#i was 50-50 to post it on tumblr too

[sugajimin]

‘on the street’ poster

03.03 | 2PM KST

[funkle420]

no talk me i angy cant stop thinking about my girlfriend who's been kidnapped by a crazy powerful ancient magician

[biscuitboba]

Literally the truth cuz-

[cthulhusstepmom]

Fae!Soap Superstitious Bastard! Ghost: Gifts

(Just a heads up this got way more intense than I meant it to but that’s kind of the Fae for you.)

TW: mentions of torture, human remains

Soap is a collector, though not of any one thing that Ghost can discern. He’s seen the man pick up anything from an abandoned rolex to a nondescript piece of broken glass. It doesn’t seem to be about size, it’s not shape and definitely not value; Ghost had thought he’d pinned it down as things that caught the light a certain way but was swiftly proven wrong when Soap went on a spree of collecting pebbles and sticks. He’d glared sullenly at the first jagged gray rock when Soap had picked it up before swiftly changing the subject when he was noticed. There was no apparent rhyme or reason to any of it… well not quite. There was one singular pattern that stood out in his mind, a single thread that held firm no matter how much he rearranged or plucked at it.

 Anything that Ghost gave him, Johnny kept. 

The first had been a bit of pretty blue ribbon that was a close enough approximation to Soap’s eyes. It’d snagged on a bramble bordering the clearing where Ghost had set up for overwatch. Without even thinking he’d snagged it on his way to RV down the hill, offering it to Johnny in the armored car taking them back to base. Soap hadn’t said a thing. It was then that Ghost realized maybe giving your subordinate a piece of trash you’d found in a bush perhaps wasn’t the most well adjusted way to express affection. He’d been about to play it off with a quip, beginning to retract his fingers ever so slightly, when Johnny snatched it lightning quick from the palm of his hand, holding it close to his chest for a moment before stuffing it into his chest pocket next to his journal. Soap had given him a small strangled “Thank you” as they sat the rest of the ride in an awkward but warm silence. Johnny disappeared almost immediately after they got back to base but Ghost could see light in the space under his door so he wasn’t too worried that he’d done permanent damage to their relationship.

After that his eyes just seemed to catch on things that he assumed Johnny would like. He couldn’t help it. Little glass marbles, a river stone with an interesting marking, a large brown feather; Somehow it all made its way into the hands of his Sergeant. Usually with a gruff “Here”, barely waiting for Johnny to hold out his hands before he dropped his small offering into his gloved palms. Soap has also gotten over whatever his episode of silence had been, responding with a blinding smile and enthusiastic gratitude and a happy quip. (“Thanks Lt!” a piece of antler, Montana “Y’ shouldn’t have!” an old toy car, Finland “Find this on sale?” a scrap of pink fabric, Brazil “Ghost you’re spoiling me.” green river stone, India etc.(no he didn’t catalog all of them that would be creepy. He only wrote down his favorites.))

The next time Ghost thinks he’s permanently damaged their relationship and scared Soap off for good comes after an operation sweeping out an AQ base in Afghanistan. 

It’s stuffy and dark, the blistering heat of the day beginning to fade into the bitter chill of the night. The compound has long since been abandoned by all but the stubbornest of rats, slowly being reclaimed by the wild desert it carved its blackness into. They roll into the courtyard through the open front gate, the outer walls have seen multiple breacher charges and calling them walls at this point is more out of respect than any dedication to accuracy. The whole place has already been swept by drone and Laswell has had satellite eyes on it for months confirming just how fucking dead it is. They’re here for information, the drone identified documents left behind as well as at least two hard drives. 

The 141 has split off, each clearing their own section and radioing in at even intervals, they’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Beyond extra caution, the whole place has an eerie, black aura that drags forth memories of scorpion stings and dull knives biting at his flesh. Assisting in his nightmarish stroll down memory lane, Ghost is assigned the lower levels of the compound. Each room is another scene from a past he tries to forget, filled with rusted over implements of pain and brown stains no one cared to clean. 

Something in the last room makes him pause. 

A small barred window allows light from a waning moon to pool into the room, catching on something on the table. Small, most no bigger than his fingernail, a collection of about five objects sits in a tray on the corner of the table. Brilliant white patches shine in stark opposition to the bed of rust brown they lay on. 

Teeth. Human teeth.

His mind is acting on autopilot when grabs them and stuffs them in a pocket, so similar but so different to his first experience with the ribbon months ago. He finishes his sweep of the room, conveying his findings back on comms (“Seems like we’re late for the party.” “If only you didn’t take so long to get ready.”-Soap “Shut the fuck up the both of you I just saw a rat the size of a terrier.”-Gaz “I’ve got the hard drives if any of you fuckers remember why we’re here.”-Price), and turns back to rendezvous, his mind now firmly on finding his comrades and getting the hell out.

As they start readying themselves to duck into the humvees they arrived in, Ghost’s muscle memory kicks in to complete his self assigned mission objective. He turns to where Soap stands almost expectantly at his side. It’s not every mission that he has something he’s decided is a worthy offering but it has become more often than not. Mind already halfway back to base, a gloved hand chases down each tooth where they’ve burrowed themselves in the pocket of his tac vest, collecting them and dropping them in Soap’s proffered hand with a grunt. His brain turns back on when the bloody bones hit his Sergeant’s glove, panicking because what the fuck did he just do? What kind of fucking sociopath gives his friend(more?) human fucking teeth as a souvenir. Much less human fucking teeth that were pulled forcibly out of some poor bastard’s skull during a bygone torture session. 

His hand is trembling. 

Ghost forces himself to look down and meet Soap’s assuredly outraged and disgusted gaze. 

Only he doesn’t.

Johnny is staring down at the teeth in his palm with a look of fucking reverence. His pupils are dilated beyond just the darkness surrounding them and Ghost’s detail oriented eyes catch the slight flare of his nostrils on every inhale. Soap slowly tilts his head up to meet Ghost’s eyes and a gasp lives and dies in his throat.

“Oh Simon, you treat me so well.” His voice is gravelly and thrumming with an emotion that Ghost doesn’t know the name of. But, god if this is the look he gets after bringing Johnny desiccated human remains?

He’ll rip the teeth out of some unworthy son of a bitch himself.

[ranticore]

did you get rid of your patreon? i keep seeing posts mentioning it but i cannot find it

yep i got rid of it in march when i became fulltime employed style and replaced it with this blog (that's the origin story of this blog)

so some of the art i post here was originally posted privately for patrons

[geraiodli]

Bye Sasha....😬😬

Wips+ Sketches

[notsoprocreations]

The show really reignited my childhood pjo fixation at the worst possible time <3

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

a couple of years back i was pretty vocal about not getting when people complained about their art not getting "enough" notes. but i'm getting to recognise a sub-category of that frustration these days that, in fairness, was maybe what people were talking about all along? but i've also seen other posts mention how fandom spaces feel changed since the last few years, so maybe it's a new thing or at least a thing that hadn't reached my fandom corner until now.

i truly don't mind if my writing doesn't garner a lot of attention (although i say this from a place of priviledge where my writing has so far always garnered some attention, and often a lot more than i anticipated). but what is really starting to grate a little is the amount of attention vs. the amount of reaction. For example, before the latest update on my big multichapter fic, it sat at ~ 33,050 hits. since then the fic has been clicked 400 times. the kudos count went up by maybe three and there were three new bookmarks - this isn't super surprising because i don't expect to be reaching a lot of new people with an unfinished 100+k word fic in a dwindling fandom, and if they're return readers they can't leave new kudos. but five people have commented on the fic since the update. One percent of readers who have clicked on this fic have reacted. Did all these people see it on the recently updated feed, started to read it, didn't vibe with it and moved on? That honestly wouldn't bother me. But it's been steadily gaining attention for the last few weeks, long after it moved off the first page of the recently updated view for the fandom. so rather, I think it's mostly subscribed users (the fic has a little over 400 active subscriptions so that would make sense) or people actively checking back on the fic. in which case they must be at least somewhat invested in it.

and again, i'm not owed any feedback. i put my work out for free and people decide what to do with that. but fandom is a collaborative space, and it's been feeling like less that for a while. people seem less ready for conversation, and i think that's sad, and quite demoralising for creatives (at least for me personally). fandom work isn't meant as bingeable content that you consume and then leave. if you do that on netflix, that's fine, because you're paying the platform and they're at least supposed to recompense the creatives who made the show you just watched. fandom artists don't get that. we make things for the love of it, and because we wanted to share that love. it doesn't feel like sharing though when you put something out there and nothing comes back. it feels like standing in an empty warehouse telling my stories to nobody. and, again, i'm personally lucky enough that it's not like that all the time, but i get why people stop doing it. and i get that engaging with art as an audience member doesn't come easy to everyone, but fandom culture needs it. it's supposed to be an exchange. it's supposed to go both ways, and i think if you want to sustain the culture, you simply need to try and give something back, whatever that is.

because putting something you made out there and nobody looks at it is definitely not a great feeling, but having anonymous masses file by and look at your thing and then meet you with deafening silence feels... worse.

[blakbonnet]

✨ Meow's OFMD Blog Rec List ✨

Fanartists @mjulmjul @neine @aha-my-villainous-thoughts @beansprean @cliopadra @emcolbs @adriart @haflacky @hey-there-hunter @illustoryart @monica-rysik-art @blackbeardskneebrace @shonyadrws @not-nervous-jester @ramsranch @mossgroves @feriowind @tabbystardust @lauravian @lydiajoypalmer @lookitsstevie @y2jenn @artmadval @midearthling @obscurelocalstranger

Gif/Vid/Editors

@stedebonnets @bizarrelittlemew @montygreen @rainbowbonnet @saltpepperbeard @sherlockig @startreklesbian @merriell @abigailpents @userstede @xray-vex @snake-snack-stede @ella-doe @abigailpents @dickfuckk @boyofthebarrel @izzyhandsy @tomwambsgns @napneeders @bluntbeard @luciusspriggss @gayfail

Curators

@antiquesroadkill @meanmisscharles @xoxoemynn @skysofrey @vampirebutterflies @ourflagmeanslgbtqia @stedebonnit @youshouldseemeinadeerstalker @boytwentyten @captain-stede @captain-flint @darkinerry @flightoftheconnie @frrenchie @chestnutwind @girlbossblackbeard @red-sky-in-mourning @follovver @wearfinethingsalltoowell @stedebonnit @jaskierx @chuplayswithfire @emoteach @palavapeite @un-monstre

BTS/Updaters

@queeraspirates @ourflagmeansbts

[mjulmjul]

hey new followers,

am I getting recommended at signup or something? how are you finding me? (replies to this post are appreciated!)

btw if you're default avatar gang right now, everyone will instantly block you because they think you're a bot. reblog some posts (it's like retweeting, but you reblog as liberally as you'd 'like' tweets; hold ctrl+click the 'reblog' icon for instant-reblog in one click), change the avatar, add a blog title/bio and you're good. 'but that's work' this is your new home, don't skip the vacuuming and put some curtains up

hi and welcome btw

[rainbowtvz]

*grits teeth*

i do not want to discourse here or anywhere anymore but it does kind of affect me as a transmasc bi person when i see shit that indirectly misgenders me and implies that bisexuality is an icky no good word and identity and you have to be bi and gay and bi and lesbian and bi and straight at the same time or support them or you're an evil stinky stinky terf like... hello where am, i

[gradling]

07.10.2024 | 48/50 days of rest

From a walk before fondue dinner with a friend while our other (vegan) friend was with one of our wonderful friends/hosts at the Taylor Swift concert

[threefuckencrowsinatrenchcoat]

Idk why we’re acting like brain rot is a new gen z thing when this has been on tumblr dot com for decades

[ichorblossoms]

sentences that make it extremely obvious that i have problems and perhaps mental illness but i saw an actual yarrow plant today and got very excited abt that eheheheee

[helianskies]

ugly maths.

i hate maths, right. i don't usually like numbers, and if i do like numbers it's gotta be an 8 or a 48 and nothing else.

thing is, i've recently caught myself doing maths again. ugly maths. the kind of maths that, really, i've been trying to avoid as much as possible because, well, it's ugly!

you... wanna see?

okay, fine... but don't say i didn't warn you!

ugly, see? look at all those numbers! not a 48 in sight!

huh? what's that? you don't see what i'm on about? oh... oh! hang on, lemme just—

better? yes? no? no? okay, what if i—

mmh, yes. ugly numbers. see it now? can you see why they're ugly?

here, i can make it worse.

these numbers are ugly. the maths they make me do is ugly.

now i'll level with you: the worst ones by far are the yellow numbers. the maths they make me do it the ugliest.

why ugly?

because it makes me ugly.

those numbers turn me into not only a suddenly number-obsessed fool, but a fool who also cannot understand these numbers and what they mean and why i feel like they reflect on me and my ability.

87, 75.

the thoughts are as follows:

• the orange numbers are big, so why are you being ugly about the yellow ones? you should be happy with what you have. so many nice big numbers! not everyone receives that.

• is it that there are two different audiences for these two different fics? perhaps. they are quite different works, with different appeals, and different themes. maybe you are reading too much into it.

• why are you obsessing over numbers anyway? you don't like maths! you left maths behind when you were 16, put it down!

okay, okay, fine! i'll put the maths down. right here, in fact!:

that 87 was an 83 at the start of the year. the 6161 it is attached to was a 5453.

4, 708.

ugly maths.

the 75 is a nice number. in fact, compared to 87, it is beautiful, radiant, enchanting. at the start of the year, 75 was 48. wow. now that is one sexy number!

27.

mmmm.

6161, 1061.

5100.

87, 75.

12.

mmmm.

you know, my most favourite comment left recently on a fic of mine was 2 characters long: :(

it made me :)

well, actually, it made me >:) because it was left in response, presumably, to one of the key scenes in a new chapter which left the exact impression on someone that i hoped it would.

they must be the only one who reacted like that, though.

1.

have i mentioned that that 87 and 75 include author responses?

i won't try to do more maths, there. it might not end well for me. the maths is making me tired enough as it is, and i have an early start tomorrow.

oh! but, that being said, i have another set of ugly numbers to show you, so keep 87 and 75 in mind.

ready?

838, 245.

(want a hint? the green numbers!)

838, 87. 245, 75.

9.6, 3.3.

ugly maths. it's ugly again, see? i don't like it. i'm seeing numbers within numbers within numbers, and i can't seem to stop!

the numbers make me ask new questions:

• why is it not good enough?

• people seem to engage more with one fic over the other, so shouldn't you prioritise?

• is all this maths this really good for you?

no, it isn't.

i want to avoid ugly maths. ugly maths makes me want to tear my hair out. it makes me want to start from scratch. it makes me want to grab someone and scream. it makes me want to cry and press a button that has tempted me many times before when the numbers become too ugly to bear.

ugly maths turn me into an ugly person.

ugly maths make me obsessive, paranoid, anxious, regretful, vindictive, spiteful, alone.

i hate maths. i hate numbers, just like, it feels, the numbers hate me.

[amndees]

🎊🎊🎊 there’s 50 people here now hi hello :)