Venice of all places. You’ll definitely yell at him once you’re alone, but for now, you settle on standing up and handing him his cone. 

“I’ll leave you lovebirds alone now, enjoy the honeymoon, ciao.”

He winks at you discreetly, maybe not discreet enough because Kuroo suddenly places his arm around your shoulder protectively, and you manage to wave at him before he’s gone. 

Kuroo turns to you, eyebrow raised, “was he hitting on you?” 

You laugh, “that’s all you care about, isn’t it? What about telling me where the hell you’ve been? Or apologizing for making me wait so long,” you slap his chest, “it’s actually your fault I had to entertain another man.” 

He holds your hand against his chest, grinning at the fake annoyance in your voice, “I apologize my dear, dear wife.” His eyes rest on the ring he put on your finger for a second, feeling prideful. “ Let’s sit, we have to finish this before it melts.” 

While you eat, you tell him about the whole interaction with the Italian man and every small thing that happened while you were apart. He scoffs at the events between you and the guy, fully convinced that he just wanted an excuse to touch your hand. You laugh and tease him about how attractive the guy was, telling him maybe you should’ve gone with the guy who didn’t leave you all alone. He flicks your forehead before you can continue and that conversation gets lost between all the other topics. You ask him what he was doing while he was gone, and he smiles, all-knowing and mysterious. 

“You’ll see.”

[conanssummerchild]

writing a fic abt rick having an ed bcs why would i recover when i can just project all my issues onto fictional old men in cartoons and pretend everythings better now ‼️

tw eating disorder, minor self harm and vomit near the end

Morty stopped in the open doorway of the garage, watching Rick who was sat scribbling down some kind of invention idea, or equation, or whatever it was he did when Morty wasn't around, for all Morty knew he might well be writing fanfiction.

An involuntary smile pulled at his lips at the idea of his almost 70 year old genius grandfather spending his free time writing silly little stories at his work bench. What would he even write? Ball Fondlers fanfic? Maybe he wrote about his stoic bird friend, Rick had always been touchy with him and Rick wasn't touchy with anyone.

When Morty focused back on Rick he wasn't writing anymore, the slightly crumpled piece of paper shoved to the side as he fiddled with what looked like a small metal box with a bunch of brightly coloured wires poking out of the sides. A small spark shot out of one of the wires Rick was holding and he cursed loudly, shaking his hand.

"Fuck, Morty, are you just gonna– gonna stand there, or are you gonna pass me the fucking, uh– the thing."

Rick waved his hand in the general direction of the shelf nearest to Morty, but there were so many assorted trinkets on the shelves, Morty had no idea if Rick wanted a wrench, or a hammer, or one of his laser guns, maybe the box was like a new battery for them?

"W-what thing, Rick?"

"The thing, Morty! The fucking– the uh, destornillador."

"What? Rick, I don't know what that means. W-w-what is that?"

"Jeez, Morty, what are they teaching you at that crap school you love so much?" Rick scowled, tossing the box to the side and getting up to grab the screwdriver himself.

"I havent been to school in like a month, Rick!" Morty exclaimed. "And even then I only got to stay for like an hour before you were dragging me out again!"

"Whatever." Rick said with a burp, "School's dumb, Morty. I'll teach you Spanish myself. B-but, uh, not now."

He turned back to his box, done with the conversation, but Morty stayed hovering in the room, remembering what he had come for in the first place.

"Okay, um, w-w-well lunch is ready."

"I'm busy."

Morty sighed, having expected that answer already. "When's the last time you ate, Rick? Or slept? Or... showered?" Morty said, wrinkling his nose a little.

Rick ignored him, pulling at a blue wire.

"Rick!" Morty frowned.

"What, Morty? J-jesus christ, what the fuck do you want?"

"I want you to have lunch with the family."

"And I said no, so screw off."

"Rick, come on, it would make mom so happy."

Rick glared at him, not bothering with an answer.

"...Wouldn't y-you do it for your original Beth if you could?" Morty tried.

Rick slammed the box on the table, causing the thin metallic shell to crack, sparks flying from it, the sudden noise making Morty jump.

"The fuck did you just say?" Rick snarled.

"S-s-sorry!" Morty squeaked. "I didn't m-mean– mean it in a bad way!"

"Get the fuck out." Rick said icily, eyes blazing.

Morty stumbled out of the room, shutting the door behind him to the sound of something crashing. Probably Rick throwing the damaged box across the room.

Morty winced. In his defense he was worried about Rick, and sometimes, depending on his mood, something like that would've gotten Rick to cave, clearly he wasn't feeling so sentimental today, more annoyed and angry.

"What was that about?"

Morty startled a little and turned to see Summer looking at her phone behind him.

"Just, y'know, Rick being... Rick."

"Mhm, pro tip, don't bring up his dead daughter to try and blackmail him into something he hates." Summer drawled. "You can only do that if he's already half convinced, or if he's feeling especially depressed sometimes.

"Summer! That's– that's messed up!"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, so only you can manipulate grandpa Rick?" Summer scoffed. "God forbid women do anything." She said sarcastically and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Morty fidgeted with his hands. "Can you... help me? To get him to have lunch w-with us? Please?"

"Yes, but not now. He's already upset so if we double down on trying to get him to eat he's only gonna clam up."

Morty nodded. "I know that– but how do you? You don't spend as much time with Rick as I do."

"Because he's like mom. Who do you think got her to stop drinking before parent-teacher conferences at school?"

"Wow. That's pretty fucked up that you had to do that, though, y'know, Summer."

"Yeah, well, we're the Smiths, Morty. Is anyone in this house not disordered?"

Morty winced at the blunt statement, Rick really was rubbing off on her. But it was kind of true.

"Guess it runs in the family." He muttered

"Guess it does."

---

Morty hadn't been planning on seeing Rick again until the next day. He knew that when Rick got upset he needed his space. Morty didn't quite get it because when he was upset all he wanted was for someone to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay, but Rick wasn't like him he supposed.

If he was being honest it made him nervous to leave Rick alone in those bad headspaces he got into. Rick was volatile and unpredictable and a borderline danger to himself and often others. He'd walked in on a couple... compromising situations where Rick had had to explain away why he was passed out in his chair or why there was blood on his hands and his lab coat despite being the only person in the room.

Morty pretended to believe him when he said he had been doing a messy dissection experiment or that "This isn't blood, this is Balorkian dust I mixed with red Squanchenite fluid from Planet Squanch, Morty." But truthfully those moments haunted him.

However, he didn't want to invade Rick's space, so he let him be and tried to eat and sleep until Rick emerged like nothing had happened, even though Morty knew what habits of his went on behind those closed doors.

Of course Morty's patience had it's limits, like when two hours after he had left Rick in the garage, angry, there was the sound of something smashing, closely followed by an unmistakable sound that Morty had grown too familiar with since Rick had moved in. The sound of a body thudding to the ground.

He was up from the sofa in a flash, at the garage door before Summer could even put down her phone, flinging it open.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, but the only sight that greeted him was a smashed bottle and rick lying on the floor next to it, not looking any more dead than usual, looking up at Morty blearily, cracking a smile.

"Oh, hi Morty. H-hey buddy." He slurred, clearly drunk out of his mind.

"Jesus fucking christ, Rick." Morty said weakly.

"What happened?" Summer breathed, now standing at his side.

"He's just drunk." Morty muttered, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell that he hadn't registered before between his state of panic and shallow breathing.

Summer ventured into the garage, picking up an empty bottle and sniffing it. "God, grandpa Rick, what the hell are you drinking in here, fucking rubbing alcohol?"

"Sum-Sum! 'M just having some– some fun drinks. Fun drinks just a lil' bit. Besides I only ever drank rub-rubbin' alcohol once, n' it was– tasted like shit."

"What? I was being sarcastic, why would you drink that?"

"Because I was sad... was sad 'nd lonely after B-b-blood Ridge, couldn't find anythin' else. But 'm not s-sad now."

"What's Blood Ridge?" Summer frowned, "Actually it doesn't matter right now, you need to sober up."

"Get him some water," Morty interjected. "I'll clean up the glass. I also know where he keeps all his hangover serums and stuff, but he told me not to let you into any of his drug stashes."

"Fair enough." Summer shrugged, leaving to get Rick some much needed water.

While she was gone, Morty felt along the wall until he found the small hidden panel under Rick's desk. He fished out the light blue vial of fluid for hangovers, the red one he'd forced Rick to make that would sober him up and a green one that basically equivalated to getting your stomach pumped if you took it, just in case he'd taken more than just alcohol.

He shut the panel securely and placed the three coloured vials on Rick's work bench, grabbing a purple tube-like gadget from a shelf. He pressed a button on the back of it and typed in "Broken Glass" on a small hologram keyboard that emerged, then pressed that first button again. A blue ray shot out, scanning the garage, and the pieces of smashed bottle disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Morty looked over at Rick, who was still lying on the floor, but now he was tracing his fingers along a crack in the cold ground, his expression so solemn he almost looked sober.

"Rick?" Morty asked hesitantly.

"I miss her." He said flatly. "I miss her s-so much."

His words were still a little slurred but his tone had lost all the previous levity.

"I tried to save her, Morty, I t-t-tried, but I couldn't bring her back. And no one could ever replace her." A rough sob escaped his throat. Morty felt frozen. "I'm a crappy fuckin'– piece of shit father but I didn't want to be. I was gonna fuckin' give– give up everything for them, and I would've been happy. I would've been so happy as long as I had them, but he fuckin' took that from me! I nnever even got a chance."

Rick was crying, he was crying so hard that his tears stained the concrete dark grey and snot ran down his face sideways. He was shaking like a leaf and gasping for air.

Morty crouched down next to him, fists clenching and unclenching, unsure if he should hug Rick, or if that would make it worse. What else could he do?

"Oh– oh shit, Rick, I–"

"My little girl, my baby." Rick continued between sobs. "She meant everything to me. S-so yeah, I would be better f-for her if I could, but she's gone. There's no point."

Rick's sudden fit of violent sobs was calming down, replaced by a look that Morty could only describe as pure hoplessness and defeat washing over his features.

"'S no point in anything."

Shit, this was bad. Rick didn't admit defeat, and he certainly didn't talk so openly about his feelings like this.

"Aw jeez, Rick, come on don't– don't– don't say that. we killed Rick Prime, remember?" Morty said, wringing his hands anxiously.

"Yeah, I remember." Rick said, tone now devoid of emotion. "I remember killin' him with my bare hands, watchin' the life drain out of his eyes as his blood dripped down my fists. And I remember nothing changing. W-w-what d'ya do when you achieve your life long goal and nothin's better? It didn't bring them back, it didn't– didn't give me closure or give me a reason to live. I still can't sleep, petrified he's in the fucking house, comin' for my new family, that he'll kill all of you to teach me that t-that's what happens when I-I care about people."

Rick wiped his face with his lab coat sleeve, rubbing away the snot, drool and dried tears while Morty just kneeled next to him, frozen and unsure what to say.

"Rick..." he started but then Summer stepped through the doorway and Rick's demeanour instantly changed.

"Summerfest!" he called out and Morty watched, a little shocked, as Rick's whole face changed in the blink of an eye, going back to the cheerful, goofy expression he'd been wearing when he and Summer first came in. It didn't look artificial to Morty at all, even now that he knew it was. How could Rick just switch it on and off just like that?

"I brought water and coffee." Was all Summer said, placing two mugs on the workbench. "And a cereal bar."

The second statement sounded a little more unsure and Morty could've sworn he saw Rick's jaw clench for a second.

"Gimmie coffee." Rick said, making grabby hands, still lying on the floor.

"Water first." Summer replied, handing him the larger of the two mugs.

Rick pouted a little but as soon as the mug was in his hands he drank thirstily, finishing the whole thing in one go.

"You want more?" Summer asked, taking the mug, but he just shook his head quietly.

"Okay," Morty cleared his throat when his voice came out a little shaky. "drink this."

He handed Rick the red 'get sober' vial and Rick chugged it obediently, making a face. "Tastes like– like shit." He offered.

While he seemed a little calmer after the water and serum, his eyes were still unfocused and his voice sounded thick, like his tongue didn't fit in his mouth properly, hints of his accent were slipping through too.

"Did you- are you on drugs r-right now?" Morty asked, reaching for the green vial of serum.

"Maybe." Rick mumbled. His eyelids were starting to droop a little and he curled up more comfortably on the floor.

"Hey, Rick, don't go to sleep okay? What did you take?" Summer asked, crouching down next to him, shaking him a little. He groaned. "Come on, we just have to make sure you're not overdosing and then you can sleep. Maybe not on the floor."

"'M not overdosing." Rick grumbled.

"What did you take?"

"I dunno. Just some random alien drugs I found i-in my pocket." He said dismissively with a burp. "Actually one of 'em was probably adderall. Look at me bein' all responsible an-and takin' my meds n' shit."

He of course immediately showed his 'responsibilty' by gagging and then throwing up on the floor.

Morty winced, reaching for the purple device again while Summer tried to coax him into drinking the green liquid, frowning deeply.

Finally Rick gave in, sipping from the small vial, and almost instantly his eyes began to clear up a little bit.

"Why'd I make these work so well?" He groaned. Then, "My head is killing me, I want coffee."

Summer passed him the second mug and he gestured toward the hangover serum, which Morty promptly passed to him and Rick poured it in his coffee.

He gulped down half the coffee and sighed, wiping his mouth with his already rather dirty sleeve. "Fuck, that's better."

He downed the rest of it and placed the mug on the ground, getting to his feet shakily. He swayed and nearly fell, leaning onto the wall to steady himself as the dizzy spell passed, and then stretched, his back cracking loudly.

He took a few wobbly steps towards the door but Summer blocked the way.

"Fuck– fuck off Summer I gotta– I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Could you maybe eat something first?" She asked firmly, holding up the cereal bar.

"No."

Rick tried to sidestep her but she blocked the way again.

"Summer, don't fucking piss me off right now, I'm serious."

She stood her ground. "Just eat the cereal bar, grandpa Rick. Please."

"Summer, for fuck's sake, I said no!"

"Grandpa," She sighed, the arm holding the bar dropping defeatedly back down to her side. "Do you have an eating disorder?"

The garage was deathly quiet for a second.

"Wha-What?! I'm not a teenage girl in a f-f-f– goddamn netflix drama, Summer." Rick snarled. "What the fuck kinda question is that?"

He gestured wildly, taking another step forwards, which quickly seemed to be the wrong option as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him hard, making him almost loose his balance. He blindly tried to grab onto the back of his chair somewhere behind him, but missed and fell on his ass.

"Rick!" Morty and Summer both rushed to his side, Morty's eyes beginning to well up a little from all the stress of the day.

"I'm fine, don't– don't fucking touch me." He said, shaking Summer's hand off his shoulder, which caused another wave of nausea to hit.

"Please eat this." Summer said nervously, voice shaking as she pushed the cereal bar into his left hand, his right one gripping at his hair.

"Summer, I promise you if I eat that shit right now I'm gonna throw the fuck up."

"Please?" Morty pouted, eyes big and teary.

All it took was one look at him, and with only a brief moment of hesitation Rick snatched the cereal bar from Summer, muttering angrily under his breath.

Morty only caught "Me cago en la puta." and "Maldito cabrón." which he more or less understood, more familiar with swear words than any other words in the Spanish language.

Rick peeled away the wrapper slowly with unsteady hands and took a small bite.

Morty and Summer watched in silence, not wanting to discourage him by saying the wrong thing—which with Rick could be anything—as Rick uncomfortably ate the cereal bar.

"There you fucking go." He said weakly, Throwing the now empty wrapper at Summer, but missing as it was too light to travel more than a couple centimetres, landing somewhere by his feet.

"Thank you." Summer almost whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, Morty sniffling and rubbing at his eyes and Summer shuffling a bit closer to him for both of their comfort.

Rick was sitting with his knees losely bent and his head braced in his hands, trying to overcome another hit of nausea.

He wouldn't exactly say he tried super hard to keep the cereal bar down, but it wasn't deliberate when he vomited it down the front of his shirt.

"Oh! Aw jeez..." Morty winced.

"I did warn you."

"In our defense, you had every reason to be lying to us."

"Fuck you, Summer." It sounded weak even to his own ears.

She sighed softly.

"Morty, get his shirt off. Do you have pijamas or do you sleep in jeans and a lab coat?"

"Jeans an-and a lab coat."

"...I was joking, but okay." Summer said, flipping the switch that opened Rick's garage closet and grabbing one of his sets of identical outfits.

Rick squirmed, making noises of complaint as Morty tried to take off his current shirt.

"Rick– stay still, you have vomit on your clothes."

"I'm not fucking two years old, Morty." He scowled. "I can change by myself."

Rick tried to sit up but wobbled and then slumped back against the wall, needing more time to recover. Morty reached for his shirt again and this time Rick let him pull it carefully up over his head without resisting. Morty took the new set of clothes from where Summer had left them on the floor next to him.

Summer wasn't looking but Morty still shielded Rick's body from sight with his own, pointedly not mentioning the raised scars and jagged, angry, red cuts littering his arms which he had already suspected would be there.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, seeming relieved when Morty didn't want to talk about it.

"Okay." Morty said, helping Rick pull on his clean lab coat too.

"I'm going to bed." Rick grumbled, not waiting for him to continue, just getting up slowly.

He felt weak and shaky and his brittle old bones weren't exactly helping out. Despite his thousands of cybernetic implants he was still human, much to his dismay, and he couldn't treat his body as badly as he did when he was 30. Not that that ever seemed to stop him, managing to still maintain the same shitty habits he'd had for years at the ripe age of 67.

He stumbled through the dining room, Morty and Summer trailing after him, not discouraged by the glare he sent their way.

As soon as he reached his room, he slumped onto his bed with a groan.

"R-rick?"

"Fuck off, Morty." He snapped into his pillow, a little muffled by it.

Morty hesitated, exchanging a glance with Summer, who shrugged.

"...Ookay, Rick. Uh, see– see you at dinner, today? maybe?'

"Don't count on it."

Summer frowned, Starting to say something, but Rick interrupted, "I'm gonna apply my room's Lock Protocols in ten seconds, so i-if you're still in here, I'm not letting you out until I'm done sleeping. A-a-and if you're standing in the doorway, you're gonna get fucking squashed in the doors."

"Whatever, Rick, fuck you too." Summer huffed, pulling Morty out of the doorway with her.

"Room, activate Sensory Protocol 2. And t-tell Summer to go fuck herself."

"Sensory Protocol 2 activated." Came the mechanical voice and a heavy metal door snapped shut. "Go fuck yourself, Summer."

Summer scoffed. "Dick." Followed by a sigh. "What are we gonna do?"

"I-I don't know." Morty admitted. "There's not much we can do if Rick won't accept help. And he won't."

"So what? We just give up on him?" Summer asked accusingly, putting her hands on her hips.

"No, Summer, J-jeez. I just– We're gonna have to get creative."

"Fuck."

---

thats it thats the end i didnt know how tf to end this but my goal wasnt to rewrite like the bible idfk it was just to put rick through shit and put completely unfair expectations on summer and mortys shoulders so that they could ALL suffer in this fic !! :3 also this is so mf long i sincerely apologise if u read all that

[bitchfitch]

I've started playing Potion Permit, and so far it's one of my favorite games I've messed around with, but the most big brained move the devs made was giving you a dog on day 1, and then making that dog able to track NPCs and lead you directly to them no matter where they are in the town.

[ch1zzie]

Forgot to post this here butttt

Working on a welcome home animation and mighttttt take me a while

[hanzajesthanza]

dandelion is indeed the worst but if he’s not present in the next book i would legitimately be sorrowful as the whole thing will become a slog . you basically cannot have the “short stories” era-of-the-timeline iteration of geralt without dandelion, it would be like eating unbuttered bread.

though it’s not like season of storms did them dirty, i wasn’t disappointed with it (… with regards to them), but since it’s literally been over 20 years since the saga was finished i’m trying to prepare for any potential reality

[bunniheartedd]

where do i put all my vent edits?? my kpop stuff??? my traumacore stuff??? my not sfw thoughts and pics??? my yancore stuff????? maybe that anon was right and i am autistic but in my head i have a specific way i wanna do it, and i had a thing goin for every day for six years... call me chronically online or whatever but that was my only escape from reality..... where do i post everythng now??? plus everything i created and made and posted for six years is just gone... what even is the point in postimg

[quailxcrossing]

maybe i didnt need to worry about anything, maybe i just had to make the comic

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

yeehaw just wrote over 3k and i can't publish Any of it without miles of fantasy au context

[13eyond13]

actually stunned by how gay The Beatles has been all this time and I just never knew