#tk tastic

[tk-tastic]

I forgot I bought this thing and it's been sitting in its package for a week and a half

[whysamwhy123]

Any unpopular opinions?

(Sleepover Sunday, I guess, because I'm only getting to this now, whoops!) ALL I HAVE ARE UNPOPULAR OPINIONS, LOL. Seriously, I'm lucky I only have, like, seven followers because otherwise I'd be chased off this website with torches and pitchforks. I'll try to give a mildly spicy one and not to be too much of a bitch...we'll see...

Toni Storm's current character/gimmick is A THOUSAND times more creative and original than anything any man on that roster has done in YEARS. And the fact that she's not on this PPV card is a fucking travesty. But I'm not surprised because TK hates women, and wrestling fans simply do not show up for women's wrestling the same way they do for boring white guys doing the most generic, tired, old Heel 101 bullshit 🙂🙂🙂

Ah, fuck it, one more because I bitch about this every week anyways - that Nigel wanker on Collision is one of the worst commentators I've ever heard. He's so annoying! He spends more time putting himself over than the talent in the ring (literally the opposite of a commentator's job) and he clearly has no respect for the women because as soon as a women's match starts, he immediately starts talking about unrelated male wrestlers. Or just himself! And that's when he's not making pervy comments about them - dude makes JR sound like a feminist icon by comparison. I am uncooly judging everyone on here who thirsts over him. Come on, people, standards! Y'all gonna start thirsting over the Qanon moron next?

[tk-tastic]

I'm jumping in because you're literally the first person in 12 years to have this same theory as me (I have a cringey 2014 flipnote to prove it lmao) were literally doing this right now

I've got more evidence. And disclaimer, I know this is just a theory, I'm not to be taken seriously. I'm also not defending Turbo, he's clearly not the misunderstood villain but anyway, Here's everything I've been holding in since 2014 with no one to infodump to-

Cybugs take on the appearance of the things they consume, not vice versa, and while it could be argued King Candy was the only example we see in the movie of a "sentient" character being decoured, I'd offer Calhoun and her first partner as another example. Now *technically,* this story is written into her code, so its likely not meant to be an accurate representation of what happens when someone is eaten by a cybug, but humor me, if her partner ended up in the same place as King Candy, why didn't he take over the cybugs body? Why did Calhoun immediately open fire if there was any chance he could gain control?

As for King Candy's final form, I like the parallels of Turbo and the cybugs being a virus, and I offer a counter theory. The cybugs know they're a virus and are actively trying to take over the arcade. It's in their code to do so. I can't, however, see much motivation for Turbo to do the same. What's his ultimate goal? To get every game unplugged? I really agree with OP here that this was the cybug talking, not Turbo, especially since it's the same bug that Ralph brought there in the first place. He's had a good hiding place in Sugar Rush and I can't imagine he'd be so eager to destroy the entire arcade.

Counterpoint to my own point, though, if running into Roadblasters was an angry, impulsive reaction, I can see him taking advantage of unexpected power to impulsively try to seize more.

I also agree that Felix could be an unreliable narrator. Not that he's particularly wrong or being deceitful, but the story has been repeated for so long and there was only one perspective, from the outside. It's implied the other racers in the games didn't escape before the games were unplugged, so they had no input on how the story was told. Again, not saying Turbo is misunderstood, but maybe there's more to it than him being a big jealous asshole (probably not, because he *is* a big jealous asshole and we love that for him)

Okay, I've got more theories. I'm sorry-

I used to obsess over how the code worked and what it meant to manipulate it. It's established that Vanellope crossing the finish line would reset the game, and that has spawned a few ideas on its own.

I'd imagine every time she raced she undid the elaborate code work he'd worked on, since it replaced her wires and literally reset the entire kingdom at the end of the movie I'd assume it fixes any tweaks or changes in the original coding. In order to stay hidden and stay King Candy, he had to keep her from racing. There was more to it than just dethroning a nine year old, lmao

Also, also- if you die outside your game you don't respawn, but if Turbo plugged wires from the game into his code, does that mean he *can* respawn? Or has he been living in Sugar Rush one wipeout away from death this entire time? And *if he can respawn,* the cybug/King Candy hybrid died *before* She crossed the line to fix everything, *therefore* its not unreasonable to think that he had time to respawn before the code was reset and his code was no longer a part of Sugar Rush. Ergo Turbo is still alive. I rest my case.

The konami sequence Turbo used to get into the code was written on a Tapper napkin. Who got him that info? Who was he meeting with?? Who taught him what he knows??? How much time did he have with Sugar Rush to practice the manipulation? I have questions that no one can answer.

There's more but I'm shutting up now

Ok so @king-crawler technically I finished your 2 hour Turbo documentary yesterday at 3 AM BUT regardless I have recentlt watched it and I have a LOT I'd like to say, clarify details or lil things you might have missed or could be interpreted differently when you look at them another way :3

With that last bit I am diving head first into the flashback scene since it's heavily referencing that.

First and foremost, keep in mind that it is being narrated from Felix's point of view- remember that he was in his game doing his job when the accident happened, it was while every person ever was inside their respective game being busy being used as avatars; also referencing back what you said on Felix- he's not exactly the most understanding of others' situations, he stays well within his comfort zone. Keep that in mind.

When Roadblasters is plugged in the flashback, you can see the two players using TurboTime immediately abandon the game to check out the new one, and the screen Turbo's pixelated image apoears on is completely dark, don't you think that is very reminiscent of a Game Over screen? 🙃 meaning, the two players abandoned Turbo in the middle of a race, likely causing him to crash and lose.

Remember King Candy's shock, and sudden change in behaviour as soon as he sees Vanellope sprinting past him? What follows is a volatile fit of rage and violence when things don't go his way, this sudden change of trajectory. Wouldn't you reckon this moment could mirror how Turbo felt in the flashback? He's being used as an avatar, and suddenly he loses control as he gets ditched and gets his race put to a halt. That initial shock of "what is going on. This wasn't supposed to happen!"

Following that, while I don't doubt he got jealous, he SPRINTED into Roadblasters the moment he lost... but not to try to take it over- to take petty revenge instead, interrupting the players' race and causing them to crash just like they did to him, preventing him from winning in his game. Picture it as a "if I can't have this, then you won't have it either" type mentality towards Roadblasters.

Going back to Felix and why his ignorance/remaining within his bubble could have possibility caused him to misread Turbo's intentions. Felix also is one to make assumptions in the beginning of the movie, like how for example when trying to calm the Nicelanders when Ralph goes missing: "Ralph probably fell asleep in Tapper's bathroom again!" Or some such. It makes sense he would make assumptions about Turbo as well, ESPECIALLY if he knew him personally and how self-obsessed he is. Doesn't take a genius to realize this guy does not like to lose.

Secondly, the final boss scene. King Candybug in general really. I disagree with your idea that Turbo has always been this hungry for power he'd want to take over the entire arcade. We both know that if that happened, if every game was infested by Cy-bugs, Litwak would be forced to close down his business because all of the games would be unplayable. His 'attention' wouldn't last very long if every game gets unplugged, his thought process to take over the arcade is purely manic and deranged for someone like him who has been well-known to be a master manipulator, able to keep a stable facade for over a decade without wanting to take over other racing games? That 'taking over the arcade' sounds very unlike him. It sounds more like... a cy-bug's programming. A cy-bug's programming that has gained enough conciousness to start plotting and planning. Because it now has the intelligence of a person, fused with him, learned what he knows.

Speaking of which, remember the cybug that ate King Candy?

Look at it's candy-pattern. Haven't we seen that somewhere before...?

Oh right! Right here, when the cybug eats some pepperming roots.

The same cybug that ended up there after falling into the taffy lake... after being ejected from a shuttle.

The same cybug that Ralph brought with himself.

What was the very first thing that King Candybug said to ralph when they see eachother again for the showdown?

"Because of you, Ralph, I'm now the most powerful virus in the arcade!"

I don't think, during this one moment at least, that this was Turbo speaking.

[reqvlvs]

speaking of hurting carlos reyes, i think we should acknowledge how fucking good of an actor rafael silva is because holy SHIT.

this man doesn't have a lot to work with, but when he's given something, he's fan-fucking-tastic. his acting in 2x08? superb. when he breaks down after his house burns down? unbelievably amazing.

just imagine how good his acting will be when lone star actually gives him the time and storyline to work with. it will be so good it's INSANE. lone star really has rafael silva right now and are just wasting him to keep doing the same fucking thing over and over again. we get it, ronen and rob can act. ronen plays the fan favorite and rob lowe is- rob lowe, but god DAMMIT. let's give rafael his time. there's so much room to work with carlos' character simply because they haven't done anything with him. he has a little bit of a backstory and a burned down house. what else? i want more. so much more. carlos reyes deserves more. rafael silva deserves more.

let's hurt carlos reyes, not hurt tk and then have carlos deal with the fallout, hurt carlos. rafael deserves it. we deserve it.

[lire-casander]

you’re the only one i see ~ chapter #1 - never stop opening your door

[3,211 words]

[teen and up audiences]

[beta'ed by @meloingly & @ravens-words]

[title from never stop (wedding version) by safetysuit]

[carlos reyes, tk strand]

[angst, mentions of overdosing, language, alternate universe — canon divergence, alternate universe — neighbors, good things happen bingo]

[written for @alwaysablossom as part of my lire’s 20 for the 20th, and also for my good things happen bingo card, neighbors au]

[when tk ends up locked out of his brand new apartment, the only solution to his situation is to accept the help of his archenemy — carlos reyes]

[dear sk, thank you so much for being part of my life! thank you so much for allowing me to be part of yours as well, for sharing your talent and for being your amazing self! your friendship means a lot to me, and i hope you know how much i love you]

never stop opening your door | on ao3

The last one of the boxes he’s brought with him gets stuck in the tiny space between the door and the frame. TK scoffs, muttering under his breath a couple of the most colorful expletives he knows as he kicks it with the tip of his already ruined sneakers — he should have thought it through before he chose to wear his loved white shoes on moving day. The box doesn’t move, not under the first few kicks, before TK decides to stop being gentle.

He manages to kick the box all the way into the apartment, with the rest of them, and he lets out a relieved sigh. The uplifting feeling at having managed to get every single box into his new apartment on his own flies out of the window when he sees the door swiftly closing, locking him outside of his apartment. TK feels his pockets for the keys, only to realize that they’re inside, along with the rest of his belongings, when the door closes with a soft click before he can stop it.

“Great,” he mumbles. “Now I’m locked out of my own house.”

TK searches for his phone, but the device isn’t in his pockets either. Belatedly he remembers leaving it on top of the kitchen counter after hanging up with his father for the fourth time in the morning, having assured him that the move was going smoothly.

“Fan—fucking—tastic,” he says louder than he intended to, kicking the door for good measure. It doesn’t budge, so he still is locked outside his new apartment, and his mood isn’t improving either.

“Can I help you?” he hears at his back.

He turns around, ready to reply. “Yeah, I somehow managed to get stuck outside my—” The words die in his throat as he faces the person to whom the voice belongs.

Carlos Reyes. Officer Carlos Reyes, his mind supplies as he takes in the appearance of the man standing now in front of him — tight shirt and black jeans, burgundy light jacket and curls TK has never noticed before. He sighs in exasperation. Of all the people to find him in this compromising situation, Carlos Reyes was really low on that list. TK has yet to meet someone who’s more insufferable, more conceited, more horrible — and he’s hung out with the worst of New York City in his lowest days.

“Firefighter Strand,” Officer Reyes says, surprise tinting his voice. “Seems like you’re locked outside of the apartment?”

“That I am,” TK retaliates coldly. “But I don’t need any help,” he adds quickly, almost petulantly.

“So I can see,” Officer Reyes quips. There’s a gleam of amusement in his brown eyes that TK has definitely not noticed. “Didn’t know you’d moved to this neighborhood. Or to this building, for that matter.”

“It’s none of your business,” TK mumbles angrily.

“Of course it isn’t,” Officer Reyes says simply. He fishes in his pocket and produces a silver key. He takes a few steps towards the door that’s opposite TK’s and inserts the key on the lock, turning and twisting it until the door opens. “Just in case you don’t want to wait alone outside, in the cold hallway, maybe you’d like to get in?” he offers, gesturing towards the interior of an apartment that TK thinks might be very similar to his.

He’s nothing but a stubborn mule, so he shakes his head. Carlos shrugs, getting inside his apartment and leaving TK outside. Just as he anticipated, the hallway grows colder by the minute, the sun setting down through the tiny window by the end of the corridor. He sighs; there’s no one waiting for him anywhere, and he doesn’t have his phone or his wallet with him to get a ride back to his father’s. He’s either stuck in this hallway forever or subjected to Officer Reyes’ mockery if he ever dares to knock on that door.

If he’s being honest with himself, TK doesn’t really know the reason behind his animosity towards Carlos Reyes. Sure, the man seems perfect — always with a warm smile and soft words ready, a comforting presence in everyone’s lives — and maybe that’s why TK hates him so much. Because Carlos Reyes is everything he’s never going to be.

TK knows really well his faults and his flaws. He’s learned to live with them — he wears a pendant with a sobriety chip on it as a reminder of what he’s trying to leave behind — but he can’t stand the idea of measuring himself up to Carlos Reyes and losing by far. Everyone is enamored with Officer Carlos Reyes, even his father; the invincible Captain Owen Strand, who's survived the Towers falling and being trapped in a wildfire, is always singing praise of the police officer that's become a fixture in their fire family gatherings when they take place either at the station or at the Ryders'. TK is aware that he’s just jealous of Officer Reyes, of his perfect smile and his Southern drawl, of his ability to gain everyone’s trust with just one look of those soulful big brown eyes.

Carlos Reyes is everything TK Strand is never going to be, and that stings more than anything.

He remembers his first encounter with Officer Reyes, at a call where his father had rescued a baby who'd ended up in a tree after a car accident. He remembers hearing that voice, he's an impressive guy, and turning to retaliate that it was his father, only to meet a soft smile and shining eyes under the rain. His voice had caught in his throat, he'd got lost in that brown sea. And then, his stupid brain had reminded him that he'd come down to Austin to start anew, and that had been it. For months, TK had searched for reasons to hate Officer Reyes whenever he showed up — and he was everywhere. Wherever TK went, he was sure he'd find Carlos Reyes. The more TK heard of him, the more he saw him around, the more effort it took him to stand his ground. The more TK tried to avoid him, the more evident it became that the only thing TK wanted was to orbit around Carlos Reyes.

TK didn’t need to fall into old habits, so he’d focused on finding details to despise Carlos Reyes for.

Like, for example, the way he strutted all the way to TK that fateful night at the Honky Tonk — TK has yet to understand why anyone thought that such a name was suitable for a hole-in-the-wall bar — and asked him to dance. TK had wanted to accept so much, he could almost taste the yes wanting to roll off his tongue, but he’d refrained himself. He knew better. He’d heard tales of perfect Officer Carlos Reyes from his new crew — Marjan waxing poetics about his muscular arms, Paul praising his talent, Mateo and Judd sharing wild adventures they both shared with the man in question. Even his own father, who’d met Carlos Reyes shortly before the baby call, had already told TK all about the magnificent man.

TK hated how the mere mention of Carlos Reyes made his heart flutter and his soul soar with butterflies. He’d had enough of perfect men in his life to know that they always hide a flaw — and sometimes that flaw is being a cheating bastard with two faces. Other times, that flaw is simply that they can’t put up with TK’s miseries.

He wasn’t about to find out which kind of perfect man Carlos Reyes was. He’d promised himself that Austin was a new start, a blank canvas in which to paint a whole new life. He wasn’t about to make the same mistakes.

He’d kept rejecting Carlos over and over — the time when the police officer had tried to invite him to a new food truck market, and the multiple times he’d been invited to board games nights along with the rest of the team in Carlos’ condo — because he’d been so focused on rebuilding himself that he’d forgotten about the rest of the world. Carlos had been trying, and trying, and trying, attempting to get to know TK better and for TK to know him better, but TK had just taken everything in stride and had behaved as though Carlos Reyes didn’t mean anything to him.

Somewhere in between trying to convince himself that he hated Carlos Reyes, TK had ended up falling for him.

TK sighs as he shuffles his weight from one leg to the other, finally settling for resting his back against the wall and sliding to the ground. He remembers clearly the moment when Officer Carlos Reyes had started acting more coolly and definitely more professionally towards him — the moment when everything changed and he got his wish granted. Ever since, Carlos Reyes has shown nothing but frozen politeness towards him, with the sole exception of earlier, while TK was stuck outside his apartment.

If TK could change anything from his recent past, it wouldn’t be his overdose in New York City, or his first few months of anxiety-induced anger. It wouldn’t be his petty grudge against one perfect man. He wouldn’t change any of that.

If he could, he’d go back in time to prevent himself from hiring an Uber to The Trap and starting a fight out of the need of feeling something, anything. Carlos had been the officer in charge of processing him and then setting him free, and he’d been less than thrilled to be even on the same planet as TK.

He shakes his head before resting it on the wall. He’s fucked up so many times in his life, that he should be used to it by now. And he mostly is — there will always be a tinge of sadness in the way he’s letting his parents down time and time again, or in the way he’s cut all contact with his friends from the City — but there are two things he doesn’t want to become accustomed to.

The first one is disappointing his new fire family — they’re the ones who’ve picked him up when he’s been down, and the ones to save him from himself when he feels a self-destructive spiral beginning to settle. The second one is seeing the light dimming in Carlos’ eyes as he understands what trying to be in TK’s life entails — that wanting to be involved with him can only end up in pain and loss for Carlos.

The seriousness with which Carlos had pointed out that TK needed help to deal with his emotions because starting a fight in that kind of bar was suicidal still stings.

And yet, when he’s run into TK in the hallway where, apparently, now both of them live, Carlos Reyes has only had nice words for him, an offer TK has rejected once again because of some misguided sense of pride.

TK can feel the cold creeping up his legs, just as Carlos predicted. He huffs. He knows he can’t stay here much longer; no one except for Carlos Reyes knows he’s locked out of his own apartment, therefore no cavalry will be sent unless he mans up, swallows his pride and stands up for himself.

He pushes himself off the ground with both hands, groaning at the effort while his muscles protest. He dusts his jeans off and turns to the apartment where Carlos has disappeared into. TK can just hope it’s not too late — he isn’t sure if his mind means just too late to ask for Carlos help, or too late to accept Carlos into his life, but right now it’s not the time to dwell on that.

He knocks on the door. It’s not even three seconds later that he hears ruffle behind it, the sound of what seems socked feet skidding through the floor and a throat being cleared before the door opens slightly, showing a hint of a smile in Carlos’ perfect face.

“Tired of waiting in the cold for your knight in shining armor?” he teases.

TK could strangle him in this very same moment, but he doesn’t. He still needs the help, and getting up in arms against the only person who can offer him shelter right now — the only person he actually knows in this new building — isn’t definitely the way to go. So, instead of bickering back, TK sighs and says, “Can I just use your phone to make a few calls? Mine is inside my apartment, along with my keys and my wallet.”

Carlos’s smile widens as he opens the door completely. “Get in, damsel in distress,” he teases.

TK shakes his head, eyes wandering down from Carlos’ face to his chest, now clad in a hoodie that looks really soft. He finds himself wanting to run his fingers over it to check that the fabric is, in fact, smooth. TK scolds himself silently as he steps into the apartment. “I’m not a damsel in distress,” he grumbles.

“Of course you aren’t,” Carlos says easily, taking a step back to allow TK to get further inside before closing the door. “Have a seat, get comfortable. I’ll go get my phone and you can call whoever you need to call,” he offers.

TK watches him as he disappears into the corridor that leads to the master bedroom. He knows it’s the master bedroom because this apartment looks exactly like his, only with opposite distribution. He saunters towards the couch in the middle of the living room, and flops down, grimacing when he realizes that it’s actual leather and, therefore, it will end up being uncomfortable if he remains sitting long. He takes advantage of the few moments alone to snoop around the room from his privileged spot on the couch.

There are a few picture frames scattered throughout the shelves, among a few books and several tribal masks hanging from the wall. TK recognizes the former EMS Captain Michelle Blake in one of them, her arm over Carlos’ shoulder as she makes silly faces at the camera. He also sees one of an older couple who he thinks must be Carlos’ parents, and a few more of different landscapes and animals. There’s not one single photo of Carlos on his own, and there’s definitely not a picture of him with someone who might be a potential boyfriend.

“Here,” Carlos says, startling him out of his thoughts by entering the living room again, phone proffered in his hand. “Didn’t want to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” TK retaliates petulantly. He grabs the phone, which is unlocked, and dials his father’s number. He realizes with a frown that the number is already saved in Carlos’ contacts as Captain Strand 126. “Do you have my father on speed dial?”

“Well, I’d rather have you on speed dial,” Carlos retorts as he moves about the open-concept kitchen. “But you’ve never given me your phone number, so I settled for the next best thing.”

TK splutters, almost tripping over his tongue at Carlos’ cheekiness. Thankfully, his father picks up, so he gets to cover his flushed face as he looks down at the carpeted floor to seek a bit of privacy. He can sense Carlos turning his back on him.

“Officer Reyes, to what do I owe you this pleasant call?”

“It’s me, Dad,” he mutters.

“TK!” His father sounds alarmed all of a sudden. “Has something happened? Is Officer Reyes injured?”

“Uh, no!” TK exclaims exasperated. “Why is it always about Officer Reyes,” he questions rhetorically. “I’m locked out of my own apartment, my keys, my wallet and my phone are stuck inside. Turns out, Officer Reyes lives across the hall so he’s offered me shelter until you can come with the set of keys I gave you and open that traitorous door for me.”

“TK,” his father says fondly before erupting in a burst of laughter. “I can be there after my shift. But that won’t happen for at least two hours and a half, give or take. Do you think you can manage not to kill each other during that time?”

“Thanks, Dad,” he says into the microphone. “I’ll be around here waiting for you. I’ll see what I can do about that not killing part.”

When he hangs up, Carlos is looking back at him with an amused light in his eyes. “Not killing, huh?” he teases. TK notices that he’s been puttering around the kitchen and now he has a large bowl in front of him with a few ingredients he can’t distinguish. “Fancy something to eat while you wait? I’m not going to kick you out, unless you are actually planning on murdering me.”

TK bites down on his lip nervously. He should get out of Carlos’ hair now that he’s used up all the help he’d allow himself to get from the police officer, but TK can’t make himself speak those words. Instead, he blurts out, “I’d love to eat something. I’m starving.”

“Then it’s settled,” Carlos says with a smile. “Grab an apron from there,” he continues, gesturing towards a pile of clothes that TK would have never thought could be aprons. “You’re going to help me.”

He nods eagerly, doing as told and stepping besides Carlos as he mixes the ingredients in the bowl. He’s mesmerized at the movement of those strong hands kneading and mixing.

“Good to know that, at least in my kitchen, you don’t seem to be hating on me that much,” Carlos tells him nonchalantly, as though his words hold little importance. TK frowns at him.

“Hate is a strong word, Officer Reyes,” TK mutters, looking up just in time to see Carlos looking down at him.

They’re so close TK can feel Carlos’ breath on his skin, warm and inviting; he can see a question fluttering in those eyes. He doesn’t know what gets into him, but he finds himself leaning into the scarce space between them, propping his head up, up, up. He can almost taste Carlos’ lips, a hunger in him awoken now that has nothing to do with the physical need to eat.

With a start, Carlos steps back and shakes his head. “What do you think you’re doing, Firefighter Strand?” he questions coldly.

“I—uh, I’m sorry,” he offers, but something has been broken loose in Carlos’ soul, for he rants on.

“Do you think you can breeze your way through people’s lives like they mean nothing to you, treating them like they don’t matter, and then stomp back and try to play with them?” he says angrily. The meal he’s been preparing lies forgotten on top of the counter.

“I have never—”

“Oh, but you have!” Carlos explodes. He freezes at the venom in his voice, his arms falling limply at his sides before he sighs. “This is what I get for being kind. I just—I’ll be in my room. Make yourself at home until your father comes.” He rushes out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, where he closes the door at his back.

The soft click of the lock feels like the proverbial nail in the coffin of TK’s heart, making its way through his soul and breaking him in a million pieces.

[howtosingit]

Any thoughts on “the walls here are not that thick”? (im honestly a little mad they fell into the hooking up with ex wife trope) (also on a different note can we talk about the fact that the scene with the tank (which I’m pretty sure is gonna be some sort of “acknowledgement” of the protests this year) OWEN IS STANDING IN FRONT OF IT instead of CARLOS THE ONLY COP)

I don’t have a lot of thoughts on the moment, but I did just answer a similar ask about it. To me, that TK line is just him relishing in the opportunity to embarrass his parents like the little shit we know he can be. Also, payback, because he had to hear them do it.

(This does make me think that he and Carlos will NOT be hooking up at the Strand household anytime soon, but I will continue to enjoy all of the fics that I’ve read about Owen catching them in that situation because they are truly delightful.)

I’m not mad about Owen and Gwen hooking up - honestly, as soon as I saw it, I was like “this makes sense.” I don’t know what exactly Owen was referring to as an “apocalypse,” but during trying times it’s not unrealistic for two people with history to sink into that familiar territory. I think it’s just a way of having a little more control over the expectations of the moment, right? Especially when it’s so hard to know what to expect. (Siri, play “If The World Was Ending.”)

Also, I’m not surprised that they willingly fell into the trope - both 911s are trope-tastic shows, they’ve never known a trope that they didn’t like. (I’m joking, but also kind of not.) Anyway, I liked Rob Lowe and Lisa Edelstein together in The West Wing, so I’m honestly glad they’re using them in all the ways they know how. 

Ah, yes.... the tank scene....

Owen facing the tank was in the last trailer, I believe, which featured zero Carlos Reyes, so I’ve already come to terms with the fact that this scene is not really a Carlos Reyes moment - BOY BETTER HAVE A BIRD BOX SCENE THOUGH OR I WILL RIOT. Is it completely ridiculous that a fire captain would face down a tank like that? Probably. But, I really am going to have to pick my battles here, and there’s little point in fighting against the fact that this is The Rob Lowe Show. Instead, I’m choosing to take today as a win, and enjoy all of the little, wonderful things that we did get with these two promos! I’ll be salty about the tank scene again when I watch it, I’m sure...

[tk-tastic]

You're ruining my brain- I'm cooking up new theories again, this is all your fault- 😭

If it was Felix, why does he know code? Is his demeanor a facade?? Is he secretly an asshole??? Does he have a similar ego/need for attention as Turbo? Would that explain why Ralph is such an outcast? Felix didn't want to share the spotlight?? When Turbo fled his game did he first hide in Fix it Felix Jr? Questions....

I need more info on the twins, I need to know their characters, what they thought of Turbo outside of racing, etc

WHERE THE HELL DID HE GET A TIP

WHO GAVE HIM THE TIP AT TAPPERS, TAKE OVER A WHOLE AS GAME, AND SURVIVE THE UNPLUGGING OF BOTH GAMES AND NOBODY CATCHES HIM

this man needs to be stopped

[lokis-lady-death]

Bake-tastic One

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Lady Death: I tagged anyone I thought might be interested! Just a simple two part story about a girl meeting a man and baking some cupcakes.  I did this by request for a super awesome mutual’s birthday! @kcd15 I hope you enjoy it, I’m so sorry it’s late but you get two parts for being so patient <3 Hope you enjoy!

Bake-tastic

Step One: Introductions

“Don't Stop Believin’  by Journey,” you recognized immediately. “Good choice.” There was no hiding the delight on your face as you laid back in your chair, slipped on your sunglasses, and sang along to the tune.

You couldn't help but think this is how everyone should spend a day off, lounging on a balcony in California, dazing in and out of a mid-day nap to the sound of soulful tunes on the perfect playlist.

It was such a cliche spring morning, really. The sky was that bright shade of blue with sparse clouds, the breeze blew just enough that it kept the air at the right temperature. The city was even more peaceful than usual, with birds chirping, kids playing and hardly any cars passing by your condominium. The only real sound you heard was the music emanating from your neighbor's place above your head.

The main reason you enjoyed these days? Frankly, you needed the distraction. You were a full time barista at a local big bakery that catered to the cupcake-addicted southern L.A. day walkers and all you wanted was to unwind. Bake-tastic, despite its horrifically punny name, was actually an up and coming hangout spot that was making a name for itself among the baked goods industry.

The only problem?

You weren't baking.

Growing up in the south, you had loved everything about baking since you were a little girl in your grandmother’s kitchen, playing in her aprons and sneaking off with her cookbooks, but it wasn't until when you sister asked you to move to move to Cali  that you decided to act on your passion.

But, as it turned out, if you want to bake here, you needed experience. Experience no one was willing to give you. All you had managed to do was make coffee and take orders for cakes and other treats you weren’t allowed to actually create.

That honor was left to the owner of the bakery, a man whom, in your months of working there, had never once come in during the day shift. You never met the mysterious baker, but couldn’t deny his talents the first time you tried his mixed berry tarte. Everything he created was a miniature masterpiece all their own. You wanted desperately tk meet him, or even more, bake with him, but that was a quickly squashed dream. He kept to himself, prefering to come after closing to bake everything throughout the night. The next morning, when you and your coworkers would arrive, all you would need to do was set out the new baked goods and make coffee. The others were fine with the remedial tasks, but you were not.

It wasn’t necessarily living the dream, but the music had a nice way of dulling out the disappointment.

If your sister had been out there she would be complaining about it, but truthfully you enjoyed your little free concerts. It required no work on your part and in today's world, you could use some mindless way to unwind. It wasn't long before you recognized a pattern in when the music played: usually in the afternoons of week days, stopping promptly at seven, Saturday morning and most of Sunday. Not particularly meaning to, you began to plan breaks outside around when the neighbor would have their music on. It had become a sort of ritual: weekdays when you got off work you would shower, throw on your bathrobe, and come lounge until seven. On weekends, you spent your mornings sipping coffee in your pajamas.

This Saturday was no different. Right at six in the morning, the neighbor's sliding door opened, releasing a symphony of classic rock music out into the world. Here you were, ready to soak it up as you sang out the stress of your week through lyrics of musical geniuses with a cup of coffee in one hand and a freshly made strawberry Danish in the other.

It was around thirty minutes later, as you were going along to Matchbox Twenty’s 3am that your tone began to carry. By the second verse you had gotten a bit carried away, singing along and dancing in your chair as the words you had known by heart for nearly two decades came pouring out. You had become some enamored by the words that you didn't even notice the music had been turned down.

When the next song began, you took in one last deep breath of spring air, stretching your arms up above your head until you heard that satisfying pop of your shoulders. You had been rejuvenated and were ready for whatever the rest of your Saturday brought.

But just when you turned to walk back into the apartment, you heard someone ask, “Oh, are you going in already?”

There was no stopping the loud curse word from escaping your lips as you tried to pull yourself back into your skin. Whipping around, you expected to see a man to go along with that sharp comment.

Yet you were alone, left only with the sound of a haughty laugh.

“I'm terribly sorry, I certainly didn't mean to frighten you.” You distinctly noticed the smart British accent as he went on, “It's just that I had been listening to you sing so I thought I ought to say something….”

Your face felt it had caught fire by embarrassment of someone, a stranger- a possibly handsome British stranger- had heard you singing. A hand slapped over your mouth to stifle a gasp.

You were so mortified you could scream, but there was also a part of you curious how much he had heard.

When you still didn't respond, the englishman went on, “She's gone and I'm here talking to myself, aren't I?”

“No,” you couldn't help but laugh nervously, “I'm still here.”

“Good. I'd look rather mad out here going on to an invisible woman, wouldn't I?”

The two of you shared a laugh, followed by an unfortunate silence before he added, “It seems we have a similar taste in music. You know just about every song I ever play.”

Again your cheeks went ablaze.

“I mean, it's not like I just come out here and listen to you, that would be absurd. It's just, you come out here nearly every time I turn on my ipod, surely you noticed?”

You realized it was the same neighbor who played the music every day. Biting down on your lip, you stopped from admitting you planned your free time at home around when he turned his tunes on. The two of you were starting to sound like either a cheap romance movie from Hallmark channel or a murder documentary off Investigative Discovery .

When you still hadn't spoken up, he rambled on. “That possibly came across a bit awkward, I didn't mean it as though I'm just out here listening to you…” he corrected. “I only meant I enjoyed what I've heard.”

At that you had to smile.  His tone was sincere enough, even a tad cute as he tripped over himself, but with that accent alone he sent a flutter through your stomach.

‘Is that what I'm reduced to?’ you wondered, ‘Pining after men because of accents?’

“I haven't heard you leave, does that mean I didn't completely ruin this first impression?”

At that, you couldn't keep quiet. “Your first impression was actually Bruno Mars That's What I Like,” you teased, almost annoyed with how airy your voice came out.

Maybe it was because he wasn't in front of you or maybe it was because his voice just oosed with charm, but there was something else that just pulled at you.

“Well, was it a good impression?”

Your smile widened. “It's improved.”

He let out a roar of a laugh, even clapping his hands at the retort. “That's good," he paused," I don't suppose you'll be back out today?"

The question struck you, making you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

“We'll see,” you said finally. “It'll depend on what you play.”

“I suppose I'll have to make the playlist extra special then, won't I?” he returned, a touch of smugness etching into his tone.

You smiled again, opening the door to step back into your apartment as you tried to answer as nonchalantly as possible, “I suppose you will.”

As soon as you closed the door, you bolted to your sister's room to wake her up.

You threw her door open as you called out, “Steph? Hey, Steph, do you know the guy that lives in the upstairs apartment? Steph, wake up!”

She rubbed her eyes, letting out a deep yawn just before stretching out her back like a cat. “What guy? The loud one?”

Your eyes rolled back while you grunted, “Yes! Do you know what his name is?”

Her shoulders shrugged, her eyes lulled in a half sleep, half hungover state. “He is simply known as Loud British Jerk.”

Your brow creased, “How do you not know his name but you know he's British?”

“Because he talks, like, super loud and always has his doors open.”

Reasonable answer, but your sister was also one of the single most nosey women you had ever known. You leaned in, pressing on, “What else do you know about him?”

“Nothing? Jeeze, y/n, I don't eavesdrop on people anymore. What's gotten into you, did he play a song that got your panties all ruffled? You wanna go bake him granny's old apple turnover and tell him you like his butt? ”

“First off that's not even the phrase you think it is, second I think a simple yes or no would suffice.”

Going to stand up, sure that it was a waste of time to expect her help, Steph took your hand.

“Geeze, sorry, didn't realize you were so worked up. Come on, sit.” You sat down on the side of her bed while she scooted up on her pillow to better reach her cellphone. “Look, I'll text Lexi, she works down at the pool, she knows all the hot guys who live here.”

You couldn't help but scoff, “Thanks, I guess?”

“So you know what that means? If she doesn't know his name, he's not hot.”

She offered you her cheesiest, exaggerated wink she could muster, earning a short snort out of you before you shook your head. “I need to go take a shower, I guess let me know if she says anything.”

“Alright, and I'll see if I can pull him up on social media.”

You walked out to the pleasant sound of Steph texting her friend, knowing soon you might have a name to go with that voice you couldn't get out of your head.

*****

Tom had been outside listening to you for over thirty minutes before he had mustered up enough courage to actually say something to you.

It wasn't something he had particularly planned, though he had meant to speak to you sooner. The thing was, he wasn't from around there and there were certain normalities he didn't quite understand.

Certain ones were less socially involved, such as driving on the wrong side of the road, the use of American made cars verses the German models he bad grown up with.

But it was earlier that week when Chris, his Australian work friend, came by to go over a project they were collaborating on that he noticed his social cues might need some help.

They had just been discussing an upcoming book deal they were working on together when Tom suddenly quieted his friend before reaching for his Ipod to turn the music down.

“What are you-”

“Shhh,” Tom instructed with a finger pressed to his confused friend's lips. “Listen.” He held a hand to his ear, cut his eyes towards the open balcony doors and smiled. “Don't you hear it?”

Chris furrowed his brow but did what he was told, just a bit less enthusiastically. After a minute he finally answered, “Singing?”

“Yes, but more than that. What else?”

“Well she clearly doesn't know the words to Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

“No!” Tom corrected sharply. “Can't you hear it? You can practically feel her soul coming out in these words. It's just so real, so… Refreshing.” His back turned and he began filling his mother's old kettle with water, going on, “She does it every day, just goes outside and sings along to my music. It's the most peculiar thing.”

“I sing along to the radio all the time, you never say nice things to me about it?”

“Yes, but this is different. She's coming outside to sing to MY music.”

“And?”

“And? And?!” Tom three his hands into the air, going on, “And, he says.” There was a silence between the two of them as the song cut off and the singing stopped. Tom set the kettle on the stove and turned back to face the still creased-browsed Chris. “I don't know, it's just nice to me, I suppose.”

It was now time for Chris to speak and he really just didn't know where to begin. “So you interrupted me telling you how much money we are about to make on this cookbook deal because you were listening to your neighbor sing to herself?”

“When you say it like that it sounds ridiculous.”

“That's exactly what it is!”

“Oh no, it's not like that. She does it all the time, it's kind of like our thing.”

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and Inhaled sharply. “Your thing, eh? And who is this lucky young lady that you eavesdrop on a daily basis?”

“Eavesdrop?” he laughed but wasn't smiling. “I'm, no, I'm not eavesdropping, I'm just simply appreciating someone else's ability to let go. It's no different than listening at a karaoke bar. ” His confidence lessened when he quietly remarked, “Also, I don't know her name.”

“Have you even spoken to her?”

“No, we haven't the chance…”

“You know she's outside every single day, what do you mean there wasn't a chance?”

Tom's mouth opened to oppose but no words ever materialized. Slowly he closed his mouth and swallowed a lump in his throat. “I should talk to her then?”

“In the very least introduce yourself, what harm would it do? You never talk to the hot girls I hire for you at the bakery, the least you can do is talk to one that for whatever reason you started stalking her. Talk about music.”

Fast forward to the day he actually managed to speak to you. Now, after making a complete arse of himself, he didn't know if you would ever come outside again and what was worse he didn't even remember to tell you his name.

"Perhaps that's for the best," he reasoned, "I could still mend this first impression."

After he knew you had left, he bolted inside to find his phone. He texted Chris what happened and waited impatiently for him to respond with:

~Actually, about that neighbor girl, I got a REALLY interesting call from Lexi you may wanna know about~

Tom’s brow furrowed at the comment, curiously asking what he heard.

He called him and  nearly fell out of his chair at the news.

*****

The steam of your shower had filled up your room by the time you came sashaying out. With a towel around your waist, you planted yourself down at your desk and opened up your laptop. Just as you opened the web browser, Steph can barging in.

“Y/N!”

Your hands went up instinctively to cover your chest, cursing out, “What the hell!”

“I got it!” she exclaimed, “And you are just gonna DIE!”

“His name, you got his name?” Your grin stretched from ear to ear as you pressed further, “Well? What is it?!”

“I can do one better,” she teased, holding her Tiffany blue phone out for you to see. “I found him on Facebook, and Look!”

You had to lean back for the up close image to fully resonate with your retinas, but when you got a good glimpse, you took the phone from her hand and stared.

It was his profile picture, a face to go along with that voice. The image only showed him from the waist up, dressed in jeans and a white button up, but to you it showed enough. His eyes stood out immediately, a striking seafoam blue that sparkled along with the toothy grin he offered the camera. His hair was a strawberry blonde that was neatly trimmed but still long enough to curl. High cheekbones, sun-kissed skin, along with the more than sunny backdrop of his photo painted a portrait of an outdoorsy, fun loving sort of guy. Looking at him while imaging that velvety English accent sent a shiver down your toes that you couldn't hide.

“A total babe, right?” your sister beamed. “And judging by his profile, he's single!”

You swallowed hard. “That, yeah, that's awesome.” It felt like he was staring back at you through the photo, and finally you made yourself scroll over to see his name. “Tom,” you said out loud with a smile.

Steph reached over and took her phone from you, offering you, “I haven't even told you the best BEST part. My friend is dating his friend and guess what?”

You stared at her, blank faced. “What?”

“He’s the guy who owns Bake-tastic! This is the guy you’ve been pining over since you moved here!”

You looked over at your laptop, thinking about how many times you wondered what the mysterious baker must look like, googling and yet failing to ever find any remnants of him. Judging by his way with sweets, you honestly expected a thicker, maybe older gentleman, not someone worthy of being a model.

But that’s not what you saw.

Looking him over, taking it all in, realizing it was his playlist you had been listening to all this time, his pastries you had been idolizing, you wondered if maybe this was a sign.

“You know what you gotta do right?” your sister asked with a playful grin.

“What?”

She scoffed as if the answer was obvious. “You gotta go bake with him!”

At that, you made a sour face, shaking your head at the very notion. “No, he doesn’t like teaching and he certainly wouldn’t want a novice messing up a days’ worth of work. No, I’m not doing that-”

“Oooo, that’s too bad,” Steph ached, her face not reflecting the sympathy her voice tried to persuade. “Because I definitely told my friend to ask about you helping out in the bakery.”

“You WHAT?”  

As it turned out, Steph’s friend Lexi was dating Chris Hemsworth, a well known heir of the Hemsworth Lodging hotels. His image was the only one you could ever come across in your searches for Bake-tastic's ownership. He made donations to various organizations and raised money for charities, but what wasn't oublically as well known was his investments he made in his friends.

Tom just happened to be one of those friends, a baker in need of a bakery. So, Chris forked up the money and Tom got straight to work, building a name for himself in L.A. while Chris managed the business side of it. The only issue for Tom was he felt very out of place in such a large city, even as diverse at it was. Nothing about it ever quite felt like home, so rather than branch out into the world, he worked late hours and insisted on solitude.

It felt bizzare hearing the story from Steph, but it made you feel better when she assured you Chris and Tom didn’t know all the details about you.

“I just said my friend’s sister is an aspiring baker and would love to, like, shadow Mr. Hiddleston or whatever. I gave them your name, but only because you work at the bakery,” Lexi assured when you called to ask exactly what happened. “Chris was more than happy to ask Tom if he was willing to show you around his kitchen and he said for you to come tonight.”

“Tonight?” you exploded, realizing you hadn’t the mental preparation needed to meet the British bombshell of a baker  after that awkward balcony encounter. “What if he knows it’s me?”

“He’s never met you, just listened to you sing a few lame songs. How would he know it’s you?”

*****

“Oh, it’s definitely her,” Chris repeated over the speaker phone to Tom. “See, here, I’ll forward you her info.”

Tom stared blankly at the Facebook page, gazing into your eyes as he matched it with the voice he had heard earlier that day. His phone dinged as he received a forwarded email from Chris containing your original job application to Bake-tastic as well as a copy of your driver's license.

“That is just too much of a coincidence, surely you’re pulling my leg?” Tom snipped, shaking his head. But looking down at your image, he hoped it wasn’t foolish to want it to be true. “And she wants to bake with me?”

“Lexi made it clear, she came to California to be a baker and she loves everything you make in the shop. And the best news? She already has a serious crush on you! I’m telling you, if you want to make a better first impression on this woman, you need to let her work with you tonight.” When he didn't immediately agree, Chris added, "I already told her to be there at six, all you have to do is show up and be charming."

Tom inhaled sharply, staring at the image a bit longer before finally conceding.

*****

You had gone through numerous outfits while you tried to figure out what you were going to wear. Jeans, skirts and leggings were all thrown around your room, shirts crumbled up on the floor, shoes spilled out of your closet as you tossed pair after pair aside.

Your sister had finally come and picked out something for you: a loose fitting blue t-shirt dress with gray closed toe wedges. "Not too dressed up to work in a kitchen, but nice enough to hopefully get a callback from your impromptu date," Stroh said, stepping back to admire her creation. "AND IT HAS POCKETS!"

"It's not a date, it's a baking lesson if anything," you corrected, though after you put your hands in the pockets and did a twirl, you had to admit your heart was fluttering at the idea of an all night cooking session with Tom.

However, when it was finally time for you to leave, you started choking up. "I can't," you started spatting off over and over." I can't, this is a bad idea, what if I mess up one of his recipes? What if I embarrass myself? What if I use salt instead of sugar?" your eyes widened, "What if he doesn't like me?"

"You'll be fine, just do what you always do!" When you still looked unsure, she went on, "You're great, y/n, and he'd be an idiot not to see it. A beautiful, British idiot. " Steph offered you a sincere smile, enough to spur you on. "And for the love of everything decent, please flirt!"

You swallowed hard, did one last look over in the mirror, then grabbed your purse and made the fifteen minute walk down the block to the bakery.

When you arrived, the main store front had the lights off, but from the kitchen door you could see a faint illumination.

Tom was just beyond that light.

Repeating, "I can do this," to yourself, you walked through the front door, setting off the gentle ding of the bell that alerted staff of a customer arriving.

“Hello?” you called out, unsure if you had the right time. Looking down at your phone, you were only a couple of minutes early so rather than wait in the doorway, you went on in. Your mind began urging, begging, pleading for you to turn back. It’s not too late, it said, go ahead, high tail it out of here.

‘No. I have to do this,’ you pushed on. ‘I have to know what’s beyond that door.’

Mustering up the courage, feeling something in the pit of your soul tell you this was right, you called out again, “Hello? Mr. Hiddleston? I'm here to, uh, help for tomorrow's set up?"

A loud, disembodied voice came from the kitchen, “Yes, come into the back! And lock that door, won’t you? Don’t need anyone walking in off the street.”

You swallowed, feeling your heart begin to pound as you set the lock. Slipping your phone in the pocket of your dress, you tucked your purse under the cash register before walking back towards the kitchen.

Like my garbage? Read more of it! Master List

All Tags:  @socialheartbreak @kcd15 @maladaptive-ninja-returns@nephalem67 @jessiejunebug @woodyandbuzz20-01@lokislilslut@bambamwolf87 @kitsuneharo12 @yzssie @j-u-s-t-4@lokilvrr@lokixme @macbetheliza @lou-makes-me-strong@wolfsmom1@noplacelikehome77 @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @justiceiswater

[floralgardenswitchesmoving-blog]

@ @ @ @ @

For every @ I get, I have to tag someone I love/look up to!

@ghostofaformerselfGhosty is the entire reason I am on Tumblr, having introduced me to it while we were at high school together. She is my best friend in the real world, one of few that I truly love with all of my heart and consider to be my family. I love her so much and she means so much to me. She’s been there for me when I really needed a good friend and is also my IT tech support for when I’m having computer trouble lol. She’s so awesome and amazing, and as a writer is fan-fucking-tastic. 

@scarsbuiltNikki. Fucking Nikki is a bae. I will forever love Nikki and keep her as one of my darlings for the rest of both my Tumblr and real life. An amazing writer and chill af person, she’s wonderful to talk to and awesome to rp with - I love her muses so much, they all give me so many great feels that destroy me but in such great ways lol.

@hcvenofearEm. Keets. uGH. Bae. I met Keets through my Ghosty mentioned above and we’ve skype chatted so many times and I just fell in love with this nerd. Her writing absolutely blows me away when I see it and she’s just so darn awesome to talk to; she’s part of my fam squad yo.

@ericbrandonrpI’ve said it before about Caz’s writing - Eric is beautifully written and so well detailed that every time I read anything of him I’m floored. I love writing with Caz and Eric, I love learning more about Eric because he’s such a great character, one of my absolute favorites. I just want to hug him, okay, Caz please give him happiness lol. You also can’t go wrong with his face. Michael Fassbender, ladies and gentleman. Mmm. Actually, thanks to Caz, I’m rediscovering my love for Fassy because now I just want to go watch all of the movies he’s been in. I REMEMBER WATCHING CENTURION AND BEING LIKE YES GOOD I LIKE THIS MAN GIVE ME MORE. XD

@plotjotsandespressoshots // @dementedbeautyqueens // @sharpenurdamnknife // @sincerexsiren You want to talk about destroying my feels? ^^ Let me introduce you to TK. This woman is by far one of the greatest writer’s I’ve ever come across. All of her muses are so beautifully written and I love every second of rping with them. She is my angst queen and our ships will be one of the deaths of me (that’s right I’m gonna die several times because of all these ships and feels and TK is gonna be one of the reasons)

[tk-tastic]

For legal reasons this is a joke

[tk-tastic]

She bad on my guy until I wreck it

She wreckin' my Ralph know what I mean

[tk-tastic]

Your honor, he's just a little guy

Textless version under the cut :)

[tk-tastic]

Fucking hate this guy

[tk-tastic]

I finally got my hands on the 2012 coloring book that I couldn't find ANYwhere, let's see how much king candy is in this thing...

They even had some Turbo, which surprised me, since Disney merch is allergic to him,

And WHY is KCB so small???

Okay, image limit hit, I'm done. I'll probably find a way to scan in the pages for anyone who wants them. I can't imagine coloring in the actual book due to how hard I worked to find it 😭

[tk-tastic]

Was researching merch for reasons and found this.

Imagine waking up in the middle of the night and there's just a guy standing in your room. A guy who only has one pose across all of his merchandise.

"Life-size," his short ass... what is it, 4 feet tall???

Actually, it is...

[tk-tastic]

Here it is! A compilation of every single Turbo flipnote I made, starting in 2014. Some of the art is rough to look at, but there's a little improvement over time, lol

Video length: 3:16

Sappy, sentimental stuff below...

As a child, my mother banned me from making and posting flipnotes to Sudomemo (and Hatena, which was the original place to upload them). She was extremely strict about when I could use electronics, and how I had access to the internet. She was strict about a lot of things. I wanted to be an animator so badly, I wanted to make art, I LOVED making art; so I would get on late at night, often forfeiting four hours of sleep in favor of making animations on my DSi. And it was the best time of my life. I don't think I will ever be as happy as I was when I was hiding under the blankets with a stylus carefully tracing over every frame of an AMV, I'll never get the same adrenaline rush as when I would hit "upload" on a finished piece.

I was so frustrated in 2014 that I was two years late to the fandom, lol. Wreck It Ralph had run it's course online and people had moved on, I'd missed all the good Turbo art as it was uploaded. But there were stragglers like me on Sudomemo who were still fixated on it. If I ever meet xNightx again I think I'll cry. I hope they're doing alright.

So yes these animations are a bit cringey, and yes they're not my best work, but I was happy when I made them and they're an important part of my art journey, so I'm happy to share them.

I can't believe my first special interest has been revived so severely, lol