#let’s see 2012….OH FUCK RIGHT 2012!!!!!

[10moonymhrivertam]

Things that continually haunt me: New Who’s Companion-contemporary is a year ahead of the year it aired from Aliens of London/World War Three until the rewind in Last of the Time Lords, which resets it to correct contemporaneousness

[greenorangevioletgrass]

if this is a sin, a punishment (a.d.)

Pairing: art donaldson x popstar!reader

Summary: three years, three encounters. Moving on is a fickle thing, and why is it always worse the second time around? (part 1)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: smoking, drinking, language, greek mythology references, some german slander lol, almost cheating?, art doesn't give a fuck lol, so much pining, hella angst (i swear the next part will be happy i swear!)

Notes: im back! work has taken up my brain capacity, and while im very grateful to write for a living now, i was unable to write for fun lol. but we're back, and i hope we'll have a good time reading. Big up to @ysuftmikey and @tommysparker for being awesome and hearing out my incoherent rambles about this story. But anyway, please comment, reblog, talk to me and tell me what you think about it! Happy reading!

**i do not have a taglist. Follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass andd turn on the notifications to be alerted for new fics and updates!**

Paris, June 2012.

As the new face of Dior, your appearance on the front row of their runway show is paramount. You’re not just there because you have to, you’re there because you love it. It’s equally important that you are well-versed in the thoughts behind next season’s trends of the fashion house. The fashion show is as much a celebration of craftsmanship as it is a coveted social event, and you’re oh so happy to be a part of it.

Or so you said in your Vogue cover story. 

In reality, you’re getting decked out and posing for pictures and scrutinizing the details of every look that comes out because it’s a job. Sitting next to some buff dude in a manbun that barely gives you enough space for yourself.

His broad shoulder bumps against yours, effectively snapping you out of your reverie. “Oh, sorry.”

You’re about to murmur a politely dismissive remark, but it all fades away when you see his face, profile-first. It’s been almost a full year since you last saw that silhouette. There’s no way of forgetting it, even underneath the dramatic lights of the runway, not even if you tried. 

“It’s you,” you breathe out, all wide-eyed and slack-jawed like an idiot in front of him.

He hears you before he sees you, really sees you, and his heart nearly stops. Of course! You’re right under his nose, and he didn’t see you. And how he yearned to see you since that night in London. How he wanted to lay it all out on the line, pour his heart out, but instead what comes out is…

“It’s me.”

The whole world starts again, pretty people milling back around as you blink. Warmth returns to your face, as you finally regain some sense. “Art!”

He murmurs your name as he hugs you, and he never wants to let go. He wants you to fucking come home with him because home doesn’t make sense until you’re here.

“Wow…” he flashes that signature crooked smile as he marvels at you—not stare, marvel. “What are the odds, huh?”

“I know!” You fight the flight of the butterflies in your stomach, but it’s impossible. “You grew your hair out, huh?”

“Yeah, just… trying something new.” His hand reaches up to the back of his neck sheepishly. 

The blond mop no longer frames his face like Apollo incarnate. You can actually see his face better now with his hair pulled back. The depth of his eyes, and the soft parenthesis of his smile. But at the same time, his facial features look… a little heavier now. A little older. More mysterious.

But of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with, “Well, you look great.”

Art lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. He’s rocked this look for a while now, but he wants—no, needs— you to like it.

“I heard you won the French Open, by the way. Congratulations.” Your hand lands on his shoulder, much like the last time you saw him, but neither of you address it. Not outwardly, anyway.

(If his heart flutters, he hopes you won’t notice.)

“Ah well, it’s… yeah. Thanks!” He can’t help but light up. He wonders if Wimbledon has hooked you into tennis, or maybe, just maybe, you were keeping up with him…? “What have you been up to?”

“I’ve just been in the studio a lot. Recording, mixing, mastering the new album…  boring shit.”

Art shakes his head. He doesn’t believe anything you do is boring. “When’s that coming out?”

“November. And if all goes well, we’re gonna tour it next summer.”

“Holy shit.”

“You know what they say. The devil works hard…”

But this unstoppable force of nature in front of him works harder. It has been almost a year since you last saw him. Eleven months and some 20-odd days since you shared that cigarette on that balcony. Since you broke his heart. And he still looks at you like a goddamn miracle. It disarms the fuck out of you.

“Hey, listen—”

“There you are!” a tall, leggy blonde cuts him off mid-sentence with a kiss to Art’s cheek, rambling in German as she takes the empty seat on his other side.

Fuck. 

Art replies back to her in German, a little more hushed, but your head is already reeling. You don’t know what to make of this feeling in your gut—it squeezes you from the side, and twists you all the way to your throat. Like wringing the air out of you. 

Art smiles almost apologetically at you, his hand falling on the woman’s knee. “Yeah, this is… Tatiana, my girlfriend.”

You exchange pleasantries and shake hands. Maybe. It’s all a blur and you’re fighting tooth and nail to stay present in this conversation. 

You manage a smile, pushing through the ache of trying to sound courteous. Friendly. Normal. “I was just telling Art that I’m going on tour this summer. You guys should definitely come to a show.” Emphasis on ‘you guys’.

Art opens his mouth, but Tatiana goes ahead and answers for him. Her glossy lips pull up into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She doesn’t even bother hiding it. “Hm, we’ll see. Art is very busy with his own tour, you see.”

“Of course. For sure.” You nod at Tatiana, getting the message. Your gaze barely grazes Art, even though you want nothing more than to reacquaint yourself with his features.

Art watches you turn away, fixing your gaze towards the runway, and his heart aches. The way his hand rests on Tatiana feels cold—he might as well be resting his hand on a railing. 

He keeps his gaze straight ahead at the models coming and going the entire show. And if he accidentally catches a glimpse of your profile, or your manicured hand when he looks down on his lap, he’ll take what he can get. God knows he doesn’t get to ask for anything for more. 

*****

The Dior afterparty is held in some French chalet, and after making the rounds with Tatiana, Art feels himself disengaging from the group conversation altogether. He mutters out an excuse to get a breather and wanders up the winding staircase. There are still people along the hallway, chatting and drinking by old-ass paintings and bust statues and tall vases. 

Art takes a gamble and opens a door, simply eager for some peace and quiet. The knob gives and the room is dark, save for a large bay window on the other side, the moon shining bright… and the girl sitting there.

“Hey, room’s taken!” You flick the ash off of your cigarette out the window, ready to fend for your occupation. But then you catch a glimpse of his face in the light, and you relax. “Oh. It’s you.”

Art feels his face flush. He really should back the fuck off and leave, but his feet only bring him closer and closer to you into the room. “Sorry, I was just trying to find someplace quiet. I didn’t realize…” he cuts himself off when he sees the cigarette between your fingers, and he chuckles.

“What? You know I smoke.”

“A woman of taste, huh?” His eyes flicker to the pack propped on the windowsill in amusement and he wonders if you smoked Marlboro Green because of him (You do.)

You grab the pack and slide a cigarette out for his easy access, but he doesn’t take it. Not right away. Shit, was this a bad idea? Does he not smoke anymore? “Come on, your secret’s safe with me.”

Art takes another look at the cigarette, then at the door. He raises his forefinger in wait, going over to shut the door closed and then rushing over to you with a mischievous smirk at the cigarette. He looks like a kid, giddily settling in for a forbidden vice. 

This time, you’re the one leaning over to light his cigarette. His hair falls over the other side of his face, and you watch him tuck the loose strand behind his ear. His eyelashes resting on his skin as he takes that delightful first drag. He can feel the nicotine hitting him straight to his head, and that’s how he wants to consume you.

You settle back in your seat against the wall, the smoking hand hanging out the window, and Art does the same. He sees your legs folded over to the side, almost touching him, and he has half the mind to pull them over his lap.

“It’s been a minute, huh, Art?” You take another drag, trying to calm your nerves down a little.

“Yeah, it really has.” He throws away his smile up at the moon, amused at how familiar this is. “Why are you hiding out here?”

”My shoes are killing me.” You absently massage your ankle with your free hand, throwing a sideways glance at your pair of So Kate’s on the floor. “And my social battery’s shot down.”

”That’s not very Dionysian of you.”

It makes you smile. He still remembers (though, in his defense, the whole encounter last year was pretty hard to forget). “I beg to differ.” You lift up a bottle of Moët that you stole downstairs. 

Art’s smile widens as he makes a grabby hand at the champagne. You happily hand it to him, fingers barely grazing against him. He takes a swig and thinks, let me just steal your kiss from the lip of the bottle. It tastes better than the five other glasses he had back at the party.

“So how have you been?”

An easy question for a loaded answer. Art shrugs. “Ah well, you know. Still training, still competing…”

“You still pushing that rock uphill, huh?” You can’t fight the knowing grin on your face.

Art groans with a haze of smoke in his wake, leaning back against the wall. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m all about that Sisyphean grind.”

“Shut the fuck up!” The words fly out of your mouth, and it makes him laugh. And you can’t help but laugh with him. “You just won the French Open. Isn’t that like a—what do you call it, a… Grand Slam right there?”

He raises his eyebrows at you, impressed at your improved tennis knowledge. Maybe Wimbledon did hook you in. “Yeah, well… I still need to win the US Open. It’s the only one that counts, right?” 

It’s absolutely ridiculous, Art knows that, but until then… There's no rest for the wicked like him. And you see right through him. It’s almost like looking in the mirror sometimes.

You roll your eyes, and he thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. “What are you, pressed for time? Relax. You’ll get there.”

“Fair point.” Art nods, hiding his flush in another swig of champagne. “In that case, things are pretty good. Training is good, I’m winning matches, hoping to win more…” he pauses, tucking a loose strand of gold waves behind his ear, “Tatiana and I are doing… well.”

He sounds almost regretful when he says it. But then again, you’ve gotten pretty good at gaslighting yourself into thinking it’s all in your head.

“That’s good,” you settle with a neutrally encouraging response. “She seems nice.”

This time, Art gives you the look. And he always looks so smug when he does it too—the little head tilt, the crooked smirk he’s sporting like he’s excited to get the rare leg up from you. It’s adorable.

So you relent, taking the champagne and chasing it with a huff of smoke.

“I’m sorry about Tatiana this afternoon, by the way. Didn’t realize she would be so…” he grimaces as he struggles to find the right word. Domineering? Territorial? Just outright bitchy?

“Nah, it’s fine. I just chalked it up to her… German predisposition, that’s all,” you deadpan, tapping the ash of your cigarette out the window.

“You’re horrible.” Art grins. He loves it.

There’s that smile you’ve been missing. “Besides, I didn’t know you speak the language.”

“I can get by. My coach is German, my best friend speaks German… I’ve been picking up more from Tatiana, but it’s mostly just… angry.”

His words make you frown. That doesn’t sound like a very happy relationship, if your girlfriend keeps shouting angry shit at you in her native language. Art is perfectly aware that you’re catching on.

And again, it feels like the two of you are operating on two levels of communications. The first one is whatever is spouted out of your mouths, and the second through these wordless looks that say so much more. With every exchange, there’s always a choice; to stay on the surface, or dive in.

Maybe it’s the sparkling liquid courage, or the white haze you share in this little nook, but your next response is neither a safe bet nor a daring risk.

“Do you guys fuck in German? Because that can’t be sexy.”

He cracks up, caught completely off-guard by your question. Leave it to you to always keep him on his toes. “No! God no. Absolutely not. That would be terrible.”

“I can imagine! Like, what would you even say?” You sit up to put on your worst voice possible, but making it breathy and porny, “Ja… ja… ooh, scheisse… oh, ich komme!”

Art bursts out laughing. A true laugh that comes from the belly. The kind that makes his face open up. “What in the Hitler was that?!” He keels over in absolute stitches.

“I mean, I don’t know!” 

The two of you laugh longer than it’s funny, like you’re both relieved from this charade of civil acquaintanceship and finally free to be who you truly are.

Which, in this case, means immature goddamn giggly children. 

Art relishes in this warmth. He has missed this so much, that he nearly forgot he never had this with you in the first place. His face softens. “What about you?”

“Oh, I don’t talk dirty in German. It’s unpatriotic.”

“Fuck off.” He can’t fight the giggles that’s taking over him, not when you’re already laughing at your own joke. His mind nearly gets sidetracked with the thought of you in bed. Would you keep making these witty one-liners while talking dirty? Or would you be completely pliant if he kisses you all over ehile balls deep into you— focus up, Art! “I meant… How’s the boyfriend?”

You smile wryly. It was your fault to joke about Tatiana, and now you got what’s coming back at you. You take a swig at the champagne, trying to play it off casually. “Didn’t work out.”

Oh. It’s sad news, really. But why is his heart perking up, knowing there’s no more guy on the phone on her end this time? “That’s a shame. Are you alright?”

“Well, I’m real fresh out the slammer, so… not really. But…” you shrug easily. “I’ll live.”

Art’s face softens. Sometimes the moments of vulnerability seeps through the cracks of your dry humor, and he gets to see the real you. The storm that’s brewing between your ribs. Head against the windowpane, most of your lipstick either on your cigarette filter or champagne bottle. A picture perfect of secret melancholia. 

“You wanna know the weird thing is?” You inhale the cigarette, and exhale the fumes through your nose, eyes still fixed on the darkness outside, the bitterness is just pouring out. “I can always see how it ends.”

“What do you mean?”

The sensations run through your veins faster than your brain can muster up words. The butterflies of initial attraction back then—the elation, anticipation… and that funny feeling, that ache in the gut that paints the picture. The fight or the cold war that ends it all. And how are you supposed to come back from that, knowing what you know?

“I can always predict the end… right at the beginning.” You put out your cigarette and tosses it out, the faux nonchalance rising again. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am Cassandra.”

Art’s heart aches at that. It doesn’t feel right to be good this time. He almost wants to take it back, renounce Cassandra and he’ll give up Sisyphus so the two of you can be something else. Something different.

Something together.

Art puts out his cigarette as he studies your face. The pensive frown, the look of surprise… he loves that about you and everything in between. “I missed you,” he quietly admits. 

And there it is. The air is knocked out of you, and it’s just churning in your chest cavity. “I know,” you whisper back.

He leans in and touches your arm tentatively, and you don’t pull away. You can’t even if you tried. He traces the outline of your hair, his long fingers finding home on the side of your neck. His thumb traces your cheek, so carefully that he fears you would disappear into thin air. He needs you. Needs to know that he’s not hallucinating this.

This moment. This feeling. 

You.

You take his wrist, but you’re not sure whether it’s to pull him away or keep him there. “But we shouldn’t.”

“I know,” he echoes, although the way he fully leans into you is a whole other story. “I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“We shouldn’t.” You want to say it’s just him, you want to say that you’re stronger. Better than that. But the truth is, you gravitate towards him as much as he does to you, and now you’re just sitting there, both inching closer to each other until your foreheads are pressed together. “We can’t.”

He can’t find it in himself to lie anymore. He can no longer bring himself to care about the girlfriend he had, or whatever reason you’re thinking of right now. Valid, he’s sure, but he doesn’t give a shit anymore. “I know we can’t. But we want to, don’t we?”

“I’m not a homewrecker, Art.”

Art lets out a quiet huff. His thumb is still tracing along your jawline as if trying to commit your features to memory. He shakes his head softly. “If anyone’s a homewrecker, it’s me. It’s definitely me.”

“Art…”

“Yes?” You can wreck his whole existence, and he would thank you wholeheartedly. What bliss to be ruined in the hands of you. 

To his surprise, you pull him into a hug—and to be honest, you’re kind of beside yourself too. It makes him pause, but as soon as he realizes what’s happening, he surrenders.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, with one hand caressing his long hair. You won’t give in, not to your desire. Not tonight. But for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it’s like to be in his arms. What it’s like to be his. 

Each breath he takes hurts because you steal every single one of it, but he swallows it down. His arms encircle your waist, and he braves through the pain because this is his only chance to pretend. Art burrows himself into your neck and makes a home there. You gladly let him in.

For the longest time, you just… stay there. 

“I never want to leave…” there’s such pain in his tone. Such sorrow. Defeat.

“Me neither…” It chokes you from the inside out. But he won’t be the one to end it, so you’ll have to take one for the team. “But we have to.” 

He knows that, but his heart shatters anyway. You kiss him on the forehead, lingering as if it would tell him what you wanted to say. All the what-ifs and could-have-beens. It’s all a tangled mess in your throat, impossible to get out.

You feel a droplet where your hand cups his face the same time Art feels a single tear slide from his forehead down his nose. It’s comforting and disconcerting at times. .

For a fleeting moment, Art nearly hopes this is the moment you change your mind. Say ‘fuck it’ and stay.

But you pull away, and all hope is lost. It leaves with your laughter that echoed in this room just moments ago. 

You take a deep breath, and with a gentle swipe of his tears and tenderly fixing his tousled hair, you do the right thing. “I’ll see you around, Art.”

Art barely manages a nod, staring at the intersection between the wall and the windowpane, as you gather your shoes and your purse and pads out towards the door.

Thunk. 

He turns and sees you leaning your head against the doorknob. Your shoulders are shaking in silent sobs, and he wants to chase after you so bad. But before he can move, you turn the doorknob and disappear out of sight. Leaving him worse off than he ever thought after holding you. 

[cursedcatchild]

Ok, so I watched TOTTMNT and I am here to rant. Also, SPOILERS ahead!

So First of all, if I had to sum up my thoughts into a single sentence it would be: For the love of God, put those turtles back together, where they belong!!

I didn’t hate the show, but I didn’t come to like it either. And no, I did not have any prejudgment just because it was a new iteration. Honestly I was super hyped for this version, because the movie was a blast. Yea, I ended up being disappointed. But let me just elaborate on that:

First let’s take a look at our turtles from worst to best in my opinion.

Mikey:

Yepp, ladies and gentlemen so far I have never seen a single iteration where I didn’t come to like a Mikey. He’s always among my favs. But this version felt super shallow. He had just as much screen time in the series as his brothers and yet I still have no idea who this guy really is. His jokes were lame not really landing, I couldn’t really point out any particular goal or insecurity that anyone could relate to. Also, the guy is super oblivious. Like he took ten minutes to realize he walked into a robbery when he went for groceries. Heck he was having a casual conversation with the robbers. 

Leo: 

Another kinda shallow guy. Sure we seen a bit of insecurity, he literally quoted Rise Leo saying “ I’m nothing without them!” but it felt irreal. Because Rise Leo had a reason to think that, he wasn’t as much of a functional member of the team and he was always taken for jokes. But right from the beginning of TOTTMNT we see Tales Leo commanding his brothers, they listen to him  and even say it multiple times how planning is Leo’s thing. So at this point this Leo is just fucking blind. ( Also April slaps instant self confidence into the boy.) 

Raph:

Ok, this is also the first time, but I never really took a liking to a Raph before Tales Raph. Boy is filled with anger and sass, yet he’s not coming off as a total jerk like 2012 Raph. And of course he's not a super softie like Rise Raph ( I don’t hate Rise Raph for being a softie, he's my second favorite Raph) either. He had some fun pipe up and overall a personality I got. I think he’s the most perfect Raph I have ever seen. 

Donnie:

The best character of the iteration in my humble opinion. He was relatable, funny, honestly he was stealing Mikey’s job as the comic relief, but at the same time he’s the smart guy. The boy is ranting about not being the IT guy and then goes reprogramming an evil robot. Oh and he saved so many lifes, because he stopped a fucking train crash. He’s epic, I swear.

(My fave screenshot ever 🤣🤣)

Now story wise:

🔥What the fuck was this dumpster fire?! 🔥Who thought splitting up the turtles would be fine?! 😑Especially in a 12 episode season? Look, I don't mind solo or duo time. There were plenty of good ones, for example Rise. I adored the Mikey vs Leo cook off episode or the Gumbus one, but for the sake of my sanity Rise had twice as many episodes and the turtles were not split up for the majority of the story.

Like I'm not joking when I say they were together in 4 episodes intotal.😨😨

Now I heard rumors left and right that the fact that they need to make a show was thrown at the team at the last minute ( IDK how true is that) , but goodness gracious even if I was presented with the task with a “ Due tomorrow label” I could still write a better story. Especially with the goldmine what the writers decided to ignore.

Yes, something that would've made TOTTMNT be really unique….. School people! We were promised that we will explore the turtles from the teenage side. Ummm….Hate to break it to ya all but I think there is no better way to do that than putting them into school.

It would’ve been fire to see them trying to fit in, balancing all the cool hero stuff with school life, maybe wrecking the school, seeing how other teenangers adjust to the fact that now giant talking turtles are their classmates. It wouldn’t be some crazy mind blowing plot, but I swear it would've been amazing.

Now don’t misunderstand me. Despite the story feeling like being all over the place it wasn’t that super bad, but I’m pissed that it could've been better with ease.

Also another thing that bugged me, is the feeling of something missing. IDK if anyone else who watched it felt like this, but I legit felt like if we just grabbed the for example farm arc from 2012 TMNT and aired it as season 1. The fact that the turtles were split and they kept mentioning that they have always been fighting together made me feel like I should’ve seen them do that.

Anyways, If I did not take your will to watch it away, go and check it out. It's not horrible but not great either. I’m disappointed and I'm gonna need Rise back, thank you very much!

[king-crawler]

HEY HI HELLO

Sorry for the random message here In the asks, it's ok if you don't see this or answer it since you probably got a lot already and I understand if you don't see this!/gen

But first of all, I just wanna say

I CANT BELIEVE I HAVENT WATCHED YOUR ANALYSIS VIDEO SOONER IM SO FUCKING LATE MAN

It's so well done and so fucking funny, I was literally smiling and cackling through the whole thing, it's shocking how similar our humor is

NOT TO MENTION THE END SCENE AREE YOU KIDDING HOW DID YOU MATCH THE LYRICS SO PERFECTLY TO THE FUCKING LORE ITS INCREDIBLE 😭💜/GEN, POS

It's insane how much dedication is put into it, let alone singlehandedly feeding turbo fans as myself

Genuinely thought it's so nice seeing more content for a hyperfixation I've had since 2012, and the fandom coming back along with this video Genuinely brings me so much joy as someone who's loved this movie since I was a kid

Sorry for the ramble but genuinely thank you for making that video, I can't wait to see what other stuff you do, wreck it ralph or not I WILL be tuning in/gen, pos

Okay second of all

The main reason why I'm sending this is because of sometning I noticed while rewatching a scene in the movie

Now, this might be me over analyzing as I usually do but it feels TOO. OBVIOUS.

SO

IN the kart bakery scene where vanellope and ralph go to bake a kart, they obviously make their way into the building and into the main room

You see all the Karts of course, and It pans to the one vanellope chooses

Which, at first glance you wouldn't really pay too much attention, especially when watching it for the first time, she's just picking the model she likes

..but looking back at the scene

Vanellope's kart model, how it was supposed to look, looks very

Familiar

Because the kart she chose..

...is a red and white kart

With stripes down the middle, with a very similar shape to a..certain persons kart. Now this might just be nothing, it's probably just like I said, and over analysis on my part

But the kart the chose looks WAY too similar to turbo's, not to mention the stripe is down the middle, just like turbo's car on the cabinet art of him

And vanellope could've chosen ANY kart

But it was that specific kart she chose, out of any of the karts

Not to mention in some of vanellope's concept art...

(Art made by Lorelay Bove)

..Vanellope's concept design and turbos designs strike SCARILY uncanny resemblances to each others designs

From the helmet and colors

All the way down to her GOGGLES having the SAME. YELLOW. TINT. that candy's have in the movie, which have the same effect here. There's no way that this didn't have the intent to mirror turbo purposefully

So with that in mind, the kart vanellope chose in the kart bakery scene being turbo foreshadowing, wouldn't be too out of place, nor would it be too far off

Turbo's foreshadowing was always prominent, even in the smallest details you wouldn't focus on, just like he's infecting this world as a virus, little by little, everywhere. You. Turn.

Aaaand that's basically all I have to really say

Sorry for the long ramble, I've been thinking of submitting this for awhile now, especially after I told a friend about this and they mentioned that this should be submitted to you

So I decided to go ahead and just do it, no matter how wild my comparisons might sound-

Anyways, I hope you have a good day, night, or what time it may be, and keep being awesome! I can't wait to hear back if you see this! Bye-bye! ❤️🏎🏆

P.s

I've been quoting these since I watched the video and haven't stopped

Thanks for destroying my humor even more-/pos

Okay bye bye now-

-skitters away-

NO YOU'RE SO FUCKING RIGHT OH MY GOD VANELLOPE WAS ALWAYS A TURBO PARALLEL??? CHAT IS THIS TRUE. IVE NEVER SEEN THAT CONCEPT ART OF HER TEEHEE THANKS FOR SHARING

also God. This is 99% just a coincidence with zero merit because its such a common gesture- but Ralph and Vanellope doing their thumbs up.. maybe Turbo parallels ?? and like the EXACT same poses too:

Vanellope having one hand on the steering wheel and the other doing a thumbs up while facing the camera.

Ralph hunched over doing the double thumbs up with the visor tinting his face yellow. EXCUSE ME HMMM?? WHAT THE FUCK??

NOW COULD I BE CHERRY PICKING? PERHAPS. but when Turbo has barely a minute of screentime, there's not a lot i can pick from, and things SURE ARE LINING UP... (I'm cherry picking)

SO SHHHHHH... ❤️❤️❤️❤️ LET ME HAVE MY LITTLE CONSPIRASCY

[marengogo]

UGH!-7: … Time To Pack It All Up, Y’all!

Be Mine (English Version) - by Jimin  [Be Mine (English Version)]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

⚠️TW⚠️: I’m usually vulgar, but in this post, I might have outdone myself .

My dearest Gurls, Bois and Enbys, 

How’s everyone been doing? Are you enjoying Muse? Are you looking forward to RUN JIN? Are you ready for Are You Sure?!? Oh, let 👏🏾 me 👏🏾 tell 👏🏾 you 👏🏾, the excitement is way too real and I can’t even that's literally all the words I can fathom for now, I’m terribly sorry! That being said my Darlings, I’m afraid today’s blog will have to address a point I’m now realising that I must address, and I quite frankly assumed I wouldn’t have to, given that I am part of The Community and all. You see, there seems to be many Gladiators that wander into my neck of the woods completely misguided.  

They seem to think that my blog exist just so I can be present if one day JM and JK have sex on national TV, so that I can gloat in the faces of the Capulet enemy as I slay them with my mighty, and metaphorical, sword and bathe in their “blood” while I celebrating with fellow Montagues. Well, it is with a heavy heart, and great sadness, that I must inform you that frankly my dear, I don’t give a fuck, about none o’dat. Statements such as “Clearly JM has been single” like this Gladiator over here →  [LINK] or “JK has been fucking pussy every hour, every minute, every second” as the rest of Twitter ARMY believes or “They’ve been living together and have 100% been a couple since 2015, if you'd believe they are definitely real, why are you here...” like others on this app can really miss me, cause;

I 👏🏾 DON’T 👏🏾 GIVE 👏🏾 A 👏🏾 FLYING 👏🏾 FUCK 👏🏾.

The reason why I built this little nest in these treacherous woods is because, upon a sudden realisation, while looking at JK & JM, after careful observation and educated guessing, it started to feel like “Oh, hold on a minute … There might be something there …”. The idea that within this band that I adore there might be someone who is part of the community, like me, literally had my head implode, and not only that. It would appear that two particular members who seem to bring out the best in each other, as well as within those whom they interact with, might in fact be in this possible queer relationship, would make it even better, since we all love a stunning and powerful couple.

So yes, I am indeed here for the representation of it all. I’m not sure how many can relate, but as a minority in so many aspects of life, race, gender, sexual orientation etc, the feeling of having a fellow minority out in society who has the means and the will to live there life openly because coming out isn’t a must, we have the right also to not come out if we don’t want to as a minority is very positive and encouraging for all the rest of us, regardless of whether or not we decide to eventually come out or not. 

Though there’s obviously been many others who’d come out before Matt Bomer, he is the one coming out I will never forget. I loved White Collar like borderline obsessed. I watched it when it came out and it was my favourite guilty pleasure show before Suits. What I loved the most was watching him and Tim DeKay interact behind the scenes or during bloopers with the rest of the cast too, goofy as hell! And then in 2012 (three years in) Matt finally came out and took me by a storm, the fact that he had been able to keep his husband and three children hidden for all that time was also 🤯🤯🤯.

Once again, many others had come out before him Ricky Martin, for example, in 2010 but because White Collar was such a big part of my life, I was so ecstatic, it felt like a friend came out. It was also so great to see how much everyone on set, and the fans, were supportive and how much freer and happier he’s been since then. When Mew and Tul confirmed their relationship last month just a couple of months after Thailand legalised gay marriage y’all should have seen my face, I couldn’t stop grinning. All the speculations, the pictures, the public trips, etc etc etc. Anyways, they’ve both gone through quite some drama in the previous years, Mew in particular, so I am indeed quite happy for them.

So if JM and JK are not dating, or there isn’t a single queer person in the whole of bangtan and all have girlfriends and wives, or there are queer tannies and they are dating other queer people, or whichever other possible combinations, as long as they are happy, so will I, because I am first and foremost an OT7 ARMY and all I will always want is their happiness. I am thus afraid that you will not see me shed any tears, nor hear any miserable barking, in this neck of the woods; so~rry.

Guess I’m not packing up after all next time I’m bringing out my luggage best be for my trip to Japan …! So, in conclusion, and just as a reminder for anyone passing by as well, this has been, still is, and will always be a Possibly Queer until proven Definitely Straight safe space, as well as a space where amongst plenty other things obviously all things queer can and will be gracoiusly discussed and analysed to my discretion; You di~g?

Always respectfully yours 🫰🏾💜,

Marengo.

[el-pada]

not gonna even dignify this with a direct response cause clearly you motherfucker lack basic reading comprehension

but hey! lets have a talk abt this

i mainly base my iterations of him (rise, mm and the space 2012) on 2003 which i stated and made clear multiple times here

so most if not all of the leosagi started with 2003, makes sense, its the most he ever interacts with leo in the franchise, they have lots of great dialogue and an interesting dynamic

you wanna know what else this iteration started?

making them the same age range by showing it in a flashback the same arc he is introduced in

right there you can clearly see hes a kid in the same time the turtles were, the artstyle itself does make it confusing at times but like, even hearing him with the akward voice acting this is a kid (0:0 to 0:55)

they even refer to him as "young samurai" still in training

but thats not enough for you? fine, lets look at the comic design

now what are some of the main things that show up in his design?

the scar

the mifune crests

now lets look at the comics!

in the second chapter of volume 1 we get to see a teen usagi a couple years into his training, before working for mifune, what do we see here?

he still doesnt have his scar and mifune crests

he gains those after become a proper samurai, now we can look at history and see that a samurai was able to be trained as young as 15-16, assuming that was usagis age range we can reasonably line it up with the timeline of him serving mifune for a couple years, becoming a proper samurai then eventually losing him and gaining his scar

if we look at canon hes implied to be in his early 20s at most in the comics themselves (the artstyle just isnt kind to him), which is why i dont draw that iteration as leosagi, just draw inspiration from the character writing for usagi

now lets look at the 2003 design!

see something here? thats right!

his scar and crests arent there

the main things that one can use to differentiate between his life as a teenager vs an adult are missing!

"oh but the scar is just stylized, and the crests arent there for simplifying the design"

actually nope! the animators made a concious decision on his design, shown in multiple angles that its a weird eyebrow shape and not an actual scar!

and tomoe's design shows that also shows they very much could add the crests and chose not to, which makes sense as this iteration has the most canon accurate to the comics take on usagis world

and what did i make sure to incorporate into my usagi design? thats right!

no scar or crests in sight!

and if you really wanna get on my ass the fucking writer of rise liked my iteration on twitter lol

so in conclusion suck my dick and balls and do some research before accusing me of something as nasty as that

[christophersg1rl]

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬? 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: lots of smut, names (ma/baby/mylove/mama)

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you and Matt were best friends until one day he catches you masturbating.

me,nick, and chris were all just sitting down on the couch watching tv, we didn’t know where Matt went, because the time we woke up he was already gone which sucked because he was your best friend and you loved talking to him. And seeing him (mostly). “𝐲/𝐧 me and nick are gonna go get McDonalds, do you want anything”chris questions as i tell him no because i needed some me time and Matt was out with one of his hoes, as we called them. “Make sure to lock the door once we leave y/n” nick glances at you as they walk out, you immediately lock the door. you decide to go up to your room, you lived with the triplets since you all had been friends since 2012. They treated you like their little sister, except for Matt. Matt always flirted with you, and it made you fucking crazy for him. Sometimes you would even think about him doing things to you at night, it made you go crazy. As soon as you got into your room you put one of your playlists on and dimmed your lights and grabbed your vibrator, it barely made you get off but since you didn’t go around sleeping with the entire world like your bestfriend Matt did, you barely ever got any dick. You slowly take off your lacy panties and put the vibrator right in your clit, it was your weakest spot. Once it was on your clit you moaned loudly knowing that nobody can hear you since nobody was home. The whole time you were thinking about Matt and his fingers slipping in and out of you.

MATTS POV-

I had just parked my car, I was with one of my sides all day, I had no one really and I always needed something to get off, and my side was just always there. I could tell that chris and nick weren’t home because their skateboards were gone, they probably had left to McDonald’s because they couldn’t get me to drive them. I realized the door was locked and grabbed my keys, I unlocked the door and thought nobody was home assuming y/n went with them. That was until I went upstairs and heard whimpers and they were LOUD whimpers. I got scared and said y/n’s name a couple times to see if she would answer. but she wouldn’t. as I open her door, I see her pushing her fingers in and out of her pussy.

Y/NS POV-

I was so close to getting off until I hear my door open. holy shit it was Matt. “OMG Y/N I AM SO FUCKING SORRY” He says covering his eyes accidentally falling on the floor. “OMG MATT ARE YOU OKAY” I quickly put my lacy panties on and go to help him back up. “y/n I am so fucking sorry.” Matt says, as blood drips from the top of his head, he had got a scratch from falling. “oh matty let me help you your bleeding” I whine as I run to get my first aid kit, then run back to my room as I sit him down. “you know you could knock next time right?” I sarcastically say earning a little giggle from him. But I knew this was my chance to do something. I know he’s my bestfriend but, wouldn’t it be a little fun. I continue to take care of his scratch as I get on top of his lap, this ofcourse shocks him but he remains still. I rock my hips forward a little bit earning a groan escaping his lips. “all done matty” I say trying to get off him but he grips my waist. “your not gonna give me a boner and try to escape me already, y/n.” he says, putting his hands on my ass. “so wet already?” he laughs teasing my clothed clit with his big hands. “Matt please.” I moan into his ear, making him stop the teasing. “If you want something ma, you have to ask for it.” he continues to kiss my chest. “Matt please fuck me. I need you, I’ve needed you.” I whine. “how long has it been baby? How long has it been since someone has touched this pretty pussy?” he says now taking off my panties and sticking 2 fingers in me, causing me to moan very loud.he continues at a rapid pace, knowing my orgasm is about to come I moan into his ear letting him know I’m close. “cmon baby give it to me.” those very words made me come so hard and quick, I had never felt that kind of pleasure, it made me want more.”Matt I need your fucking dick now.” I demand. this definitely surprises him as I pull his shorts down and his boxers and god he was fucking huge. It literally slapped his stomach. “I want you to fucking ride me mama, you understand?”he groans as I simply nod and align his cock with my entrance, slowly pushing him into me. when I say he’s huge, I fucking mean it. “holy fuck baby your so tight I might just fucking cum now.” he moans laying his head back. “holy shit matty your so big” I moan jumping up and down his huge cock, I was already fucking close. that’s when I heard “we’re home” coming from downstairs, I covered my mouth quickly. This caused Matt to look up. “I have to get off they can’t catch us” I say trying to get off but he grips my waist once again thrusting into me even harder now, I have to cover my mouth so the boys won’t hear me. “Y/n your gonna be a fucking good girl and cum on my cock and stay quiet.” he demands. “I’m already fucking close baby. I’m gonna fill u up mkay?” I nod as he thrusts into me even harder, I felt my orgasm coming already. “matty I’m about to cum.” I whisper into his ear trying to be quiet as I hear nick and chris looking for us downstairs. “I’m cumming baby cum with me.” Matt groans quietly as we both reach our orgasms together, quickly getting dressed right after to go downstairs.

“So what are we?” I ask before leaving the room.

“Well you’re definitely mine now 𝐲/𝐧.” he giggles walking out with me,

_______________________________________________

A/N - FIRST SMUTTT!!!

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 14/21

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version). (Side Hangster, which is ALSO angsty).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003) FIVE (2004) SIX (2005) SEVEN (2006) EIGHT (2007) NINE (2008) TEN (2009) ELEVEN (2010) TWELVE (2011) THIRTEEN (2012)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – 2013

                The Bronco still isn’t up and running, he doesn’t have enough time to dedicate to it unless he’s got weeks of leave. Fortunately Ice lets him bring it home to the house when he’s back so he can work on it without trekking back and forth to the hangar. Then Ice goes one step better and makes Mav finally clear out the garage at Bradley’s house, and he can suddenly store and work on it even in shorter bursts of time. Natasha is still working on getting the engine restored, but she thinks another week of solid work should have it turning over. Of course, it’s getting the time together to work on it which proves elusive. Mav offers to help and Bradley gladly accepts, he doesn’t want to ignore it or have it languishing for years and end up a retirement project. He can see what it’ll look like in his mind and it’s beautiful.

…            …            …

                Pete didn’t think he’d have to knock and wait. Petra just has a friend over, they were meant to be studying. He’s not sure what they were studying exactly, but it wasn’t in any book. Each other’s anatomy maybe. He picks up his phone and paces back and forth in the garage, not ashamed by the fact that he is in fact hiding from his own daughter.

                God fucking damnit, why won’t Ice answer the damn phone already?

                “Pete? Is everything okay?”

                “I, yes, everyone is fine. Physically. Mentally however, I might be scarred for life. I might have scarred Petra for life!”

                There’s a longer than usual pause on the other end.

                “Pete, it’s late afternoon and I will be home in just over an hour, can it wait?”

                “Did you know Petra has a girlfriend?”

                “Oh. Huh. Guess you got your wish about her never being interested in boys…”

                “Ice!” Pete exclaims, because this isn’t funny, although he can hear someone laughing in the background. “Am I on speaker?” he asks suspiciously.

                “No. But funnily enough noise carries through my phone quite well when you raise your voice. I have Slider and Aubrey in the room. I’m actually doing work, because you know, I’m at work?”

                “No no, this is far more amusing than the latest budgetary constraints. What did you see Mav?” Slider asks, and Pete rolls his eyes, remembers now that he’s meant to be coming to stay.

                “Too much. I saw too much.”

                “Maverick. I’ll be home soon. Just take a deep breath. Take something apart and put it back together again… but not the coffee maker.”

                “That was one time!”

                “The first, only and last time. Just… see if you can fix the toaster.”

                “You don’t think I need to talk to her?”

                “And tell her what? The last time you slept with a woman was… what, at least twenty years ago?”

                “I don’t need to give her tips! I was talking more about, consent, and taking things at her own pace… Not rushing into things!”

                “She’s your daughter Mav, she only has one pace and that’s full-speed ahead.”

                “Oh god…” Pete groans, because Ice is so right.

                There’s more muffled laughing and Pete wonders if this is karma.

                “Fortunately Pete, her mother is a lesbian and likely far more equipped to handle the appropriate birds and bees talk,” Tom pauses. “Birds and birds?”

                “Wait. Who gave Bradley that talk?”

                “I did.”

                “When?”

                “About fifteen years ago. Mav! He’s coming up thirty. I hope you don’t think he’s still…”

                “I try not to think about it to be honest!”

                “Yeah well, lucky you. I had to take him through the safe sex talk. Twice.”

                “Huh. I mean, at least we don’t have to worry about her getting pregnant? I’m too young to be a grandfather.”

                There’s more laughter and he wonders if he can put something nasty in Slider’s drink.

                “Mav. Pete. I’ll be home soon. Just go and find the toaster and take it apart okay?”

                “Yeah. Yeah okay.”

…            …            …

                Tom hangs up and looks at Slider and Aubrey, both who are silently laughing. He might as well have had Mav on speaker for how loud his voice had been. He should have probably turned the volume down, but he has no secrets from either of them.

                “Sorry about that.”

                “Oh, don’t be. Seriously, that was the best laugh I’ve had in a long time. Definitely beats talking shop.”

                “I thought it might be something serious.”

                “It is serious,” Aubrey interjects. “To him. And no doubt to Petra as well. Go home sir. I think your family need you there more than we need you here. I have all the material we need.”

                “Okay. Well, if you’re sure?”

                “Of course. Have a good weekend.”

                “You too.”

                She leaves and he stands, starts packing away his things, taking nothing work related home for once given that Slider is staying, which means no time to do work.

                “I’m going to take the rental car and I’ll be around later. After you give me the all clear that it’s safe to turn up. I do not need to be entangled in your family drama.”

                “You don’t have to do that.”

                “Oh, I’m doing it for my sake. Plus I need to go shopping.”

                “Why, what do you need?”

                “Oh, I don’t need anything. You, however, are going to need a new toaster.”

                Tom sighs, because he’s probably right. He needs to talk to Melissa and Sarah.

…            …            …

                “Okay. So family conference time.”

                “This is stupid,” Petra mutters and Ice looks at him, like it’s his fault that she’s this way. Huh. Maybe it is, he has no idea how genetics work.

                “We just think we need to have an open and honest conversation…”

                “Learn how to knock and wait.”

                “Yes, that too, but also, it would have been polite if you had introduced us to your…”

                “Friend. Cassie is my friend. You’ve met her before! I shouldn’t need to introduce my friends every time they come over.”

                “Do you kiss all your friends like that?” Pete asks, and he realizes he maybe doesn’t want to know the answer to that question.

                “Is it any of your business if I do?”

                He frowns, because no, he guesses it isn’t. He looks at Ice, who is rubbing his temples.

                “It was just a shock…” Pete starts again, feeling completely out of depth. Maybe he should have prepared for this better.

                “That’s not my problem! That’s a you problem! And I don’t need to come out. If anything, Tamsin should come out.”

                Pete’s eyebrows go up, looks to Tamsin who is already rolling her eyes and he cannot wait to tell Bradley all about this conversation when they have their weekly talk tomorrow.

                “Do you have something you want to share with us sweetheart?”

                “That I’m straight? Is that what I need to say?” Tamsin asks, looking at Petra with an incredibly unimpressed look and Pete has no idea how to get the conversation back on track, if it was ever on a track to start with. Tom is standing there silently, which is absolutely fucking useless.

                “If the shoe fits.”

                “There’s nothing wrong with being straight!”

                “In this family?” Petra snaps back, sneering at her and Pete blinks. He’d thought they got on well. What the hell is happening?

                “Of course there’s nothing wrong… there’s nothing wrong with any orientation or how you might identify. I would hope you both know that,” he starts, looking frantically to Ice for backup who continues to just stand there quietly.

                “Yeah, so shoot me, I’m the token straight family member.”

                “Okay… what did we just walk in on?” Sarah asks, standing in the doorway and Pete feels so relieved

                “Tamsin just came out as straight,” Petra snaps.

                Sarah and Melissa exchange a look, holding a conversation the same way he and Ice do, years of practice communicating silently. Although he admits he sometimes pretends to misinterpret what Ice wants on purpose just to rile him up a bit.

                “Okay… we’ve already had this conversation. Labels aren’t always helpful.”

                Pete winces inwardly, because of course Sarah and Melissa are all over this, they’re the stable present parents and they know their daughters much better than he does.

                “I know! I’m figuring shit out. Just… can we not talk about it? Please?”

                Then she’s pushing her chair back and running toward her room and fuck, he thinks he’s maybe fucked up.

                “Shit. Sorry. I kind of went about this the wrong way huh?”

                “You think?” Tamsin asks, looking between all the adults like she can’t believe how idiotic they all are. It’s a look so reminiscent of Ice that Pete can’t help but be amused, but he’s got years of practice ensuring it doesn’t show on his face.

                “Just… we love you okay? Know that.”

                “I know. We both know. We love you too.”

…            …            …

                There has been a shift, a subtle one, but still a shift. There aren’t blatant come-ons, but there is definitely less fear, especially among the younger and newer servicemen, ones who have maybe served equal times under DADT and then not, the habits of years not so ingrained and as he watches some of the others hook up and start likely ill-advised affairs he wonders what it must be like to not have over a decade of hiding such a large part of who you are. It makes him a little uncomfortable when he thinks about it too much, so he shoves it down and away, doesn’t let him think about it too much other than in passing.

                Plus he’s not sure whether he’s cut out to be a boyfriend, his relationship with Callum often feeling awkward, like they’re constantly on their best behavior and apart from the sex being really good, he’s not quite sure if it’s the fact that every moment not in bed feels like it’s a first date every time, or whether between him being deployed and Callum’s work they just don’t have the time to make it work. Or, more to the point, the desire to make it work.

…            …            …

                “What are you singing?” Tom asks, because watching his two teenage daughters having fun and laughing will always bring him joy, but the fact that Maverick is standing in the corner filming and grinning like he’s up to something has him suspicious.

                “Hey, all right now, all right now, fellas!”

                “Yeah?” Petra scream-yells and Maverick is grinning widely.

                “Now, what's cooler than being cool?”

                “Ice Cold!”

                “I can't hear ya! I say what's, what's cooler than being cool?”

                “Ice Cold!”

                He meets Pete’s shit eating grin with dead eyes, expression grim. Inwardly he’s amused, but he never passes up an opportunity to screw with Pete if he can, and this is harmless. Petra and Tamsin continue singing and dancing, but Pete’s straightening up from his slouch, looking contrite. He’s glad there isn’t a camera pointed toward him, capturing the expression on his face because he doesn’t think he could keep a straight face if he was being filmed.

                “Ice, Tom… it isn’t…”

                It definitely is something, because there’s no reason for Mav to be acting so guilty and apologetic otherwise. But he can’t keep the grin from his face, loops his arms around Pete and pulls him into his arms and kisses him, still feeling the little swoop of unease about doing this in front of other people, even if they’re his own kids. It’s a slow process to suddenly be okay with being affectionate with Maverick when other people can see.

                “Ew. Gross. Parents kissing.”

…            …            …

                Bradley doesn’t know where he thought he’d be at thirty, and where he is isn’t bad, but he just thought he’d have maybe more of his shit together. Hell, Tamsin seems to not only have a five year plan, but a ten and twenty year plan and if he didn’t know she was Ice’s daughter that would be all the evidence he needed right there. He has another ten to fifteen years of flying if he wants it, he could go commercial and make it last longer, but he doesn’t really know what he wants, so will remain in the holding pattern he’s in. Unfortunately the holding pattern involves having a 30th birthday party he’d rather ignore.

                “You don’t want to invite Callum to your birthday party?”

                “No! Look, Callum and I aren’t serious.”

                “Oh. I thought…

                “Well, you thought wrong.”

                A few weeks later he’s not surprised when Callum breaks it off before his next deployment, telling him that while they might connect physically, it’s not something that can make the foundation of a relationship, not for him. He does think Bradley will one day make some guy really happy, but that maybe he thinks about how much effort he needs to put into his next relationship. He stews over that a bit, because it’s not like Callum was the most available or present, even when they’d spent time together Bradley had felt he’d always come in second place to Callum’s job. Then again, he’s pretty sure Callum feels the same about his job.

                It shouldn’t require effort, it shouldn’t be work. Or rather, he’ll want to do it, so it won’t feel like it’s a chore. His breakup with Callum doesn’t leave him heartbroken, but it does make him reflect on what he does and doesn’t want, and he guesses that’s the whole point of relationships, to find what works and what doesn’t. There were far too many non-negotiables that they couldn’t work through to make anything long-term work out and they already knew that going in, so he guesses Patrick and Christopher were pretty good judges at least.

                He’s deployed with Javy, and he worries briefly that he will know all about him and Jake. He either doesn’t know, or he’s damned good at pretending that Bradley hasn’t treated his best friend like shit. Not that it probably looks that way from a casual observer, but the guilt he feels tells him he hasn’t exactly been the nicest of people. He’s not quite sure how to make it better or right, but at the bare minimum he should probably apologize the next time he sees him. If Jake lets him.

…            …            …

                They find more cancer, but his annual checkups that Melissa bullies him into mean that it’s small. Because Melissa is his doctor he knows he cannot keep it a secret from Sarah. He wonders if he should admit to anyone that there are two women in his life that he cowers under the gaze of. And one isn’t his ex-wife. Sarah might have a special place in his heart, but she isn’t someone that Tom hasn’t ever just acquiesced to. Melissa and now Aubrey, they’re both women that Tom knows, respects and trusts implicitly. And is also a little afraid of if he’s honest with himself, their competency at things he’s not knowledgeable enough about to have as strong an opinion as them. So he trusts them.

                He just doesn’t like it when they join forces.

…            …            …

                He rolls up his sleeves and starts working on the rust spots on the Bronco. He’s only got two weeks, and Maverick is off somewhere he can’t share, but isn’t active duty at least so he won’t worry about him. Although he is still Mav. Tamsin and Petra help him, chattering away about their classes and Tamsin about her plans for study and starting college. It makes him feel old. When Petra complains about not knowing what she wants to do when she’s older he just laughs and shakes his head.

                “You’ve still got a few years yet. Don’t worry about it.”

                “But you knew. Tamsin knows. Dad and Papa both knew. Mom and Mama knew. Surely you figure things out.”

                “Well, I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes you don’t know and you just go along with whatever feels right at the time…”

                “Is that what you did?”

                “Well… sort of. I didn’t back then but I’m sort of doing it now.”

                “Wait. Do you not know what you want to be when you’re grown up either?”

                He snorts in amusement at her phrasing.

                “No. I guess not.”

                “But you’re ancient! You’re twice as old as me.”

                “Yeah, thanks for pointing that out Pet. I never figured out how to do maths.”

                “Haha. I just thought you might had forgotten at your advanced age.”

                “Wow. Just… wow. The cheek of youth these days. You want me to drive you around while I’m on leave, or do you want to be asking your parents?”

                “Ugh. Fine.”

                “Yeah well, the rust isn’t removing itself. Come on.”

                “Fine. Is Natasha coming to visit? Does she know you don’t want to keep flying?”

                “Uh. No. She’s currently deployed in the Atlantic. Why? Plus I love flying, I want to keep flying.”

                “Oh. No reason. And that’s cool. I just thought you might do what Dad did and become an admiral or something.”

                “I can give you her number if you like. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you. And becoming an admiral is… well, it sure is something I guess.”

                He’s not even making it up, because Natasha asks about them every time they talk, Petra especially, and he knows it might be because Petra is only a couple years older than whatever kid Natasha might have had, had she decided on a different path. It’s his own path he can’t see very clearly at the moment.

…            …            …

                He looks at the movie title, casts his mind back to the scene in the kitchen of his husband and daughters dancing and singing. This will likely give them ammunition for years but the warmth he feels when he thinks about them being silly and loving makes him smile so he goes in and buys four tickets for Frozen.

FIFTEEN

[imavikingo]

I was thinking on when Steve lost Bucky for the 3rd time (1st when he was drafted, 2nd when he was told he was MIA, 3rd when he fell) he tried to get drunk to forget, right? If he did that then...

What did he do when he lost him for the 6th time? (4th when he escaped, 5th when Bucky was in cryo, 6th the snap)

I mean technically Bucky died twice, but Steve lost him six times already.

And of he tried to get blind drunk once of those times- did he self-harm in other ways too?

To dull the pain? He can't get drunk, he heals quickly, he can't die easily either, so what did he do?

He wouldn't want to die when he knows for a fact that Bucky is alive ofc, but I can't see him acting normally or without a little bit of reckless energy.

To dull the pain and disappoinment (he can't feel like that, that's Bucky's choice -Cryo-. But how it hurts him tho).

(unrelated to this line of thought but it is relevant to the idea regardless)

That's why I can't fathom the idea of Steve abandoning Bucky in endgame.

He lost him 6 six (6) times already and he just... Went away? To a woman he only kissed once? After all he did for him, the pain and loss?

Even if you don't ship them, you have to think that to be really ooc on Steve's part. Everything in his character arc in the MCU is related to Bucky (and loss). Yes he liked Peggy, but he didn't suffer nor mourn her the same way he mourned Bucky (She was alive, but had dementia and was also very old, and had her own life).

His feelings for Peggy were more a "what if" and lost possibilities than anything.

She was an idea, a fantasy (that's why Wanda used that when fighting with him, right?). Not something real.

He wanted to be with her, but he didn't really knew her or love her (at least I don't think so).

She was the first woman that saw him for him after all. Before everything. But that's it.

He liked her for that (and her strong personality too) but did he love her? He didn't try to get on dates after he was defrosted because he knew people would only see Captain America, not Steve Rogers. He needed to represent an ideal and knew no one would understand (the pain, loss) and have the patience to be with him. That’s why he also highlighted the shared life experience thing.

So she was comforting, reassuring in a toxic and unhealthy kind of way (memories and fantasy aren't healthy when used like that). But still a what if and lost opportunity. He had to let her go at one point. And he did(!) But they had to fuck it up…

I mean... it's the same thing when you're still hung up on an ex. You want to think of the possibilities, the what ifs, the "what could have been" But when you go back to them nothing is like you remembered, nothing is like you wanted and you are dissatisfied and disappointed.

(Because all of that was in your head, it wasn't real).

And besides, he knew she had a life of her own (a fulfilling one at that) so what, he was selfish enough to fuck that up too? Without helping HIM? Without saving HIM? Abandoning HIM? After just being brought to life? After grieving him for another five years? Bucky was his best friend, his companion, his best pal…

He wouldn't do that to him. He would die before hurting Bucky (as they already stablished for most of the fucking movies) He even was like “You don’t understand” when Peggy talked to him in the bars ruins.

I think in canon (not ooc/EG)Steve would entertain the idea, but would decide to just keep it as that: An idea, a fantasy. And move on like he already did before.

Also the idea that it was a Peggy from an alternative universe is flawed because he abandoned HIS Bucky, even if in the other universe he helped or whatever.

In HIS UNIVERSE he abandoned his best friend? Not believable. And the logic of “oh it didn’t change their timeline because it was another one” is also stupid.

They already fucked up with Steve fighting 2012!Steve and also telling him about Bucky (creating another universe more than likely). And they were supposed to be undetected. Not create new universes. Thats also why I’m so keen on the idea of Steve being in a prison or something. He already fucked up once, twice if you think he went to the past to stay.

How can he be free while fucking up the timelines? Yeah, nah.

Also… they implied Steve can’t age in a movie if I remember correctly…. How did he become old?

And the idea that he went to Peggy because “Tony told him to have a life outside of captain america” is fucked up. So what? He relates his Bucky’s existence with work? FUCK OFF. Endgame Steve is fucked up and the worst character assassination I’ve ever seen.

They were just too annoyed with the fans because we ship Stucky (even tho they used that to promote the movies in panels and stuff, hypocrites -​I remember clearly the producers? of the movie talk about gay characters and the actors talk about Stucky in those panels for then…be one of the russos in like 1 second and have that shit ass, fuck ass ending for Steve and Bucky. That shit was vile-).

im also annoyed with some people that now shit on Steve when umh… did you see the movies? The other movies? Not only Endgame? (Btw the only one that got a “good ending” was Tony because he died as a hero in front of everyone -even tho he didn’t want to help at first because he had a good life, the ONLY ONE OF THEM might I add-, everyone else got worse, is dead or they’re neglected and treated as haha funny character or haha funny moment)

Im all for ships and ideas and headcanons (even when I hate them with passion, you do you) but don’t try and use this character assassination as an excuse to shit on Steve. If you NEED to shit on a character for your ship to work, then you’re not doing a good job at it or your ship sucks. Idk what to tell you.

[a-fluffer-nutter]

Rapscallion

A/N - Day one of August's Tickletober! Anticipation is today's prompt, so here is a Deadpool and Wolverine fic! Please enjoy.

Word Count: 975

     “My dearest fanfic readers, you have absolutely no idea how horny I am right now,” Wade let out an exaggerated moan as he stared deeply into Logan’s fiery eyes. Fiery was an understatement, the literal pits of hell could be seen if you looked into his pupils long enough. 

      “I have no fucking clue on why you keep talking to ‘the readers,’ but it's starting to piss me off,” Logan snarled, his to the running across his top row of teeth. 

       “Oh, you are such a tease, Peanut! Speaking of bits, mine has an itch that needs to be juiced.”

      “You are one of the most revolting people I have ever met,” Logan's center claws slipped out from between his joints, lowering just enough for Wade’s wrists to feel pinpricks of anticipation. “What I wouldn't do to tear your bottom jaw off your disgusting face so you could never speak again.”

         “Admit it, sweetheart,” Wade cooed, ready to recoil the second his statement was finished, “You'd miss the blowies way too much.”

        As Wade turned his head away, burying his face in his shoulder, he waited for his wrists to be sliced like a fish filet. However, this didn't happen. Uncomfortably shifting underneath Logan's weight, wrists still trapped above his head. 

       It was a super-secret mission that they were on, Wade had told Logan. Knowing Wade, Logan presumed that this mission was to spy on the Avengers or some shit, especially as Wade kept humming this one “heroic” song that he had told Logan was “really fucking cool in 2012.” While there were no sightings of Thor or Hawkeye, the two, in traditional superhero fashion, did manage to stop some sort of evil entity that wanted to take over Philadelphia. Aside from the Liberty Bell now having a new crack, Wade's fault naturally, the day was saved and our heroes needed a place to crash. Despite saving the day and all, they were a bit short on pocket money, so a grungy Motel 6 was their destination. Logan stayed in to watch TV, which based on the size and shape of it, was miraculously showing films in color, while Wade went hunting for the perfect Philly Cheesesteak. This temporary separation worked exceptionally well until Wade returned and spoiled the end of the film Logan was watching. 

       “It's not my fault your universe was still waiting for Incredibles 2! I thought you'd seen it!”

       “Why would I be watching it if I hadn't seen it yet?”

        “Maybe it's your favorite movie, I don't know. You seem like the kinda guy that would prefer more manly movies like Top Gun, Bridesmaids, or Velocipastor, but who am I to judge?”

      Naturally, Wade continued to push his luck and Logan's buttons, which lead them to our current situation. Logan pinning Wade on the bed, his wrists trapped between two of Logan's claws and Logan's entire weight on top of him. 

       Squirming as if he was wearing “grandma's surprise Christmas sweater,” Wade now looked back up at Logan, muscles tensing in the slightest. 

      “So, are you gonna do the stabby thing? Spaw my blood everywhere like a Quintin Tarantino film?”

      “I'm not sure yet.”

      “Ah, I see,” Wade clicked his tongue. “Well, we don't have to do the whole slicing me up like a sandwich thing. While this joint certainly isn't a Four Seasons, we don't need to Rudy Giuliani it all and spread mysterious liquids everywhere. Wait, who is the president in your universe?”

        “Matthew Perry?”

        “Ah, shit. Those kids from Smosh are psychic!” Logan let out a grumble, reminding Wade of his current predicament. “Shit, um, what should you do to me? Bondage? Sing songs of the French Revolution? Whisper sweet nothings in my ear? Hold me closer, tiny da-ack!” Wade was cut off by his own vocal tic. Logan released one of Wade's arms and when Logan repositioned his own, he accidentally grazed Wade's side. “What the shit, man? You didn't tell me I was gonna need to point out where the scary man touched me on a doll to my therapist this week!”

       “What the fuck was that noise, bub?” Logan mused; one eyebrow cocked upward. Making a humming sound, Logan moved his hand back to Wade's side and squeezed. Once again, Wade made a strangled yelp. 

       “Okay, maybe we can get back to the stabbing and bleeding part again,” a wave of nervousness washed over Wade's words. 

       “Of course, why wouldn't you be ticklish too?” Logan said mostly to himself, and he continued to poke and prod Wade's side, slowly walking his fingers up to the lower rib cage. 

       “Marvel Jesus does not condone this level of violence!” The last two words were an octave higher as Logan decided that was the moment to stop holding back and quickly skitter his fingernails across the sides of his ribs. “Shit! Peanut!”

       Logan continued his assault silently, trying not to smile as Wade writhed beneath him. Shouting out obscenities and references that went over Logan's head, Wade's laugh became increasingly hysterical and frantic as Logan's fingers journeyed upward. 

        “This is communist propaganda! A war crime! Don't you understand the Geneva Convention? You heathen. You rapscallion. A scoundrel. A hippocampus! A flou-!” Wade's words vanished from his tongue, replaced with loud cackles and hiccups. 

       “Damn shame this is the only way to shut you the fuck up, bub,” Logan broke his silence, his amusement of the situation now apparent by the upturned curl of his lips. He was thankful that Wade's eyes were as shut as they could be, Wade seeing this little bit of joy could be a catalyst to something bigger than Logan wanted to deal with any time soon. 

       What Logan didn't know was that Wade was already plotting his revenge. Something so devious, cruel, and sexy, that the world was not prepared for it. 

[puffyducks]

DCRC Week #14 (Part 2)

You already know what the fuck goin on. It's time for Quacklight: Bewitching Vampires in Duckburg AKA Donald Duck Twilight it's just Twilight you guys. I am ready for some HOT Y.A. DUCK ROMANCE!!!!

Why does he walk like that what the fuck is wrong with him

....hey wait a minute-

Everyone say BOOOO DONALD BOOOO he's being a misogynist 👎 it's cause vampires are hot hope this helps

girl 💀 not the claw marks

This is cause Scrooge lives there btw

Let her live her self insert wizard dreams dammit!

CLARA CLUCK SIGHTING LET'S FUCKING GOOOO

AAAAAH AAAAAAAAAAAAH SOMEBODY BUY THEM BROWN CONTACTS dude Dickie is just zonked the fuck out you can't convince me that she's not

NOOO HE GOT HIT ON THE ASS </3

oh nooo... she's stupid...

btw 15 dollars in 1790 is like 500 modern dollars if you adjust for inflation so ya boy is rich as fuck..... ladies 😏

No she's right stop holding out your skincare routine on us Donald. I mean Donward.

I read "SMAACK" and my first instinct was to think that Donald just full power bitch slapped Daisy straight across the face they really should've chosen a better choice of onomatopoeia there

DICKIE SIGHTING hi dickie :3

Listen. I've read this comic before. I thought I would be ready for cunty vampire Magicstone. I was not ready for cunty vampire Magicstone.

Also they don't even get cool new vampire names... though now that I think about it I guess "Magica" and "Gladstone" are already kinda vampire-sounding names aren't they. Like when have you ever met a mf called GLADSTONE?

NO IT WASN'T YOU GUYS FUCKING BROUGHT HER THERE 😭

the NUCLEAR CODES?!?!?!?

oh

They should let Donald bite people more often. Especially Gladstone.

I think he should have shot them with a real gun

So Donald and Scrooge are gonna act like they didn't enjoy the romance movie but here they are, sitting there looking babygirl as fuck, listening to Daisy and Brigitta rattle off about their whole ass YA novel masterpiece. Nice try boys I know what you are 🫵 you like vampire romance suckers

See??? Losers

Ok that's it I don't know what else you want me to say. I haven't even actually read Twilight or watched the movies sorry but I feel like I have a good enough understanding of what happens just from like being someone that was alive from the years 2008-2012. Happy Halloween 🦇 what do you mean it's septemb

[itzzaira]

WHOOOO YESTERDAY'S ART IS DIGITAL NOW!

Poor Leo, he's really going through it isn't he? First he breaks down in front of Raph, Donnie won't talk to him, and then he starts crying in front of a comatose Mikey... at least our boy finally woke up.

Two down... one more ninpo to reconnect with.

This is based on chapter 19 of The Wrong Side of the Portal - a 2012/2018 crossover fic, where after the movie, instead of getting home... Leo gets trapped in the 2012 dimension instead.

With no way to contact his brothers and his ninpo acting odd... either he, or one of the others, must find him a way home... before someone else does.

~~~~~

[Scene this is based off]

Confused, Leo went to look at Mikey's ninpo again, letting out a yelp when he saw a pair of red eyes looking at him, exhausted, but shining with life.

He blinked. 

Mikey stared back.

"...Mikey?"

"...Hm." he groaned, shifting just a little to get more comfortable, unable to do so properly because Leo was sitting on his legs. "...Wha...? Leo...?" He winced. His voice sounded rough.

The older one blinked again. 

...Mikey.

Woke up.

Just like that.

His baby brother. Who had been in a coma two seconds earlier, had woken up. 

But why did-

Mikey had always been a family person.

"..." Leo looked down at his ninpo. Then at Mikey's. 

...Oh.

Ooooh. 

Leo snorted- because even if he still couldn't feel Donnie, he could finally feel the youngest- his ninpo expressing the concern, care, and love he had trouble showing as the box turtle was trying to figure out what the heck was going on, squinting his eyes and smacking his lips. Then he looked down at their hands. At their pinkies.

The four, beautiful dots in front of him. And smiled with relief. He made no effort to remove his hand as he slumped back. 

Seems like Leo's theory had been right after all. He giggled, then burst out laughing.

But then that smile fell. The laughs turned into shuddering breaths as he covered his mouth. Not those heartbreaking sobs from before, but silent tears of relief.

Leave it to Mikey to wake up because of fucking family magic or whatever the heck their ninpo was.

Stuttery hands reached for his own- Leo noted the scars had responded to his ninpo as well- allowing Mikey to see the absolute mess he was in. "Why you cryin'...?" He slurred, attempting to brush the tears away. Before he gave up. And instead let his hand rest on Leo's. "Whas... what's wrong?"

"You-" he laughed wetly because the fact the nunchuck-wielder was worried about Leo after waking up from a fucking coma was so Mikey-like the slider could weep again. Though maybe he shouldn't, he was acting like a crybaby.

Well. This time he had a good excuse.

"Nothing, Michael." He murmured with a smile, putting Mikey's hands down and cupping his face lovingly, then reaching down to gently bump their heads together with a soft churr. "Nothing at all."

[memory-and-sky]

hey if youre still doing writing requests, could you do hobie helping ftm!reader with dysphoria? maybe helping him fix his hair in a more masc way or helping him voice train

thank you so much for this ask, anon! i love this so so so much :3 i tried my best, i hope you like it!!

word count: ~1.6k

containing: swearing, user is transmasc/ftm, user has dysphoria, hobie is literally the sweetest, i don’t really know how to voice train even though i am transmasc myself xp

the rest of the fic is under the cut!

dysphoria fucking sucks. hobie x ftm!reader

You were rotting away in bed again. Jesus, dysphoria was really kicking your fucking ass. You rolled over, checking the time on your phone. 11:06 AM.

The bedsheets were all hot, as it was a warm, humid day today. You'd been overheating like a dog for awhile now, but you had no real reason to get up.

Until, all of a sudden, you heard a window open, and boots walking in your living room. It was definitely—

"Oi-oi, love? Where are ya?" Hobie.

You quickly jumped up, pulling over a hoodie and pajama pants; your go-to dysphoria outfit, and greet him.

His gaze caught on you, and he looked confused. "Mate, are ya really wearin' tha' in this bloody heat? Yer gonna boil to death, hun." He walked over to you, and ruffled your too-long hair.

"Um.. yeah. I dunno, I kinda don't feel the best right now.. I feel pretty gross," You shoved your hands in the hoodie pocket, already sweating buckets under it.

"Well, yer hair is gettin' t' be quite long, mate. Wouldn't mind cuttin' it, y'know." He began to take his boots off. "'N I'd be plenty chuffed t'help ya with tha'. Jus'... take tha' shit off, love, 's too bloody hot to be doin' allat,"

You shake your head. "I-... I have.. pretty bad dysphoria today. I don't want to see my... my body."

Ah. Yeah, Hobie understands what's happening now. "I see, hun. Why don'tcha wear 'n oversized tee, and them shorts I gave ya?" He asks, crouching down to meet your eye level, offering a lopsided smile. "Go, mate. Be quick, yeah?" Hobie firmly pat your shoulder as you went to your room to change.

When you came back, Hobie put his closed fist out for a fist bump. You gave him one, and he grinned down at you, putting both his thumbs in the front belt loops of his pants.

"Ya look wonderfully masculine, love,"

"I don't feel like it." You sighed, looking down at your feet.

A shiver ran through your body as Hobie held your chin, and angled your face upwards. "Look at me, swee'heart." He examined your face. You were miserable in your own body, tired of feeling like a girl. "Tell ya what, love. We'll chop at ya hair, 'n I think I know a few tricks t'get ya voice soundin' deeper."

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes. "You do..?"

"Sure do, mate! Had plenty 'a trans bloke mates, even now," Hobie let go of your chin. "Ya still 'ave them scissors I gifted ya, don'tcha?"

You nodded. "In my bathroom."

"Let's go there then, yeah? Ya ready t' feel abso-fuckin'-lutely han'some?" He pat you on the back, still grinning.

You attempted to hold back a big smile, nodding. "Yeah,"

Hobie patted the cold countertop after he finished getting your hair adequately wet in your sink, his rings clinking and making a nice sound on the porcelain. "Siddown, mate. With yer back facin' the sink,"

As you sat on the counter, he rummaged through a few drawers, grabbing the trimming, layering, and normal scissors. "Oh, my good sir, what would you like? 'M at yer service," He bowed to you teasingly.

You rolled your eyes, smiling. "Whatever. Uh.. I dunno, somethin' that makes me look like a boy. Like myself. I definitely want it shorter," You looked over at Hobie, as he evaluated what would suit you best.

From your perspective, now, he was suddenly getting suuuuper fuckin' close to your face, and messing with your hair. You were surely beet red by now.

"Aight, doll, think I know wha' I needa do for ya," He finally backed up, softly chuckling at your flustered demeanour. Then, he grabbed a towel from over the shower rod, and wrapped it around your shoulders, so that hair wouldn't go down your shirt. "Hold righ' here, love,"

So you obeyed, and held the towel in place.

"Good boy. Let's see, now, hmm..."

You felt like you were going to explode. 'Good boy'? When had you ever seen Hobie call anyone a good boy?! Before you even had time to fully process that, he was getting close to your face again.

Hobie began to chop at your overgrown hair with the normal scissors, cutting big chunks of your hair and moving your head around a bunch as you fidgeted. But god, you couldn't help but stare at him. He looked so attractive when he was deeply concentrated, you couldn't deny it. Well, he always looked attractive, and confident... so effortlessly.

Hobie gave you serious debilitating gender envy, in addition to you maybe having a little tiny crush on him. You wanted to be like him so bad it hurt.

"D'you mind turnin' around fo' me? Needa cut the back of yer hair now," Hobie snapped you out of your daze after several minutes of him chopping off your hair.

"O-okay."

"Somethin' wrong, love? Ya seem kinda ou' of it.." A sweet, lopsided smile spread across his gorgeous face, and he tilted his head slightly.

You shake your head. "I'm just.. I dunno. I'm happy that I'm finally getting a haircut again. I really feel like a girl with all of this hair, 'n.. this was long needed. And I'm tired,"

Hobie chuckled softly as you turned to sit criss-cross on the counter, back facing him. "I feel ya, mate. Jus'... yer not a girl, 'kay? You've never looked like a girl t'me, 'n ya never will, yeah?" He began cutting your hair, combing and messing around with it. "I love how ya look 'n present yourself. Yer so confident in yer style, ya look real peng, y'know."

"Yeah...?" You blushed furiously, so thankful that your back was turned to him at the moment.

"Yeah, mate."

It didn't take Hobie too long before he finished cutting your hair, and thinning the ends out with the layering scissors.

"Turn around, love," He ruffles your hair as you turn around, now leaning in close to your face to fix your hair up all nice. He grinned down at you. "Ya look proper han'some. 'Ere, c'mon down. Look in tha' mirror fo' me."

So you hopped down, and evaluated yourself in the mirror. You felt euphoric, and just really happy with your new haircut.

Hobie placed both his hands on your shoulders, leaning over so that his head was next to yours. "You happy with it?"

"Mhm! Thank you so much, Hobie,"

"Say ya look han'some. I wanna hear ya say it." He smiled his lopsided smile.

"I... isn't it a bit vain? Selfish?"

Hobie shook his head, standing back up to his full height to stretch. "Confidence ain't vain. It's quite alrigh' to be sickeningly confident in yerself, y'know. I am. C'mon, swee'heart, say it,"

"I... I look handsome..." You clearly didn't believe those words, evident from you looking down at your feet, and mumbling.

"Like ya believe it. Look yerself in the mirror, 'n say it, nice 'n loud fo' me,"

You groan. "Hobes—"

"(Y/n). C'moooonnn~" He shook you lightly, holding onto your shoulders.

"U-um... I look handsome..." You sighed, smiling despite yourself at Hobie's adorable excitement.

"Tha's more like it. Gooood boy," Hobie giggled like a little girl as he patted your back reassuringly. "Still wanna learn how t'make yer voice a pinch deeper?"

"Yeah, of course I do,"

Hobie smirked. "Aight, let's sit somewhere more comfortable then, yeah?" He gestured for you to exit before him, turning off the light after you both left.

As you both sat down, Hobie was manspreading. You took notice of this, and mirrored him.

"Y'know how t'make yer voice deeper, yeah? Tha's pretty easy," He smiled, and demonstrated it for you.

"Jesus! That's unnatural," you giggle, but test it out a little.

"Yeah! Yeah, you got it. Okay, so keep tha' in mind. How you do that wit' yer throat. Don't force it too much, don't make yer voice too unnaturally deep, kay?"

"Okay..."

"Make yer pitch a bit more... monotone. Keep a plain, calm, controlled pitch, yeah?" He grins down at you, leaning in a little bit too close for a 'normal' distance for friends as he put his hands gently on your shoulders.

"How does this sound..?" You mumble, embarrassed.

Hobie grabbed your hand with both his hands, genuinely happy for you. "Yeah! Bloody perfect, mate! Awe, lookit you! Such a natural. A li'l louder f'me?"

"I sound stupid." You took your hand out of his grasp, groaning as you ran your hands down your face.

"Honey, no... you don' sound stupid at all." He gently touched your hand. "Sorry. Can I use 'honey'? Anyways, mate, you'll get the hang of it eventually. Ya don' have to use it righ' away, but... keep it in that noggin of yers, yeah?"

Hobie teasingly poked your forehead, and you couldn't help but smile, looking up into his big brown eyes, messily lined with black eyeliner.

"You, um... you can use honey. Whatever. Thanks, Hobie. I mean... yeah. I appreciate it a lot," You suddenly avoided his gaze, looking at the details and patches on his pants.

He smiled as he saw your eyes avoiding his.

“Awh. ‘n I’m happy t’do it for ya!” Hobie patted your shoulder firmly. “Yer perfectly masculine love, ‘n don’t you forget it,”

You smiled despite yourself at Hobie’s kindness towards you. How he was so caring towards you, no matter what. When you had came out to him, you’d been so fucking scared, and now… you really only felt completely safe with him. You could tell him anything, and even things you didn’t tell him, he’d gently coax what was wrong out of you with his stupid charm and tender personality.

Though he was sarcastic and cocky most of the time, Hobie could be really kind and gentle... which he definitely was with you, when you needed it.

[nenayaquisieras]

My brain is stuck in your post. Imagine the reader who sees deceased people and senses death knowing Ghost's name from the very beginning because they heard "the souls around him" whisper it the moment they met. And then they end up letting his name slip/calling him Simon without thinking and that's how he finds out about their ability

How creeped out is he? XD

he is for sure like "you takin the piss rn?" and he would start thinking that you snooped around or something.

and you're like "no." and now you both are staring at each other like one of you just said the most stupidest thing ever.

but then you tell him about the guy he killed back in 2012 where Simon not only shot his dick BUT ALSO gave him the finishing move by shooting him right in his left eye. and now is haunting him as revenge.

"oh yea he's PISSED, not only did you leave him dickless, but eyeless too."

and he's like 😦 under his mask.

He would be very freaked out though, because you are telling him that these horrible people he killed are messing with him now 😭?

"fuck sake" and he is visibly holding his head in his hands, debating if he should start going to church or something.

but as a good teammate, you tell him things he can do to try to get rid of them,

and well

he is now seen doing the same weird things you do to keep these spirits from clinging on to him.

[longing-for-rain]

I was reading one of your fanfiction and you’ve written in disgusting detail about zuko getting r@ped, why?

Interesting question. I wonder about it myself sometimes.

But what the hell, let me psychoanalyze myself tonight because it’s been a really bad time lately and it’s Friday night so you know what that means 🥴🥃

Anyways.

Weirdly enough I’ve been drawn to that kind of content from a young age, like age 12 young, pretty much right after I’d gone on the internet and been exposed to shit. It was always confusing for me. I always had this weird compulsion to watch certain male characters get hurt very badly in ways women typically get hurt. I’m not just talking about rape either; that’s probably the most extreme part of it, but it was also things like “damsel in distress” situations, eating disorders, body image issues, etc. I’m not saying men never experience these things, just that especially in media, they’re almost always associated with women.

I felt really weird for it because let’s be honest it is pretty fucked up. How did I get like this? It’s not even like I found it hot or anything—I’m a lesbian, I don’t feel attraction towards men at all. Besides, it was only violence I was drawn to. The minute a story started getting to some kind of Stockholm Syndrome situation where the victim starting falling in love with his abuser, it became a squick and I had to run away. It also couldn’t be just any male character. It had to be one I really liked. There have been others but you’re right, it started with Zuko and over the years it’s mostly Zuko. And yeah, that’s why I ended up writing content like that myself, because it was on my mind and I use writing to vent. But why? What was I subconsciously trying to vent about in that specific case?

Lately though I think I figured it out. The best way I can think of to describe it is a revenge fantasy. Which I know is deeply fucked up but hear me out.

So I get on the internet at age 12, right? At the time, my favorite shows were ATLA and HTTYD. So as one does, I start looking for things about my shows and come across art of the blorbos and naturally discover the world of fanfiction. And how wonderful for 12 year old me! I latched onto Zutara almost instantly because even as a kid my favorite scene in the show was the Final Agni Kai and I really wanted to see them get together. Now I find out there is a whole world of stories I can read online about that exact thing happening in so many different ways? It was beautiful.

But as you know if you know anything about fanfic sites (which I assume you do because you found my fucked up stories lol) I found some unpleasant things. Keep in mind this was around 2012 and I was browsing ff.net which had nowhere near the tagging/warning system that AO3 does. And even if it did it probably wouldn’t have mattered because I was 12 years old with a dangerous combination of naïveté and curiosity.

So anyway! What do I find on ff.net when I went scrolling for my lovely Zutara fics? Well, I did find some really cute ones. There are some I still think about but can’t find for the life of me because they’re either deleted or buried in the depths of ff.net. That was all good. You know what wasn’t good? The…other things. And oh boy. The people complaining about how Zutara is some kind of colonizer abuse fantasy wouldn’t have lasted 10 seconds back then. I remember reading a fic where Zuko raped Katara while she was tied to a tree. No warnings, and in the end note the author said it wasn’t rape because she ended up liking it. Many, many fics revolving around the idea of Zuko kidnapping Katara and making her into some kind of sex slave but it’s okay! She likes it and he turns good on the end for her so it’s true love! I also vividly remember a Blue Spirit x Katara fic where they were fucking, he took off the mask revealing himself as Zuko, Katara got scared and tried to push him off, Zuko just held her down and kept going. Not called rape. No warnings. Comments full of people talking about how “hot” it was.

Get the picture? It was horrifying. Keep in mind I was 12. It made me deeply angry, not just because of the misogyny and glorification of sexual violence, but also because it was Zuko doing it. I loved this character. I loved him because his story was so compelling, he was good and kind, he seemed safe to me. And reading about him violently abuse and rape the person he was supposed to love most was horrifying. It felt like some kind of betrayal. It made me hate him.

Middle school era me stopped reading Zutara fic as a result. I kept getting burned by it, and felt drawn towards that kind of Zuko rapefic instead. An old Zhaoko fic still sticks out in my mind. It was a pretty simple plot where Zhao kidnapped Zuko, whipped him and raped him, then at the end Katara rescued and healed him. It was oddly cathartic for me. Because it a) satisfied my revenge itch to see Zuko hurt in the same way I read about him hurting Katara in those other fics and b) put Zuko in a vulnerable position that would render him incapable of being a perpetrator in that universe (I know that’s not how it works in reality but that’s just my gut reaction there idk). Also read tons of fucked up Boiling Rock fics because it’s kind of a no brainer in the Zuko rapefic genre.

I don’t remember exactly why, but in the mid 2010s I didn’t really read much fic at all and my interest sort of fizzled out. I was mostly into HTTYD at that point and had a brief fling with Voltron before the fandom went to shit (which didn’t take long). So I guess that dark side of mine went dormant for a while and I didn’t think about it a lot.

Then oh boy…COVID hit. I was 19 when it started and found myself drawn into unhealthy levels of internet usage like most people during that time because what else were we supposed to do for fun. I was also going through some really fucked up heavy personal shit which led me to turning back to my old comfort ship…Zutara. Found my way onto tumblr, then to the fanfic sites. AO3 was a welcome surprise after being used to ff.net. Also for the first time I discovered the “community” aspect of fandom which I really enjoyed and helped me fight some of that COVID-induced isolation. It was really nice at first. I even began writing my own fics for the first time. And as you can see from my AO3 profile, they were very simple and cutesy in the beginning. Back before I went insane lmao.

But that happiness was short lived, because I kind of had a repeat of what happened when I was 12, only worse. Same pattern of reading some really good Zutara fics and some really bad ones. Zuko is sexually violent towards Katara. Zuko kidnaps Katara. Zuko rapes Katara. The author has some kind of technicality that makes it “not really rape/abuse” when that was clearly the intention. But this time, I was in a “community” with “friends” who promised me I mattered to them and that they cared about me. So I mentioned something about how disturbed I was to see things like this, naïvely thinking they’d understand where I was coming from.

And they…told me I was a bigot.

Yeah so. This was after I’d been sexually assaulted the first time. I also had this older creepy beta reader who I later realized had been sexually grooming me but that’s another story. Anyways! Point is I was in a bad state of mind, especially surrounding the topic of sexual violence, so it really hit me hard to have it used against me like that, made to feel crazy for having a problem with it, and dogpiled on for trying to explain myself and speak out.

Needless to say, I ended up feeling isolated, hurt, and confused by this. Much like I was back at age 12, so I relapsed into bad habits.

Honestly I’d been doing it before the breaking point, just more subtly. If you’ve creeped my AO3, you’ll see various flavors of “femdom” shit there. I like to call that my “I was being groomed lol” era. I had someone basically trying to convince me that male domination was “empowering” and that it was a sign of “maturity” for me to embrace it. Basically trying to convince me most/all women secretly desired it, resisting was a sign she wanted it deep down, I’d come around eventually, etc. Honestly I think this person just liked my writing and wanted me to pump out free fetish content for her, but it kind of backfired since it made me uncomfortable and I ended up just wanting to write femdom and Zuko rapefics because in that situation, it was the only outlet I had to express my hurt and discomfort at being bombarded with that disturbing kind of fic where Zuko is a rapist. I was subconsciously trying to reverse the narrative to escape the misogyny and the trauma I was suffering as a result.

Then after I got out of the grooming situation it just went off the rails from there. Stuff in my personal life was also getting worse so I just had this mass of stress and anger constantly running through my mind. It also really fucked with my sense of identity since the groomer/community I was in sort of left me with the impression that a woman’s role in society is to be objectified and abused and humiliated, and that she’s supposed to embrace it. I don’t think they necessarily intended it that way, but it left me with that impression because I saw so much content like that and barely anything representing women the way I wished to be perceived as a woman. It even made me feel alienated from other woman to the point I didn’t want to be a woman anymore (which is a feeling I’ve grappled with since puberty basically but that’s another story).

I don’t know which fic of mine you’re specifically referring to in which Zuko is raped in graphic detail, but I’m assuming it’s Dark Reflections because that’s probably the most graphic thing I’ve written. That’s the fic I started writing in the middle of that whole mess. It was very cathartic. I went with a female perpetrator against Zuko because it allowed me to fuck with the gender dynamics. A key plot point in that fic is also that Jun’s motivation partly stems from the fact that she mistakenly believes Zuko raped Katara so the idea of taking revenge against Zuko for being a rapist felt more direct. And of course, the reason why it’s so detailed and graphic and contains a lot of typical violent kink shit is because that was all the same shit I’d had thrown at me in the context of Zuko abusing Katara, so I just wanted to give it back to him if that makes sense. It brought me a morbid sense of comfort to see him be abused in the same way. I just have a catharsis generally about men suffering what they make women suffer. I know it’s fucked up, but it was a fucked up part of my life. And for the record I’m not trying to justify it or say it’s okay, I’m kinda of neutral on that tbh. Just acknowledging where my mind was and the fact that it’s a thing that I did.

For what it’s worth now, as I took the time to focus more on healing, I’ve felt less drawn to pure violence. I find myself wanting to write more about the thematic aspects of it and explore it that way. Even with Dark Reflections itself, the fic is incomplete and much longer than I originally intended it to be because I actually do want to go back and work through those themes and unpack what they mean for both the characters and the society they exist in. The more recent things I’ve written have been more along those lines too. Less graphic shocking violence, more philosophical as I pick my own brain and try to make sense of things.

Honestly writing this out helped me organize my brain a lot so idk hopefully it answered your question too.

And yes I know I’m sounding absolutely batshit but this is like my brain’s toxic sewer outlet valve. Believe it or not I am surprisingly normal in real life. I have a dog and big biceps and a cool rock collection and an office job with a nice view and everything. Anyways I’m passing out now. Night.

[sapphire-weapon]

>open Twitter >open DMs to send a message to a buddy I haven't spoken to in a while >there's a shitton of messages that I never got notifications for that I just straight-up missed over the course of A YEAR >goddamn it Twitter >this is all Elon Musk's fault >anyway >one of them is from the Project Umbrella guys >remember the big stupid bitchfight I got into with them last year >oh Jesus what the fuck did they want back then that I missed >open DM >HE'S DEFENDING THE RE ARCHIVES >NO FUCKING WAY LOL

THAT'S NOT WHAT THE RE ARCHIVES SAYS

THIS IS WHAT THE RE ARCHIVES SAYS:

And that's NOT what happens in Leon's RE3 epilogue. THIS is Leon's RE3 epilogue:

Oh but wait!

There's more!

This guy then tries to go on to defend the "Adam Benford kidnapped Leon" argument. Let's see how well his argument holds up.

So let's check his facts. Let's do a search for Jun Takeuchi.

Interesting. So Takeuchi became an executive around 2017. RE6 came out in 2012. So Takeuchi wasn't an executive at the time RE6 was written or released.

In fact

looking at this

Takeuchi didn't work on Resident Evil 6 at all. So... if he didn't work on RE6, then that would make anything he writes about it... fanfiction... wouldn't it? Otherwise, what gives him word of god for RE6's story? The fact that he was employed at the company at the time? Does this mean that any random environmental artist has word of god over the story? Do the Monster Hunter guys have word of god over RE6, too?

And what about Tsukasa Takenaka? Well, he's not even a big enough name to have a Wikipedia page to begin with. In fact, looking him up, it seems like he had a minor hand in writing RE5, produced Revelations 1, and worked on RE: The Mercenaries 3D.

yikes.

Okay, well what about this dude's other claims?

Adam Benford was director of the CIA in 2002 (according ONLY TO that airsoft ad written by the guy who did not work on RE6; this is NOT stated in RE6 itself), and his position in 1998 is unknown -- implying that he was not actually the director of the CIA in 1998. But Leon was kidnapped in 1998 by the CIA. So if he wasn't the director... then I guess he wasn't behind the kidnapping, was he?

Our friend from Project Umbrella then goes on to make a bunch of other claims right in a row, so let's go down them one by one.

>"Leon and Adam working together for a decade is only an approximation" Okay, but if you're approximating, the number would be closer to 15, not 10. Benford died in 2011. 2011 - 1998 = 13. So the rounded number would be 15.

>it's okay if RE6 gets the date wrong because supplementary material gets it wrong >implying that the game does not have more people working on it to ensure accuracy than random supplemental material. You're telling me that no one on the team of hundreds that worked on this game remembered that Raccoon City happened in 1998?

>RE6 is off by a year re: Chris killing Wesker

Is that true?

No, actually. That's not true at all. RE6 says it happened in 2009. And, wouldn't you know it. RE5 takes place in 2009.

So, what do you think, Mr. Project Umbrella?

Is that enough research that I've done for you?

Maybe the next time you want to go into a woman's DMs to mansplain at her and call her hysterical, you might want to get your fucking facts right first, you self-important misogynistic piece of human fucking garbage.

So.

In conclusion.

DO NOT LISTEN TO THE FUCKERS WHO CONTROL THE WIKI

THEY JUST FUCKING GO ON THE INTERNET AND TELL LIES

and talk down to women, apparently