#nvm im good

[allegras-sunflower]

Peter: *facepalming* Mr. Jameson I WAS SUPPOSED TO GO TO JAIL IT WAS AN UNDERCOVER MISSION TO TAKE DOWN THE VULTURE'S OPERATION!

Just when the judge was about to sentence Spider-Man to prison, J. Jonah Jameson barges into the court room, holding a couple photos and an USB drive above his head and shouted: “Your honor, I have the proof that Spider-Man is innocent!”

[choccy-milky]

💖🎊the end, & thank you for reading!!🎊💖

im so thankful for all the support i got on this story, and i wouldn't have finished it if not for all of you, and for the love i got for seb and clora. so thank you again for giving me the motivation to write this 600k+ monster, and to see it through to the very end. LOVE YALL💖🫶 (ao3/wattpad)

[itslilacokay]

sending this crackship before canon!mitsi rips us apart (and also we see more victim and agent hopefully)

so um. mitvicagent??????? i guess????????????

[fraycreations]

Silver Bloodstains by @blueisquitetired

‘Yes! Yes. I- I forgot almost everything, you must forgive me. You are…’ He paused. ‘…my former host?’ ‘ Brother. ’ Emmet corrected, pulling his twin to his forehead once again. ‘I am your brother.’

[amaranthdahlia]

kudoichi is serious to me in ways the human mind cannot fathom (art dump yet again below)

commissions

[pinep-ne]

Physically cannot stop thinking about your stuff <3, would love to see something with charthur hair care/braiding cause I know for a fact that Arthur is mesmerized by Charles’s hair

I wanted this to be cute but I had Adrianne Lenker playing the entire time I wrote it so... have something very flowery and sentimental instead... (Arthur gawking at Charles but poetically)

(i have this fic and more posted on ao3!)

----------

Arthur knows he can watch now.

They've camped near the chilled river nestled somewhere in the yawning valleys of the Grizzlies East. A gaping cove, holding their quiet love between two staggering hands, like the space between palms held for prayer. It shields their contentment from this world, their dance. Just so that Arthur knows without a word spoken that his gaze is welcome to fall anywhere.

Watching Charles bathe himself in any body of water is not a new experience for him. But watching Charles in general is no less arresting. He is fond of everything Charles is. He finds he can keep himself out of that narrative, selfish as it is, to rid the need of reciprocation he still cannot understand. Take what he desires and shut himself from accepting that very affection.

Watching never hurt anyone.

He wonders if Charles entertains it, even. The ease of his stature, of his presence. Some embodiment of something humble and grand that Arthur can't ever seem to pinpoint. Or neither. There is always something to admire. Whether showered in blood and anger and gun smoke or slack-faced and drooling on their shared pillow the few violet minutes before dawn.

It may be now, that Arthur could admire the rippling water around Charles' lower abdomen, or the soft flesh of it. The corded muscles of his back, shifting like divine machinery in every movement. The portrait of his face, aglow in the glaring limbo between afternoon and evening, blurred like velvet when the sun hits Arthur's eyes. It's an image he often indulges in, but not the one he has set aside for different worship.

Arthur is rightfully captivated by Charles' hair.

He stopped midway through undressing to simply watch the process. The care with which Charles washes it. The length it reaches when saturated and weighted with water. Pooling like a fountain of ink when the river reaches his neck. Snaking around like silken ribbons when he sinks beneath the water's surface. When they wake tangled in the morning, and he is veiled by the feathery strands. When they are close to one another, as intimate as Arthur's currently pursuing gaze, and he may find with his fingers where it meets the scalp. Burying himself there, clinging and carding through the strands, soft like nothing he's ever thought to seek nor hunger for.

Charles doesn't have to look back at Arthur.

"You're staring," he says.

It's hardly audible by the distance they are from each other. The timbre whispering against Arthur's senses, resonating only warmth. He decides enough is enough, and finishes peeling his muddied clothes off himself. Eyes averted down at the accusation, he joins Charles at the river.

The water could be warmer but he doesn't pay mind to it. He wades till his heels barely scrape the muddy sand and he must balance himself with his arms out in the current. Charles watches him, soap bar in hand. With a smile, he holds it out for Arthur to take, and kisses him firm. It leaves Arthur's chin wet.

Arthur takes it. Charles sinks down, nearly floating on his back, crown to Arthur's middle, looking up at him with the same brightness. Arthur looks down with plain reverence.

He hadn't thought it possible, to shrink himself in the narrow space of his heart that allows this sort of tenderness. To even relish in it without shame or reluctance. He lathers the hair above his hand, taking each section with undivided concentration. He watches Charles' features all the while, placid and quiet. Only sparing a few peeks at Arthur, relaxed and focused as he is, for the late sun that hits his eyes when he does. It is best to close them. Arthur thinks he might do the same, and they may both fall asleep to be taken with the current. He smiles at the thought.

Each time he feels he's become accustomed to the rhythm of their affection, it becomes apparent under the assumption of scrutiny. It is easier, more so on their lonesome trek, but still persistently resurfacing in dreadful bouts. They will bounce back like the collision of two universes. Arthur cannot handle the quiet. Charles can't handle the certainty. It's too true for either of them, and something they are both terribly inexperienced with.

But in this moment, like many others, it is the easiest thing to be true. Arthur works the soap in, infused with oils and herbs he's forgotten the name of. He thinks of all the times he's wished for something like this and thanks the world for letting him have it, small as it is.

When he's scrubbed most of the soap out, and the sun has hit below the jutting valley, Charles looks back up at Arthur.

He hums contentedly, beaming. A gesture which suffices as a thank you upon the surface. I love you woven beneath it. Dunks himself once more into the water, and leaves Arthur to bathe himself before the evening chill hits for good.

When they are both settled for the night, nestled against each other before the fire, Charles asks him to braid it.

"I ain't very deft," Arthur says.

Charles' voice fills every inch of him. "I want you to," he responds.

Arthur often returns to the knowledge that Charles' want is a force he's found only a certain devotion in. So Arthur sits behind him, all but wrapping himself, and tries his best to apply what he can remember. There are layers and a handful of errant curls all around, but the process is consoling and steady.

When he's finished, they meet eyes again. The braid leaves a thin, downy curtain in the front of Charles' face. Arthur watches the cascade framing his features, unmoving but dynamic, like strikes of graphite on paper. Charles feels for the braid with his hand, whispers his gratitude, and kisses Arthur again. It speaks everything needed to be said for the night.

[blueskittlesart]

How do you feel about concepts for redeemed/good guy Ganondorf? I don't remember if you've said anything on it before, so I am curious to see what sorts of thoughts you have to share or if you've thought about the idea before (especially since you've worked on SoF so I assume you've thought about many possibilities of a "what if" Zelda game)

For my part: I have mixed feelings, and I think a lot of concepts end up being "I want a buff guy to ship Link with"; I also think a lot of criticisms of the racism in many depictions of Ganondorf have merit (though I don't speak on them in depth because I'm white) and would love to see a more favorable/complex portrayal of him and other characters of color in LoZ. I personally haven't seen many versions of good guy/redeemed Ganondorf that really engage with the base structure of the LoZ games but I would love to see one that did.

Anyways I love your blog and analysis and I love seeing someone who finds analysis as inherently a part of their engagement with fandom as me, it's really nice :) I hope you're having a good day

I never posted about it much but sof did actually have a somewhat redeemed ganondorf, or as close to "good guy" as i'm willing to go with him in my own writing. sof was/is very much about me exploring the religious aspects of the lore and issues of fate vs self-determination, so my ganondorf was a much younger version of the character (similar in age to link and zelda) born into an extremist hylia-worshipping doomsday cult. in sof, ganondorf finds the remains of DEMISE'S sword and believes it to be the master sword, so when it starts ordering him around he follows the orders without question, believing that he's hearing the voice of hylia, and basically everyone in his life affirms to him that this is the correct choice and he's hylia's chosen one. Because of the intensity of the religious doctrine he was raised with, he has no problem following the sword's orders even when they become progressively more and more violent, and by the time link and zelda get to him he's nearly past the point of no return. (this is also partially a product of the setting I chose to put sof in--it's one of if not the first cycles after sksw, so the hyruleans' understanding of the reincarnation cycle and their own general history isn't super solid.) So that's my personal take on a "good guy" ganondorf, and, i think, the way i'd like to see it done in canon if ever they choose to go that route--because loz deals so much with the concepts of fate and cycles, I think leaning into a ganondorf who isn't inherently evil but can't escape the fate that waits for him is a fun way to take it.

[cobaltfluff]

so i started playing persona 4

where are the QoL features

[m333myselfandiii]

Genuinely tweaking tf out because last chapter dropped and I'm so soul-wrenched pulled apart at the seams and unraveling that I don't even have the energy to cry lmaoo. Tbh i never expected to get this attached to a character/s (all of them, really- Shingen, Somi, Shintaro) and it sounds kind of stupid when I write it down here but still.

My heart breaks for all of them; Shingen, who had to live his life burdened by his clan duties. Shintaro, who had to live his life never being the first choice, of always being tethered to the rules. Somi, who, I think (I hope) loved her child, but just a little too late, and for Gun, poor, sweet Gun, who had to see them all die before his eyes.

They weren't good- they were a terrible family by all means (talking about the adults here obv), but somehow I can't bring myself to hate them for it. It's hard to express what I'm really feeling lol but I just hope. I just hope they're all finally at peace, now. Somehow, somewhere.

I hope Shingen and Shintaro get to be the kids that their childhood never allowed them to be, I hope Somi gets to smile more freely, and I hope that Gun can be happy and unburdened by his past. I hope.

[isjasz]

The brainrot continues (Blame @vesperionnox and @cherrysherin we are dragging the whole server down with this au)

Part 1

[purplesoup-lad-le]

sometimes i wonder if one of those couple name generators would do better than what we've come up with.

I don't have to wonde anymore

[eepywriters]

.✦°. • Birthday boy ( ´∀｀)

warnings: none, just pure fluff and simp Quackity

a/n: HI GUYS, I had to speedrun this so if it feels rushed I’m so sorry 😿 but I put heart into it so I hope y’all enjoy!!

Ah the bed, what a glorious invention. It’s comfy, fluffy, warm and, most importantly, it’s where, usually, one of the best activities it’s conducted: sleeping.

Now, Alex loves working, he does! It’s written all over his projects. The passion that drives every piece of work he makes couldn’t be as strong as it is without determination and etiquette. After all, he is indeed THE Alex Quackity, creator of the first multilingual server with live translations.

But sometimes, just sometimes, he doesn’t mind sleeping the day away. His pounding head and aching eyes beg for rest on the daily, so it’s nice to actually give his body and his mind a moment to shut down once in a while.

A touch on his naked arm made him stir in his sleep. He groans. He wasn’t ready to let go of his sweet slumber just yet.

“Alex, baby, wake up, I’ve got something for you”.

An half-conscious grumble leaves him, which was more of acknowledgement of hearing your voice speak to him rather than an answer to whatever you were babbling about. Cause listen, as sleep deprived as he could be, nothing could separate him from his bed when he was actually set on resting.

“Baby c’mon, we can nap later”.

The soft feeling of pillowy lips pressing against his temple finally rouses him from his sleep. He sighs, a throaty, sleepy sigh, while stretching his back lightly.

“There you are baby”

The gears on Alex’s head are slowly turning as his systems finally makes sense of the world surrounding him. And while most of his mind is concentrated on your delicate hand stroking oh so lovingly his cheek, he can’t help but notice the delicious smell that was floating around the air.

He opens his eyes, now wanting to find out what exactly was making his taste buds tingle in curiosity.

Oh what a grave mistake that was.

A streak of sunlight pierces his eyes instantly, making him close them back on instinct with a weak cry.

“Noo turn off the lights” he drawls sleepily, shielding his poor, aching eyes with his arms. His mouth was still pasty from his sleep and he, quite frankly, didn’t understand what was the deal about waking him up so soon.

And then you laugh, and on a normal occasion he would’ve bite back, cause you were obviously laughing at his idiotic behavior, but he was sooo sleepy and your laugh sounded sooo pretty. (When did he go to sleep again? 2 Am?).

Slowly blinking the sleep out of his system, Alex was met with a rather endearing sight: there you stood, a cute, big grin brightening your face whilst you looked down at him with an amused gaze. He could tell you where sleepy yourself, if not by your tired eyes, by the dark circle that were adorning your features. After all, what did anyone expect from the partner of Quackity? Two sleep deprived people are better than one. (He’s not gonna delve into what seeing you standing there with only an old t-shirt of his was doing to his body).

“Good morning birthday boy”.

Oh, now he knows why you rudely (not really) woke him up.

“Hey” he mutters, scratching his crusty, tired eyes, hoping that the sleepy haze that was still clouding his mind will go away.

“Damn that’s all I get? Not even a pet name? We live in a society…” you frowned.

“Shut up” he snorts, looking back at you, just for his eyes to stop at a little red box you were holding. It is very pretty: a big yellow ribbon was tying together the bright red walls of the box, and hey, was that a duck painted on the side of it?

Before his fogged brain can even come up with a question, you are already in action.

“Stand still, your only job is to look pretty now”

He quirks a brow. He’s not sure of what you have going on today, but he’s in for it, especially since he can still smell the sweetness of the treat you’re hiding inside that box.

He sits up and his head lolls backwards onto the cupboard, giving him the perfect angle to watch you fiddling around.

“It’s rude to stare you know?”

“Mhh is it? Even when there’s something so beautiful to look at?” he replies, jokingly wiggling his eyebrows up and down at you.

“You’re such a flatter” you sigh, yet he can see you hiding your smile in your arm.

You soon bring out a tray to him, which had a plate, a fork, an empty glass and a cute, pink piece of paper on top of it. You had obviously written on the paper - he could recognize your handwriting instantly in any context given - and really, it wasn’t even debatable since the paper read “Happy bday amor <3”.

He brought the paper up to his lips, leaving a soft peck on it before putting it on his nightstand. Was he dramatic with it? Yes, but he swears that when it comes to you he just can’t help himself but cherish everything you give him.

“Here you go, I hope you like it”.

You finally open the little box, reveling an adorable, tiny chocolate cake. It was simple: it was round, not more than 10 centimeters wide, and it feature a raspberry and two blueberries on top.

He licks his lips and dives into it immediately, not waiting for approval nor giving it any second thought. He chews on the cake with a satisfied hum, letting the sweet, but strong taste of chocolate invade his mouth. Again, it was really simple, but the fact that it came from you made it ten times more tasteful.

“Where did you buy this? It’s great” he says, searching for the label of the bakery on the tiny box you handed to him. Maybe later he could’ve bought some sweets for his guests there. He strangely couldn’t find it.

“Actually… I made it”.

Saying his mouth was agape would be an understatement, his jaw was on the floor.

“WHAT” he screams with his mouth still full. He did have the decency to swallow before screaming out again: “THERE’S NO WAY”.

He swears he could’ve died right there. Your shy smile and the light blush that paints your cheek enough to send his brain into override.

“Yeah, woke up early to make it today. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up sooner, I made quite the mess” you cackle to yourself, probably remembering all the ruckus you made whilst scratching your neck in embarrassment.

“Im surprised you liked it that much honestly” you trail off, insecurity dripping from your hushed tone.

Was it really though? Alex would eat anything you gave him if it followed a “I made it for you”. Yes, he was that whipped, and he isn’t ashamed of it. It always has been you, trough life and death, he knew from the moment he uttered the first “I love you” that you were his ride or die.

“You did amazing (Name)” he smiles, craning his neck just enough for you to share a sweet, short kiss.

“I can tell you worked hard for it, I’m proud of you” he whispers at mere centimeters from your face, like it’s something just for you to hear and hold dear onto. He leaves a peck on the corner of your mouth before sitting back again.

“I’m very glad you liked it” you say softly, giving him one of those genuine smiles he’d die for “BUT we got much more to do! It’s time to open your gifts!”.

You clap your hands excitedly, already scurrying off to put the tray away.

“What if I want to unwrap another type of gift” he taunts, moving his arms behind his head while wearing a sly grin. He kinda felt bad about making you do all the work, but he figures that maybe, just this once, he can let himself be babied a little.

You shake your head, looking at him with faux disappointment. Your hands found your hips as you scold him: “Cmon you horny bastard, we are going”.

“You called me a WHAT” he says in his typical high pitched voice, following after you. He catches up to you in an instant and wraps his arms around your frame, keeping you still.

“Say that again, i dare you” he threatens light heartedly.

“Nu uh”.

“Okay, you asked for it” he whispers in your ear, impossibly close.

The world went quiet. Your eyes widened.

You knew what was coming.

“No wait, we can talk ab-“

You weren’t fast enough to stop him. You signed your fate.

His hands move swiftly all around your body, wiggling his fingers on those he knew to be your weak spots. He laughs at you, laughs at your misery. Your body twitches uncontrollably and your lungs beg for air.

“S-STop FUGAHAH, oh my GOd- HAHAhH ALEX” you cry out, trashing around in his hold while he brought hell on earth on your poor body. He continues to laugh at your weak attempt to wiggle out of his grip, determined to make you regret calling him names.

“Nu uh”

Needless to say, you where among the few guests on Alex’s birthday stream, and you were also the one who had clean all of it up. Nonetheless, the afternoon was filled with laughter, a bit of alcohol, and carefree dances.

　　*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

extra:

Well cleaning up that mess was sure a challenge. You had to do 3 Tiktok browsing pauses before actually getting it done (to be honest, you did spend more time on your phone than cleaning, but you’re sure nobody will snitch on you).

Right as you put down the broom, you spot Alex coming towards you, the shit eating grin he was wearing giving away his intentions.

“Can I get my final gift now?” he speaks, using a gravelly tone that catches you off guard. It was hard to take him seriously when he still had some confettis stuck to his clothes, even though you’d be lying if you said you minded the offer.

“You moron” you laugh, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Is that a yes?” He whispers, leaving a soft peck on the crook of your neck.

“Fuck yes”.

[specific-dreamer]

another reason “angel” is such a perfect pet name for bob is because for all intents and purposes he’s a threat. if he wants to be he can be terrifying. yk who else is terrifying? angels. i mean they greeted people with “do not be afraid” biblically their appearance is terrifying

[kylacxie]

The results of reading too much fanfiction just hit me like a brick. indulged in patrochilles fanfiction a little too much that when the plague was mentioned in a fic my mind paused then zapped awake like 'wait...oh my gosh that happened didn't it-'

[mettywiththenotes]

I can't explain it in a way that doesn't make me sound delusional but. I believe in Viktor Jinx interaction part 2 Getting Worse boogaloo

[skunkes]

also I guess this is just an observation

but what is it with some pixel art games being so low contrast... I was finally going to give in and try out a farming sim lots of ppl enjoy despite the portrait art being not entirely to my tastes and then the pixels and environment are sooooo low contrast it made me change my mind again....like you do not have to be scared of dark colors and borders. Outlines. Smile.