#wow i ramble a lot

[forget-me-maybe]

WIP Whenever

thank you @lizziemajestic for the tag and the steamy sneak peak.

ummmm i'm all over the place writing at things i thought i'd never touch again and nothing's finished BUT last wip whatever i posted a part from my rolan/tav modern music au thingy and perhaps i'll just throw out more of it in its unfinished state. yeah. i'll do that.

tags? tags! @kimberbohwrites @toads-treasures @waterdeep-weavemoss

here we go! 2,8k words. as last time warning for incorrect things. also warning for overuse of changing pov and strange pacing and my inability to make them stop talking.

oh they get down and dirty this time!!!

Tav’s has a long day; work, a very exciting meeting with an independent record company, rehearsal, and little does she know it’s about to get longer. She’s so tired as she heads towards the door to her flat that she almost trips over the long legs that are splayed across the corridor. 

Rolan.

And not only Rolan, a passed out, beaten up Rolan. 

Panic surges through her as she tries to wake him up, only to receive incoherent mumbles in return. She has to dial the emergency number four times before she gets it right. The patient operator calms her down as she can’t remember which godsdamned street she’s lived on for the last four years. 

The wait for the ambulance is even worse. Every second is a minute. Every minute is an hour. She holds his hand, placing light kisses to his knuckles, begging him to wake up. He doesn’t even have to talk to her once he does, just knowing he’ll be alright is enough. 

The operator talks calmingly to her throughout it all, updating her on when the ambulance will arrive and makes sure Tav checks Rolan’s pulse and breathing. In Tav’s panic she has the lucidity to make a mental note of sending flowers once all this is over. As long as he makes it through. If not she will never forgive herself for not being more stubborn with him. 

A hand on her shoulder pulls her out of her spiralling thoughts. 

“We’ll take it from here,” the green-clad half-orc tells her. 

The half-orc and a human check Rolan’s vital signs before they load him up on a stretcher to carry him down the stairs to the ambulance. Tav’s not sure how it happens but soon she’s sitting in the back of the ambulance with the half-orc examining Rolan. 

“Do you know what happened to him?” they ask. 

Tav shakes her head. “I found him like that when I got home.” 

The half-orc hums thoughtfully before turning their attention back to Rolan, controlling some sort of fluid. 

“We’ll take good care of him.” 

Tav nods. 

~*~

The room Rolan wakes up in is bright, almost uncomfortably so, but at least he wakes up. That’s progress he in hindsight can’t say was a given. Even before his vision adjusts to the brightness the telltale low beeping informs him that he’s in a hospital room. 

A strange weight covers his upper thighs, for a moment he thinks he’s broken them too but after a couple of blinks to sharpen his vision he sees the head of short hair resting on his legs. He can’t help but wonder how long she’s been sitting by his bedside to get tired enough to fall asleep in what looks like a very uncomfortable position. 

The thought brings a lump to his throat. How selfish it was of him to turn to her. How undeserving of her time he is. 

Yet, he wants to reach out and touch her. Stroke her hair.

Bad idea, it turns out, since moving causes every single cell in his body to scream in pain. At least he has the restraint to only let out a groan. 

The woman on his lap stirs before yanking herself away from him. 

“Shit, sorry,” she mumbles, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Blue eyes meet his and relief colours her face. “You’re awake.” 

“I am.” 

“Why didn't you go to the hospital right away?” she scolds as relief is replaced with anger. “Do you have any idea how scared I was? Wasting precious time laying around in my stairwell, bleeding into your abdomen like you’ve got nothing better to do!” 

“Excuse me for not being aware of the extent — ” another groan of pain cuts him off. Getting riled up is apparently not something he’s capable of at this very moment. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she says softly, rising from her chair. “I’ll get a nurse.” 

Once he’s updated on the extent of his injuries (five broken ribs, a ruptured spleen and some internal bleeding), and pumped up with some painkiller that makes everything a bit fuzzy by a nurse that looks an awful lot like the singer in Tav’s band, he can finally move enough to reach out and grab Tav’s hand. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. Tav just hums in noncommittally and places the back of his hand against her cheek. 

She’s beautiful, he thinks. 

“You’re high,” she says. 

Can she read his thoughts? 

Tav chuckles. 

“You should rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

He wants to argue, but that didn’t work out well last time. He’s too hurt, too exhausted to say anything. 

Or maybe he’s just greedy. 

~*~

Tav refuses to let Rolan go back to his dorm after he tells her about what Lorroakan puts him through. Which means she’s now sharing her small flat with the recovering pianist. Tav also refuses to let him take the sofa, it’d be completely unreasonable to put the tall man on that tiny piece of furniture when there’s a short woman who fits on it way better. 

That’s their first disagreement. 

Their second is whenever they want to listen to anything. Tav wants something fast and upbeat as she cooks, Rolan prefers an Amnian fantasia. In an attempt to compromise, they make a playlist on Songify together that’s just too chaotic for any of them to listen to. 

They haven’t kissed again, not that Tav doesn’t want to. She wants to kiss him so bad she’s acting stupid sometimes. But she’s not going to take advantage of him being in a vulnerable situation where he might feel like he owes it to her. 

No, she’s going to have to stop thinking with her pussy and chill the fuck out. 

It’s hard though, as he’s still on sick-leave he spends his days in her flat while Tav’s spending more time away from home, the band signed the deal and are working tirelessly at recording. She tries to convince herself it’s good to give Rolan space but whenever she gets home he asks her so many questions about her day it almost feels like an interrogation. 

It’s just until they’ve found a permanent solution, she tells herself. 

The thought of whatever that permanent solution could be keeps her up at night, weighing their options but always coming to the conclusion that Rolan won’t be safe to go back to Ramazith’s as long as Lorroakan is there. 

She’s not completely sure she could get away with murder. 

She could probably get away with blackmail. 

Her plotting is interrupted by a whine coming from her bed, Rolan’s usual soft snores are replaced with sounds of distress as he tosses and turns in bed. 

With soft steps in no more than her sleeping t-shirt and grandma panties she makes her way over to the bed and sits on the edge. What’s the proper procedure for someone having nightmares? Touching seems inappropriate but talking should be fine, she assumes. 

“Rolan, hey,” she speaks as softly as she can. “It’s alright, you’re safe. You’re in my flat, you know, the girl from the street and the store. I’m going to make sure you’re safe from that bastard.”

As she speaks, Rolan’s breathing slows down. Tav continues to babble on about her day, telling him about an interaction she had at work. She told him about it earlier when she got home but it was a lovely, little lady and it seems like the kind of story that can pull someone out from a nightmare. 

“I like hearing your voice.” 

“Thank you, well, as I said – oh.” Tav stares into burning, golden eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. You were having a – ” 

“A nightmare, yes.” He sighs and rubs his eyes. 

“Are you alright?” Tav asks carefully. 

“I am now.” He chews the inside of his mouth before he speaks again. “Would you stay?” 

“I’m just across the room, I’m not going anywhere til ten.” 

“I mean in bed. With me.” His voice is so small and his eyes filled with unshed tears. 

Tav nods. 

Rolan pulls away his blanket to give her access, not sure what level of touching is appropriate she lets him take the lead as she lies down next to him. And he does, looping one arm around her waist to pull her close to his chest, his breath hot against her forehead. Their legs entangle so naturally Tav thinks they must be made for each other. 

“Is this okay?” he asks. 

“Yes,” she breathes out. 

Rolan hums in content and she swears she feels the shadow of a kiss against her forehead. 

~*~

Short, black hair tickles Rolan’s nose as he wakes up. A night of nightmares he doesn’t want to linger on turned into a comfortable dreamless sleep thanks to the woman currently pressed against his chest. She has turned around sometime during the night and his hand has made its way to rest lazily against her soft stomach. Their tails are intertwined in the way only lovers’ are supposed to. 

He wishes that was the case, but he can’t exploit her kindness more than he already has. 

He steals a quick glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 6:07. Almost two hours before Tav’s usual wake-up time. Fighting the tinge of guilt that flows through him, perhaps he’ll play pretend until then at least. He tightens his grip on Tav ever so slightly and nuzzles into her hair. She smells of leather, vanilla and something that must just be her. 

“What time is it?” she mumbles, voice hoarse from sleep. He curses himself for waking her up. 

“Early, go back to sleep,” he whispers. 

Tav turns around in his arms and he’s met with a sleepy smile and squinting eyes. 

“You okay?” 

“More than okay,” he says. “Are you?” 

“I have to pee,” she mumbles. 

He huffs in amusement, always so eloquent. He lets go of Tav and he mourns the loss of contact as she stands up. In her not-fully-awake state she bumps into a chair and releases a line of tired curses as she makes her way to the bathroom. Rolan shakes his head and lies on his back, staring into the ceiling. 

As the toilet flushes and he hears her wash her hands, he expects Tav to go back to the sofa to sleep the rest of the morning. But to his surprise, and delight, she heads back towards him. He gets a surge of confidence and extends his arms to invite her into an embrace. Without missing a beat she crawls onto the bed and ends up on top of him, her face pressed against his chest again and her legs on either side of his thighs. 

He thinks of Volo’s Guide to Classical Music in order to not have his attraction to her make itself known against her stomach. 

“The last time we were in a similar position it didn’t end well,” Tav muses. 

“Perhaps we should try another position then.” He feels her tense on top of him. 

Hells, what is it with this woman and his brain-to-mouth connection completely malfunctioning? 

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”  

“No, no, no,” she says and looks up at him, all her features full of remorse. “It was stupid of me to even talk about that night. I’m sorry.” 

“It was a very pleasant night until I overreacted.” 

“I stuck my nose in something I shouldn’t have.” 

“I’ll gladly have you stick your nose in all my business henceforth.” 

She gets something mischievous in her eyes. 

��So, in the spirit of sticking my nose in your business,” she muses. “What other position would you like to try then?” 

There goes exactly all of his blood from his head down to his cock and there’s no way she can’t feel it. The smug smirk on her lips <i>tells</i> him she can feel it. 

But two can play this game and the doctor had said he would be allowed some light physical activity by now. So, with some quick movements and a strong hold on her hips, he’s turned them around with Tav releasing a small, high-pitched sound of surprise as she lands on her back underneath him. 

“How about this one?” he asks, brushing his nose against her jawline. 

“A classic.” She giggles. 

“Hm.” He manoeuvres them again but to the side so Tav’s half upper body is hanging down the side of the bed. Now she’s laughing hysterically, her t-shirt falling victim to gravity revealing skin that he longs to dig his teeth in. 

“I preferred the last one,” she coughs out between bursts of laughter. 

“Hm, I think I did too.” 

Happy to oblige he pulls her up from the side of the bed and lands on top of her again. Giggles die down and eyes meet, just as he’s about to claim her lips with his, she speaks. 

“Wait, Rolan, you’re sure about this?” she asks, her voice so small, so sincere it almost hurts him. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because I’m helping you out. I’d do that either way.” 

“Tav, I’m sure,” he says. “But only if you are.” 

“One hundred percent certain.” 

And then finally he gets to kiss her, not clouded by alcohol like last time, just the two of them as the first rays of sunshine start to seep through the curtains. It’s not long until tongues intertwine with each other and hands search for places not yet explored. 

Whatever clothes they had worn to bed the evening before are quickly discarded in piles next to the bed. Sloppy kisses are placed down Tav’s neck to reach newly exposed skin. He tests the water a bit, leaving a love bite on her collarbone that elicits a moan from Tav’s kissing bruised lips. 

“Is that alright?” he asks, searching her face for any discomfort. 

“Do it again.” 

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest as he makes his way to her breasts, sucking on one pert nipple before placing his mouth around the whole areola and biting down. The moan that leaves Tav’s lips this time borders on a scream and he wants to do everything in his power to hear that again. So, he gives the other breast the same attention and lo and behold, she does it again. 

But there’s another part of Tav that is begging for his attention. 

Impatiently he moves down to between her thighs, enjoying the whimpers she makes as he nibbles lightly on the soft flesh of her thighs. He moves closer and closer to her glistening centre and lets his tongue run lazily across her slit. 

He explores, switching paces and pressure to see what makes her let out the most beautiful sounds and what makes the hand in his hair tighten its grip. Once he’s found the best rhythm, he plays her like a symphony until his name flows like a prayer from her lips. 

Tav’s thighs tighten around his head and her back arches as she releases a flood of liquid. He laps hungrily as she squirms with every touch of his tongue, riding out her orgasm. 

He rests his cheek against her stomach for a moment, letting her catch her breath as he idly runs her claws over his scalp. Were he to die this very moment, he’d die a happy man. 

A gentle tug on his horn turns his attention back to Tav’s face.

“I need you on your back,” she says. 

“I thought we were against that position.” 

“It’s not quite the position I have in mind.” She licks her lips. “Let me return the favour.” 

Positions are switched and Tav’s on top of him, administering light kisses down his neck. She switches between kissing, sucking and biting as she trails down his body, fickling playfully with her tongue at one of his nipples which is a sensation he’s not used to but, to his surprise, very much enjoys. 

And just like he did to her moments before, she moves down his body to reach his leaking cock. Just the sight of her down between his thighs makes him almost lose himself. She kisses up his shaft, every touch of her lips sends a spike of electricity through him. 

It takes everything in his power not to spill himself as she licks the head of his cock. She grabs his hand, guiding it to the back of her head. 

“You can set the pace, but if I tap on your thigh you have to let go. Sounds good?”

“Yes,” he pants out. 

The warmth of her mouth encloses around him, her tongue pushing against the underside of his cock. He feels the back of her throat as she takes as much of him as she can handle. At first, he lets her do her magic on her own. But he grows greedy, setting a pace that works has him bordering on the edge, sloppy sounds leave her mouth as she takes almost his whole length. She hasn’t tapped out but he’s still afraid he might be pushing her too far. 

But then she moans around him and he comes completely undone, thrusting his hips towards her and spilling his seed deep down her throat. An apology sits on the tip of his tongue as he looks down, she shoots him a smirk like a cat who got the cream licking her lips. 

She crawls up to lie down on his chest again, a feeling of warm content spreads from his heart throughout the rest of his body. 

He glances at the clock. 

7:04. 

Good. 

[imjustwritingg]

I saw on twitter you said you’re changing the chapters number again for nbtlyg? 👀

That would be correct. There will be another update to the chapter count. Partly because I don’t wanna rush through the last little bit of the fic, but also because I HATE with a passion that I ended Maybe It Was Fate on an odd number of chapters. And the idea of doing that again with NBTLYG puts an itch in my head that I can’t scratch.

So yes, there will be an increase to the number of chapters. The final number is most likely going to be 60 and no more than that, (I mean it). Still don’t know how the hell I wrote a fic this long???? — but it’s plenty of time to send Pretty Boy and Blondie off into their happily ever after and I can’t wait to share all the goodness with you.

[janebonbon]

Barnaby needs more outfits... His style is so immaculate!

[mistakes-have-been-made]

I love it when even Greek mythology also affects my music taste because what is this-

I- look man it's just good idk what to say

If you happen to know any other Greek mythology musicals please let me know I would love to add more to the collection :3

[glitterghost]

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel like there is a particular kind of sadness (or loneliness, if you will) that ace/aro folk feel.

[idontcaboose]

Haunted Car Au Part 12

Previous. Masterpost

Danny wasn't completely sure what all of the sound files Duke uploaded into the radio storage. Granted, the fact that there was apparently a 10 Terabyte hard drive just for the radio seemed a bit much, although it was over half full before Duke gave him a metric butt load of sound bytes, so maybe Batman was onto something. Now it was about three-quarters full…. How many files were there?

Either way, whoever named these files are the MvP of this entire situation. Either they were just the name of the saying, or we're named something like ‘exasperated 4’ and they were On Point!

Unfortunately there weren't any defined names other than movie references. Why were there three different versions of the “Hey, Becky, look at her butt” Danny didn't know, but he might use them for reasons.

Duke had left him alone with a disgruntled “Good Luck” after Danny started playing the ‘mood’ files to see exactly what they were. He figured Duke would come back in a few hours to have a “conversation” about his predicament. Until then……

DID THEY SOUND BYTE BATMAN HIMSELF?!?!?!

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @thespacedragons @atinygracie @okami-love @lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[myokk]

🥺

[sskk-manifesto]

Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me

[somerandomdudelmao]

Hello :D! I was wondering, does Raph have anything different about his vision, like how in the movie we see that Casey's mask does everything that Don's goggles can do (scan, search through data, etc.,)

or is it closer to his regular vision - nothing fancy, he just... sees? Does he see with his robotic eyes, or is it like his eyes cameras that give video feed to a screen? In the latest part he said it was like a video game, and you sort of watch yourself play video games, you aren't actually in them (like a VR headset.) I assume Donnie gave him eyelids to sleep, but does he blink because of his mind's memory of blinking?

You're my favorite Tumblr user dude, thank you for this amazing series!

(if I can ask another question... can he feel? like if not temperature or pain, can he feel vibrations like being touched or hit? or is it just numb everywhere)

I think VR is the closest analogy. After he lost one eye, though, his perception of depth and volume almost disappeared, so now it's not a "VR headset", but more of a "phone screen brought very close to his face.

He has no additional visual interface in his vision, because that made him feel uncomfortable. And Donnie made it possible for the robot to blink just to make it psychologically easier and more familiar for Raph. Well..as much as possible.

Raph closes his eyes purely for the sake of expression. He doesn't need it, and it doesn't give him the same sense of rest for his eyes as if he had a biological body.

He can feel pressure, vibrations, and temperatures, but these sensations are severely muted and become increasingly indistinguishable over time.

He cannot feel pain. He cannot feel tired or energetic. He cannot growl, make his "baby voice," or make any sounds that are too unusual. He cannot feel water. If you pour a bucket of water on him, he will probably know it by the sound. He can't be sleepy in the morning or hungry.

He wants to, though. He wants to be able to feel all these things, even though they may be unpleasant. He wants to, because he sometimes begins to forget exactly how they felt and it depresses him.

[tummietown]

the feminine urge to curl up inside a warm, breathing belly as a way to escape from the horrors of the real world

nothing would make me feel more secure than being cradled in the hands of someone so unfathomably giant and so, so, so kind. i need that right now. i need to be cared for. the thought of tender fingers curling around me as their maw opens up, a large, soft tongue curling around me slowly, reminding me of what i'm getting myself into. they'd be taking their time so as not to alarm me. with every twitch and jolt of my tiny body they would hesitate, afraid to startle me. as they hold their mouth open, warm breaths akin to that of a sugary-scented summer's breeze would wash over me in a steady, rhythmic pace. i would imagine the movement of their lungs as they breathe, envisioning each organic swell and contraction. they'd take pleasure in knowing what all i'd be thinking, aware after a certain point that my sheepish behavior is not fear, but rather,, something more light-hearted.

and then, i'd be pulled in. the light from the outside world would fade, replaced by a pitch-blackness unlike anything else. it's a comforting, breathing darkness that swallows me whole. this darkness is alive, and it tells me to simply relax. there is no need to strain my eyes with the light in an obnoxious, heartless world. darkness inside of them is where i find peace. besides, i know i'm not alone. if i was alone, the ground would not be shifting and squirming. there would be a soft *squelch* as the saliva trapped underneath their tongue is shifted about, eliciting a chuckle from me. i'd almost be able to feel the way they'd smile around me, knowing at the very least that they got me to laugh if nothing else. my laugh would trail off as my hands brush against their teeth, sharpened at the tips and yet completely harmless to me. to the lasagna i fixed from earlier, no, but i'm alive. i'm a person. they're free to tear into that lasagna as much as they'd like, matter of fact! i worked hard on it. me, however? i'm delicate to them. they know they must be gentle with me. they'd never use their teeth to hurt me. though, i do recognize that they'd like me to pay attention to those teeth of theirs. their tongue, soft and folded underneath me, would move to poke at the divot in one of their molars, bringing my attention to it in the process. i'd smooth my trusting hand over their molar and thumb at every individual detail. it's fascinating, really. i think a big reason why vore intrigues me so much to begin with is because it's all so terribly captivating. everything is alive, and everything alive surrounds me. it's comforting.

i really think we need to appreciate just how nice mouths are, y'know? i think that's an underrated part in vore. there's so much material, and yet it goes untouched for the most part, but i digress

we'd need to move on eventually. their maw would start to fill up with drool, and since i would have been anticipating the upcoming part, i'd already be comfortable and prepared for their tongue to lift, lift, lift, and send me sliding down their throat into a hot, pulsing abyss. every inch of my body would be coated in a thick blanket of slobber by this point, and i imagine that'd definitely make the journey down their esophagus much, much easier. i think most people fail to realize just how challenging it'd be to swallow someone whole without chewing, regardless of their size. or maybe we choose to overlook it bc vore can't technically exist at all irl anyway idk. i like to ramble lol

at some point, the tight, throbbing walls of their gullet would transition into a different space. i'd slip inside, recognizing my ability to move around and get comfortable unlike the other organ i was squeezed into after their swallow. as i'd lean my head back against the fleshy abdominal wall behind me, i'd feel a lack of resistance comparable to a beanbag chair and how it feels to lay in one. the walls would adjust to this new weight, moving to surround me. i would be cradled and held. adored instinctively. their stomach doesn't obviously have cognitive thought, but somewhere within the deep recesses of their mind, their brain perceives me as being more than just sustenance. i am loved here. this is my safe space, and nobody else would be able to agree. that is how i want this to be. if i could write my name somewhere in here, i would. that wouldn't last very long, though.

not a word would be exchanged between the two of us, and yet our silence holds more weight than anything we could say. my throat would feel dry, and i'd swallow a few times before raising my hand to pat at the lining of their precious gut. they'd laugh outwardly, and i'd know that if i could purr, i would be doing it. the tension in my muscles would dissolve into warmth, spreading throughout my small body. i am fragile and exposed, but that is how i like it. it's nice to feel small while being small.

for them, i'm unsure how they'd feel. i like to think that, while unnatural, this process would be enjoyable for them. the stinging ache behind their collarbone would be evidence of me, a reminder of the tiny body they carried into a comforting space. their soft fingers would rub at their neck, gracing over the spot near their adam's apple where i once was. they'd swallow again, feeling the bob of their throat. their hand would trail down to their stomach, pausing right above the taut flesh above their belly. with every rise and fall of my chest they'd feel movement, and they'd attempt to mimic it. i think they'd take in every foreign sensation one at a time, and i'd appreciate that. we're both still new to this, after all.

as they'd adjust themselves to get comfortable in bed, my environment would slowly move with me. i'd wait until i could no longer feel their movement, and then i'd curl up on my side in a small pool of gastric juices and drool. though very muffled, i'd hear the smacking of their lips and their deep, pleased hums as they savor what would be left of my recognizable taste clinging to the surfaces of their mouth. i might even hear them licking their fingers. i'd roll my eyes and bury my face into my arms, only to lift my head upon realizing that my arms are coated in slime. silly me. how could i forget? even with the constant drum of a strong heartbeat and the churning from below of a meal i prepared hours ago for them sounding all around me?

"you're a dork," i'd call out to them, my voice audibly cracking after so long of having nothing to say. the rumbling laughter that would surround me and the way their walls would squeeze around me briefly would remind me of just how small and frail i truly am within them.

"says the one who asked to be eaten earlier," they'd tease, a hint of playfulness evident in their tone. i'd scoff.

"yeah, well, i know you enjoy it. you'd be a liar to say you don't like the aftertaste i left in your mouth earlier," i would reply. they'd pause, and then i'd hear a hum without reply. being the way i am, i'd take that as surrender. not that it mattered. they'd be in a more lovey-dovey mood anyway.

the way they'd yawn would send chills speeding up my spine despite the hot, stale air within the depths of their insides. i'd reciprocate the yawn and then settle in contentedly once and for all within them, finding peace in the silence that would arise again. sometimes i like the silence between us more anyway. it's nice to enjoy your presence, especially when it's all that i can enjoy, really. i'm trapped within you. there's nothing else to focus on. everything is you. everything i look at, smell, hear, breathe in... it's you. it's all you.

thanks for that. i like being here. maybe we can do this again sometime?

[otaku-dragon-lover]

I shouldn't be posting on this so much but fuck it.

I've seen some post asking why tf it's another "people from our world enter the game" plot, and while I completely understand this sentiment, I've got a bigger bone to pick with this atrocity.

Why isn't it an animated movie?!

The only reason I can think of for why WB isn't making this an animated movie is simple: the FNAF movie's success.

Now, I'm not blaming the FNAF movie for anything here. It seems like (I haven't seen the damn thing but I have seen the fandom's reaction to it) a genuine love letter to the games and the community that helped build it up, the Matpat cameo is a prime example of that. It's also probably the best thing to come from the series as of late, buuuut that's just my opinion.

Anyway, the FNAF movie used mostly practical effects to depict it's antagonists (something I will forever love them for), with the film itself being live action. But! This makes sense to do because FNAF is (or at least was until it jumped the shark) supposed to be set in the real world, just with haunted animatronics. This isn't the case with Minecraft, it's a world with magic. Skeletons, zombies, giant spiders, walking penis monsters that explode, fucking dragons! At no point would anyone look at this world and think, "yeah, making this a live action movie makes sense". At least, no one with half a brain anyway.

The art style of the two games helps with this too; one has a very realistic style to their characters, while the other is very cartoon-y.

So, what am I getting at here? Why am I even bringing this up at all?

To be honest, I'm just tired of these massive companies clout chasing, because that's what this is. Creative ideas are dying in the writing room for this… utterly boring and overused trite.

This is coming from someone who loves the isekai genre btw.

Animation is getting more and more overlooked by the day, and this is what gets greenlit? Fucking hell.

[lissa612]

Can someone point me to where in 9-1-1 canon it is shown that Buck thinks of “Evan” as a separate identity or a version of himself he escaped?

Because we’ve got Buck 1.0 that’s been clearly mentioned in the past as a persona he’s outgrown, but I can’t remember him ever saying anything like “That was Evan…This is Buck.” He started going by Buck because it was convenient. He liked it and perhaps considered it a fresh start along with the career he found to finally be his calling, so he kept the nickname…But even the reasoning there is speculation because I can’t recall him ever saying anything more than “Everyone calls me Buck now. I kinda like it.” But there were still people who would call him Evan. His girlfriend, his sister, his best friend when he wanted to make sure he was hearing him, and his therapist (who honestly should be the most mindful of his comfort with mode of address) just off the top of my head. The only time he seems upset when called Evan was when his parents did it after he apparently asked him to call him Buck…That seems to be more about them ignoring his wishes than any sort of visceral rejection of the name itself.

I keep seeing chatter about how it’s disrespectful of Tommy to be calling him Evan. But I can’t find anything in actual canon to back that up. You can head canon that Tommy ignored Buck when he introduced himself like “I’m Evan Buckley - Call me Buck” but that never happened. You can just as easily head canon that Buck blushed and told Tommy that he likes how he says “Evan” when Tommy catches that everyone else calls him Buck and tries to correct himself. I’d argue that one of those head canons fits better with actual canon, but there are arguments for both…Neither is absolutely wrong.

So you can totally head canon that Tommy is someone who ignored Buck’s wishes to be called Buck. But then you also have to head canon that Buck, despite all the progress he has made through the years, is someone who would actively pursue someone who has shown they ignore his wishes - Something we have seen in canon to be a boundary for him. Which is fine if you want to do that…Head canons allow for all kinds of freedom in interpretation. But it’s not canonical fact.

Buck has historically disassociated with parts of his past self with his software upgrades from Buck 1.0, but when was the last time he did that? Buck 3.0 was back in season 4. He’s grown and changed a lot since then without needing to proclaim himself to be Buck 4.0. But beyond that, he’s never proclaimed there to have been an early beta version of the software called “Evan”. Really the only thing we know was upgraded between Buck 1.0 and Buck 2.0 was how Buck handled sex and relationships. Was “Evan” the base code in Buck 1.0? If so, has the code changed so much to have erased that? (Again, there’s nothing explicit in canon, so we can head canon that all day).

Bobby noted at the end of the season how much growth he has seen in Buck. I don’t think anyone who has watched the show could argue against the truth of that statement.

That is canon.

But you can ponder on it and come up with head canon…Perhaps what we are seeing is a more self-actualized version of Buck who doesn’t need to think of any progress he’s made in terms of upgrades because the therapy has finally made him realize he is all of those versions of himself and they are all him - He is the result of everything he has experienced and everything he has done and every decision he has made, and who he is will keep constantly evolving with every new experience and decision.

Regardless, Evan Buckley is Buck. And he is Mr Buckley. And he’s Firefighter Buckley. And he’s Buckley. And he’s Evan.

Unless he’s told someone to NOT refer to him as one of those names and they do anyway, they aren’t showing any disrespect by referring to him in any of those ways. We have examples in canon of that happening. We also have examples of viewers seemingly deciding it happened without canonical basis.

That’s a head canon. Have fun with it but remember to not force it onto others.

[naturepointstheway]

Vienna 1989/90 giving me that tasty Tuggoffelees juice at the end of Mistoffelees' number. Love how Misto just spins Tugger away. It also actually reminds me a lot of a very similar duo spin dance at the end of this number that happens in Zurich with Lindsay Chambers' Misto, but instead it's with Munkustrap rather than Tugger.

And in Zurich's case, well, let's say that this Misto has a very different experience to Valentin's (who reminds me a lot of Tim Scott's Misto, especially with the makeup), and Munk is more showing he has accepted him fully.

@absolutehumandisaster - hope you don't mind me tagging you as I feel you'd be interested in my "little" tag ramble/thoughts on Valentin's vs Chambers' Mistos and how Valentin's is Chambers' Misto once he is fully accepted and has grown exponentially in confidence by the next Jellicle Ball.

[salemssimblr]

I like tattoos and wips so have a bit of both ;)

[madbard]

“Ford is irredeemably self-centered” this, “Ford’s a bad person” that, etc…

Alright. Tell me then.

What was he supposed to do?!?!

Be a better brother? Ford loved Stan! When they were children, Ford took care of his brother as best he could. But Ford was also a kid in a bad situation, and there were limits to what he could do. Not to mention that Stan relied so heavily on Ford that it honestly wasn’t healthy for either of them. Stan couldn’t stand by himself and he wasn’t trying. They were both struggling; maybe pin that on the parents instead of the kids.

Not be angry at Stan for messing with his experiment? Of course Ford was angry! This was his dream college; in that moment he thought his entire future was crumbling. I assure you, if my sibling had ruined my chances of getting into my dream school I would have been more than a little upset, and I’m sure the same goes for most of the people reading this. Of course, Ford did hold onto that anger for considerably longer than was justified, but in this case I would argue that Ford less “held a grudge for 10 years out of spite” and more “never got the chance to make things right with his brother and held onto that anger because it was better than the nauseating guilt over that final argument, the uncertainty at times that his brother was even alive.” (Which is not to say that Ford isn’t spiteful. Our man has plenty of spite. But him being spiteful is not the only thing going on here.) Which brings us to our next point.

Stop Stan from being kicked out? How?! That household does not appear to have been a safe place for either of the brothers. Should Ford have gotten himself kicked out too? Should he have known exactly what to say to talk his father down - the man who just violently threw his twin out of the house? Ford didn’t kick Stan out. He just wasn’t able to stop it from happening, and that’s not something any teen should be blamed for.

Behave himself when reuniting with Stan at the culmination of the worst period of his life thus far? There’s stress. And then there’s being dangerously sleep-deprived and at the mercy of a horrifying demon that betrayed you, leaving you alone in a shack in the woods with no one to call for help except your estranged brother, who’s complaining about a mullet, of all things. Yeah, I’m not going to say Ford’s behavior was anything other than atrocious here. But really. How well would you handle that?

Thanked his brother? Stan could have destroyed the universe; it makes sense that Ford’s upset! He’s also had literally decades to stew in the terror and fury he experienced in those last moments before falling through the portal (something which almost certainly would not have happened if it weren’t for Stan). Again, Ford’s not acting like the world’s best brother here, but it’s understandable.

Ford’s not perfect. He can be arrogant, spiteful, and bitter. He makes serious mistakes (often due to his own hubris) that put himself, his loved ones, and sometimes the entire universe in grave peril. Ford is, in fact, deeply flawed. That’s part of what makes him a fun character! It’s also what makes him a well-written and believable character. Yes, Ford acts like a jerk. He does so quite often.

Ford also spends nearly the entire narrative bouncing from one deeply toxic situation to another, desperately trying to survive and make life better for himself and his family and watching as his brother makes mistake after mistake - sometimes making choices with severe, negative consequences on Ford’s own life.

Ford is doing the best he can. He’d not a bad person. He tries to be good. He tries to do the right thing.

He just fails sometimes.

Don’t we all?

[santaricotta]

They’re having another reading session!

It’s almost been a year since my first ever post, so I figured it’d be the perfect time for a redraw! The original is… um… well… I’ve definitely improved lol

(Some updates and stuff below the cut)

I’ve been having a bit of art block when it comes to Luca stuff lately (besides the FDM comic). It’s not because of a lack of interest (this fixation has been going on for over a year now and isn’t stopping anytime soon), I just don’t have any ideas on what to draw. I have been thinking of writing, though. I have an entire doc filled with random ideas (shout out to the notes app), maybe I could flesh them out? I have one in particular I’d love to write, about Luca and Giulia’s time in Genova. It’s basically what I’d want out of a Luca series; seeing how the Underdogs spend their time apart during the school year. I might start working on that, actually! We’ll see, lol.

Festa Del Mare updates may slow down? I’ve had the whole thing written since I came up with the idea (thanks notes app), but now that it’s been a bit, I want to go back and rework the story a little. Not too much, though. I mainly just need to redraw the thumbnail sketches for the rest of the pages, which is gonna take a bit of time. Trust me, though, I do not plan on stopping this project. It’s way too much fun for me!

I also just want to thank you all so much for your support, it means the world to me! Each reblog and comment I get brings the biggest smile on my face, and can make even a horrible day turn into a good one. You guys are the best ♥︎

That’s enough rambling from me, lol. Have this extra doodle as a thanks for reading it all. Ciao! ★彡