#its v interesting

[valakiir]

Aaaaand I ran out of tags to gush in 😔

endless possibility 🔮

[dreadfuldevotee]

Ruby: Yeaaaah, The Doctor just constantly trauma dumped on me starting from the day we met

Yasmin Khan, who has finally been convinced to come back to companion support group after finding out that The Doctor settled down with a family 48 hours after leaving her: I have to leave

[b4kuch1n]

podcast people in my phone

[stankworth]

after many years of being strong // may you have the chance to be gentle again

[kleinv01]

OKAY i will give al content. !!!!!

here you go al enjoyers please stop busting my inbox now /lh /j

[bbuzz28]

Memories

Old man Fiddlestan, my beloved-and what's this? It could be semi-canon compliant :O ?!?! Woof- this is one of the saddest things I have ever written. I know some of you gremlins (affectionate) love that sort of thing, but I don't. I like really really don't. This is my comfort ship, so I don't even know where this came from other than trying to figure out how they *could* work in canon. Truthfully though, I prefer my Fiddlestan heavy on the comfort when it comes to the "hurt/comfort" genre. This is my only “angsty” (i.e. no immediate happy ending) Notes-app fics, so don't get used to this level of sad from me lol.

“Stan?” an oddly familiar voice called. Mr. Mystery, Stan Pines, glanced up from the flyers he was organizing and found that Old Man McGucket stood in the doorway of his front door. The last tour of the day had just left, it was dinnertime, and he was exhausted. Stan rolled his eyes as he unfurled his tie, wishing Soos was still there to escort the crazy old man off his property. No matter what he did, the old hillbilly always managed to find his way back to the Shack. “Sweet Moses McSuckit, what are you doing in here? Shoo, scat, or whateva will get rid of ya.” Hearing no movement, he looked at the man again and found he was standing erect. His blue eyes were the clearest he had seen them in no less than a decade.

          Wait, what did he call- oh. Oh no.

“Stan…ley? Did I…did I do somethin’ wrong?” the other man asked, his hands twisted in knots in front of him. Memories flashed through Stan’s mind; Ford falling through the portal, Fiddleford finding him passed out in the lab, working together to bring Ford home again…being together. Being happy. They had been happy, if just for a little while, hadn’t they?

Then there was the cult, and his discovery of the damn memory gun that had finally ruined everything they ever built. He took a hesitant step forward, a thousand thoughts roaring in his mind at once. “Fidds? Wha-what do you remember?” A bandaged hand snaked up and rubbed over the faded scar on the side of his head “I…don’t rightly know. Did we…I think we had a fight? I just woke up in the…in the dump. N’ I don’t have any shoes. Do ya know why my arm is in a cast?” Fiddleford looked so lost.

Stan knew in his heart that all of this was fleeting- “clarity” would hit Fiddleford every few years after he had finally wiped his mind of himself. Almost like his brain was trying to jumpstart itself back together. The first time they thought it was a miracle but…it didn’t last. It just started a trend that would follow them both for the next almost thirty years. Fiddleford would seemingly “wake up” and be lucid for a few weeks in the beginning, then eventually only a matter of days. It had been so long since the last time that Stan would wager, they only had maybe a few hours together if he was lucky.

The last time Fiddleford was himself…they had fought. Stanley thought he had figured the only way Fiddleford could stay; he needed to remember. Remember everything he had ever forgotten. At the time, Fiddleford had been unwilling to try. He didn’t think he could handle it; he knew he had forgotten what he had for a reason.

Stanley had gotten as close to begging as he ever had in his life since surviving Tijuanna, and when it had no effect…Stanley had told Fiddleford to leave and never come back. He had left that night, and by the next day he had faded away again. After a while, Stan thought his last words had been the final nail in the coffin that was Fiddleford’s mind. He carried that weight along with every other mistake he had ever made. But here he was. Fiddleford. His Fiddleford.

He took a deep breath before he opened his arms up. “Hey, don’t worry, it doesn’t matter. I’m right here.” Fiddleford rushed through the doorway, melting into Stanley’s open arms. “I went away again, didn’t I?” Stan could feel Fiddleford’s tears soaking into his chest, his own whispering at the edges of his eyes. Yes, and you will leave again. You will leave me and I will be alone all over again, you fucking asshole. “Hey cowboy, didn’t I just say not t’ worry about any a’ that? You’re here now, n' that’s what matters. You’re…you’re home.” A haggard laugh vibrated through the smaller man’s chest into Stanley’s own. “I know I keep tellin’ ya, tellin’ me not t’ worry is like” “…tellin’ a fish t’ stop swimmin’; I know Fidds, I know.” Fuck was really the only conscious thought that went through his head as he held his one-time lover. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, again.

Fiddleford looked up, eyes wide and searching Stan’s face. “How long do ya think we have?” Stan shook his head, unwilling to lie even if it eventually wouldn’t matter because he wouldn’t remember. You’ve always been the only person I couldn’t lie to. “I dunno, it’s been…a while. Probably not very long.” Fiddleford closed his eyes before he said “I need ya t’ know somethin’, Stanley.” Stan started to shake his head. “Fidds, you don’t have t-” The look on the other man’s face shut Stan right up-he had always had that ability. Stan wished he didn’t miss it as much as he did. “I need ya to know that even when I’m not here…I miss you. The part of me that’s somewhere in here-” A weathered hand tapped the side of his head to emphasize his point “ misses you. I’m just so sorry, Stanley. Sorry that I’m a coward. I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough to be here all the time…but I’ll never stop tryin’. I’ll always try n’ come home to ya.”

Stan thought of the thousands of times he had chased Old Man McGucket, the neat little character that Stan had to compartmentalize his Fiddleford into when he wasn’t himself, out of the Shack. How many times he had found him curled up like a cat on the back porch. How every time they “met”, McGucket would say how nice Stan was or how good he felt to be around him “for some reason.” How many odds and ends McGucket would gift Stan from the dump for exhibits at the Mystery Shack with a large smile and nothing substantial behind his eyes.

It would be so much easier if he would stop trying to come back. Maybe the hole in Stan’s heart the size of the sweet, certifiably insane man would scab over. How many times had Stanley mourned him? How many times was he willing to hurt himself? They were now nearing their sixties, how long was he really willing to do this song and dance?

What’s one more time? he softly thought, his hand coming up to tenderly cup the grizzled face of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Mad scientist, friend, and unfortunately for them both…the love of his life.

“I miss you too, Fidds.”

[marimeeko]

Why do shonens gotta sell me the most intimate queer masterpieces but then say that Boy 1 ends up with Girl 1 and lives happily and very heterosexually ever after, as if these main boys didn't just spend 430 chapters being emotionally entangled and mortally codependent on each other.

[guzhufuren]

“Sighing beneath the moonlight at a fleeting and breathtaking glimpse of beauty, willing to trade this life for an endless cycle of love and hate.“

Uncensored wuxia BL Meet You At The Blossom (2024)

[harbingersecho]

READY AIM FIRE

[macchitea]

@sapphicdib recently made me realize i haven't been drawing peanut with his emo eyeliner

fixing that !!

[askgardenerwoods]

hi Emma! Who do you consider your friends do you have a crush on anybody?

" For crushes... "

[cuppajj]

I made an x reader one shot for a friend and wanted to share it! I’m not confident in my writing to post it haha but I wanted you see anyway! ^^” but I hope you like it despite how ass my grammar is LMAO

You were in the Vanilla kingdom, tucked away in the palace. It was a bright sunny day, the wind calm with a pleasant breeze to break the heat of the morning sun. You awoke to the scent of vanilla, strong as it always was in this growing ‘kingdom’- at least that’s what you call it. Speaking of he, Saint Vanilla wasn’t present in the room. You shifted in the sheets of your bed, the scent of vanilla still lingering so he likely had checked in on you before leaving. Likely for morning sermon. You sighed as you took in the moment of peace you’ve been granted. It’s been rather hard staying in the vanilla kingdom, you missed home.. you missed having alone time. You could tell, that despite being physically alone, you were still being watched. The eyes the of the vanilla orchids always following you, even in your shared living space.

You were seized on a morning such as this one, the Saint taking great interest in you. You had spoken with him as Pure Vanilla, considered him a close friend even… those feelings must have carried over when he became a beast. He didn’t purify you on the spot. Instead, he opted to save you for last. You remembered it clearly.

The benevolent Saint Vanilla had you cornered in your own home, his lambs standing at the front doors, windows blocked with similar forces. His arms outstretched like a best friend member reuniting with you… except he wasn’t your dear friend anymore. He was someone else now- the sweet man you knew for years twisted into some.. beast. He took a step closer. The air tensing as you stared at his hands, his eyes calm despite the ever flowing tears. Until he finally spoke.

“Please forgive me, Bluebird.. for my soul is tainted with greed and selfishness. Your beautiful heart and mind deserve the freedom and safety of purification and as much as I know that, I cannot bring myself to go forward with your salvation.” He cooed softly, like how you would reassure a stray animal into approaching you. In a way, he sort of was. You pressed your back into the corner you sought protection in with no where else to go but to him. “I am afraid I cannot rescue you yet… but do not fret. Instead, you shall have the greatest honor of all, should you stay by my side. You shall witness my ascension, my deliverance as I rescue all of Earthbread!” His smile grew a touch warm as he finally closed the space between you, his arms wrapped around you now. He was warm… his robes of silk dances on your trembling skin. Despite the danger you faced, you were oddly.. calmed by his embrace. Though you couldn’t bring yourself to hug him back you were too terrified out of your mind to move- after all one wrong motion and you were as good as the dust that lingered on your shelving. He spoke up once more, “I hope you can forgive me and my selfish soul. I do promise to rescue you from this world one day.. you’ll be mine in this world and the next… I promise.” You could feel his tears stain your shoulder, but you refused to be fooled by such crocodile tears. He’s ‘purified’ entire civilizations- he was a beast but you were his lamb.

So against better judgment, you stayed in that bed, ever since that faithful day you aimed to change his views one step at a time and mend the broken man he’d become. Perhaps you can save the world from his ever gleaming kindness through peace. Though, as you reminisced and contemplated, the savior himself entered the room after sermon. Ah right… you slept through that. Though he was never upset, even now all he ever wore was a soft, welcoming smile.

“Ah. Good morning, little lamb.” He chuckled, walking over to your side of the bed and petting your hair. You on the other hand sat up finally after bed rotting and looked up at him, a smile on your face to match his. “Heh.. Good morning. Sorry I slept through another one of your… meetings.” You always hated calling them sermons despite what the lambs say. It felt too cultish- you were still denial that’s what this was. “Oh, don’t worry your little head about it, orchid.. you need your sleep to stay as strong as always.” If you didn’t know any better, he was the gentlest and kindest soul ever. You wish that he was… “Thanks.. you’re always so understanding.” You sighed in minor relief, it’s not like you expected him to upset about it after all- he never really experienced anger like that as far as you knew. “How can I not be? Every soul is bound to make mistakes. It’s merely the nature of it. If getting extra sleep is what aids you in your strength and safety then so be it..”, He responded. As you two had your conversation, the Saint had found your cheeks and gently played with them. Holding your face his hands, gently massaging, and over all just being as physically affectionate as he usually was. His hands were usually used for killing so you theorized that he enjoyed having someone to hold without the need for them to turn to dust. Even if he believed it was a necessary sacrifice for the greater good of the soul it must be nice to have something- someone tangible. “Now then,” He spoke up, “Why don’t we get up and out of bed? We have a beautiful day ahead of us and I think a walk would do you some good, my little flower.”

✨

[dorkfruit]

the first set of requests i got for the six fanarts post (:

[kerizaret]

"What if middle school ruikasa met" this and that, and that's awesome and all, but what about the others!!

What about emu and her grandpa coming across ms Rui's scramble crossing drone show and stopping to observe with sparkles in their eyes. Coming up when it's over to praise him and ask about his drones with genuine interest that takes Rui off guard. Emu passing by the place more times to see if she'll see him again and becoming his regular spectator. Maybe emu n rakunosuke ask about the drones and ruis direction becsuse these inspired them to add something to pxl. Maybe emu randomly jumps in and joins one of rui's street performances because they seem fun and they're so original and she wants to help, and rui suddenly realises that it doesnt feel so alone and empty anymore

What about ms nene after her failed performance suddenly receiving a few flowers from tsukasa's bouquet for saki, who saw her crying on the street. Tsukasa putting on an impromptu show to cheer her up only to make her cry more because how does this random blonde kid have so much confidence to improvise a whole performance without hesitance while she just messed everything up. What about tsks giving nene a plushie for comfort ("if you can't talk, just imagine it's the plushie talking, not you!"). What about tsks having nene over at home sometime and finding that the silence isn't so deafening when theres another voice singing along to your piano notes

No concrete ideas for ms emunene but i just think there's other fun scenarios to imagine!

[slamvan]

homies

[melit0n]

"Let the tides carry you back to me." has always been among one of my favourite lines in Telomeres, and so, having listened to it again recently, a little idea popped into my head. Let me explain:

While ocean tides/currents is a very common metaphor, there's an underlying meaning to it. The ocean is a beautiful, but somewhat cruel place: tides can leave you stranded on a sandbank, or sweap you away before you even know it.

To put it in short, no object or creature that goes into the ocean comes out the same. For the tides to carry something back to you, something you've lost, it will be and always will be changed: eroded.

The cliffside will fall, the cave will crumble, etc etc.

With this in mind, we're yet again greeted with another example of Vessel asking for something he can't truly have. The person he wants will not be the same as they were before; they "collapse" into him, breaking apart, but still, to him, it's "the start of something."

His memory is warped, they are warped, and it'll stay that way.

However, what I would like to add is that, in DYWTYLM, it's theorised that instead of Vessel speaking to a second person, he's instead talking to himself.

Of course, this makes the song itself much more emotional (to me). Finding love for yourself is one of the hardest things you can do, but it has to be done to find love in others.

With that idea (stay with me here), the lyrics "Do you roll with the waves? Or do you duck into deep blue safety?" match up (generally) with Telomeres, which is mostly interpretated as being towards someone else.

So, what if some lines in Telemores are directed to himself as well?

Keep in mind, the tides don't just erode and carry objects (sediment), they also reflect. The Atlantic is one big mirror, and Vessel is staring into it's "deep blue safety" wondering what, or, rather, who, he was before he was Vessel.

Overall, the album name, "This Place Will Become Your Tomb", either being directed at Vessel or Vessel to Sleep (and being a Halo quote lmao), is more metaphorical than literal.

Who he was before Vessel sits in that coffin, not his physical body.