#either way i'm ok with it

[willowjay07]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[domirine]

ever seen a man so beautiful you ram your bike into his flowers?

my full piece for the retrouvailles zine! i had a lot of fun painting it. hope you enjoy looking at the lil details, plants, and the only character who has his shit together (the dog)

[plasticrarity]

[knifearo]

i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as a binary i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as a sliding scale of "less" to "more" i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as the only two options i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as significantly different things i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as all encompassing i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as the two halves of a shallow concept of love that doesn't actually encompass anything at all i think we need to overhaul every popular conception about "types" of love so we can talk about things that are real and true for once

[gophergal]

Decided to draw the silly birds @quazies unleased upon us

[deoidesign]

important distinction.

Testing a few different things with this one

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I've been thinking about how Vash always seems to be hungry. Or at least, that he's shown eating quite often in the manga. Happily having his salmon sandwiches. Eating an entire box of donuts in the side car. Knowing the conversion rate of bullets to pizza. Seeing a flower and immediately wondering if it's edible. Pondering his life over breakfast. It's a really cute little character detail about him - he likes food.

But then I kind of started to think about the angel arm and its specific brand of destruction. How there were no bodies to be recovered. Nothing but a crater left of July, left on the Fifth Moon. It's all been incinerated. Devoured, even. Tristamp takes it even a step further and makes the power something akin to a black hole - a yawning drain; a constant destructive hunger.

Vash is clearly terrified of this potential for destruction, and for very good reason. But it's not separate from him as some kind of "power he can't control" - it's his arm. It's literally his arm. It is him. Vash is scared of himself, scared of losing control. He does what he can to repress it, even subconsciously (the gaps in his memory whenever it activates). He can't control it in the moment, so he takes steps to preemptively push it down, to avoid the use of his abilities entirely, to hide himself away.

I talked a bit in a previous post about how there are probably several interrelated reasons for Vash's chronically avoidant behaviour, but I'd like to throw one more into the ring and suggest that it's not just a matter of not deserving to want things, but maybe also that he's afraid of wanting. That if he allows himself to even think about what he wants personally that he'll want too much, take too much, and that the only cure in his mind for this is to give and give repeatedly.

I wonder how starved he is for love. Vash loves hard, after all. Once he loves (and I’m not talking about the broad, distant love/compassion he has in general), for better or worse, he carries them around with him forever, long after they've passed. Does he feel like it'd be selfish to admit this kind of want? His love isn't really a passive thing after all - it's the drive at his very core; a mournful inferno he is just barely suppressing. Does he remember how to love in a way that doesn't consume him entirely?

Is that part of the reason he checks out at signs of intimacy? Diverts gifts towards others? Tends to accept kind gestures only when under an assumed name? Intentionally starves himself in Tristamp? Runs and runs and runs? Is he afraid he won't be able to stop hungering? That allowing himself to want means his want will become insatiable?

I just have to wonder how much of his avoidance of connection is being scared that he will cause more destruction (to them? or to him?) by trying to take far too much into his hands than he ever caused by turning his back and running.

...of course I may just be entirely deranged here sorry.

[celestie0]

when ppl get too caught up in the accuracy of situations in fanfiction or if things are super realistic or as they should/would be in real life etc etc im like. my tumblr user in christ. it's fanfiction.

[asukachii]

"Besides, you're here too".

(I don’t like putting watermarks so, PLEASE, if you want to post these gifs somewhere GIVE CREDITS! Also, don’t use them in edits/videos. Thanks~)

[clotpolesonly]

Blue Lily, Lily Blue ch 15 // Mister Impossible ch 25

[s0ckh3adstudios]

EVERYWHERE I GO I CAN'T AVOID MARTLET SHIPS. /NEG

[parkitaco]

The sun is warm on Mike's face, and Will is warm against his side.

As far as dates go, Mike has to admit he did a pretty solid job with this one, even if he can already tell that his skin is going to be sunburnt tomorrow and Will won't stop whining about the little pebbles digging into their backs, and yeah, maybe bringing a picnic blanket might have been helpful, but- whatever. He's pretty proud of himself, both for finding this abandoned field on the outskirts of Hawkins and correctly pegging it as a good evening hangout spot, and for managing to get Will out here with him in the first place - it's been a bit of a chaotic summer so far, with the Party preparing to go into their senior year and Hopper and Joyce planning their wedding and Nancy and Jonathan and all their dumb friends visiting from college.

Anyway. The point is that evenings like this are far and few between, and have been for a while, because if the summer has been chaotic, the months leading up to it were nothing short of hectic. The SATs and AP exams and final projects had been brutal, and, like, yeah, the Party is together constantly, and Mike and Will have been joined at the hip since far before they started dating, but it's- nice. That's all.

Will shifts where he's pressed against Mike's side, head tucked against his shoulder and fingers tracing a gentle pattern over his chest. "Ow," he mumbles into Mike's neck, wincing as, presumably, one of the ever offending pebbles digs into his back.

Mike smiles, wrapping a gentle arm around his boyfriend's shoulders as Will wriggles around, trying to get comfortable. "Too many rocks?"

"Yeah," Will huffs, squinting up at Mike accusingly, "Are you sure we can't sit in the car?"

"We're experiencing nature, Will," Mike says for the third time, exasperated. "Plus, I told you, my A/C is broken. We'd overheat and die."

Will rolls his eyes. "You're so dramatic," he grumbles, rolling over onto his back and gazing up at the sky. Mike smiles, letting his head fall to the side so he can watch Will's profile, lit up by the golden glow of the sunset.

He's so beautiful, looking happy and flushed despite all his griping, the sun casting dramatic shadows over his cheekbones. It's stupid, but Mike's missed him these last few weeks, where they've had less time to see each other, lost in the shuffle of visiting family members and summer jobs and everything else. He misses Will a lot, which is stupid and ridiculous, because they've been dating for a couple months now and had been dancing around it for a few months before that, but it's true. He'd missed out on time with Will, that year that he was in California and the months leading up to it, and it had been his fault and he knows it doesn't matter anymore, but it's just- it's something he thinks about, sometimes. How easy it would have been to have lost Will completely, and how lucky he is that he didn't.

Plus, Will is just- nice to have around. Objectively speaking.

Whatever.

"You're staring," Will says softly, and he doesn't look at him directly but his mouth tilts into a small, wry smile. Mike flushes, and is entirely uncompelled to look away.

"What are you gonna do about it?" he teases, nudging Will gently. He scoots closer, lifting his hand from where it rests in the grass to brush lightly through Will's hair, and Will hums appreciatively.

He reaches up and catches Mike's hand, pressing his lips to Mike's fingertips, soft and feather-light. Mike's heart flutters, and he rolls over, leaning over Will and staring him down with a goofy grin on his face.

Will meets his gaze, one eyebrow quirked. "You're pretty," he sing-songs, grinning all teeth, and Mike laughs even as he feels heat rush to his face.

"You're a dork," he returns, and dips down to press his lips to Will's before Will can argue. He can feel Will's smile against his lips, sweet and summery, and it makes something click into place in his chest. I missed this, he thinks hazily, which is still stupid and ridiculous because he sees Will every day, gets to kiss him like this basically whenever he wants, but it's true. This need inside of him runs deep and terrifyingly intense, and he'd always sort of thought it would mellow a little once he was actually dating Will, but apparently not. He just wants- needs Will here with him like this, all the time, forever.

Jesus Christ. Mike can never say any of that out loud. He'd die of mortification on the spot.

But if the way Will is kissing him back is any indication, the feeling is at least halfway reciprocated. His hands are pressed firmly into Mike's back, pressing him lower as he kisses him carefully, slowly, like he's relishing the feeling of Mike against him like this. For someone who, at least as far as he's told Mike, had had little to no experience with kissing before they got together, he's learned far, far too quickly. It's a little unfair, in all honesty, that Will can be so effortless like this, matching every ounce of Mike's crazed intensity with his own.

They even each other out. They work, like this.

After a long moment, Mike pulls back, nuzzling his nose into Will's cheek before settling back down into the grassy slope of the field. Will smiles, slinging an arm over Mike's stomach and returning to his original position - face pressed into Mike's neck, curled around him with their limbs hooked around each other.

He's so warm, rivaling the sun itself, and the air smells like freshly mowed grass and flowers and the faint traces of Will's shampoo from where his hair brushes against Mike's cheek.

And there's that other thing, the thing that occurs to Mike in moments like these, the reason for this deep-seated neediness and want in him, the thing he's known for years now, since before he could even properly put a name to it. He's been thinking about that thing a lot lately, because he's known it all this time, sure, but there's a big difference between keeping something like that tucked away in the back of his brain with the vague idea of getting around to dealing with it some day, versus knowing it with such constancy, with such regular reminders, now that he actually gets to be with Will in this way.

Will shifts against Mike again, pressing a light kiss to his collarbone, and Mike- might as well admit it, at this point.

"Hey, Will?" he asks softly, dragging his fingers through his boyfriend's hair again and turning his head, nosing against the side of his face and kissing his jawline lightly.

There must be something in his tone, something that gives him away, and he kind of figures Will knows what the- that the thing is anyway, but it still manages to settle his nerves when Will tilts his head up to look at him, smiling sweetly.

"Mike," he replies, lightly teasing and honey-sweet, "I know."

Thank God, Mike thinks, and his face splits into a smile. "Can I," he says, swallowing back the unwarranted nerves that are still humming through his veins, "Can I say it anyway?"

Will's eyes widen just slightly, and he flushes, looking embarrassed and a little shy. "Y-yeah," he says, his easily confident demeanor slipping a little, and he looks endearingly nervous, biting his lip and nodding once.

It's this, combined with the sun on their cheeks and the warmth between them, that makes the words slip out. "I love you," Mike whispers, heart beating fast in his chest and a giddy feeling overtaking him. He dips down, presses two quick kisses to Will's cheek, and a slightly hysterical giggle escapes him. "I love you so much," he whispers, face tucked in beside Will's and lips brushing his jaw.

Will's eyes flutter shut, and a smile steadily spreads across his face as Mike continues dropping little kisses to the side of his face and neck. "I love you too," he hums, as Mike ducks his head lower and kisses his neck, "I really- Mike, that tickles!"

"Don't care," Mike murmurs, kissing the junction between Will's neck and shoulder. "I love you, I love you, I love-"

"Okay," Will cuts in, laughing, "I get it, Mike."

Mike reluctantly detaches himself from Will's neck, nuzzling his face against Will's one more time before rolling over onto his back and bringing Will with him, an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer. Will laughs again, quiet and warm, and his head settles heavily onto Mike's chest. "I love you too," he says again, and Mike's entire body floods with warmth. "I really do, Mike."

This, too, Mike had known - almost in the same way he'd been aware of his own feelings, a quiet sort of knowledge that he'd been putting off confronting. "I know," he hums, just to be annoying, and Will reaches up with a lazy hand to flick the side of his face. "I'm- stop it, I'm just saying."

He can't see Will's face, but he'd bet good money that Will is rolling his eyes at him. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, and then, voice softening as his fingers find their way to Mike's waist and he begins tracing gentle circles into the exposed strip of skin there, "I missed you, you know."

He missed me too, Mike thinks, wildly, and it shouldn't please him so much, the knowledge that his boyfriend is just as deranged and insane and nonsensical about this relationship as he is, but it's oddly gratifying. He hugs Will closer, enjoys the steady weight of him against him as he asks, voice warm, "When did you miss me?"

Will shrugs, the grass shifting beneath them as he scoots closer and continues tracing his fingertips into Mike's skin. "I don't know, just- recently. It's stupid, I know."

"No," Mike says quickly, pressing a kiss to the top of Will's head, "No, I know what you mean. I- I miss you too, sometimes. Whenever you're not around."

Will lifts his head, peeking up at Mike with a shy smile. "Yeah?"

Mike laughs, a little incredulous and a little giddy and a lot in love. "Will, I just told you I loved you, like, ten times-"

"Three and a half, actually," Will points out, and Mike giddily thinks he's counting, "And- I mean, that's good. Not that you miss me, or whatever, but. Just, sometimes I think I'm going crazy about this, about you, and it's just nice that you-"

"Crazy together," Mike interrupts, reaching for Will's hand where it's still pressed against his side and lacing their fingers together. "Right?"

Will laughs, settling back into him and squeezing his hand. "Yeah," he agrees softly, the sound reverberating through Mike's ribcage where Will's face is pressed into his t-shirt. "Yeah, crazy together."

Mike smiles, running his free hand over Will's back and letting his eyes fall shut contentedly. It'll be dark soon - the sky is turning a fiery red color as the sun dips lower still in the sky, and Mike had sworn up and down to Hopper that he'd have Will home by ten, which is a ridiculous curfew but tolerable for the simple fact that it's Will, and Mike will take whatever snatches of time with him that he can.

"This was nice, by the way," Will murmurs into his shirt, as Mike's hand brushes through his hair again.

"What, the date?" Mike asks, and he feels it rather than sees it when Will nods, cheek brushing against him.

"Mhm," he hums, sounding just as contented as Mike feels. "Thanks for- yeah. Thanks."

"Anytime," Mike says warmly, as Will's breathing evens out and both of their eyes flutter shut again.

The air is warm and alive with the sounds of birds and crickets chirping. Summer is just beginning, and Mike, for the first time in a while, feels like he has time - time with this beautiful boy, and his friends and everything important to him. Here, in this empty field at dusk, everything has come to a standstill, and the neediness and desperation that's constantly clawing at him has subsided, overpowered by the feeling of Will wrapped around him.

Mike breathes a soft sigh of relief, and the sunlight washes over them.

[liquidstar]

Oh fuck tomorrow I'm going to be a little birthday boy I keep almost forgetting

[s1ithers]

ok one post about the ign interview bc the bit about the evil route just hit so weird

putting aside my initial reaction that it's a condescending way to treat your audience, it's like genuinely—what's the point of an evil run? what do people want out of that? many possible answers, my main one would be to explore a character with different motivations. but they went with, 'let the player indulge the worst impulses they're assumed to have and then punish them for it,' and, why?

yeah, killing the tieflings is heinous and feels bad. but discussion that takes the scenario itself as a given and goes 'how could you the player choose to do this horrible thing, of course there's less content, what did you expect' like man...i wanted to see the other option in your branching-choices rpg. you, the writers, have full control over this whole setup. a secondary/evil route could have been anything. you chose to make it this. why put it in if it's a narrative dead-end that just exists a moral gotcha? why center the big act 1 choice point around that?

it feels like a dm going hey dipshit, if you keep killing all my npcs there's not going to be any story, which, fair. but you're making a video game, you hold all the cards. why so much focus on rebuking the worst kind of players when you're free to just not write avenues for that kind of behavior into the plot

it's like they're wedded to one conception of what an 'evil' playstyle is that they feel obligated to but don't really respect or want to write for. by dnd law, we HAVE to include The Evil Route where you kill everybody indiscriminately, but if you take it you're bad and you should feel bad. and again, just....why spend the resources on smth you have contempt for. it doesn't have to be wanton destruction. there's a thousand more interesting ways to do dark side characters. why not come up with an alternative way for PCs to interact with the plot that you're actually enthused about writing?

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

I am once again daydreaming of making my own social media platform and how to make it not give a hoot about American laws (no relation to American soil, I'm European anyway) and be structurally resistant to enshitification through independence and community ownership unfortunately I am one inexperienced programmer with not much spare change to throw at such a gamble so I'm only daydreaming

[im-no-jedi]

Vultures represent not only death, but also patience, resourcefulness, and rebirth.

Crosshair bby, I’m so proud of you. spread your wings and fly, darling 💙💙💙

(please click the images to see them better, the compression is killing me 💀)