#I’m feeling all sorts of emotions

[lifeascaty]

my relationship with Fable is just so precious to me

I know there are a thousand posts out there like this but he’s this little furball who lives in my house and sleeps in my bed and we can’t speak the same language but we understand each other

I know which meow means he wants cuddles and attention and which means he wants food. He yells at me when it’s bedtime and I’m not being cooperative and retiring to my room on time, because he doesn’t like to sleep without being cuddled up next to me. He gets upset if I’m out of the house all day because apparently we have co-dependency issues. If he jumps on my bed to find one of his siblings is already there he gets sad and looks like I betrayed him. He follows me from room to room and is particularly outraged if I go to the bathroom without him. He insists on sitting on a stool next to the tub when I’m having a bath so that we can still be close to each other. He waits for me while I’m showering. I switched from spray deodorant to roll-on because the sound of the spray scares him. He meows hello to me whenever he enters my room. He learned how to open doors and if I shut him out of my bedroom for disturbing my sleep and barricade the door so he can’t open it he will cry and repeatedly throw himself against my door for 30 minutes before I crack and let him back in because who cares about sleep if my little man is upset. He wakes me up by hooking a claw in my lip or nose and pulling. He insists on sleeping next to my face and if I turnover in my sleep he will get up and move to the other side. He brings me his toys to play with, carrying them around with his chest puffed out looking so proud. He insists on drinking water out of a large mug instead of a bowl and we call it his “cup of tea”. He likes to quickly wash the back of my hand as a quick sign of affection. He drools constantly when he’s cuddled up next to me, happy and content. If I’ve been away for a while he’ll start drooling the moment we reunite.

He’s just this incredible little clever furball who chose me to be his special person and I’m so, so blessed 🥹

[cryptvokeeper]

don’t get me wrong I think the general interpretation of Leo being like “I put up a cocky front but deep down I don’t actually think I’m that great and that’s why I have something to prove” is good. It’s cool, plenty of drama/angst potential and probably what the creators were going for, I’m here for it.

But there is a distinct appeal to me of the slightly-to-the-left interpretation of Leo being like “it’s not a front, I know I’m that good/smart/skilled, but I also know I’m seen by others as just the goofball face man and that’s why I have something to prove.”

[stealingyourspins]

(Click for better quality)

Ninjago Mermaid AU- Zane.

Species: Narwhal. Chosen because of their ability to withstand cold temperatures plus their color pallet.

Zane is a Marine “spy” Robot used by researchers to record and collect data of Merfolk in their natural environment. Made in a partnership with Borg Industries and Julien Laboratories, he is a revolutionary advancement in the robotics field, going past a simple language learning model level to becoming a true AI in the 25 years of development. Zane’s expedition is simple: to help marine biologists to study Merfolk and blend in the best he can.

(Alt version with no spots under the cut and non transparent versions)

[gothicprep]

ngl whenever I see people try to argue that things like adhd, depression, anxiety, etc aren’t expressions of neurochemistry but are instead a reaction to capitalism or something diabolically stupid like that, it always makes me think of this old tweet:

if aliens landed on the planet tomorrow and their only measurement of earth culture was our posts, they’d probably think capitalism is a synonym for general malaise.

[maroonangels]

Missy being canonically pansexual means so so so much to me y’all have no idea

[priestfrommidnightmass]

i’ve had this crazy emotional growth spurt lately out of nowhere where. i’ve been able to get past and make peace these traits of myself that i thought were permanent and unfixable and it’s just been so crazy. i feel like an entirely new person and honestly? for the first time in a very long time (maybe my entire life honestly) i feel. happy with myself i feel like i’m finally unlocking the version of myself i’m meant to be and Want to be

[stergeon]

for the writer ask

💭🚦💛 💌

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

this is a real marketing major-ass answer (from your local marketing major), but i love sharing knowledge and telling stories. writing’s one of those things that’s a bit of a compulsion for me—i’m always writing something. i took a five-year break from fiction writing before i stumbled ass-first into fanfic last year, but even in those years when i was focusing on my career, i was writing guides and trainings and a ton of other stuff—just not anything fun, lol.

writing is also so cathartic. sometimes i set out to tell a specific story, but at other times, a particular emotion gets me in a vice grip and i have to put it to words before it’ll go away. my stories tend to wind up as emotional dumping grounds as a result.

i don’t write things pulled directly from my own life, but there are bits and pieces of myself and things that have happened to me scattered throughout stuff i’ve written, and usually when i’m about 75% of the way through a piece, i’ll realize it’s absolutely related to something i’m currently going through. funny how art works that way, even when you don’t intend for it to.

and occasionally i just have a fire lit under my ass about an issue and i get so hot about it that i gotta compile my thoughts. looking at you, silver snow

🚦 What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

look, i would love nothing more for them girls (pick whichever girls you please) to have a happy ending where they kiss and are stupid in love for the rest of forever. i love reading those kinds of stories. but in my heart of hearts, i love an ambiguous ending. i like when there are still questions after the story ends. i like thinking about where things could go or how the characters will go on after the events of the story. like, shared space could be read as having a happy ending, but i don’t really think it is. and with the victors; the vestiges, well. you’ll see :0)

come to think of it, i’m not sure i’ve ever written a happily-ever-after, but i don’t think i’ve ever written a 100% bad ending, either. i read too many bury-your-gays stories and watched too many sad european queer coming-of-age films in my youth to ever be happy putting that kinda thing out into the world. i want to write about love with all its ugliness, but not despair or hopelessness. i think what most appeals to me about an ambiguous ending is that lingering feeling of hope. it’s not the same as the kind you get from a happily-ever-after, and something about it speaks to me.

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

honestly? how to take criticism. i took a creative writing class in high school where we had to read our work out loud and then receive feedback on it from the other writers in the class, and that did a lot for me. going into that class, i’d already been writing for forever and had won some little local writing contests and such, so i was a wee bit of a pretentious douche. but i’d never gotten real critique before beyond, essentially, spelling and grammar checks. it humbled me lol. it made me grow so much as a writer, and i could see where i needed to improve or where my head was wedged way too far up my own ass for others to follow. it also helped me recognize strengths i didn’t know i had, and that was huge. it’s easy to get into a self-doubt spiral when making creative work, and good, constructive criticism can do so much to help avoid that.

to this day i love critique. i like knowing what worked or didn’t work so that i can continue to improve as a writer and do better next time. did my themes land? did something really work, but another part fall flat? i’d love to know!! i try to treat everything i write as practice for the next thing, and frankly that’s helped take some of the pressure off so i don’t go into total Perfectionist Mode.

i know critique is kind of a sensitive topic in fan spaces, but i think that’s because a lot of people have gotten unsolicited criticism that is purely critical and isn’t constructive. but getting good, constructive criticism will do so much to help a person grow as a writer. it’s scary, and sometimes it hurts! writing is very personal for most people, and it stings when things aren’t received the way you think they will be. but i know i’ve grown more from having my failures pointed out (and, very importantly, having the good things about those efforts acknowledged) than anything else.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

actually Just answered this in another ask!

[dirtbra1n]

there’s a word for it. a name. for the people who take care of corpses before a funeral. hanzawa masato doesn’t remember it right now, though, because right now he’s up in the midnight hours, lying flat on the couch in the living room. too warm. he doesn’t care to remember it, the name.

it’s way, way too warm.

dying used to be simpler than this. there was no pavement, there were no buildings, there were no faceless people.

cold, though. there was cold.

the water wasn’t really flowing, too shallow, he was slowing it down, but his blood was. staining the ice.

it was gross.

he couldn’t stretch out his legs, couldn’t reach his arms out over his head. his fingers were cold and useless and deadened, and slow. the air he was struggling to breathe was pushing in and flowing out of his lungs through the puncture wound in his chest. so slow.

he’s been there before. he’s here now.

sitting stiff in the water, soaked to the bone, dying in isolation. bleeding out, masato thinks he’s alive. suffocating, he’s convinced he won’t be for much longer.

he’s not sure he’s anywhere.

dying used to be so easy.

instead of waiting until he couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore, kneeling until his head went under and waiting it out, probably getting swept away by the current until he crashed downstream—he wouldn’t know, he never lived to see that part—instead of that—

he’s wading around a little lost. he’s bleeding. the ghosts only look at him when they know it’ll sting worst, long shadows cast over the water, malformed specters dancing in mockery of him. he thinks his feet are getting a little worse than sliced up by jagged hateful rocks out of sight. that’s depressingly the least of his worries. it’s being impaled by the moon in a loop of time that fucking hates him. but he’s already bleeding. he’s a little surprised that he’s still got blood to bleed.

instead of releasing what could have become a burden, it’s him standing, helplessly, in the river, night after night after night. because it’s nighttime now. it keeps being nighttime.

it’s the kind of thing you’d almost expect to be a relief.

“hanzawa senpai.”

masato turns his head, creaky like a wooden doll. “…tashiro-kun.”

kimono-clad, he offers a hand. “you’re not face first in muck this time.”

masato doesn’t take it. a sharp smile curves his cheeks, not insincere. “thank you. ‘this time?”

tashiro smiles sheepishly down at him. squints. “did you die?”

“do I look dead?”

it’s hard to see from the water, but masato knows that tashiro’s shifted his eyes. saw it in the back of his mind, recorded on crackly film. he says, instead of answering, “I’ve got bandages.”

masato wishes he had something to rest his elbows on, to brace himself on. it doesn’t feel right playing his games standing upright, his hands in his sleeves instead of holding his head on his shoulders. “ta-shi-ro-kuuun, what do you think I need those for?” masato knows what.

tashiro replies anyway, drily from up on uneven paving, “hanzawa senpai, you’re bleeding. you need blood. to survive.”

“tashiro-kun, did I die?”

things are splintering a little. crackly film.

a web of cracks splitting tashiro’s composure, his voice shaking, “why did you?”

that wasn’t what masato asked.

—

“hanzawa senpai.”

“…”

“senpai.”

“…tashiro-kun.”

“you’re not face first in muck this time.”

the smile’s carving itself in, muscle memory. masato’s not going to ask what he meant by this time. “thank you.”

“did you die?”

“do I look dead?”

in the old school projector film behind his eyelids, the flickering doesn’t feel out of place. “I’ve got bandages.”

“ta-shi-ro-kuuun, what do you think I need those for?” masato’s always known what.

“hanzawa senpai, you’re bleeding. you need blood. to survive.”

“tashiro-kun, did I die?”

the shadows cast by a lantern hidden just behind tashiro make his shoulders look broad. masato swallows down a laugh, but he’s not sure what’s funny. “don’t be shallow, senpai, looks aren’t everything.”

the laugh comes out anyway. he manages, “I feel dead, forget the looks.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

masato takes his turn to squint. they weren’t taking turns. it doesn’t matter. he doesn’t know if he still feels like laughing. he knows for sure that he can’t think of anything to say.

it’s just as well. tashiro isn’t having the same problem. “I think you should just, I don’t know. care about yourself more.”

masato swallows. his lips press into a chagrined line. “I don’t not care,” he says.

tashiro looks right through him. his eyes are like headlights.

he doesn’t actually need to say it, and masato can tell that he almost doesn’t, but maybe tashiro thought he needed to hear it out loud, feel it taking up space. maybe he was right.

“your caring sucks, senpai. it killed you.”

masato doesn’t want to follow that thread. “how many times have you been here, tashiro-kun?”

tashiro doesn’t buy into it. his demeanor is at once solemn and jarringly pleading, “senpai, won’t you live for once?”

masato means to say it like a joke, because it is one, but by accident the words, “how could I begin to deny you,” are dropping off his tongue, he doesn’t even know why, he doesn’t know why he said that, and no amount of exaggerated irreverence can hide from tashiro—eyes like cleavers, more like—the characters slipping into the water.

the ripples aren’t all that big, but they’re big enough.

like when your head aches, or the gash in your chest is losing you too much blood, or the water is tugging itself a little too close to that gash to be comfortable. something like that. something like that. it’s enough.

he doesn’t think he’s making any sense. it’s just too warm.

“maa-kun,” his older brother’s crooning, pushing his damp bangs off his forehead with cold fingers, “I think you’re sick.”

masato blinks away what he hopes is sweat. “gross.”

“not gross, worrying. sit up please.”

“I’ll throw up.”

“you won’t.”

“you’re right, I won’t.”

he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, on the couch that he’s sweating all over, and he’s watching a fan across the room spin and it’s nauseating and he stops looking at it. he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, by his older brother, because his mom’s out of town visiting her sister. he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, feeling a little out of his body. feeling a little—not at all—a lot like a little kid again. feeling sick, and pathetic.

he goes into the bathroom, wobbly and upset and over-warm, and he throws up.

—

reality’s tearing itself up, his dreams are eating it up, he’s falling apart and melting at the seams, he sits in almost-too-cold water until he thinks he’s gonna throw up again.

put him on ice, already, the sooner the funeral the sooner he can get some fucking rest.

his older brother’s sitting against the door frame, slipping in and out of consciousness. he murmurs, reaching forward to pet his hair, “‘s it too cold?”

masato doesn’t think it’s sweat. “it’s okay.”

—

it wouldn’t have been a very good joke, even if it’d come out right.

masato thinks he just choked around, “I want to. I want to.”

[cryptidranger]

Making a backstory for my new oc and finding ways to tie him into the pre-tadpole mess with Gortash and Durge

[musclesandhammering]

If the Loki writers absolutely had to have an unnecessary romance baked into the plot and weren’t cowards, they would’ve paired Loki and He Who Remains together.

He could’ve made it to the Citadel at like the beginning of episode 5 and had more time to build a dynamic between just the two of them- whatever dynamic it would’ve been.

And then that would solidify Loki a major role in the Kang storyline in the main mcu, because in addition to being the one to open the multiverse (sylvie doesn’t exist in this au shh) he’d have an emotional history with the only “good” variant of him.

[moesartblog]

.

[weizhiyuan]

maybe controversial but I’m personally looking forward to seeing Pete suffer without/because of Vegas a bit more than the opposite. I loveee Vegas and I’m so excited to see him broken too (lol) but to me his brokenness feels different compared to Pete. Pete’s gonna go from tortured to in love w his torturer and bc of that he’s gonna go through so many conflicting feelings. We’ve already seen him crying in the why don’t you stay mv! Like I can’t WAIT to see Pete escape thinking he’s finally free only to realize he misses being with Vegas So Much. That something is Wrong when he’s without him but it also might feel wrong to feel that way. And I can’t wait until we see the Pete who thinks “he was supposed to be the person I had to be angry with. He was supposed to be the person I had to hate, and he was supposed to be the person I had to stay away from. But now no matter how hard he tried to escape, I would follow him wherever he went. No matter he ran to the edge of the world, dived deep into the bottom of the ocean, or even fell into state of unconscious, if I couldn't pull him back I was ready to go anywhere with him” about Vegas (if (hopefully) boc lets them get to that point). Although that’s from the special chapters in the novel my point is Pete’s gonna go from the state he’s in now to something so opposite and he’s going to suffer over it and that’s just so exciting to me. That through all this in his heart he still chooses Vegas….yeah. YEAH.

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

I think I’m feeling a lot more nervous about hypothetical criticism of my fics, despite only having a few negative comments in all my 11 years of posting stories online, is because now that I’m in Grad school, my academic writing is held under such scrutiny and I receive criticisms on things that internally I knew were weaknesses of it. So my brain is in “identify potential weaknesses to brace for critique” mode, which leaves me feeling a lot more embarrassed about fanfic, and afraid of RSD if these stories I write with earnestness and sincerity end up poorly received. And I know this is all internal in my head

And I know that like litany of this is my blog I can post what I want and we are all on the “cringe” fandom website

Anyways I’m trying to push through this new mentality of self recrimination

[designernishiki]

hot take but. oda is honestly one of the most interesting prominent side characters in y0 to me. like. don’t get me wrong obviously i don’t condone his actions, but speaking as a character design guy, i think he’s got a whole lot of complexity to think about in his story and identity that people tend to ignore/overlook because he’s not a black and white “good” person. like no shit he’s morally fucked, that doesn’t mean his intense pining and crazed level of dedication to tachibana and the lengths all his guilt and repressed love for the man he saw as the best thing to ever grace his life drove him to aren’t interesting to think about– if anything it makes him more interesting. he was. really something

[rosicheeks]

Been thinking about you hon, missed seeing you around. Glad to have you pop up in my feed again ❤️

[arthur-r]

(wrote this song before i left for college but it���s sure applicable to life right now!!!!)

lyrics: falling from grace, i’m a rusting lace artifact / tears down my face as i break my immortal pact / trust me, i want to be healthy / trust me, i want to be special and loving and sweet / trust me, i know that i’m broken / please, i just want one more chance to prove that i could be the— / best friends know how to reveal me / best friends know how hard i try to have something to say / best friends know that it’s not helping / can i just go far away to where there’s nowhere else to— / turn around, up and down, i’m melting!!!! / turn around, i have something to say!!!! / color bleeding, heartbeat leaving, need a place to lay my head / arms are folded, fine print bolded, everything is overloaded!!!!!!!! / color faded by the sun, i bite my tongue, i’m coming undone / color faded by the sun, i bite my tongue, i’m coming undone / color faded by the sun, i bite my tongue / trust me, i want to be healthy / trust me, i want to be special and loving and sweet / trust me, i know that i’m broken / trust me, i know that i’m broken….