#these are my lovable morons now

[maevelin]

Colin and Friends

What I LOVE about this new sneak peek with Colin being out with Benedict, Mondrich and Sterling is that it is such a contrast from when he was in a similar environment trying to fit in with people that could not understand him and he was being suffocated by pretending to be someone he was not and when he said that it feels lonely they laughed at him.

HERE, he is among TRUE friends, he is happy and more so he can be HIMSELF without feeling shame. The TONE is so different. Colin has accepted who he is. He has Penelope, he is happy and he can sit there and engage with KIND people like John Sterling and Will and hear Benedict give ridiculous advice on how to make GREAT LOVE STORIES...even if it means throwing rocks at a window LMAO and Colin just LOVES THAT. He loves the GREAT LOVE STORIES WITH MEANING. He loves that he has his great love story. He loves he can be open and honest about it. There is no shame, there is only acceptance, he is at ease, he is having fun (genuine fun), he can be himself and he can enjoy being himself with people who understand him. He has removed toxicity from his surroundings and he has found purpose even in the people he now chooses to surround himself with.

It is such a parallel and contrast with his scene with Fife and the rest of the rakes and his scene here with Mondrich, Sterling and his brother. AND I ADORE IT.

P.s: Benedict -YOU LOVABLE MORON WITH ONE BRAINCELL- Bridgerton, yes your mother loves LOUD declarations of love and romantic spectacles but Francesca wants her quiet, cute love and throwing ROCKS at her window is so opposite to what our baby Francesca loves in cutie John. And John having to THINK ABOUT IT....is what Francesca REALLY loves in him too.

And Colin being...nope...no...rocks are out of the question. (Although I would not put it past him to throw rocks at Penelope's window to get her attention if we are being honest ha ha)

I just LOVE THEM. MY IDIOTS!

[raven-loop]

Hidden Away [Part 1]

Pairing: Heimdall X Female!Reader

Summary: Heimdall does something considered cowardly, it takes him somewhere he never thought it would.

Warnings: Violence, injuries, fighting (I'm terrible at warnings)

[Picture not mine]

AN: Had a small idea for this lovable jerk.

--------------------------------------

No...

No!

This wasn't how it was suppose to go. Heimdall was suppose to show up and defeat Kratos! Not the opposite!

"You absolute MORON!" Throwing another bïfrost attack, all Heimdall could do was watch as Kratos effortlessly avoided it and ran at him with that stupid spear.

This time he managed to avoid it as Kratos threw it at him. Unlike before, how he caught it, not expecting the spear to explode. It caught him off guard. The bleeding wound on his face told that tale for him.

It became apparent that he was not prepared properly for this fight. Who would have thought, the god of foresight - not prepared.

And that's when he did something stupid. Something only a coward would do.

Summoning all his strength, Heimdall threw another, even more powerful bïfrost attack at Kratos. Bright purple erupted in front of Kratos, and he couldn't avoid it as it covered his entire body.

Heimdall used up too much magic, he couldn't summon more. So he took his chance and ran. Adrenaline coursing through him, his legs took him far despite the injuries he sustained. It wouldn't last long, which is why Heimdall had to take advantage of it.

The scenery around him changed, the forest grew bigger it seemed. But he wasn't paying attention, he just ran. Ran until his lungs started burning. Until his wounds bled too much. Until his vision grew blurry.

Until everything was black.

____________________________________________

When his vision came back, it was clear he was somewhere entirely different than where he passed out in. There was a roof above him to start off, and his wounds didn't hurt anymore.

Slowly, once he had enough strength, he sat up on what seemed to be a bed, it felt comfortable enough to be one, and looked down.

His wounds were healed.

Though his clothes were still bloody and tattered. But... Who healed him?

His head jerked at hearing the small thud of something hitting a table. Immediately he was in a defensive mode, seeing someone - a lady - standing by a table not too far from him. She didn't notice he was awake.

You were oblivious of the man staring you down until you turned, freezing at seeing him awake. Both you and the man stared at each other, not knowing what to do or say. You swallowed and approached him, "Hello. I'm-"

You were cut off as he tried reaching for his sword, only to be confused when it wasn't there. "What did you do to my-" "It's... There on the wall," you pointed to the sword hanging from a rack, Gjallahorn was also there, "I took them off you so I could tend to your wounds better."

Either the herbs were clogging his mind or he thought you were lying, but he asked, "Why did you heal me? And where am I? You better tell the truth... No use lying to me."

"I have no reason to lie. I am Y/N... as I was going to say, and I healed you because you were bleeding out near my home. Currently you are in said home of mine."

He went quiet before scoffing, "You're a fool for healing me."

Ouch.

Frowning, you watched as he got up and took his horn and sword off the rack. You took a step back, fearing he would use it on you. Thankfully he just placed it on his side.

"I'm not a fool. I did it out if kindness-" "You did it out of pity," He scowled, "I don't need your pity..." Now it was your turn to scowl, "A 'thank you' would be nice. I saved your life!" He chuckled, "No. All you did was waste your stupid resources."

Your fists clenched, how you wanted to punch him so badly. You couldn't understand how someone could be so arrogant, even after you saved his life. But you swore you would never hurt anyone, not if they didn't hurt you first, so you pushed your anger back.

In a calmer tone, you spoke, "Look... Your clothes are still dirty and so are you. If you'd like, there's a river nearby where you can wash off in. And don't worry, there aren't many who can find their way into this forest, Heimdall."

"So you do know who I am..." You smiled slightly at that, "I've heard about you, yes." You glanced at Gjallahorn, it was hard to mistake him for anyone else. Clearing your throat you spoke, "The river is just past a patch of flowers outside."

Heimdall stared at you, and for a moment it looked like he had something to say. Though after a tense moment he swiftly walked past you and out of your home. "You're welcome!"

No response. Of course.

Once he was gone, you sighed. Looks like you had a lot to work with here...

-------------------------------------------------------

AN: OOH BOY.

This started off as a tiny idea but turned into a lot more than I expected it to. Honestly I have no idea how far I'll get with this skndidjd But tell me what y'all think, I already got quite a few ideas for how this story could progress <3

[doyouknowthisbook-poll]

Do you know which book this is from?

Please reblog the polls, but KEEP IT SPOILER-FREE to make people read the excerpt with an open mind 💖📚 Title and author will be revealed after the poll's conclusion.

Note: The alt-text is too long for Tumblr, so the alt-text for this poll is below the cut.

Edit: The results are up here!

It had begun with Christmas and the gift of dolls. The big, the special, the loving gift was always a big, blue-eyed Baby Doll. From the clucking sounds of adults I knew that the doll represented what they thought was my fondest wish. I was bemused with the thing itself, and the way it looked. What was I supposed to do with it? Pretend I was its mother? I had no interest in babies or the concept of motherhood. I was interested only in humans my own age and size, and could not generate any enthusiasm at the prospect of being a mother. Motherhood was old age, and other remote possibilities. I learned quickly, however, what I was expected to do with the doll: rock it, fabricate storied situations around it, even sleep with it. Picture books were full of little girls sleeping with their dolls. Raggedy Ann dolls usually, but they were out of the question. I was physically revolted by and secretly frightened of those round moronic eyes, the pancake face, and orangeworms hair.

The other dolls, which were supposed to bring me great pleasure, succeeded in doing quite the opposite. When I took it to bed, its hard unyielding limbs resisted my flesh-the tapered fingertips on those dimpled hands scratched. If, in sleep, I turned, the bone-cold head collided with my own. It was a most uncomfortable, patently aggressive sleeping companion. To hold it was no more rewarding. The starched gauze or lace on the cotton dress irritated any embrace. I had only one desire: to dismember it. To see of what it was made, to discover the dearness, to find the beauty, the desirability that had escaped me, but apparently only me. Adults, older girls, shops, magazines, newspapers, window signs—all the world had agreed that a blue-eyed, yellow-haired, pink-skinned doll was what every girl child treasured.

"Here," they said, "this is beautiful, and if you are on this day "worthy' you may have it." I fingered the face, wondering at the single-stroke eyebrows; picked at the pearly teeth stuck like two piano keys between red bowline lips.

Traced the turned-up nose, poked the glassy blue eyeballs, twisted the yellow hair. I could not love it. But I could examine it to see what it was that all the world said was lovable. Break off the tiny fingers, bend the flat feet, loosen the hair, twist the head around, and the thing made one sound—a sound they said was the sweet and plaintive cry "Mama," but which sounded to me like the bleat of a dying lamb, or, more precisely, our icebox door opening on rusty hinges in July. Remove the cold and stupid eyeball, it would bleat still, "Ahhhhhh," take off the head, shake out the sawdust, crack the back against the brass bed rail, it would bleat still. The gauze back would split, and I could see the disk with six holes, the secret of the sound. A mere metal roundness.

Grown people frowned and fussed: "You-don't-know-how-to-take-care-of-nothing. I-never-had-a-baby-doll-in-my-whole-life-and-used-to-cry-my-eyes-out-for-them. Now-you-got-one-a-beautiful-one-and-you-tear-it-up-what's-the-matter-with-you?"

How strong was their outrage. Tears threatened to erase the aloofness of their authority. The emotion of years of unfulfilled longing preened in their voices. I did not know why I destroyed those dolls. But I did know that nobody ever asked me what I wanted for Christmas. Had any adult with the power to fulfill my desires taken me seriously and asked me what I wanted, they would have known that I did not want to have anything to own, or to possess any object. I wanted rather to feel something on Christmas day. The real question would have been, "Dear Claudia, what experience would you like on Christmas?" I could have spoken up, "I want to sit on the low stool in Big Mama's kitchen with my lap full of lilacs and listen to Big Papa play his violin for me alone." The lowness of the stool made for my body, the security and warmth of Big Mama's kitchen, the smell of the lilacs, the sound of the music, and, since it would be good to have all of my senses engaged, the taste of a peach, perhaps, afterward.

Instead I tasted and smelled the acridness of tin plates and cups designed for tea parties that bored me. Instead I looked with loathing on new dresses that required a hateful bath in a galvanized zinc tub before wearing. Slipping around on the zinc, no time to play or soak, for the water chilled too fast, no time to enjoy one's nakedness, only time to make curtains of soapy water careen down between the legs. Then the scratchy towels and the dreadful and humiliating absence of dirt. The irritable, unimaginative cleanliness. Gone the ink marks from legs and face, all my creations and accumulations of the day gone, and replaced by goose pimples.

I destroyed white baby dolls.

But the dismembering of dolls was not the true horror. The truly horrifying thing was the transference of the same impulses to little white girls. The indifference with which I could have axed them was shaken only by my desire to do so. To discover what eluded me: the secret of the magic they weaved on others. What made people look at them and say, "Awwwww," but not for me? The eye slide of black women as they approached them on the street, and the possessive gentleness of their touch as they handled them.

If I pinched them, their eyes—unlike the crazed glint of the baby doll's eyes—would fold in pain, and their cry would not be the sound of an icebox door, but a fascinating cry of pain. When I learned how repulsive this disinterested violence was, that it was repulsive because it was disinterested, my shame floundered about for refuge. The best hiding place was love. Thus the conversion from pristine sadism to fabricated hatred, to fraudulent love. It was a small step to Shirley Temple. I learned much later to worship her, just as I learned to delight in cleanliness, knowing, even as I learned, that the change was adjustment without improvement.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Eclipse: Dude, I can’t believe you made it this far in life.

Good Eclipse: Every day I wake up is a day I spite you then. Spiting both you and god at the same time is wonderful.

Swap Eclipse: Please don’t.

Servant Eclipse: Don’t wake up? You can just tell him that!

Swap Eclipse: I meant do it out of spite you brain dead moron!

Lord Eclipse: Please stop spiting me.

Jigsaw Eclipse: Oh great, he’ll do it more now.

Ruin Eclipse: I think your goals are doing good, Siri, I support you in this at least!

Good Eclipse: I have the power of spite and the support of the cute one on my side, I am god now. All of you bow down besides my lovable supporter.

[wednesdayismyfunday]

Broken Pieces

Summary: Tommy helps his business partner feel better.

Pairings : Tommy SHelby X reader

Warnings : Fluff ? implied smut. Alcohol drinking.

The timing of it all seemed cosmic . Meeting Tommy during his most ruthless days was something he wish he could have taken back . Maybe then it wouldn’t have taken so long for yn to fall in love with him. She had seen him do things out of hurt . He said awful things to her so she never got close . It has been a year and Tommy falls more in love with her every single day . When they became business partners it was clear to both of them that they had different  views on how to handle employees. Yn was gentle and kind . She rewarded good work . Tommy was brutal and harsh . Both stubborn in their approach .  It took a few fights and bickering but they worked out their good cop / bad cop partnership well. Business had never been better .

“ Tommy , why did you yell at that kid. “ Yn asked with her hands on her hips.

“ He screwed up . What else would you like me to do . “ Tommy muttered in response. He took a big swig of his bourbon and placed it on his desk . Y/n sat down on the chair opposite him , grabbed his glass and finished off his bourbon. Tommy raised an eyebrow at his business partners odd behaviour. Y/n rarely drank .

“ I can pour you a glass if you like. “ Tommy said.

“ Tommy ,  do you like working with me?” Yn said .  Tommy sat up straighter and looked  yn in the eyes .

“ Do you want me to be kind or honest ?” Tommy replied .

“ Honest ?” Y/n responded.  Tommy stood up and grabbed another glass and the bottle of bourbon . He poured himself and yn a drink and sat down .

“ Sometimes you make me want to put my head through a wall . Most of the time I’m glad you’re here . You make the days seem less bleak. “ Tommy said. Y/n nodded and picked up her glass. She downed the whole drink and poured herself another one. Tommy was baffled , had he done something to upset her? Probably .

“ Y/n tell me what’s wrong . What is going on?” Tommy asked gently . Y/n stood up and straightened her trousers . She took his glass and motioned him to come to the sofa . They sat down next to each other knees touching . 

“ Sometimes I think I am un lovable. “ Y/n sighed. 

“ Y/n where is this coming from. What happened today? “ Tommy asked. He took the drink from her hand and put it on the table. Y/n let out a gentle sob. She was crying. Tommy moved closer and held her. Y/n cried on Tommy’s shoulder. They sat there until she stopped crying. 

“ Love, please tell me whats wrong. “ Tommy whispered. Y/n looked at Tommy. She new she loved him. She didn’t want to. 

“ Matthew broke up with me. He told me I am emotionless, that I will never find someone who will deal with me. “ y/n whispered. Tommy didn’t even know she was dating someone. He hated this guy immediately. Who would say that to her. Y/n is love in human form.

“ He is a moron. What kind of man would say that to you. Y/n darling. Never have I met someone as kind , funny, sweet and charming. You charmed me so much that I made you business partner. My dear y/n. You have no idea what you do to people.” Tommy said stroking her hair. Y/n looked at Tommy through her lashes. 

“ Tommy, I’m broken.” Y/n whispered. 

“We are all broken. Some of us are just better at masking it. “ Tommy said. He lay down and pulled Y/n on top of him. Y/n closed her eyes and relaxed at his touch. They lay there until they both fell asleep. Only waking when the winter air nipped at their skin. Tommy woke up first. It felt like it was the first rest he has had since Grace died. 

“Yn, I know its comfortable but we will freeze to death here. Let me start the fire, or we can go to my bedroom the maids would have lit the fire by now.” Tommy whispered loud enough to wake y/n but not loud enough to startled her. Y/n mumbled something incoherently. Tommy smiled and slowly moved y/n next to him so he could get off the sofa. Y/n opened her eyes and watched Tommy make a fire. He moved with so much grace. 

“ Tommy Shelby making a fire.” Y/n said as she sat up to take  sip of bourbon. Tommy smiled and finished making the fire, flexing more now that he knew she was watching. 

Y/n relaxed into the sofa enjoying the view. Tommy turned to look at yn. The fire bringing a gentle glow to the room. Yn looked at peace, maybe for the first time. 

“ I am in love with you.” Tommy blurted out. Y/n sat up straighter and smiled.

“ I am in love with you too.” Y/n laughed. Finally admitting to both Tommy and herself that she was head over heels in love. Neither made any effort to move. Both afraid it would break the spell. The fire crackled and flickered. The air was beginning to heat up. Tommy swore she would be able to hear his heart beating. It was as if it was forcing him to move closer. Yn stood up and walked towards Tommy.  

“ You sure you want this broken person.” Yn said putting her hand on his cheek.

“ Maybe my broken pieces will fit with yours and we can make a whole new person.” Tommy laughed. Yn smiled and leaned close enough to feel Tommys breath.

“ I warn you, once you kiss me there is no going back.”  Y/n smiled.

“ I hope that’s a promise.”  Tommy replied closing the gap. The kiss said thousand words. It promised love, it promised friendship . Tommy pulled yn to the floor , and lay on top of yn. There they broke all rules of being a business partner. Two broken pieces finding each other to make one whole human. 

“ I hope you haven’t done this with any of your other old business partners.” Tommy said while holding y/n in her arms . Y/n laughed , it was pure joy and happiness that seeped from her lips. A feeling of  content that she had never felt. 

“ Only the really rich ones.” Y/n joked. Tommy laughed and kissed her forhead. The fire was slowly going out, but the warmth in the room only seemed to grow. 

[gayspock]

like i swear im done haaaahaaaaaaaar

does anyone just feel a sickfucking resentment whenever they see anyone remotely interested in anything any more. idk. it gets harder to not submit to being such a bitter, jaded bitch sometimes but what else do you have. trying genuinely to find some fucking interest in any of it, or something to just help me bide my time til i fucking die and none of it fucking helps. the number of failed, stupid hobbies, attempts at outings, etc. and i just cry over it all, cuz in the end i wasted so much money and time and i felt nothing but fucking dogshit. idk it feels so fucking dumb. its such a dumb thing to fucking cry about sometimes and its so embarrassing because i know people would do nothing but roll their eyes & grit their teeth and tell me i just havent found anything yet or its not important and its like i dont know. its not just this is it its like. something something i feel so fucking barren in every aspect of my fucking personhood because i cant seem to fucking do anything right even the most bare fucking essentials. something something. im not just lonely bc i dont have people to talk to right now but about it being a repeated fucking problem and not havingany means of ever getting myself out of the fucking isolated hole im in. stupid shit like this being wrapped up into it. i dont have anything to put on dating apps oranything to talk abt with people because i think im like a fucking ghost at this point, im struggling half the time with basic fucking comprehension , my fucking brains slowed down to a grinding hault and im losing so many years and i dont know where theyre going just that its nonstop neverending never any way out never any improvement im not getting out etc ... because i cant fucking do anything but spiral downwards and theres nothing fucking else to do any more and hasnt been for a long fucking time. something something get fucking help like for fucking what at anymore. think they all justgave up because its just a road to fucking nowhere and theres no helping me not in a fucking melodramatic, oh i was alwaysss doomed way, but in the pathetic fucking nothing way . the youre not depressed way you need to fucking kill yourself because thats the sensible option why the fuck would you want to exist as yourself thats moronic bc nobody fucking likes you nobody ever would theres nothing remotely fucking notable nevermind likable nevermind lovable does anyone feel insane i keep crying bc it doesnt feel fucking fair that it takes so much time and energy and everything just to not even not-function but to just fucking coast sometimes. i keep thinking abt how sad i was as a teenager and how much it fucking drained and hurt all the time to keep trying to keep up with everyone like pleaseee please fucking like me and for what for what . i dont think a single person remembers who i am at this point and i used to think i was crazy and i still catch myself thinking it now but no they do not. like you. nobody likesss youuuu.... you iddiottttttttttttt... something, something AHHAAA THE BAD THOUGHTS! ARE SIMPLY NOT TRUE! ON ACCOUNT OF THEM BEING BAD!!! but screaaaam it turns out they are and they prove to be every single time...... keep fucking sobbing about how youre never the priority, my guy you are not fucking remotely anything to anybody because youre nothing and you are alone you are the failure you always thought you were nobody fucking likes you youre going mental trying to leech onto people and its not like anythings fucking different its just more detached like god why do i fucking show up for work and even fucking bother pretending. like fine im not actively trying toget close any more. im long past .that. go into work smile try to not fuck it all up come home and cry. but why even fucking pretend im fucking paper mache craft of a person does anyone want to set fire to everything before they die just for some vague satisfaction like

i keep wanting to fucking detach from everything and run away and never fucking see anyone ever again in some fucking fantasy world where its possivle to fucking torch everything. but like even that isnt real is it like is IT bc its just in my fucking head where i torch everything no matter what and nothing MATTERS IN THERE ITS JUST A STUPID LOOP and by gdo i wish i could remain apathetic but i start going nuts every time im stuck in a situation playing house and nicies too long its poisonnnn its poisonousssss help me CHRISTTTTTTTTTT BECAUSE i cant die in this house i keep thinking abt when i off myself trying to come up with solutions to never being found i am not fucking being another fucking husk of a fucking being not for forever I NEED. TO. DISAPPEA.R COMPLETELY. NOOO REMAINSSS CUNT NO TRACE POOF

[underthenightskydreamsneverdie]

Are you still gonna make new HL content or are you full hotch now?👀with love and respect, -nonny

Oh sweet Nonny,

What a complicated question. I want to make new HL content, I want to with all my heart. But without access to the game I unfortunately find my hyper fixation fading and my inspiration along with it. I’m hoping to be able to play the game again soon and my fingers are crossed that it will reignite my inspiration for these wonderful characters.

I currently have over 20 works in progress for HL that I hope to finish one day, especially Sharing is Caring, but I can’t make any promises on when that will happen.

I honestly didn’t think the day would come when I couldn’t write for these lovable morons, and I certainly didn’t expect it to be so soon. I still love HL and seeing the content our wonderful community makes. The game and the fandom hold such a special place in my heart, I promise you that it will always be a part of me, and when I do continue writing for HL y’all will be the first to know 💗

P.S. - I am still open for HLC reactions!! They’re so much easier than coming up with original storylines

[i-am-minty-fresh]

Topic Essay:

Fandom: One Piece

Topic: Luffy

Sub-Topic: The Moron

!Spoiler Warning!

I’m gonna (try to) make a much more broad topic essay about Luffy as a member of the strawhats later, but I was watching a video by LonerBox titled “Joe Rogan and the Hard Men” (which is really good, sidenote) and I started to think about the type of ‘Main Character’ that Luffy is and…I decided to write about it!

Clarification: This post isn’t supposed to be attacking the characterization of other main characters from various shows, even the ones I will bring up in this essay. For every character mentioned in this essay, keep in mind that I have either watched all the shows and/or I am an active fan of the show. I’m not here to say that Luffy is the best main character ever, I’m really just trying to break down why I specifically am as attached to him compared to other main characters I’ve seen before. 

Stupid and Straightforward: For anime specifically there tends to be two types of main male characters in like shogun anime: 

The Genius  

The Moron

The best example of this trope is with Chainsaw Man. To avoid spoiling as much as I can, Denji is your trademark stupid guy. He has a one track mind and little to no patience or sense of decorum. He’s more than a little selfish, cocky, and has zero sense of self-preservation. He also enjoys eating out, making friends, and hanging out with Power, you know…the simple things. He’s your Moron. Aki on the other hand is your stuck-up twat. He’s cold, and serious. He’s got a tragic backstory that fuels his passion. He hates how dependable Denji is for how fucking stupid he acts, while also being pretty destructive when he wants. He’s your Genius. 

This is a very common trope because it creates a bit of light-hearted tension between characters without it having to mean anything more than they have completely different personality traits. Natsu vs Gray (or Natsu vs Erza) from Fairy Tail, Tamaki vs Kyoya from Ouran Highschool Host club, Kirito vs Asuna from Sword Art Online, etc. (I know, I have a pretty shit taste in Anime but my point still stands). Even in traditional media it’s not uncommon to see the laid-back, do nothing, extraverted character becoming sort-of-frenemies with the quiet, up-tight, introverted character in an opposites attract kind of way. 

Of course not all main characters fall into this grouping (Tanjiro from Demon Slayer, Yumeko from Kakegurui, Light and L from Death Note, etc.) but the more simple the anime is the more likely, in my experience, that these kinds of characters are used. 

As I mentioned before, this is not a critique of this trope, if anything it's my analysis of why I like the trope as much as I do, but I digress.

When we first meet Luffy, it’s obvious that he’s supposed to be the moron. From falling asleep in a barrel when he can easily drown, to not noticing the bad situation he’s in, to not taking the easy way out of said situation (i.e. just complementing Alveria), to announcing he will be King of the Pirates, this is our lovable moron. The more we watch the show/read the manga, the more he checks the boxes: Selfish? Check. Zero self-preservation? Check. Enjoying the simple things? Check? No Patience? Double Check. 

Alright we have our moron, now we need our genius. I’m putting emphasis on need here because without a genius the moron can be a little…hard to be around. The reason the duality works is because it lets the viewer enjoy the best parts of both personalities without having to deal with all the negatives. Without the genius, the moron can hit a break wall and try to brute force their way through it without figuring out a logical way out, while without the moron, the genius can waste time by wanting to plan out every possible step. With that said, now we need the genius…well that’s when One Piece I think, really starts to show what makes it different.

Not a Braincell in Sight: One Piece has its fair share of smart characters. From characters held as geniuses like Law and Robin, to geniuses in their field like all the strawhats, to kings and princesses there has never really been a shortage of smart people in the show that could be used as the genius to Luffy’s moron but…it doesn’t. It’s kind of implied that everyone on the ship is smarter than Luffy, by occasionally a comically wide margin. Even characters that the strawhats meet later, even the fucking kids they meet later, are smarter than Luffy by comparison, but it doesn’t matter. 

Because He Runs The Ship.

Whether that be literally, in that he is the Captain or because he’s probably right and so everyone has to just follow his lead. He’s a selfish moron, but he’s also exactly what every person he meets needs. When he meets Vivi, she has overcomplicated her task. Not only does she have to save Alabasta, but she has to do it without anyone dying. She outlines how best to do it, planning, plotting, strategizing. Luffy breaks it down for her, he has to beat Crocodile and then everything will work out. Is he wrong? Not really. Without Crocodile, the Baroque Works has no reason to keep framing the king and with due time, peace will come. You can of course speed up this process if you fix your perception and build back trust before the end of the war, but it doesn’t make it wrong. The same thing happens at Dressrosa with Doflamingo. Luffy’s right to kick Doflamingo’s Ass, not just because he’s a douchebag, but because what brain cell was Law running on to think that if Luffy and him can’t beat Doflamingo, that beating Kaido is even possible. Luffy picks who to fight, Luffy picks how far into other people’s problems he’s going to go, Luffy saves whoever he wants whenever he wants. Everyone else in One Piece acts as the Genius, the people who are too into their own thoughts to get out of their own misery. Sanji and Franky refusing to join because of a debt they created for themselves, Chopper, Usopp, and Robin not believing that they have the right to join such a crew, Zoro and Nami not believing that they’re strong enough, and Brook’s total insanity. They are the one’s complicating their lives, and Luffy is here to simplify things. 

I’m Going to Become King of The Pirates! 

Luffy doesn’t know what the practical application of those words mean. He doesn’t know about Laugh Tale, or the Polyglyphs, or the Warlords and Emperors that he’ll need to fight to get there…because his job is to be the moron. The simple minded, self-sacrificing, impatient, child who gets his way no matter what. Every other character in the show acts as the genius, but not to dull his loud personality but rather to protect it.  His crew is tasked with knowing everything else, his only real job is to always win…and he always does!

Conclusion: As I have mentioned before I can write a million essays about Luffy as a character, but to me he’s a character that knows that he is the moron. He cannot use a sword, or cook, he cannot sail, or snipe, he cannot bandage wounds, or read the polyglyphs, or fix ships, or write songs. He knows his limitations and does his best. He can not be the Pirate King without his friends, and no one knows that more than him. 

I love the silly little stretchy boy with my whole heart!

[scripturekiddie]

WEB 3 POINT NO HAPPENING (High Level Why)

World of Nerds, WinkleVi, & the Reality Challenged

By ScriptureKiddie

Disclaimer: If you offend easily (stop being a pu**y) TURN BACK

Do you ever wonder why you feel so disconnected and lonely while living in a world with eight billion plus “intelligent” beings? The fact that most humans buy into intellectual superiority over any other of God’s creations may succinctly recapitulate the sum of glaring historical failures in every facet of our existence on this planet. Humans decadently guzzle their homemade, flavorless Kool-Aid until they convince themselves it is top shelf quality hydration. If you are offended by that truth, then stop reading now because this pill is jagged as fuck.

The world is loud, unnecessarily busy, riddled with red tape, wrapped in policy, with a policy to that policy on top of its policy, smothered in misinterpretation of misrepresentation and outright lies. Any of the few who fluently speak and comprehend reality (truth) feel the disconnect, the rest revel in the bro-ness of connectivity. The geeks and weirdos behind the wondrous blockchain and the idiocy that has ensued take this shit to a whole other level of fuckery, though. This is not a history paper so I will not delve into the faceless moron who started all this stupidity (I wouldn’t want anyone to know how big a failure I was either with this garbage). Well intended or not, the proof is in the Fonzarelli of Ponzi schemes known as crypto and Web 3.0 that click baiters from all walks of the lower rung of media can’t help but splatter all over the land of fake believe.

Meet The Fockers

I will not go deep, because TLDR is a waste of (y)our more precious than thou time, but let’s have a high-level gander at the cast of characters. It is pretty telling that some of the biggest names in nerdom have been handed or are awaiting lengthy (you think your juice box got jacked in high school) prison sentences. Names that I do not care enough about to research for recognition because who really cares? While they focus on the art of steady and firm grips on soap bars, we will cover the ones who will most likely practice the butthole pucker at a later date.

Let’s begin with the oddball, malnourished, (I am on the spectrum, so I get to dismantle others on it) Russian sheet stain, the godfather of gouging, ahem, gas fees, Vitamin Butterfinger. The aforementioned, faceless, Satoshi (I am probably not Asian but want a name that makes me appear wiser in the ways of merging tech and finance) Shamalamadingdong, who was gone like a fart in the wind upon learning what scalability meant. The familiar faces from the boomer gen of geriatrics that refuse to retire, gam gam and gampy who publicly criticize technology while privately having their grandchildren lace em up with streams of income directly from such, leveraging assets acquired by not having to pay 15 dollars a grocery item. And last but not least, Gen(der) Z, the 9th place ribbon wielding, everyone a winner, 10 billion gender bending, soft and oft offended by: lifting fingers, shit that’s none ya business, work, and business in general, plus anything that begins with re and ends with sponsibility. Honorable mention goes to the WinkleVi brethren simply because it is almost as humorous as it is sad to watch these lovable losers scratch and claw for relevancy in a world that wants nothing to do with them. Just because Hollywood portrayed you as such, you aren’t Armie Hammer, Bruhs. Not even if there was a special ed version. Not even if there was a fire. (Random but necessary Step Brothers)

Harsh assessments, maybe, but do your homework on any of them and you will understand that equalizers exist in this world to remind the wicked of who they truly are. Though I am not proclaiming I was sent, I will absolutely be dealt with by The Creator for the judgment of others, I am necessary. My sins versus any other person, are equal in weight to God but since humans have a different measurement system, at least I am not stealing from people by way of lies and manipulation. The sheer volume of Russian players and investors should be all the warning needed to steer clear of this insanity. That Russian in the shadows of the underbelly sure looks like a square businessman to me said no one ever.

By ScriptureKiddie

The Labyrinth

Smoke and mirrors, a boomer simplicity passed on as genius to a generation of identifiers of magical meows, void of gold royalty, and entrepreneurial owners of nothing. A “decentralized” web of dubiety, dumb contracts, and tens of thousands of fly by night, backed by jack “currencies” that have zero value to anyone trading tangible items. The exception being drugs, which, hey, you had something. Untraceable currency, until it was traceable. Hence, fail, fail, fail, and N FAIL T. Since we are now obligated to not hurt the feelings of those who fail, you get a pink ribbon of FAIL. Oh, but you are all wealthy, self-made (that word alone will spark my next blog as I school you on why you own nothing, have no talent, nor control a thing aside from the grace given of Whom you probably deny), and probably even conned some real humans into giving you nice things based on the ledger of lies you call a “Blockchain” huh? See how bought in they are when your system implodes, and they come looking for real things to collect to cover the debt for your Maybach bro. The point is, no matter how much complexity you wrap bullshit in, it is still bullshit. Nothing more, nothing less. The value of which is equivalent to the depths of your morals and ethics.

Why It Isn’t Expanding

So, you have this exciting new galaxy of anonymity and opportunity. Fundamentally based on a “level” playing field free from the oppression of Illuminatic (I identify that as a word now before you open your mouth Sir Poops with Kitty Kitties) dark forces and oversight by the blind, yet you are not growing at a pace commensurate with the lies of allure you are pumping into the ether. You woke though bro, so how is it not knocking you upside your mis-shaped/guided noggin?? Perhaps you had a realistic shot if you hadn’t outsmarted your own stupidity by creating a matrix of protocols too intricate for you to even explain in layman’s about how to send your “currency” from one shady entity to the next. This custodial wallet does this and supports this network of noncustodial sham dams which can bridge to that flatulent DEX to the one you can’t use in America but is being heavily promoted to Americans, so yea we are working on that, but you need to call Biden. Advise the poster child of confusion to fix it so we can share digital nothingness across invisible international lines of ignorance? You have the face and brain capacity only a mother could love. I won’t even mention, except I will, that Vitamin McForehead’s gas fees more oft than not exceed the transactional value being placed. Brilliance on levels of epic never before seen in the history of mental you know the R word. *** So as not to be canceled by the generation that ignores the fact that God is THE ONLY ONE who can cancel anything ***

Allow me a moment to google how to speak in idiot so I can break it down for all the “illuminated” minds who will more than likely be stuck at the first analogy wrapped fuck you I have placed throughout this un and necessarily pointed reality check. Suzie homemaker and simplistic business Bob aren’t down with it bruh. The seniority of Millennials are getting older and beginning to realize the massive mistakes made coddling you into the problem you have become. They do not have 35 hours a day to learn how to buy the drugs needed to cope with you on the dark web with the latest meme scam coin. Drug dealers do and will continue to exist in the flesh. Younger Millennials still buying in will begin having children that require resources bought in places that do not support Shima Uba Fluffy tokens. Biden gets confused tying his shoe and the boomers ultimately will fade into the afterlife for which they have prepared by faith and works (or lack thereof) during their lives (Trump is stuck on 2nd grade arithmetic so I wouldn’t get my hopes up). Gen X would rather send you to oblivion by way of banishing you to a nature preserve and placing bets on how many days (hours) will pass before corpses start surfacing. Do I need to elaborate any further?

By ScriptureKiddie

Novel Idea with Shady Intentions

The idea behind blockchain technology is sufficiently relevant and necessary. The problem is, you aren’t operating any differently than the evil scum that you claim to be building impenetrable walls against. The transparency is of paramount importance, that of which is the only protocol decently in place. Anyone with basic reading and comprehension skills can ascertain that financial, corporate, and government entities are nothing more than transparently in bed swapping syphilis, gonorrhea, and herpes amongst one another. Inserting complexity into elementary processes in an effort to line beneficiary pockets has been employed by bureaucrats since humans magically morphed into intelligent beings from tsetse fly excrement 200 billion trillion fillion years ago per the rocks and shit. Right after the bang that came from absolutely nothing. You are doing the same thing.

The cryptocurrency infrastructure is no different and it is a system destined for inevitable failure as referenced by every other innovation bred by human greed. You aren’t going mainstream with the status quo. Granted there are ways to profit with Bitcoin (at this point you need some money to play with), the Ether business model is a not so cleverly concocted Ponzi scheme staying glued together by a generation of creatively challenged copy/paste bloggers and untalented bags of douche known as influencers. It is not set up for the average Joe to do anything other than dump real money in and “HODL”, stake (scam), and mint (scam) NFT’s so the whales can gobble up the proceeds.

I intentionally did not dive into Web 3.0 because every other point renders it useless as is constructed. A collection of Atari inspired landing pages offering more confusion into the madness will last as long as the blockchain it is built on. The concept has merit, but you mofo’s are way off right now. If you would just surrender your life to God, you wouldn’t have to trick people into thinking you are relevant and swindle them for money they actually earn, remove all value from it, then turn into a bag of magic beans. You have only managed to take something worthless and make it worth less. I will give you a first-place ribbon for that shit.v

[puella-peanut]

could we get a lakreese scene where they're bickering over something stupid, but it ends all nice and fluffy lol?

In a nice!AU (which I’m basing this ask on), I don’t really see them as the type of couple that normally bickers. They’re weirdly compatible, smooth out each other's creases, and find their differences more love-able (or at least, uh, tolerable) than annoying. People wonder at the odd couple they make: one tall, burly, and perpetually sour, the other personified, loveable sunshine in what, a cute and convenient 90 pounds? Opposites attract. Maybe. Either way, people hate them! (But goshdangit are they fun to speculate about.)

Moving on...

...However, every now and then, probably once or twice a year if they get antsy for it, thrice if they’re bored—Daniel and John get into these topic-jumping arguments not helped by Daniel’s inability to not word-vomit, his hot-temper, and Kreese’s...just overall Kreese-ness.

.

.

.

For instance, John hates when Daniel brings his spare car parts into any part of the house that is not the garage. Disgusting. Remove it. If this were the Army, Daniel would be on his hands and knees with a toothbrush and a serving of regret and sore knees—and he’d deserve it. “Look, kid," John begins in a voice that brooks no argument, "I know you like to tinker with your toys—“

“—as a mechanic, it’s my job, John!—“

“—keep the guts in the garage. No sludge in the house.” End of story, John thinks. Now, where did he put his newspaper?

But Daniel is kinda ruffled now, like a little canary that’s had a feather plucked. Oh dear.

“Sludge? Sludge? Lemme tell ya, Kreese, without this part, that decrepit old Ford of yours wouldn’t even start, and you’d have to hitch-hike to your job ‘cause I’m not gonna be hauling you around like the ungrateful potato you are. And guess what, there’s no sludge ‘cause I used your newspapers to catch any drip, and well, speaking of sludge, that’s what’s in your coffee-mug—“ Daniel’s off on a rant, not helped by his not-so-good day at the bodyshop (fuck his co-worker Adam, that punk!!), and the fact that the only local Italian grocery store in this white-bread town still hasn’t restocked his favorite olive oil—how do they expect him to put a proper meal on the table?! Anyway, he doesn’t notice John’s nearly-perpetual frown deepen. Oops. 

And John does hear the rant—by now he’s attuned to them, like a television wired for certain signals—but what really gets his gears going is his newspaper being used as a catchall drip-receiver. Damn it, he’s had a long day at his job (fuck his co-worker Steve, that moronic prick!!)—and all he wanted to read about was the local baseball game, and how can he do that now when LaRusso’s got his little grease-monkey hands all over it?! Goddamn it, it costs money to have it delivered to their house six days a week. Money which, as their bank accounts know, is scarcer than hens teeth. That lovable little shit. 

Anyway, Daniel suddenly remembers how it’s not fair that John’s on his case for the wrenches and the screws and the rusty motor (all nice and neat on his stupid paper by the way!!), when John himself just the other day left his karate-bag on the window-seat and knocked down four, four!—of Daniel’s bonsai trees, and unlike a dumb paper, those can’t be so easily replaced and—

So it jumps from car —> newspaper —> bonsai trees—to the state of the country, the pros and cons of after-school sports, if they should RSVP or just show up to Terry’s annual summer party, to...well, everything plus the kitchen sink, since they’re snipping over everything else so why not snip over that too?

It goes on like seemingly without end even until Daniel angrily finishes dinner (using some dreadful generic-brand olive oil) and pouting like a ruffled Italian housewife, while John broods as he sets the table, and takes long, thoughtful sips of beer (generic brand, but that’s never bothered him), and wonders where he went wrong in life. 

So, after an uncomfortable dinner, John retreats to the living room to watch the college football game and sulk (not at all missing the little figure normally curled up like a kitten at his side, no sir...)—while Daniel calls his Ma, (‘cause he checks in on her once a week like the good Italian boy he is), and anyway, he needs someone to whine to, since his usual outlet is the current cause of his problems. Che schifo, Ma! He twirls the kitchen phone cord around a finger, his other hand off his hip and then on it when he’s not gesturing to Ma, his John, the Madonna above, the universe...

“...so yeah, that’s the thing about John, my oh John, he looks like a caveman, I know, and he thinks that wearing a bomber-jacket is the height of sophistication, but I’m getting off topic here, anyway, he runs a tight household surprisingly despite the scruffy look okay, and he’s usually very spick and span—I guess that’s the service in him, probably something he picked up in basic training, ‘cause jeeze is the house squeaky-clean thanks to his insane cleaning routine Ma, oh yeah, anyway we got into it ‘today cause John’s always pissed off if there’s even a crumb outta line—“

“No I’m not LaRusso.” John responds from the living room. At this rate, everyone from Lucille to John Wayne will know their private business, and the latter’s been stone cold dead these fifteen years. 

“—like I was saying, a crumb, lemme tell ya, he got all lumpy and sour like milk left out too long when I left a couple of bits n’ parts in the kitchen—yeah, Ma, on the newspaper like you taught me!—this is the type of guy who will wake you up in the am all menacing like, like the drill instructor he was—“

“Never done that, LaRusso. And I was a Captain—“

Daniel forgets his Ma’s on the other end of the line, forgets that she’s laughing at their antics as he snaps back,“—that’s a load of bull, ‘cause yeah you did, Kreese, 'member that time you woke me up and got in my business at an unholy hour just to let me know I’d left the hose running on the entire night and the water bill was gonna rocket up to the cosmos now, and the world was gonna end ‘cause—“

“—it becomes my business as well, kid, when a bill’s in my name. And dawn’s when you should’ve been up already,” John responds, focusing on the meat of the complaint and not the fat. He moves back into the kitchen, all slow and deliberate, his long shadow falling on the brat, menacing. And wasted, because Daniel’s not impressed in the slightest. 

“—dawn! Dawn he says, Ma!—on the weekend, John? On Saturday?!”

“Yes." 

Daniel rolls his eyes to the popcorn ceiling, letting out an exhausted groan. “Ma, Ma,” he sighs, “I’ll—okay, I'll call ya back later. I'm—“ he scowls at John. “Ma says hi—“

“Hi, Lucille.”

“—not that you deserve it." Daniel mumbles as his mother cheerfully sends John her love, and tells Daniel not to forget to call her, and to jot down his Sloppy Joe recipe. “Yeah got it, love ya too, Ma!”

He hangs the phone back up. Great, now it's too quiet. He chews his lip, turning to look at John, hands idly fiddling with the ends of his untucked shirt that he hadn’t ironed though John had reminded him, and not unkindly, only that morning. Before dropping a kiss that lingered on the top of his head, and heading off to work. His mouth twitches. Suddenly, this whole thing seems stupid. Probably because it is. The idling continues, and John watches Daniel watching him. 

Finally, Daniel opens his mouth to say something, anything, because John's just gonna just stand there until the earth swallows him up otherwise. He thinks of something just as John steps up right into his space, making him immediately shut his mouth again, words forgotten. Daniel cranes his neck back, because John’s so much taller than him this close, easily taller than the fridge too, including the basket of fake fruits piled at the top; one of the lemons had fallen behind the fridge what, a week ago, he’ll have to remember to find it before it gets all fuzzy and gross like—“

The back of Daniel’s head hits the wall with a thump. “Ow, fuck—“

John’s hand reaches out quickly, at once cradling his head and pulling Daniel to him in one smooth movement. “Careful, Prima Donna,” John says. His other arm settles itself at Daniel’s waist, and Daniel relaxes into it. It’s a good weight. Familiar. 

“What’d you care if I hurt myself, I could die from a wall-induced concussion and you’d still be on my case about denting it or something.” Daniel mumbles, but the dramatic petulance is just for show, something they both know. 

“Mm.” John strokes his head like he would an injured kitten. Now that’s a thought, Daniel snorts.

“What.”

Daniel smiles up at him, his hands moving to play with the buttons marching up John’s really nice chest. He undoes one, two at the top, allowing a bit of chest hair to peek out. Much better! “Nothing. Well, not really, ‘cause I was thinking, John, we could fix that old table that's in halves in the garage and I could use it for my bits and pieces—"

"—sounds good." 

Daniel beams. "Okay, alright, we can do that this Saturday maybe, you're off right? 'Cause I get off 'round one-ish, so...hey, what about we grab lunch or something? On the radio it said that the storm's gonna clear up by noon, so we can meet between your job and mine, oh John, there's this really cute breakfast-all-day diner that opened up midtown, we should—"

John’s hand moves from Daniel’s head to his face, thumb tracing the outline of his lips. Daniel stills. John tilts his head, leaning down, and Daniel leans up on his toes, curling his hands in John's shirt, already halfway closing his eyes but—

—all he feels on his lips is John's breath when he murmurs, “You think and talk enough for both of us," most unhelpfully, his face completely neutral as he pulls away and returns his arms to his side, leaving Daniel’s hands still curled at his buttons. Waiting for nothing. 

“You could die from such a man,” Daniel sighs as he sinks back to the flats of his feet, missing the kiss he never got. The weight of strong arms around him. But he grins up at John anyways, bunny teeth on display. Sweet sunshine again. 

There’s a ridiculously fond look on John’s face. “Don’t,” John says, brushing Daniel’s floppy bangs out of his eyes, and thumbing his cheek before he moves back. He grabs another beer from the fridge, leaving Daniel to roll his eyes, and search the cupboards for containers to hold the leftovers until the next day. Maybe he'll bake some more bread so they can have it with their lunches tomorrow. That'll be nice, he thinks, wondering if there's any garlic left over.   

John returns to the living room, turns the TV off, and puts on an old record instead, a faint smile on his lips. Daniel will be out in a moment or two all ready to curl up by his side, like a kitten. It's been a long day, and they're both tired. Maybe they'll go on up to bed early as well. Not that they'll go to sleep immediately. Heh. 

As he waits, he thinks about what he'll need to fix that table. And while he's at it, the lumber yard near the construction lot has some free wood slabs and pieces. He can stop there on his way back tomorrow, find something to build Daniel a nice shelf for his bonsai trees. The kid'll love it. Maybe he'll surprise him, too. 

Now...where did he put that newspaper of his?

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.

.

Anyway, Anon, this is what happens when you mix fire (Sagittarius), and Earth (Taurus) together. Not that Kreese’s birthday was ever given to be fair (come ON CK writers, fix this!)—but I head-canon him as being (a Boomer baby bless him), as well as a stubborn bull baby. His demeanor certainly fits! As well as the crotchety-ness. My cranky old caveman <3

But that’s just a hot-take brought to you by the Sag in me, Anon. ;D

[thescrapbookingscientist]

Biweekly Media Roundup

- Puss In Boots: The Last Wish (Movie) - Was blown away by how good this movie was. I’ve never even seen the first film but the buzz around this one convinced me to watch it and wow everyone was right. The art direction is fantastic, the whole movie looks stunning, the character designs (Especially the Wolf holy crap) work so well, it’s surprisingly dark in it’s humor, the Forest changing it’s structure based on the person is such a cool concept, and finally the themes of accepting your mortality and living a life well spent by throwing away your pride and letting yourself truly know and be known by others is insanely well done for it’s run time and PG status. There are of course things to nitpick about, for example I liked Goldi and the Bears but wish her wish would have been revealed earlier in the story so we could sit with it a bit, but overall this was way better than it had any right to be and definitely is something I’ll be watching again, possible even later this week. 

- Buddy Daddies (Anime) - Buddy Daddies is still solid, recent episode had some great animated hydrangea shots. 

- The Vampire Dies In No Time (Anime) - Getting to see some backstory for the leads is fun, baby Drac is cute and Ronaldo’s older brother is pretty funny, I would love to specifically see him and Drac interact in the future given how amused Drac is by his obvious bullshitting. And as always John is best boy.

- Ranking of Kings (Anime) - Love Queen Hilling for subverting the cruel stepmother trope, She’s a certified MILF and objectively the best parent in the show.

- Gintama (Anime) - We haven’t really even scratched the surface yet at anime night but I’m starting to remember just how insane this series gets the farther you get in. Looking forward to hundreds of episodes of incomprehensible nonsense (said affectionately). 

- Welcome to Demon School! (Anime) - While there were some moments I liked, I’m glad we are finally done with the Harvest Festival arc, as it was one of my least favorite for the series. But hey, it’s over and we got to spend more time with the teachers which is nice, Balam is super wholesome and Kalego is hilarious, and hey also Kirio is back, he’s always fun in a “jesus christ bro wtf” kind of way. 

- Love Is War (Anime) - Wholesome shenanigans starring a cast of lovable morons is clearly my favorite genre, so no surprise that I’m still greatly enjoying this. Miko’s a good addition to the cast, she reminds me of my fave Danganronpa boy Ishimaru and has a fun antagonistic relationship with Ishigami. 

- The S Classes That I Raised (Webcomic) - Not much to say, looking forward to see how the government worker S class and Baby dragon man will inevitably be won over by Han Yoojin’s overpowering mom energy. 

- Persona 5 Royal (Video Game) - I’m over 100 hours into this game, I think about it constantly, it’s taken over my life. I feel like that ProZD skit where he keeps thinking “I could be playing Pokemon right now” no matter what he does, but with Persona. Help me.

Listening to: Persona 5 OST, Fear & Delight by The Correspondents, EPIC: The Troy Saga OST, Happier Than Ever cover by Loveless, Everything I Wanted by Billie Eilish, Anti-Hero and New Romantics by Taylor Swift, Fight for Me by AlicebanD, New Rules by Dua Lipa, Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones, Curses by The Crane Wives, Under My Skin by Jukebox The Ghost, Encanto OST

[cloudbattrolls]

Dear Mr. Thoughtless

Jikiro Takami & Jameth Abnale || Civitrecce || Present Night

In the wealthy high-rise apartments of Civitrecce there sat one section distinct from its fellows in their glistening silver skyscrapers; colorfully decorated and with hardly a set of stairs to be seen, instead filled with ramps and slides, miniature hovering elevators powered only by advanced electromagnetics or other high-tech sources.

Wearing suspenders and an increasingly done expression, the cobalt who owned the place laid on his back and stared at the ceiling as his tealblood companion went on about how fun watching movies with his friend Viltau was. Eventually, events forced him to interject.

“I want to hurt you so badly right now.”

Jikiro, sitting on a plush chair some feet across the room, looked at his friend with dry amusement and a hint of annoyance.

“Why, because I talk too much about it? Grow up, we can always watch something together too.”

Jamie gave a dramatic sigh, stretching out on his deep blue couch and carefully turning on his side, looking at the tealblood with mild exasperation through his glasses.

“Oh, Jikiro, this is why I like you; your endlessly lovable stupidity. No, I want to hurt you because if one of you doesn’t ask the other out soon I’m going to scream. This is just painful.”

The other businessman laughed heartily, leaning back in his own chair.

“Sure! Viltau would love to ask me out, right after he finished laughing me into the ocean. I’d love to ask him out too, it really does it for me when a guy could snap my neck with a flick of his wrists and would if the cracking sound was funny enough.”

The cobalt’s voice acquired an unusually hard tone and his heterochromic eyes glared at his old friend as he crossed his arms.

“Are you really that stupid? Regardless of anything else, your underdeveloped little brain believes he’d hurt you unless you actually crossed a line? I haven’t culled you and you’ve had way more chances to annoy the pants off me. Listen to the sound of sweet sincerity, Jiji, I am not making an innuendo.”

Jamie crossed his arms, and Jikiro grew still in the silence that stretched on for several moments after the higher blood stopped talking.

“I don’t know where all those lines are, Jamie.” He finally said. “I’d like to think I know a lot of them, but you can never be sure with him. And - ”

“Indigo!” Sang the cobalt. “Yes, yes - congratulations, your ink-blurred eyes work a smidge, you have noticed his color. Now stop judging his entire existence by it! You don’t enjoy when people tell you to get back to the courts, laddie o’lads. There is a big difference between you, who consistently entertains him, and some annoying little nobody who doesn’t have much to live for anyway.”

“What if I stop entertaining him, Jamie?” Demanded the tanuki troll, arms laid on his chair as he gripped it slightly. “Do I get gently let go? God, if I was lucky! I’d probably end up a party centerpiece instead.” He muttered.

Jamie glared at him further. “Don’t make me get up and hobble over there, you rat’s arse. I just got comfortable, but I will get my cane and do it.”

“I’ll grab your crutches for you, I’m a gentleman.” muttered the tealblood.

“So kind. So dense. Viltau will only hurt you if you hurt or deeply irritate him. Evidence? He spends time on you, you moron. Time outside of business, time that he absolutely does not have to spend - a baffling amount, really, there are infinitely more handsome faces with far more charisma out there - and he is not a man who invests time and energy for a return that isn’t good enough. Please tell me you know he’s smarter than that, or you are a total loss.”

Jikiro sighed, fiddling with his ponytail.

“Okay. That tracks.”

“He sticks the landing, ladies gents and otherwise! Who knew he had it in him when he’s shaped like a brick and about as agile?”

The cobalt threw confetti into the air during this proclamation and the teal rolled his eyes, shrugging.

“Blame Viltau, he keeps feeding me his cooking.”

Jamie sighed and wagged an accusing finger.

“You are not blaming Espino for the fact you are a hefty boy, because we both know that is pure rot.”

Jikiro grinned, got up, and stole his friend’s glasses, provoking several slaps and complaints from the cobalt.

“Have I mentioned you’re the worst lately? You really are. You are a tumor in the body of troll society and I’m going to throw you in a biohazardous waste bin where you belong.”

“Scary.” Yawned the tanuki troll, placing Jamie’s glasses back slightly crookedly on purpose. “I’m gonna have daymares when I go to bed now.”

“You’d better.”

One last poke to his nose came before the midblood retreated, laughing as he went to the room’s tv and put on a show.

[corruptedforce]

Is there any fandom you regret exploring?

Have you ever developed an OC for a certain fandom?

What are you looking for in a ship?

Do you tend to focus on shipping or do you not care at all?

Questions for the Mun // @hxdrostorm // Accepting!

Is there any fandom you regret exploring?

I want to say no, because of the connections I made with some people, over the years, and the chance to develop characters that honestly are like a part of me now. 

Glee was honestly insanely toxic, but I have a close friend for 10+ years, and despite the fact that the actor is problematic, the character isn’t and I wrote Noah Puckerman for a very long time, and I will always have a little bit of him, in me. 

Harry Potter, I have friends that I will love forever and I will love James Potter and Harry Potter and despise Severus Snape for all eternity. So much of me as a writer comes from writing James, for as long as I did.  He doesn’t come to me as easily as he once did, but James/Lily are my OTP of all OTP’s, and I would never have met @possiblypadme, who I could not imagine not knowing.

Sons of Anarchy could be a mess, but Jax Teller is my favorite fictional character of all time, and Sons of Anarchy is my favorite show. It was something that got me through a horrible time, so I can’t watch it easily anymore, but I love everything about Jax and met some wonderful people, again. I could not have developed Jax without having the Wendy and Tara that I did for so long, and am endlessly grateful to people like Vesta and Lisa, who I know how to find on Discord but not on Tumblr now lol. 

Vikings could be a mess, but I played Ragnar, Bjorn, King Ecbert, Alfred, Hvitsert, Father Cuthbert, Judith, Aethelred,  I’m missing some I’m sure and I met some of the best people, and am actually really close friends with someone who was on Vikings. But, I would never take back by time in that fandom and I still do write Ragnar, Alfred, and Bjorn.  It gave me so so many people but so much development with @findablog and @contrecoeurs especially, along with a few others.

Star Wars, I am happy here, so I can’t say I have regrets. I’ve gone a little sour because of a few things, in the last couple weeks. Being gaslit and having people randomly soft block or block you out of nowhere is a weird feeling?  Sometimes, I feel like I want an exit interview but the unknown is better and there’s a situation that I’m just done crying over.  

Baseball, which for me is the Cubs and the Yankees.  I was born a Cubs fan. My mom has been watching them since the 60′s. We broke a 108 year drought in 2016, and when they weren’t producing, the fucking piece of shit, moronic asseating upper management traded the core of the team, which also included the face of the franchise, the love of my life Anthony Rizzo. I’ll always love the Cubs fanbase but I’ll admit that they became a bunch of entitled assholes after we won the championship. We went from lovable losers to jerks.  But, I had to follow Rizzo to the Yankees, aka the Evil Empire.  So look, the Yankees fandom is toxic af, they threaten their players family and don’t know how to be loyal but my fave is happy there, so I have to support him. So, I can’t regret it.

Have you ever developed an OC for a certain fandom?

Yes. I developed Marlene McKinnon’s older brother Marcus in the Harry Potter Marauders Era. He’s basically the only one. Many people can make fabulous OC’s. I’m not one of them. 

What are you looking for in a ship?

CHEMISTRY. I don’t like it without chemistry. I am well aware that Anakin has a canon ship, that he’s obsessed with, but if there’s no chemistry, I can’t and won’t write it.  It’s got to have that chemistry and dramatic pull.  I’m open to pretty much anything ship wise, but I have to have that chemistry.  He is 99% heterosexual so I do stick only to that, and Rex.  But, that comes to chemistry too. 

Do you tend to focus on shipping or do you not care at all?

I’m somewhere down the middle. Anakin is the King of Attachment.  I can’t have him not get attachment to people, because it is who he is. His emotions consume him.  But, unless there is a significant amount of chemistry (like with Anakin & Sabe), it’s hard for him to fall in love with not Padme.  

Also, I know everyone likes to think Vader has no emotions, but he’s capable of attachment too.  

But, I’m not here to write ships. Anakin is just a horny mess, and things happen???? But, his development and complexity is my first goal. 

[golden-explosions-main]

*a Snickering other universe chara. seems that they are concerned and amused at the same time* you alright there Partner? what the hell happened to lead to broken bones and monster scarring? I admit im impressed that you managed to get grounded and injured at the same time.

Flowey: "Well, it started with my dumb idea to go inside the old abandoned theatre in town and get ideas for a creepypasta, Frisk initially didn't want me to go, but I obviously didn't listen and went anyway...and they ended up tagging along anyway,"

Frisk: "I didn't want him to be alone, and things were actually going pretty well, we had a lot of fun...until I went up the stairs so Azzie could get better pictures,"

Flowey: "And then one of the steps broke,"

Frisk: "And we went tumbling down the stairs, like lovable morons,"

Flowey: "I was protecting Frisk's head, which is why they avoided any concussions, but they still got a broken arm...anyway, we ALMOST got away with going there...,"

Frisk: "Until I decided to sneak out to get Azzie's phone that he had dropped during the fall and forgot about at the theatre-,"

Flowey: "Frisk was high on painkillers,"

Frisk: "I was...and I did a terrible job at sneaking out and Asgore and Toriel, of course caught me, and I had to confess, and I was almost grounded too, but Asriel very graciously and selflessly took all the blame since it was his idea in the first place, I wasn't there when they talked to him but he apparently made them tea and put on a presentation and everything to change their minds, it sounded very impressive and I'm sure it was, because it worked,"

Flowey: "And uhh.....in other news, I'm finally going to visit an optometrist soon, I know I'm going to hate it,"

Frisk: "But just imagine it everyone! Azzie with glasses!"

Flowey: "...Now stop imagining it,"

[jdtrashman]

A Primer On My Book's Characters Because Fuck You Who's Gonna Stop Me

So, quick recap for those not looking at this on my blog page and thus haven't seen the pinned post - last month I was given a job to crank out a single, 50+ chapter ebook to be published on various sites. It's called The Princess' Alpha, Gravestone, and you can find it here for now (other, better edited versions to be released later on other platforms)

Gotta say, I did not see myself writing werewolf romance, but I was shocked at how earnestly I attacked the work. But success in this business only comes with constant advertisement, so I'm here to give you all a quick primer on the two lovestruck idiots I have at the center of this nonsense. GIFs used in place of accurate character portraits because that would require money, now wouldn't it?

Princess Belasarius Tediore Of Wat

Sole heir to the throne of the Watian Kingdom, Belasarius Tediore is what happens when you stick a Game Of Thrones character in Bridgerton. An undeniably ingenious mind that would be right at home in the scheming backstabbing nation of Westeros, but sadly her kingdom is actually doing pretty alright for the most part, so she's left with nothing to do.

This has resulted in her becoming a repressed, neurotic slacker, not helped by her father strangely not taking much of an interest in her education, leaving her to educate herself for the past 26 years.

Despite her laisseiz faire attitude toward her station, she still takes pride in it, which is why she's not happy to be given a random mercenary as a bodyguard by her father.

Speaking of whom...

Gravestone

Gruff but lovable, ill-mannered but good-hearted, pragmatic yet idealistic, the shifter mercenary simply known as Gravestone is a hard man to read. Stolen from his pack as a baby, Gravestone was brought up in the arenas of underground cage fighting. He earned his name when it became clear to his handlers and anyone who would challenge him that to step into the ring with this man was to bury yourself in your own grave.

However, they failed to account for the possibility of Gravestone getting so strong and so good at fighting that he'd start asking why he had to stay there. Needless to say, few if any could refute him when he decided to leave.

After spending about five years traveling, he randomly stumbled upon King Dorian of Wat tripping and falling into a river. The old man would have died, had Gravestone not saved him. In return, the mercenary asked only for a steady job. He got one. Being the bodyguard to the lazy, neurotic princess.

Can these two morons pull it together when a conspiracy to assassinate Belasarius begins making its move? Will they discover something more about their relationship along the way? Will this book go five sentences without swearing like a sailor with a stubbed toe?

You'll have to read to find out

[secret-engima]

Snippet of Deleantur (pt2)

(continuation from later on in this one-shot that continues to spiral out of control. Friendly summary is that Deleantur is a time-traveling Noctis who went back way further than he intended, but that’s okay since it just meant he saved the world in time to save Ardyn too. Of course, he’s the only one who knows about that time-travel bit, so other people are Very Confused at times)

     Somnus was genuinely overjoyed when Deleantur finally expressed interest in fishing at a large pool they stumbled across. Because as boring as it was to wait around while Deleantur tirelessly hunted down fish with his rod and line, it was a sign of the young man he, Ardyn, and Aera had been coming to know —a sign of the brother Somnus and Ardyn were coming to love as fiercely as they ever had each other—.

     Somnus even made an effort to demonstrate as much by sitting next to Deleantur on his chosen rock, watching the ripples in the water as Deleantur patiently reeled in his line again and recast in hopes of a bite, “You have a lot of patience for this.”

     Deleantur hummed, “I like it.”

     Somnus huffed, “Yes, but-. You aren’t this patient with other activities. It’s …” unusual, strange, interesting, “different.”

     “That’s because it doesn’t hurt.”

     Somnus stilled and behind him, Ardyn and Aera did too, “…Hurt?”

     Deleantur gave a low noise as he adjusted his grip on his fishing pole, “Yeah.” Deleantur paused, like he was considering something, then continued, “When I was a kid, about … eight years old. I … couldn’t do a lot of stuff. It hurt too much and I was already constantly tired from the medication and the physical therapy. I didn’t want to go outside, even though they said sunshine and fresh air would help me. I didn’t want to … play or run or jump, but books were boring and heavy. So Dad took me out one day and … taught me to fish. He showed me his fishing rod and his line and his lures, taught me how to hold the rod and throw a line, then we sat there together and waited for a fish.”

     Deleantur’s tone was nostalgic and Somnus didn’t dare speak, because this was the first time Deleantur had ever truly talked about his father or his childhood. Deleantur fidgeted with his reel, “I think if I’d been any other kid, it would have been boring. But it was outdoors, and I had a perfect excuse to sit still in the sunshine for hours, and … and Dad was there. Dad was teaching me. So I practiced, and I begged to go fishing whenever I could because I knew he’d come with me to show me how it was done and eventually I … loved it. It reminds me of those days. Before…” Deleantur’s voice trailed off, and breath hitched with sadness.

     Ardyn, who had settled silently on Deleantur’s other side at some point in the story, asked, “Why was it so painful for you to move? Did your father not know the recipes for your powerful healing draughts?” Because potions and elixirs did not require the magic of the Crystal they’d learned, just careful selection of ingredients and even more careful preparation.

     Deleantur did that gesture with his shoulders that he used so often, “Potions and elixirs only work so well. Especially when it’s … serious. If I’d gotten one as soon as it happened, maybe it would have worked, but I didn’t, so I had to recover the slow way.”

     “Recover from what?”

     Deleantur looked up from his fishing, considered the two of them, then reached back with one hand to tug his tunic hem up just enough to show the small of his back and a bit of his spine. Ardyn sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the old scars stretching along the small of Noctis’s back, each at least as wide as two of Somnus’s fingers. The scars disappeared under his clothes in both directions, hinting at a size and damage larger than they could see and Somnus winced, because even he could tell that whatever had left those was … bad. They also looked distinctly like blade scars. Or possibly claws.

     Ardyn reached out with a shaking hand and it was a testament to how far they’d come in earning his trust that Deleantur didn’t flinch away from the gentle touch, just went back to his fishing with a quiet, “A daemon attack. Ripped open the car. Killed the bodyguards, then took out the woman trying to get me to safety. I’m not sure if it was aiming for me that time, or if my getting caught in it was just an … accident. It was going to finish me off when my dad and his guards showed up and drove it off, but by that point the damage was done.”

     Ardyn was still tracing the scars with a reverent touch, “It’s a miracle you survived this. It’s a miracle you can walk. I can only imagine-.” Ardyn stopped and went very quiet. So quiet Deleantur lowered his rod and twisted around to look at Ardyn in concern. Ardyn looked over his shoulder at Aera who was watching from a polite distance with a vaguely horrified expression, then looked back, “You are in pain, aren’t you? All the time. That’s why you limp, why you sleep so often and yet you-. All of this travel, and battle, and hard labor. Why?” Why would you do that to yourself?

     Deleantur sighed and slipped his fishing rod back into armiger with a flick of his wrist, shifted to face them, “It’s my duty.”

     Aera finally joined the conversation, settling down on the grass just behind their rock as she whispered, “You’ve mentioned duty before. What duty drives you to such lengths? No one knew you were of royal blood until a few months ago. Have you not already done enough?”

     Deleantur shook his head, “No. No it’s-. It’s not over,” his expression folded briefly, weary and old again before it smoothed out, “it’s never going to be over. I made a promise. I’m going to fulfill it.” He shook his head again, like a man trying to clear away an inner fog, “Besides, it’s not so bad. I’m … used to it. And it’s better now,” blue eyes glanced at them through thick lashes, “I’m not alone anymore.”

     Aera didn’t smile like she usually would have, just reached out her hands like Ardyn was already doing, “Can we-? May we try? To ease your pain?”

     Deleantur waved their hands away, “Don’t waste your time. The scars are … old, and I’m used to them.” He blinked at their expressions and insisted, “Seriously, I’m fine. I’m used to it, and if Sy- if the healers couldn’t fix it when it was fresh, you aren’t going to be able to fix it now.”

     Somnus watched the two healers of the group fuss and pout, Ardyn going so far as to wax on in a poetic way that was supposed to make Deleantur guilty enough to let him have his way, and tried to fit the newest puzzle pieces of Deleantur into place. Deleantur’s … father —not sire, because that would be Ardyn’s and Somnus’s father— must have been nobility. Deleantur had mentioned servants and guards and what must be one of his strange words for a carriage —Car? Car sounded like it was short for carriage, and Deleantur had a lot of strange words and even stranger ways of using existing words to mean things Somnus would never have associated with them—. Probably the noble of another kingdom, one of the neutral or far away ones, which would explain why Somnus’s father had never caught wind of Deleantur before now.

     But that didn’t explain some of the other things he’d said previously. Or how Deleantur’s mother had met Somnus’s father if her native kingdom did not interact much with Somnus’s. That wouldn’t explain why Deleantur was traveling around here instead of his home country —and Somnus would have heard if an entire kingdom fell in the months leading up to the Wave wouldn’t he?— or who Noctis was, the mysterious King of the Crystal Deleantur had only ever mentioned once. Ardyn had brought up the possibility of Noctis being Deleantur’s elder twin brother, which might explain that part, but that still didn’t explain how they’d learned to purify the starscourge or why Deleantur hadn’t returned to his home kingdom to help out the peasants there rather than the ones here.

     Not that Somnus wanted Deleantur to leave. He’d gotten attached to his mad, unexpected sibling.

     Somnus’s thoughts were interrupted by a startled yelp from Ardyn and a sudden splash of water rippling up onto the rock. Somnus looked up in mild alarm. Ardyn was missing from the rock, Aera was smothering laughter into her hands and Deleantur was grinning, honest to Astrals grinning, like a child who had successfully stolen something from under the cooks’ noses, and Ardyn was-.

     Resurfacing from the pond water, sputtering and sulking, violet red hair hanging in front of his face like a soaking curtain and his precious embroidered white tunic —the only royal garb Ardyn had refused to part with— already turning see-through from all the liquid it was absorbing. Somnus took several long seconds to process that Deleantur, mad, broken, usually too-serious Deleantur had just pushed Ardyn into the pond just to make him be quiet.

     If it had been Somnus that had suffered such a fate, Ardyn would have immediately moved to help him out like a dutiful older brother should, checking for injuries and fussing about possible illnesses brought about by the cold water and the diseases of the pond weeds or some such nonsense. Ardyn would have smiled like a lunatic, but politely refrained from outright laughter until after Somnus was safely ensconced on dry land and dressed in fresh, dry clothes with a possibly a cup of comforting wine in hand.

     Somnus, being the shamelessly cruel little brother that he was, sat there for a good two minutes pointing at Ardyn’s misery and laughing until his sides hurt.

     Ardyn, who could have swum to the sloping, pebbled section of the bank and climbed out on his own at any time, chose instead to tread water and pout at them the entire time, whining melodramatically about cruel siblings and horrible fates and all the things he could fall ill of here in the water —the silly grin on his face gave it all away for the show it was—.

     Ardyn eventually splashed water at the rock and Deleantur scooted to his feet to escape the assault. Somnus just snickered and leaned away from the stray droplets before finally crouching at the edge of the rock and holding out a hand for his brother, “Come on then, Brother, can’t have you suffering a watery demise just yet.” Ardyn reached out a hand and took Somnus’s and then-.

     Water.

     Somnus resurfaced with a spluttering squawk, flailing against Ardyn’s chest as his brother tried not to be shoved under by Somnus’s sudden submersion, “De- Deleantur!” Somnus had done nothing —much— to deserve being pushed in like that-.

     There was a watery, coughing laugh just to his side and Somnus blinked past the wet hair in his eyes at … Deleantur. Treading water next to them and looking just as surprised as they were.

     All three Lucis Caelums looked up to the rock … at Aera, who stood on the rock with a serene smile worthy of temple statues on her face as she fluttered her eyelashes and asked if the three of them were alright. A picture of holy innocence and decorum and kindness the filthy little liar. As if her shoulders weren’t shaking with suppressed laughter and her hands weren’t still outstretched from pushing Deleantur into Somnus in such a way as to make them both topple into the pond at the same time.

     Deleantur broke the brothers’ stunned silence  first, laughing so hard Ardyn and Somnus had to hold him up for fear he’d stop treading water and sink right to the bottom. They dragged each other out of the water, Deleantur still giggling helplessly like a child, and though Somnus scowled and swore revenge against Aera for her treachery, they all knew there was no real bite to his words, not when Deleantur was laughing louder and freer than they’d thought possible.