#ive been trying to put it into words

[simplydnp]

there's a difference between them being gay individually. and even collectively. but we've never seen them self-describe their interactions as being gay together. at each other. daniel,,,,,,

[slice-of-magenta]

I do understand op is still trying to sympathize that it's the full moon, but lets pause bc omg @liliaeth . A beautifully well-explained take I've seen by far when it comes to this subject.

It literally is just them using him and knowing that he isn't in the right mind. Dude is getting murderous tendencies and lyds pokes holes at the break-up (with his *anchor*), and Stiles shooing him off to be a wingman at the worst time 😅. Any time and you choose this moment hdhdbsbs. Scott is vulnerable! Why.

Listen I know it's the full moon but Scott is pissing me off. Stiles has done so much for you and here you are kissing the girl he likes. Again I know full moon but still

I have to remind myself that this is a teen show, that teens usually makes dumb ass decisions but so far Scott is just making so many of them. I also kinda forgot that Stiles is in fact not the main character at least for season one

[off-the-rails-raccoon]

Did you like the new ending :3 (fuck the old one)

I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!!! It's the best logical way the dsmp could've ended AND because it's so open-ended, it leaves a lot of room for the fandom to build on, which isn't something you see a lot in media nowadays.

HOWEVER, it has been really bothering me these past few days since it was released, and I've had complex feelings about it that I haven't really been able to figure out until somewhat recently. Though, this is probably just me lol!

I'm gonna try to make this as short and legible as I can, but as you know I'm so very bad at that so sorry in advance.

Dsmp has been my main source of entertainment and an escape from just life in general since I first started getting into it—which was back in mid-2020 or so, but that was less of dsmp itself and more of the fandom. Though I still really enjoy the content creators content itself, I've watched them less and less and on the occasion that I see a clip or quote by them (especially Tommy) it's SO jarring how much they've changed and matured, and it's only a reminder of how I've done the same. That's the feeling I got when seeing the new lore. Everything has changed, people have matured, relationships have drifted apart, and we are living in the present.

It's like the feeling of finding an old toy that you distinctly remember loving so very much way back then and realizing you feel indifferent to it now. You've changed, your taste of things you enjoy changed, your relationships with people have changed, and you've grown.

I don't want to go back but I don't want to stop reminiscing, and this ending has made me realize that.

[b4kuch1n]

making of a feathered thing

[moonpaw]

I'm curious, for Bon Clay, when you read the manga do you do perfer the Japanese word "Okama" or the viz english translation of "Oh Come My Way"?

For those who aren't familiar, "Okama" is Japanese slang for homosexual, cross-dressing men

[lightbulb-warning]

so has anyone figured out WHY there is the Need To Share our Artworks™ or is it just the vibes and our Soul apparently

[jadecantcreate]

am i the only person who tends to think of pain in pitch?

as in, pain can be “high pitch” or “low pitch” — if its sharp, like a paper cut or heartburn or aching, its high pitch; if its like a stubbed toe or sore muscles or a headache, its low pitch

high pitch pain is when you hiss, low pitch pain is when you groan, etc etc

i dont know if this makes sense to anyone else?????

(because everytime im writing fanfiction i have to hold myself back from describing it that way — and im not even sure i could fully, effectively communicate that w/o breaking immersion — but me saying “sharp pain” has become. a problem. probably. i really need alternatives)

[silverskye13]

Trying to analyze the tropes in my own fics to see if I think they're successful as component pieces and getting so confused I give myself psychic damage send help

[littleplantfreak]

gn lovlies I’m gonna go dream about Umemiya getting bit in zombie apocalypse au

[cerealmonster15]

i forgot grunt meant like henchman or whatever for a second i thought they were like yeah leonas bitch ass grunts and growls are partial proof to savanaclaw being an athletic leaning dorm lol

[wingsmould]

the book of bill is interesting because you cant take any of it at face value

[puppppppppy]

i think the reason why im so drawn to spirit tracks and pkmn scarvi is that having the legendary/princess as a companion rather than a goal that marks the games completion makes me feel satisfied the way i would after helping a friend

my brother always teases me about how I still havent finished botw after almost 7 years bc "id rather be out picking flowers" which i wont say is untrue. and yes i know Zeldas been holding off ganon for 100 years, yes i can get some sort of idea what her relationship with link was like by recalling memories and going through her diary. ive always loved botw for its unique storytelling and setting which makes it stand out, because it lets you get to know who you're saving.

but because theyre memories, it only works if theres something for the player to investigate that already happened. its retroactive (but effective nonetheless)

on the other hand, spirit tracks does something similar but instead of having the player try to piece together memories and interpret them as a spectator, you actually have an opportunity to get to know zelda yourself by talking to her and working together. besides making it a gameplay mechanic, giving the player control over how they interact with zelda makes it so much more personable.

and I find that making the goal feel personal instead of an obligation gives me more of a reason to work towards it. I know what kind of person botw zelda was but as the player, shes still very much a stranger to me. but spirit tracks zelda? thats my friend!!!! she invited me to go to the beach after we get her body back!!! i dont want to whip her to make her move faster thats mean :(

you know how hostage negotiators are trained to introduce themselves and get to know the person theyre negotiating with because its harder to hurt someone when you know what their favorite food is? its kinda like that, because it feels like im helping a friend than being told or led to do smth

and although i havent played scarvi myself, i feel an attachment to koraidon and miraidon even just watching playthrough clips because its like!! thats my weird scaly dog!! it loves sandwiches and we're friends!!! you know!!!!!!

[alchemiclee]

i know this has been said 473773474833 times by the kavetham/haikaveh shippers and probably even nonshippers, but i'll say it again. I finally finished the genshin summer event and did the little after quest in sumeru and.....every time kaveh is sneaking around trying not to be noticed coming out of alhaithams house it's just such a gay vibe. he's basically screaming "I can't be caught being gay in a homophobic society!" even if that's not what the game writers are *actually* saying. that's just how it comes off and they can't make it come off any other way. with hoyo's gay history, it makes me wonder if it's on purpose and all a cover-up to have a technically different reason for it so they can get away with it lmao but we will never know.

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

a gift for @t4tfitpac for the @mcytblrholidayexchange! a little bit of fitpac for ya. I hope you enjoy!

(ao3)

-

The trees are taller than they should be.

That plays over in Fit’s mind as he gasps out another breath, air rasping painfully out of his lungs. He leaps over a fallen log, almost stumbling as the sand slips beneath him. The trees loom overhead, tilting forwards and around him. The ocean spans to his right, an everlasting expanse, but somehow it just feels like more trees- like another fence to the shepherd’s corral, caging him in at either side, urging him forwards on a single path.

There is silence behind him, which isn’t right- that isn’t how it happened- or, it isn’t how this happened, but it screams danger either way. Laughing, yelling, (apologizing)- distraction. A level of focus that isn’t pointed at the hunt, at Fit. Silence betrays not only intent, but logic, care for the artistry of violence, causing his ears to prick and his heart to race as he sprints along the beach.

But, despite the silence, he feels calm. Focused. He is FitMC of 2b2t, and this isn’t home.

And any fear there is, beyond the focus, doesn’t feel- real? It’s strange. There’s a level of fuzzy-headed clarity that makes it almost feel like he’s underwater. The trees loom, his pursuers are silent, and he is running.

Something niggles at the edge of his understanding, struggling at the bubble that clouds his thoughts. Almost curiously, he turns his attention towards it. There’s a shepherd’s corral, intense silence, and only one way to run.

Uh oh.

A trap?

Where is he running?

Where is he-

His thoughts are cut off by the sharp sound of an arrow whistling past his ear. It lodges firmly in the sand to his left, followed quickly by two other projectiles that spear into the ground next to him. He keeps running, but this doesn’t make any damn sense.

Who’s chasing him? Where is he running?

The trees are too tall. The forest is to his left. The ocean to his right.

He’s thinking about ice. Why is he thinking about ice?

Snow storm. Green base. He’s leading them home.

He feels another wave of strange calm settle over him as another arrow whizzes past his ear. That’s it, isn’t it? There isn’t just one path, but there is just one decision.

He reaches for his sword with one hand, and grabs for a tree with the other. If he turns and sprints back towards his attackers, he has a chance. If he’s fast enough, he can surprise them, and if he can’t overpower them on this first rush then- well, then he’ll just have to do his best.

But his hand doesn’t find his sword, and his foot doesn’t hit the ground.

He falls into darkness.

And then, all at once, the ground hits him. He catches his weight on his hands and knees, a sharp jolt climbing through his prosthetic and into his shoulder. Every breath rattles out of him all over again. Everything is still dark- of course it is, it’s night time, just like it was night time then, which almost manages to make any sense.

In front of him, there’s silence. It looms. He grits his teeth. There’s nothing for him to do but get it over with; Fit looks up.

He sees Pac.

The moon hangs stark behind him, haloing the dark silhouette of Pac with his windswept hair and bare, bare arms. His hoodie is tied around his waist, the soft blue just barely discernible through the darkness. He’s staring straight at Fit, eyes downright gleaming, and Fit feels breathless.

Pac is also holding a sword.

He is holding Fit’s sword.

Fit’s sword is covered in blood.

Fit looks down. There is no pain, but he is also covered in blood. He has a tear in his shirt and a wound in his chest, just above his heart,. He looks up again to see Pac, suddenly much closer than he was before. It’s still dark, but they’re close enough now that Fit can see the rest of Pac’s face. He’s smiling, eyes creased as he looks at Fit with an expression so fond that it makes something deep in Fit’s chest start to hurt. “Oi, Fit,” Pac whispers, breath warm against Fit’s face. He leans in, and…

-

Fit wakes up.

Fit’s already upright before he knows what’s happening, heart pounding, ears ringing. His hand is pressed hard over his heart, as though he could keep it from beating out of his chest with force.

There’s a lot of thoughts to be had about that nightmare. The- dream? Whatever it was. Whatever it was.

His face is starting to burn.

Fit says, sternly, “That’s not how it happened,” His voice is hoarse, but he ignores that in favour of laying back down. He has the time to sleep, and the safety for it, too, but his heart is still pounding and the warmth in his face is- it’s just a little distracting, okay? That’s it, that’s the only thing. He’s not thinking about anything else. Just a weirdly warm face and a heart that won’t calm down.

It’s fine, and he’s fine, and Pac is-

well. Pac is pretty fine, too.

Fit squeezes his eyes shut and doesn’t get any more sleep that night.

–

“Oi, Fit! You wanted to see me?”

Pac sounds nervous. Fit doesn’t know how to calm him. He’s been filled with a restless energy of his own all day- he hardly even remembers how to think. “Yeah,” he says. And then, “Yeah, I did. Come on in, Pac! Come on in, make yourself at home.“

Pac comes in to Fit’s house. He stops at the sight of the chests. “Uh. Fit…”

Fit doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He leans against one of the chest stacks, all casual-like. “Yeah?”

Pac looks at him, then looks around to the room. It’s not a proper stash- there’s only about four proper chest stacks, and the rest are just double chests set out on the floor next to each other. Any more would be overkill. Because he hasn’t hit overkill already- no, sir, not him. “Are you moving? You didn’t tell me- do you need help? You’re really strong, Fit, so I know you can do it on your own! But if you’d like some help I can help- unless you’re moving to somewhere super secret and safe, then I understand. Um.”

Fit didn’t even realize he’d started smiling until he opens his mouth to speak. “I’m not moving, Pac.”

“Oh,” Pac says. They sit in silence for a moment before Fit remembers that he has to explain at least a little bit.

Hm. Maybe this was a mistake. “It’s not- for me,” Fit starts, stilted. “It’s for you.”

“For me?”

Fit chews on his cheek. Pac waits patiently, not pressuring him at all- just waiting, letting him take his time. He keeps letting Fit take his time. Baby steps, always baby steps, but Pac keeps walking with him. Fit’s heart seizes in his chest and something almost like a survival instinct lashes out in panic. “No- this is- this is stupid. I’m sorry, Pac, I shouldn’t have called you out here at this hour.”

“Oh,” Pac says again, and Fit could kick himself. He sounds so disappointed. “Oh! Well, that’s okay, Fit. But we can still- we can go do something else, if you want? Or if you don’t want, that’s totally okay too! I can just go walk around on my own- maybe find a field of flowers and just watch the sky for a little while, it’s okay!.”

“No, no- you don’t have to- I want you here with me, Pac, really,” Fit promises quickly. And that’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it? Because Fit wants Pac here, with him. But instead Pac is leaving again, off to Purgatory 2. Fit could go with him but, to put it plainly, he doesn’t want to. Purgatory wasn’t 2b2t- the rules, the relatively small playing area, the expected teamwork… and it was pretty nice company, there at the end. It was Hell, but one of the upper layers. The loungeroom before the actual doors. Something still almost lighthearted, when compared to the desolate wastes of Fit’s homeland.

But he doesn’t want to do it again. And it isn’t fair to ask Pac to stay, either.

“I guess I just… I know you won’t be able to take anything with you, probably,” Fit admits. Pac’s lips part a little, but he stays quiet, watching Fit. Still giving him room. Somehow drawing more explanation out of him. “But I thought it might be nice to do some resource gathering anyway. These are all empty,” he adds, further embarrassed. “And we don’t have to fill them all! But I thought-”

He hadn’t been thinking a lot, actually. Or maybe too much? Hidden stashes and piled chests- the need to be doing something other than sitting and waiting. Fit was used to the nomadic life, but there was no enderchest of shulker boxes here- nothing to fall back on, nothing to give. Nothing needed to give, wanting to give anyway.

Pac could take care of himself. Fuck, could he ever.

But-

Beautiful things never last, and Pac is one of the most beautiful things Fit has ever had the pleasure of knowing. So sue him if he wants to spend a little more time with the man before he goes back to hell! Can’t a roommate spend some quality time with another roommate without it being weird?

Pac softens. “You want to grind with me?”

Fit feels a grin crack across his face even as his cheeks start to burn. The tension isn’t broken so much as it’s shattered- Pac is already realizing what he said, ducking his head down and retreating back into his shirt like an adorable tortoise. “Yeah, Pac,” Fit says. He’s reminded of his dream, of how that wasn’t how it went- but maybe a little of that will be how it goes for other people, when Pac is unleashed back onto that battlefield again. Something possessive in his chest makes him feel bold. His voice deepens as he teases, “I’d love to grind with you.”

Pac practically squeaks. Fit giggles. Then they’re both laughing, red-faced, grabbing on to the empty chests to keep themselves upright. It’s not even that funny, but there’s something relieving about the moment. Pac is leaving. Fit is staying. Pac can kill as many people as he wants- he can apologize to them, even, or refuse to kill them. That’s alright.

Beautiful things can’t last forever, but-.

They don’t go grinding, or resource gathering, or hunting. They end up on the roof somehow, looking up at the sky. Soon, for Pac, all those stars are going to be replaced with the red haze of Hell. But the rose bushes are red, too, and so is the flower that Fit -very normally, and very calmly- tucks behind Pac’s ear.

He won’t be able to take the flower with him. It’ll wilt before he gets back, dead and dry and crumbling between Fit’s fingers. But there will be more flowers. More quiet evenings with his roommate at his side.

Sometimes the end of one good thing is just the pause before the beginning of another. For now, Fit enjoys a beautiful night.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

okay tomorrow i'm really gonna DO IT, i'm gonna TRY the THREE SENTENCES CHALLENGE that cee polk told us about, i will REPORT BACK ON HOW IT GOES

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

"my education is my highest priority" everything returns to vocaloid