#i already barely use discord anymore

[apollos-boyfriend]

Hey I've been observing from afar through your reaction blogging, I haven't been in mcyt as much since the dsmp ended but I still care about a lot of the people in the mcyt circle and I'm interested in what goes on - care to give a rundown of what happened at this twitch rivals thing everyone keeps talking about? (no pressure only if you want to) Aside from the fact I'm sure it was terribly run like most twitch rival events are, but it sounds like there was more to it than that

okay so. i am going to be missing quite a few details because i missed a day myself + my streamer could not care less, so i heavily encourage others to add on stuff i missed

this was a multi-day competition, running for 5 days with prize rewards from 1k to 100k. it started with i think 150 players, with select numbers of people getting eliminated each round. day 1-2 are fairly normal, at least for twitch rivals. of all the games that got played through the whole event, i'd say like 1 was actually good, and maybe 2 were decent, at best. most are bad, poorly-executed, poorly thought out, or just boring in terms of both player enjoy-ability and content creation.

DAY 3 EDIT:

now, sapnap's been sapnap for this entire event already. obnoxious, a bad sport, but most notably, playing DMCA'd songs. the event ran on proximity chat, so while he was unmuted, everyone around him would also be subject to said songs, which could mute vods at worst and terminate accounts at best. most people are fed up with him at this point. while everyone's trying to come up with solutions for the glitch, sapnap spams the discord with useless shit. couriway calls him out in the discord, calling him annoying and obnoxious, then later calling him a cunt in twitch chat. sapnap uses couriway and feinberg's name in his stream title for clickbait and talks shit about them + their friends (hbg/house builder gang). he also makes some weird comment asking if couri is homophobic because sap was talking about having skeppy's dick in his mouth?? or something?? i'm unsure exactly how day 3's issue of the glitch resolved.

day 4 is also your average experience with your usual range of average to horribly painful games. sapnap continues to be a bitch and not take responsibility for his stans attacking anyone in sight, but what else is new

day 5 is. bad. the game set for deciding the final competitors can be cheesed (if you let someone else do all the work, you can punch them in the last second and steal their win) and eliminates like 20 people at once. on top of that, a glitch happens that leaves the server on standby for at least 30 minutes while admins decide what to do. firebreathman sends a picture of a bare naked ass in the discord. someone else sends a photo of their debit card. streamers entertain themselves in various ways, including growing a cactus (fulham), playing osu (purpled), collecting other people's streams for their overlay (fruitberries), playing slime rancher (badboyhalo), and building real-life furniture (couriway). tubbo (who was already eliminated at this point) starts jumping between streams and asking in chat for the tea. the game is eventually replayed, deciding the final 4 players, but it's just as broken and at that point, no one wants to be there anymore. it's revealed through multiple streamers (purpled, i believe also feinberg) that twitch rivals games are not tested before being ran. the only testing done was a stress test to see if the server could handle all original 150-some players. this explains why the games are so bad and poorly organized (some games take over an hour, others barely 30 minutes).

the final four are sapnap, shadoune, sneegsnag, and i think feinberg. it's the most anticlimatic game of connect 4 you can imagine. sneeg eliminates sapnap, and shadoune eliminates fein. notably, fein's game glitches during a throw, which despite being obviously a glitch, the coordinators brush off as being "part of the game". fein and multiple other streamers spend time analyzing every pov frame by frame and all agree that yeah, that was a glitch. shadoune and sneeg are left for the finals. they come to an agreement that this is stupid and a horrible event. tired of this bullshit, they purposefully stall the games and run a podcast for approximately 2 hours, forcing the coordinators to bend to their commands hunger games-style. essentially since the first glitch of the day people were begging twitch to just split the money, something that wouldn't be easy according to tubbo, because everything is pre-signed and delegated before the event. sneeg and shadoune give no fucks, and force the coordinators to split the money anyway, winning the day through the power of friendship. i cannot stress enough how no one wanted to fucking be there by the end of all this.

[lemonlover1110]

Double Trouble

Dad Series

Toji Fushiguro

Warnings: Pure Fluff

*I promise next update will be a fic update but it'll take a while!! Meanwhile enjoy this little holiday drabble🥹

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Ko-Fi

The twins are both extremely curious about the man who leaves Christmas gifts under the tree. More so because this person gets cookies and milks without having to beg for them. They aren’t interested in the man himself, but they wonder if he really does eat all those cookies that they leave out.

“At what time does Santa come?” Kisho asks, and Toji already senses they’re up to something. The twins are never up to something good, and he already feels the headache forming.

“We’re sleeping, honey. We don’t know.” You answer, and their tiny eyes go to Megumi. Their older brother has told them about Santa and how he’s caught the man in the act of giving gifts. He gave them a vague description of their dad, but the twins obviously didn’t catch on. Megumi shrugs, obviously not giving them any answer that could help them.

“Santa doesn’t give gifts to naughty babies so you two better not be planning anything.” Toji warns them, and they nod. They’re angels, of course they wouldn’t try to do anything! 

Not until they’re sure their parents are in bed. Then Kisho wakes up a sleeping Koemi, reminding her of their plan: Eat some of the cookies that were left out for Santa– They made sure to leave out a lot, he surely wouldn’t miss one or two cookies, right?

“Shush! Don’t wake mommy and daddy up!” Kisho makes sure that their footsteps are barely audible and they don’t make any noise so they don’t get caught in the act. They manage to make it to the living room without getting caught. Their eyes see glory as they land on the cookies. Their mouths water and their arms stretch out as they walk towards it– Until they’re lifted off the floor.

They’re about to scream but they look up to find their older brother, one that uses every bounce of his strength to carry them and hide them behind their Christmas tree. When Megumi puts them down, he puts his index finger on his lips, telling them to be quiet.

Then the twins look at their parents. Toji takes a seat on the couch, licking his lips as he looks at the cookies. Then you come along, and take a look at the storage closet that’s downstairs. You make a comment, “I think we went a little overboard with gifts this year, Toji.”

“They deserve it, baby. They might give me a headache but they’re good kids.” Toji answers. Toji tries to act all tough but he’s a softie on the inside, especially for his kids. 

“Did you make sure they were sleeping?” You ask, and Toji hums in response. The twins have never been this quiet in their life. They don’t want to get in trouble. Not until Toji reaches for the cookies, grabbing one and eating it. It’s just one cookie though, it should be fine. But then Toji eats one after the other, and Koemi can’t watch it anymore. Not when there’s only one cookie left.

“That’s for Santa, daddy!” She yells out, leaving her hiding spot. Both you and Toji are stunned to find your daughter there, and Toji furrows his brows. He walks over to his daughter, crouching down and tilting his head to the side. “What are you doing, honey? You should be sleeping.”

“I’m…” She begins, as you walk to the place she came out of and find your other two kids hiding, crossing your arms. Megumi covers his face with his palms due to the embarrassment of being caught, and Kisho mimics him. 

“Looks like you didn’t check if they were sleeping, Toji.” You look back at your husband with a frown on your face. You then look at your sons, “And it seems like Santa might not come tonight.”

“Because daddy ate all the cookies?” Kisho asks, and you shake your head. Your husband answers for you though,

“Because Santa doesn’t give gifts to naughty babies– And teenagers, isn’t that right, Megumi?”

(Spoiler alert: Santa still came and gave all the gifts to the kids.)

[jenscx]

[11] DAYLIGHT — d-day

you stared unblinking at the webcam, your stream displaying the waiting animation sakura had created for you a couple years back. the moment karina accepted your friend request on discord, you started the stream.

“hello everyone,” you smile, “today’s stream is slightly special and i’ll explain in just a minute when our mystery guest joins.”

your mouse hovers over the call button as the chat floods with comments about the ‘mystery guest’. by now, everyone had sort of figured out who the mystery guest was. could it really be counted as a mystery?

karina finally joins the call and your party in overwatch.

“hello?”

the chat goes crazy. you inwardly grimace. there’s a wave of donations and tips coming in. you didn’t know of karina’s popularity until that moment.

“we have karina joining us today,” you cringe at your cheerful tone. you can only imagine karina making fun of you later. she replies, “hi everyone, i’m karina.”

seeing as your viewers had calmed down significantly, you start to explain, “so i’m sure some of you guys are wondering why we hosted this stream. well, karina and i matched in a game and became acquainted with one another after.” you leave out the part about how karina was the cause of your account being banned.

“acquainted? didn’t you say we weren’t friends?” karina teased. you already feel a headache coming.

you try to smile, knowing that most likely, she’s also watching your stream and reactions.

“let’s just play!”

karina lets out a boisterous laugh as you quickly start a 1v1 match.

“are there any rules?” you read from the chat, “nope, but respawn is not on and we can change heroes.”

your mouse flashes across the screen, and you see karina being locked in already. knowing her, the youtuber probably picked genji to prove you wrong. a chuckle escapes your lips and you pick symmetra. the game starts.

“i’m excited,” karina remarks.

“excited to lose?”

she merely laughs. the doors finally open and you’ve never been so focused in your life. the mere prospect of having yu karina do anything you want is already egging you on. you weren’t aware of her fanbase, but you were now. with the help of kim minju of course.

“are you hiding?” you ask incredously after scouring the map for a few minutes but with no karina in sight.

“of course not, stupid.” her silky yet raspy voice reverberates in your headphones. you can’t help your cheeks heating up.

a moment passes, and you hear quick footsteps behind you. your mouse swiftly turns. she isn’t there anymore.

“you’re so annoying,” you mutter. you can hear karina’s smirk in her voice when she replies, “you like me that way.”

“i don’t like you in any way.”

“yeah?” before you even get to answer, genji jumps out of nowhere and gets a couple hits on you. you instantly snap into action, symmetra placing down her sentry turrets, combating karina’s swift movements.

‘are they flirting or arguing with each other?’

‘this is very homoerotic.’

you ignore your chat.

her health depletes slightly before she manages to escape again. you grin, already knowing that her pride wouldn’t allow her to switch to another hero. and she was so predictable that you chose a hero that counters genji.

“stop hiding and running away, it’s defeating the purpose of a 1v1,” you say.

“only if you tell me nicely, darling.” the red in your cheeks return and your chat goes berserk.

you click your tongue, irritation at yourself boiling. you were so easily flustered.

“don’t call me that!”

the blurry image of karina smirking only sends another wave of heat to your face.

“whatever you say, darling.” you roll your eyes.

“okay, stop hiding. let’s settle this for real.” at that moment, karina chooses to strike. genji apparates out of nowhere again and deals massive amounts of damage. when you use your primary fire, karina can’t deflect it. you’re left with barely a quarter of full health. you assume karina has roughly the same.

“baby, just let me win.”

you don’t even hesitate to stop firing. karina giggles as she throws one last shuriken at you. symmetra groans and the screen goes into darkness. your chat pings continuously.

defeat, in large and bold letters, shows up on your screen. your jaw drops. you only gaze at the monitor in awe. in awe of how easy you were. just a simple command from karina and you were basically turned into a lapdog. how does someone so insufferable have such a effect on you?

“what. the. hell.”

‘choi yena gifted 5 subs; park yn, don’t tell me you just lost because you’re a simp?’ the robotic voice says. you continue gaping at the screen. the humiliation of your loss only eats you up, and there’s an overwhelming urge to just end the stream without saying goodbye. in your headphones, you hear karina laughing heartily. the chat is still being flooded with comments, mostly making fun of you. not only had you lost, you lost in front of 20k people watching your devastating defeat.

“uhm,” you mumble, “so, see you guys next time.”

“thanks for the game, yn! don’t forget about our bet,” karina laughs gleefully.

your entire face turns red at this point. with clumsy hands, you end the stream, vowing to never play overwatch ever again.

masterlist | next

TAGLIST ! @flolio @imahallucination11 @wallfl9wer @edamboon @seullovesme @twicesserafim @klvarchives @rinapomu @pandafuriosa60 @jisooftme @cwpiqwon @yoontoonwhs @limbforalimb @xen248 @r4cjh @dni-unavailable @yukianism @i3lia @ryujinsdimple @httpisaoki @haerinsloverr @masuowo @multiliker @edenzeepy @1luvkarina @yeetaberry127

[hiveswap]

Neat things on r/place this year! If you squint you can see a teey tiny c!tommy close to the federation one :) i know there was a hermitcraft panel somewhere but I cannot find it anymore.

I know Turkey takes up much of that screenshot, but focus on tiny techno and geometry dash! (our allies) Turkey finally got its shit together and made itself looks pretty but they were enemies the whole way. Genshin is there because I'm pround of them for how good they did compared to last year.

I recommend looking at the small communities on the canvas, the ones barely a few pixels across. it's the dedication of a small community dead set on representing their interests or identity.

Sadly I couldn't listen to the full conversation with technodad's assistant in the technoplace discord yesterday, (well, today 2 am..) but I think it's great that she was even there!

i'm also glad that I could be here again this year. There's a bit more time to go before it closes, but I want to already say that building art of someone who meant a lot to all of us in the mcyt(blr) community was worth the stress (drama, admin corruption, toxicity, griefing) again.

[angelasscribbles]

Audrey's Broken Heart

Fandom: Astrea's Broken Heart (Romance Club)

Pairings: Audrey (F!MC) x multiple LI's

Word Count: 2,479

Rating: MA for mentions of violence

Warnings for this chapter: mentions of violence (canon), slight sexual innuendo.

A/N: So that last chapter (season 2, chapter 1) left something to be desired in my mind. So I rewrote it and tweaked a few things.

I have no idea who to tag other than @harleybeaumont because I don't know who is into this story and I can't even remember the RC blog that is like CFWC so here it goes out into the ether. May the odds be ever in it's favor!

My other stuff: Master List.

The world spun as I lay on my back, gazing up at the stained glass window above me.

So this is how I die.

The fucking irony.

I had escaped one religious cult only to fall victim to another… after a lifetime of avoiding and rejecting even the most mundane churches and religious philosophies.

How? How had I ended up here?

This was Ruth’s fault.

Assigning blame wouldn’t help me now. I needed help, but there was no one to call. My cell phone was gone, and no one even knew where I was. Instead, I prayed. I prayed to a God I had ceased to believe in. I prayed fervently as I cast my eyes around the church searching for a way out… a weapon… an ally…. Anything of use.

There was nothing.

Nothing and no one. And no response from God.

I closed my eyes against the inevitable. A deep, all-encompassing grief spread through me.

I wasn’t ready to die. 

Faces flashed through my mind, but not the ones you would think.

It wasn’t my parents or a lost love that occupied my dying thoughts. No. It was the four men who had inexplicably become my whole world.

David. He had offered to come with me or at least drive me here, but I hadn’t let him. I should have let him. But then he’d be in the same predicament. David. Sweet, sarcastic, passionate. The world needed him in it. At least I could die knowing he was safe. That was some amount of comfort.

Mikael. Would he be disappointed? Sad? I thought so, but I wasn’t sure. There seemed to be a connection between us, but nothing tangible, nothing ever spoken. He was the consummate professional. He would be there to comfort the others.

Cassiel. His job was to protect us. Where was he now? Would he blame himself? I hoped not. He was already too serious, too angry at the world. Despair filled me as I realized that the progress we’d made would die with me. All those cracks in his armor would refill and seal shut forever.

Raphael. He lived with a deep, pervasive sadness. This would only make it worse. It might destroy him. He was too good for this world. Compassionate. Caring. Vulnerable. As I lay dying, I swore I could feel his soft lips on mine again.

There was a commotion and my eyes fluttered open, but what I saw didn’t make any sense. Or maybe it did.

I saw an angel, which was appropriate because I was dying. Had he come to collect my soul?

I could feel my life slipping away. I was too weak to fight anymore, too weak to even cry out for help, too weak to understand what was happening around me.

No one was trying to kill me anymore. The cult members had scattered. A booming voice filled the room, promising damnation and darkness.

The angel was raining vengeance down on the evildoers. It would have made me happy if I’d had the energy to feel anything at all.

Through the last vestiges of consciousness, my fog addled brain registered something wholly impossible.

The angel…. It was Raphael.

My eyes closed again as I sank into the darkness.

The next thing I was aware of was the warmth of my own bed.

My body was leadened. I couldn’t move or speak, but I knew I was home, and more importantly, alive.

Barely.

I was vaguely aware of voices as I faded in and out of consciousness. Distressed murmurs. Fervent pleas to live. Voices that rose and fell in discord and grief.

When my eyes opened, I was in a verdant valley of lush green grass and rolling hills. The sky above me was a vibrant blue.

Across the valley was a glimmering golden light pulsating from an open portal. I could feel the peace emanating from it. I felt pulled toward it. I wanted to go to it, enter it, and forget all the pain and chaos of the world I’d left behind, but when I took a step toward it, I felt an equally compelling pull in the other direction. I turned to look back and found myself staring down at my own body.

Mikael perched next to me holding my hand, heedless of the blood covering it, and now him. “I can’t hear her.” His voice was filled with despair.

I felt his touch and the pull to go back became slightly stronger. I took a step in that direction and paused again, casting a glance back at that golden glow that promised peace.

My mother appeared beside me. Laying her hand on my shoulder, she gave me a look filled with compassion, love, and regret. “It’s up to you if you go back or not.”

“Mom?” My voice quivered. I opened my mouth but couldn’t decide which of the million questions spilling through my head I should ask.

Before I could process the fact that my mother was with me, that I was being offered a choice between continuing life or not; before I could ask her anything, the pull from my body grew stronger.

“You were sent to us for a reason, Audrey…”

I looked back to see Mikael holding my body close to his. Mikael covered in my blood. Mikael pouring his healing energy into my broken body. Mikael with tears of grief pouring down his face. My choice was made, and I was suddenly back in my body.

“I’m sorry, Audrey, but healing souls is beyond my power…”

What power was he talking about? I still couldn’t speak, couldn’t open my eyes. Everything hurt. He lowered me onto the bed and laid his head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat. He started to pull away from me, but I finally managed to move, wrapping my arms around him weakly.

He froze. Hope filled his voice. “Audrey?”

I clutched at him tighter, and he moved so that he was lying next to me, cradling me in his arms. “It’s okay, Audrey. I’m here, I’m here.”

“Audrey?” It was Raphael’s voice, and it flooded me with memories of dying. Quiet but terrified sounds issued from the back of my throat.

He tried again. “Audrey, you are home. You are safe.”

Yes. Home. Safe. Raphael was here, Mikael was here. I was safe. My eyes fluttered open and my heart surged with joy and relief when I saw his face. Then my gaze dropped to his white shirt, rumpled and soaked in blood. Was it my blood? Or the blood of the cult members?

No. That was impossible.

The image of Raphael as an avenging angel came back to me, and I swear I saw him that way again. Standing in my bedroom at Astrea, glowing with wings sprouting from his back. I clutched harder to Mikael as I shrank away from him.

Pain flashed through Raphael’s eyes. “Audrey, I saved you. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

I blinked several times. One moment he had wings, the next moment he didn’t. I was losing my mind. Of course Raphael would never hurt me.

Mikael held me tight and reassured me. “It’s okay, Audrey. Raphael would never hurt you.” Then to Raphael, “She’s been through a trauma. She needs time.”

“Of course, I’ll go.” He sounded so broken that my heart shattered.

“Wait!” I cried out. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Audrey. Would you like me to take away the memory?”

I blinked up at him as he approached. “What?”

“I can take away the memory of what you saw.”

“How?”

He gave me a sad smile. “The same way Mikael healed you. There are things about us that you don’t know. Your memories will be recoverable, but this will give your mind a chance to heal before we confront all that.”

“No.” I shook my head as a vision of my mother in a verdant meadow flashed through my mind. “Don’t take my memories. Just…. Hold me for a moment?”

Mikael released me as I was engulfed in Raphael’s arms. I clung to him as if my life depended on it. He had saved me. Twice now. The memory of him catching me when I had fallen swirled through my mind. I had no idea what he was or if my mind had been playing tricks on me in that church, but to the very core of my soul, I knew that this being would never hurt me. None of them would. The tears started as my body began to shake, a delayed reaction to the horror I had experienced.

A clatter in the hallway drew everyone’s attention. Mikael excused himself to check on it. I heard raised voices in the hallway. Mikael’s and David’s.

Snippets of the conversation floated in to me. Enough to discern that David had done something to the villagers and that Mikael wasn’t happy about it.

I pushed away from Raphael and looked up into his face. “Let him in. I want David. Please!”

I needn’t have asked. The next moment, he was barging through the door. “Audrey! Audrey, are you okay?”

I pushed myself up into sitting as he threw himself onto the bed. Another man covered in blood, but not mine. David hadn’t been there like Raphael and he wasn’t the one that had healed me like Mikael.

The cult members. The villagers. I instinctively knew whose blood it was and why. He hadn’t been there in time to rescue me, but he had avenged me, and I loved him for it.

“I think so,” I answered as he pulled my body this way and that, inspecting me for injuries. When he was satisfied that I was no longer dying, he embraced me fiercely as tears slipped down his face. “I thought we had lost you!”

“I’m here. I’m alive. Thanks to Raphael and Mikael.”

Raphael wrapped his arms around me from the other side, and the three of us sat that way for a long while.

When David pulled away to wipe the wetness from his face, I looked around the room to find Mikael standing awkwardly at the end of the bed. I gave him a weak smile. There was only one person missing.

Before I could ask where he was, Cassiel appeared in the doorway, as if summoned by my thoughts.

“How is she—” his question was cut short as his eyes fell on me sitting up in the bed.

He then did the most un-Cassiel thing I’d ever seen. A smile of relief and joy lit up his face as he bound across the room and leapt onto the bed unceremoniously knocking the other men out of his way as he scooped me into his arms and hugged me firmly against him while raining kisses on the top of my head. “Audrey, you’re alive!”

“Yes!” a laugh burst out of me despite the terror I’d been through. Cassiel acting like an over exuberant puppy was possibly even more surprising and unlikely than me being kidnapped by a deranged cult.

I looked around at the other three men, but none of them seemed upset at being displaced.

David was a little bemused while Raphael radiated nothing but happiness. Mikael wore a thoughtful expression as his eyes traveled from me to each of the other men.

The image of wings sprouting from Raphael’s back was still occasionally there when I gazed at him, but it was fading as I convinced myself that part had been a dream.

But I was healed. Raphael had managed to save me somehow. Mikael had done something to bring me back. Raphael had admitted to having powers. And David had somehow gotten to the village and back in a time frame that didn’t seem wholly possible.

I pushed all of that to the side. There would be time for questions later. I needed a shower. And food.

Cassiel released me and moved away as if suddenly embarrassed by his outburst. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I told him before requesting privacy for a shower.

I stood before the bathroom mirror and inspected my body. There were no cuts, scrapes, bruises, or other signs of the torture I had endured.

How was that possible?

I hugged myself for a moment before stepping under the spray of hot water. Whatever had happened, I was happy to be alive and whole again. At least physically.

When I emerged from the shower, there were fresh, clean sheets on my bed. I sank into it gratefully.

One by one, the guys showed back up. Mikael brought food with him. I devoured it. I guess almost dying works up an appetite. I noticed they had all showered and changed as well. All physical proof of my ordeal had been erased. My body had been healed. My mind and soul were going to take a little longer.

Cassiel was the first to move toward the door. “I guess we should get out of here and let you get some rest.”

My cheeks flamed red as I stared down at my comforter and asked, “Could one of you stay?”

David spoke up immediately. “I’ll stay!”

“We’ll take turns.” Mikael’s tone brooked no disagreement.

“Fine,” David acquiesced, “I’ll take the first shift.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Raphael said. “You’ve been through a horrible ordeal. It’s normal to need support.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be here in two hours to relieve you,” Cassiel told David, then turning his attention to me said, “We won’t leave you alone and I promise no one will ever hurt you again.”

Something in his tone made my heart race. I believed him.

The others trailed out of the room. Someone clicked the light off.

David gazed at me with the same intensity he always did, but all the playfulness was gone. “Tell me what you need, little witch.”

The familiar nickname earned a small smile from me as I snuggled into the covers. “Just talk to me until I fall asleep.”

“I can do that.”

“Would it be weird if I asked you to lay in the bed with me?”

His mischievous grin finally returned. “If I ever say no to that, go ahead and shoot me because I’ve clearly lost my mind.”

“Stop it,” I scoffed, “I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

He climbed into bed and tenderly wrapped his arms around me. As if he were afraid I would break. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” My body relaxed into his. I listened to the sound of his voice as the horror of the day receded a little.

As I slipped off to sleep, I knew one thing for certain. Everything bad that had ever happened to me had happened outside these walls. Whatever was going on in here, I was safe. I was surrounded by love. I was home.

[antihbki]

Hi. I am here to discuss the tumblr users @/kotocest, known mainly in the radqueer community as Ciel, and his girlfriend @/radikyuu, who is known mainly as Kyuumi or Opphie.

Potentially triggering content ahead. Please read forward with caution.

I met Ciel and Kyuumi in September of 2023. I met Kyuumi first in a syscord/system discord server (which I will not be naming for the safety and privacy of the staff and server members), and was later introduced to Ciel.

From the start, it was obvious things were a little off. Kyuumi would often vent in the previously mentioned server about feeling gross or horrible about doing things or behaving a certain way and included that she doesn't think she could change because "he" wouldn't like her anymore. A little down the line, I found out that "he" was referring to Ciel.

Her vents weren't the only concerning aspect, though. It was clear how unstable she was when Ciel wasn't around or when someone said something about him that ticked him off. Anytime someone pointed out his toxic behavior towards her, Kyuumi would get super upset and would eventually spiral and break down because of it. Ciel would use this to his advantage and claim that she experienced such strong feelings regarding him because she was a "part of him" or because she was a "clone" of him, which would only serve as a way for Ciel to strengthen the leash he already had on Kyuumi. These are still things Kyuumi still seemingly believes, which only leads me to assume that he is still pushing this belief onto her.

There would be numerous occasions of Kyuumi coming to panic to me in DMs about these things, too. One time was especially alarming, and I am only comfortable talking about this because she herself has publicly admitted to this situation taking place. Kyuumi messaged me around 2 in the morning, telling me that she thought she was going to die. Her messages were vague and barely readable, but from what I could understand, she had injured herself in some way and was losing a lot of blood. I told her to call an ambulance, to which she responded that she couldn't. After asking why, I was blocked. After hours of staying awake, waiting for her to tell me that she was okay, I received a message from Ciel at around 10 pm. He informed me that Kyuumi was in the hospital but claimed he didn't know what happened. I asked why she blocked me, but he told me he didn't know. The next day, he admitted to encouraging her to harm herself, saying that he never intended for her to be harmed so bad, but said he didn't know why she said she couldn't call an ambulance.

Fast forward to Kyuumi coming out of the hospital, I approached her about the topic and told her what I knew, and this was when she told me about Ciel threatening her into not calling an ambulance. According to Kyuumi, the two of them were in a vc when he encouraged her to do it. Here is a screenshot of what she said to me.

|| start ||

|| end ||

While I am going to try to be neutral for most of this post, I fully believe that he was trying to kill her. This is not the only time something like this has happened.

As you can see in that last message, Kyuumi had told me before about the fact that she had sent pictures to him. She came to me after she sent them to him and told me about what she did, and said it made her feel disgusting and horrible about her body. When I tried to comfort her, she broke down and told me the things he said about her after he saw the pictures of her. She also told me about some transphobic behavior he was displaying. Here is a screenshot of her explaining that to me.

|| start ||

|| end ||

I point this part out because Kyuumi is a trans girl. She mentions in the screenshot that she asked him to avoid making comments about that specific part of her, and he disrespected that boundary and made those comments anyway. After this, she was left feeling very dysphoric and did not speak to me much.

This part is especially upsetting because Kyuumi was closeted about being a trans woman at the time. She was going by he/him pronouns and was almost exclusively using masculine terms and publicly claimed to be a trans man, but Ciel and I (as well as one other mutual friend) were aware of Kyuumi's identity. Despite Kyuumi trusting Ciel with such an important part of her identity, he went out of his way to upset her and make her uncomfortable.

She forgave him for this situation very quickly, but this behavior from Ciel continued and went unaddressed.

I witnessed Ciel manipulate her on many different occasions, and he was comfortable doing it with me present. Oftentimes, when they would argue, he would briefly mention the argument to their mutual friends, but he would always paint her out to be the one in the wrong. This led to many of our mutual friends hating Kyuumi for a while, and we even had a group chat made for the purpose of discussing what we thought was Kyuumi being an abuser. After a while, and after multiple friends cut Kyuumi off due to her supposed abusive behavior, Ciel confirmed himself on a call with me that he had been portraying her like that with the goal of isolating her. I tried to speak up and tell him how wrong that is, but I was threatened with never hearing from either of them again.

I didn't believe that he would make her stop talking to me, but I didn't take any chances and instead spoke to a friend who went on to confront him. After xe confronted Ciel, xe was blocked by both of them and removed from all of their group chats and servers. As far as I can tell, this is still something he has her do (cutting off people who call him out or who he doesn't like).

Ciel's emotional and physical mistreatment and abuse of Kyuumi is something that I have kept my mouth shut about due to the fear of being cut out of Kyuumi's life, but that ended up happening about a month ago anyways. I no longer have contact with her or Ciel, but given some of the things I have heard about their relationship, this abuse is still going on, and Kyuumi has begun to claim it is consensual.

I am not expecting this to be spread or have much attention paid to it, but I made this because I am tired of being quiet.

Thank you for your time.

[femslashfeb]

HELLO ALL

TLDR

No reblogging from the blog this year - posting prompts tomorrow the 31st

For the past few years I've very much struggled with reblogging everyone's activity in the tag. So this year I will not be doing so.

(OR maybe I will? I just don't want to commit)

Even if I knew how to make a bot that reblogs - a lot of people still use the unique tag to tag outside challenges. So I've always had to hand submit. However it became too stressful for me and for the past few years I ended up avoiding it until later weeks or even months.

If you noticed I didn't finish reblogging last year so- I've just given up on that.

Honestly I've struggled a lot with depression for the last 7 years or so. It's been harder and harder to find my way back to tumblr. It doesn't help that my phone can barely handle the amount of apps it already has.

My main account @puff-pink hardly ever updates because of my big sad. And I don't know if I'll ever get back on the horse in the same way I did before.

Some of you know me as an artist, and tho I still churn out subpar art for my day-job I've struggled a lot to make art for myself during my depression. Partially because one year I overworked my hand - and still deal in continual wrist aches. Even the weeks I don't pick up a drawing tool.

I intended this challenge for myself and maybe the small fandoms I was in at the time. But it took off among writers and creators of all types across all fandoms.

One year I even tried to tally the most popular fandoms but there were honestly too many to keep track of- and I stopped after the first three pages of submissions.

I don't claim to have invented the concept of FemSlash February. Before I started the prompts I swear I had heard the phrase somewhere. Tho not sure where. Perhaps it had been amongst my friends on Skype. Back when I had online friends and Skype(I'm still not sold on Discord🤷‍♀️).

However that January I thought it would be fun to partake in a challenge of some kind. But scouring tumblr and the general internet. I could only find half hearted efforts on fanfiction sites from years past.

I'm so proud of all my Sapphic creators on here that have partaken every year. Even if I've never shown favoritism or awarded anyone. I do notice those that actually complete the challenge AND those that keep coming back each year(looking at you H20 writer(I don't remember your username but there's a mermaid writer that's a writing machine)). I truly am proud of you especially in my shriveled state of creativity. Thank you for your efforts. For your hype. And for your love of women of all kinds across all the universes.

Each year I'm surprised to find even more categories I never thought to include. From mood boards, to doll photography, to ofc the classic art and writing. May your pencils forever be in union with your sister mediums.

On that note. There is a strict NO AI GENERATED ART or writing this year.

Not that I could physically stop anyone who does use AI. But I do not want that sort of thing associated with this challenge. It's become scarily good in 2023 to the point it can't always be identified. So I simply ask for the honor system when it comes to AI generated creations.

That being said. If you've made it to the end of this post:

Prompts will be posted tomorrow.

I usually prefer to give yall more of a buffer, but I've been busy. Both with Big Sad, rescuing some feral cats, my own life, errands, chores and work.

If you're still here- here is a preview of the first three days.

FEB 1 - black

FEB 2 - spring

FEB 3 - cake

The 14th as usual will be some sort of Valentine romance type theme(haven't decided specifically yet) and as always there will be a Rest Day.

Expect some repeat prompts. In the past I tried to avoid them but idc anymore.

It's also a Leap Year this year so expect one extra prompt to throw off the symmetry of what's normally 28 days.

Thanks for coming back this year. And thank you to those that still check on this blog.

❤️🧡🤍💜🩷

Keep loving girls

-PuffPink

[amazingmsme]

i shared my time loop idea on discord and someone wrote some stuff for it!!!

Odysseus gasped awake. He choked on air, again, again, until his body remembered that he wasn't dying anymore. Phantom water still sloshed in his lungs, rushed in his ears. "Captain?" "Eurylochus." Odysseus rasped it out, as he always did. As it always happened. "Captain - the men, they're ready to depart." Eurylochus was looking at him from the doorway to the captain's quarters, and Odysseus averted his eyes from the warm brown. Odysseus felt his lips twitch, a barely-there smile. "Have them at the oars, Eurylochus. Let us start again." Eurylochus made to step away from the entryway, but froze. "Again, Captain?" "Aye, to your post, Eurylochus." Odysseus dismissed his brother-in-law coldly. He had things to write down, before he forgot. Maps to amend. But he could feel it - Charybdis was a disaster they could avoid. Odysseus grinned, but it was the type of baring of teeth on a starving wolf, on a corpse gone stiff. He would do this, or die trying.

While Odysseus watches, hands behind his back, expressionless except for the clench in his jaw, the men ready each of the black ships. The oars thunk into the sand, the tides high enough to ease their way - and then with mighty shouts of "HEAVE, MEN!" they are under way. Their sails fill with air. Odysseus glances at the position of the sun, and knows they will have perfect wind until a dozen days' time from now. The food will run out on the fifteenth day. His left wrist begins to ache from where he is grinding the fragile bones under a crushing grip. Odysseus breathes in, deep, through his nose. Lets the air whistle past his teeth, something in the tune an echo of the Song, of the times he's tied himself to the mast. It comforts him. It is familiar. The route is held in his head, blocking out all the other memories that crowd under the fragile surface of his calmer thoughts. The thinnest of ice above the treacherous sea. Breathe. Odysseus inhales. He whistles out an exhale. He does it again, again. Eurylochus looks back from where he's at the helm, worry in the twist of his mouth, the furrow of his brow. "Eyes forward, Second!" Odysseus barks. Eurylochus snaps to attention, the cadence of battle thrumming in Odysseus twanging the other man's own senses. There was a time that Odysseus told his crew everything he knew. Now, it was clear that they were not to be trusted with the truth. It made them nervous. It made them break. None of them had the luxury to splinter like sodden wood meeting the rocks, all wailing and weeping. They must sail fast, sail careful. "Full speed ahead, Eurylochus. Make the men take shifts throughout the night - I want someone always on the oars." Odysseus paced the aft, This time, his Second does not look away from the sea in front of him, merely answers "Yes, sir."

MDGWKSVDKF MY SOUL IS GONNA LEAVE MY BODY WHEN YOU POST THE WHOLE THING THIS IS ALREADY SO GOOOOOD!!!

[husbandograveyard]

This is my contribution to a secret santa discord server event. This fic is warm and fluffy and I LOVED writing it, I love these characters SO much. I hope you like it too!

Warnings/notes/tags are: polyamory, unspecified AU where Geto is not evil, unspecified whether this is a non-cursed world or a jujutsu AU where we just ignore the presence of curses. Loads and loads and loads of fluff.

2nd person. Reader is genderneutral, no pronouns are used.

Spending the winter holidays with Geto and Gojo is… 

…finding time in your busy schedules so the three of you can enjoy a winter market.

Strolling along the little stalls, taking in the views and the smells. It’s winter, and it has been dark for a while, but all the twinkling lights decorating the stalls reflecting into the white snow -both real and fake- make up for all that darkness. The smells are a little overwhelming at first, all kinds of stalls lined up flooding your senses with strong, sweet odors, heavy spices and the warmth of grilled meats… it’s a lot, combined with the sights and the jolly music playing from the speakers spread around the market, you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. 

It doesn’t help that Satoru is immediately overly enthusiastic, ready to spend money on souvenirs and gifts for all the students and everyone else he knows, and pointing out all the stalls he’d like to try the food at. He’d run off without you two if it weren’t for Suguru’s quick reflexes, grabbing onto the hood of his jacket and janking him back. Suguru’s holding your hand firmly in his, grounding you from all the things overwhelming your senses. 

You stroll past the stalls, for some reason holding a whole bunch of bags from Satoru, who just can’t seem to stop getting stuff. At every stall there is something that reminds him of one of his studens, his friends or either of you, and he just has to get it. 

You leave the market filled with all kinds of foods and drinks, Suguru suggesting a little break amongst the food stalls, and Gojo getting a little bit of everything to sample, completely filling the little table you are standing at with various containers and plates, one smelling and looking more delicious than the other. You have to fight a little to ensure you get to sample some of the sweet desserts, and all three of you end up with smears on your faces from various sauces- feeding each other is romantic only when you don’t joke around and miss mouths on purpose (and of course you had to have revenge). 

… snuggling up on the couch, shivering and sniffling, full of regret but still shaking from laughter, after Suguru sneakily started a snowball fight on your way home. 

You had felt the cold snow collide with the back of your head and turned around immediately, throwing an accusatory glare at Satoru, who immediately put his hands up in defense. 

“I swear y/n- It wasn’t me I-…” 

His pleas immediately interrupted by yet another snowball, this one narrowly missing the tip of his nose, the both of you whipping your heads around to see Suguru standing with his hands hidden behind his back, giving you both his most innocent smile before grinning and throwing two more snowballs at the both of you simultaneously, a remarkable display of his aim and strength. Though this time you saw them coming and both you and Satoru managed to duck away in time, already grabbing handfuls of snow for your counter-offense. 

The two-against-one-match quickly turned into an all-out battle where each of you had to fend for themselves, because you slipped and nearly fell, throwing one of your snowballs to Satoru, who had promptly declared you his enemy as well. 

You spent almost two hours laughing, running around, hiding from snowballs and each other, you felt like kids again. As if there was not a single care in the world. You continued until your stomach hurt from laughing, your fingers ached from the cold, and you could barely feel your face anymore. 

The minute your little snowball fight was over, you realized just how much snow had melted and had managed to get through to your clothes, despite your gloves, scarf and jacket protecting you from most of the cold. 

You went back inside, changing into warm clothes, fluffy socks and cuddling up on the couch. You put on a silly movie for some background noise and entertainment, Suguru retrieved the blankets and Satoru prepped hot cocoa, overflowing your mugs with way too many mini marshmallows, offering to ‘help’ either one of you if you thought there were too many for you to eat- how kind of him. 

You sat in between the two men, knees pulled up and neatly tucked under the blanket. You barely registered the movie you put on, too busy getting warmed up and enjoying the serenity and pure happiness you felt in that moment. 

…making all kinds of plans, only to spend most of the holiday resting and chilling. 

There were things that had to be done: some household chores as well as work, and there were some things that you wanted to do for fun. Going to visit a new shopping center nearby, explore some city sights you hadn’t had the chance to. You wanted to go out on some dates, go for long walks enjoying the winter landscapes, relax, not worry and stress too much. There was work to be done, but work would always be there, and opportunities to relax and do fun things were scarce, especially in periods where the three of you were available. 

Suguru is a go with the flow kind of person, so he’s happy to tag along to whatever plans you make. Satoru however, is like a kid in a candy store when there is suddenly a lot of free time on your hands, and he is on the couch with his laptop in no time, ready to order tickets to anything you wanna visit, booking trips, and talking about so many plans you wonder out loud where he thinks he’s going to find the time to do all that. 

The fact that you finally can relax makes all the plans seem exciting though, and initially you are 100% behind Satoru, adding on suggestions, sending him links and scrolling on your phone, doing additional research for a lot of the places and activities he suggests. You do listen to Suguru who suggests only really booking things when you’re sure you can go do it, when timing, planning, transport, other plans and your energy levels are all aligned and allow you to do the activity.

He turns out to be the voice of reason, cause all three of you have such a hard time getting up in the morning, finally getting to sleep in (and it’s quite hard getting up when you’re in someone else's arms, comfortable and warm). 

Chores -unless really necessary- get postponed, plans get cancelled. Instead you stay in, watching silly movies, and finally catching up on the latest series you really wanted to watch. You go on walks together, exploring your own neighborhood and stopping at restaurants you haven’t had the chance to try out yet. You focus all your time and effort on quality time and enjoying the time all three of you have together. And you very quickly realize that truly, you do not need to have big and exciting plans to make the most of your winter break. 

… sharing a bed, because it is ‘cold’ outside. 

You leave your windows open at night, because it’s healthier, and you don’t like feeling all stuffy in the morning. There is a certain charm about entering a cold room and snuggling underneath the warm blankets, warming up as you fall asleep, and waking up in your own little warm cocoon. Especially if you have no further responsibilities that day, your blankets keeping you trapped in bed on a cold winter day, sleeping in. 

It is a little less exciting though when the temperatures drop abruptly, and the room is not nice and chilly, but actually is freezing when you go in. You are shivering when you get changed, and your blankets just don’t feel right. Your feet might as well be blocks of ice in your warm, fuzzy, socks. 

It only takes a few minutes of tossing and turning before you decide you need to get a better source of heat in your bed. Or a bed, doesn’t necessarily matter which one. 

So you wrap yourself in a blanket, carefully closing the door behind you, and shuffle your way through the dark hallway, only to find Satoru -your current target- standing in the hallway, mirroring yourself with his blanket wrapped around you as well. 

“It’s too cold in my room”, is the only thing you can blurt out as an explanation, feeling the overwhelming need to explain, even though that’s not necessary. He just nods in acknowledgement, and you need no further words between the two of you to know what the next step is. 

Suguru is already peacefully asleep in a room that’s colder than the rest of the house, but not freezing temperature. Leave it to him to actually properly figure out when to open and close the windows in his room to reach maximum oxygen and the best possible temperature to still be able to snuggle underneath the blankets without risking to freeze overnight. 

Suguru is a quiet sleeper, almost too silent, and you worry you might have woken him up by opening his door. But you didn’t; he merely stirs in his sleep, lips parting in a quiet sigh, hand moving up a little to lay on top of the raven hair that’s splayed upon his pillow. 

You are both as quiet as possible when you enter, Suguru only waking up when you both slip into the bed to either side of him, piling your blankets on top of him and snuggling close. There is a brief moment of surprise, followed by a very sleepy nod of acknowledgement. All three of you take a little time to adjust to three people in the bed, and it’s not entirely sure whose limbs are entangling with who, but it doesn’t matter as you can already feel your body relaxing the second you find a comfortable position. 

Your eyelids grow heavy while you hear Suguru and Satoru quietly converse in the background. You squeeze an arm that is around you, a quiet way of saying goodnight. 

…feeling warm, no matter the temperature. Because you are safe. You are loved. 

[circular-bircular]

I'm putting this blog to rest.

I'm done. I'm out. And god, is it a relief.

You might notice I'm posting this around the same time that SAS is posting a major post in an effort to light the tag on fire. I highly doubt it'll work, but it's the best attempt. Me and SAS are close. Nearly one in the same, some days...

You'll notice the end of the post says, "just wait for what happens next."

This is what happens next.

I'm deleting my syscourse blogs. Finally. No "maybe I will" or "I've been considering it." I've been considering it for a loooong time, and I've actually been intending on getting rid of Circular's-Reasoning for awhile now. I just... haven't had the energy to.

But now... My life is moving on. I'm moving on, quite literally, I gain possession of my new house... probably today when I end up posting this. I'm not sure, it's my first draft, we'll see how this goes. That's terrifying to realize. I'm like... an adult. I'm an adult who's craving good conversations about my disorder, about systemhood and how it's conceptualized, and more intricate parts of my selfhood. And... Syscourse just is not that.

I've done this sort of thing before, if you all know MotCR -- @memoriesofthecircularroom, for the uninitiated. That's the OG Circular Blog, and is an archive of the first few years of syscourse. But... Now, it's going to become a bit more. Here's my game plan.

I update MotCR to be the Circular Archive. Anything I think needs archiving -- good posts of mine, silly reblogs, or just good posts overall where I added something of my own -- will get reblogged there. It's gonna be busy for a bit.

In the meantime while I start that process, I answer any and all final questions/asks or drafts that've been in the works. I don't want to leave people hanging.

I delete a lot of blogs. And... I do mean a lot -- not even just the syscourse ones. Just the ones I think it's time to let go of.

I've often teased how many blogs I have. It's fluctuated wildly in the past. But here's the down and dirty. Here's what I own, and what I'm planning on removing.

@circular-bircular (Hi, Hello, You're Here)

@circulars-reasoning (Already planned to be gone awhile ago)

@systemquirks (I just don't have the energy to run it, and I'm so sorry for that)

@yourfaveissecretlysas (Yes, I am the one running that)

@system-confessions (Surprise! No name blog that barely exists, again, I don't have the energy)

@debunkingsyscourse (Look, I make these too easily)

@equalsys (Not sure how this is a shocker to anyone)

@ricejustdidthings (An old system-no-syscourse blog I have that I don't use anymore)

@my-systems-cringe (Been meaning to delete this for ages)

@circulars-answers (Unneeded)

And potentially one other, unnamed for now blog -- that's the one I've never told people I have outside of select discords...

So that's 11 blogs I'm getting rid of, potentially more. And that's with me still keeping 2 syscourse blogs and an 18+ system blog. Jesus christ.

It feels good to get it off my chest, though. It feels really good to be leaving.

"But Circ! Your posts make me happy!"

Fantastic! You can follow the new system blog I'm going to be making, @thecircularsystem (is that link working? I don't know, it's a brand new blog.)

Try this link out instead if that doesn't work!

I'm still going to be posting system related content there. I'm still going to be doing my normal random shit that I always do. I may even dabble in syscourse -- and definitely in sysconversation. I like that tag! But I'm not going to be doing syscourse nearly as often, and I'm going to try and stay out of that tag in search of reblogs and such. Too often, it results in me getting aggressive with someone, rather than just... spreading good information about systems, or existing online as I want to exist.

I just need a refresh. A new step, a big change. I'm moving on.

I really hope you all can too <3

[jacksprostate]

My ears are ringing, Bob is tilting my face up, looking me in the eye, his lips are moving like he's an angel sent by god, surrounded in haze and sweat, his beautiful perfect part doubled the same as his eyes. I am not a proper prophet. My face is slack, putty in the big moosie's bruised knuckle hands.

He'd signed up to fight me. The others, they've been avoiding it nowadays. They look at me with respect I don't think I've earned and fear I think I have. That kid, that angel faced baby, no one has seen him since I broke the third rule of fight club. It is my proximity to Tyler that protects me from retaliation, I think. Even though I've not seen him in weeks.

Bob is probably the only member of fight club who thinks I don't have balls.

Bob struggled with the sixth rule for a while. The first time I saw him in that basement, switched on over to his perfect heyday of a Tuesday, the first time I saw his tits swinging around you would have thought I saw god. There was the man who cradled me to sleep the past few years. There was the man who cracked open the miserable remains of his life to let me in, right into his large, loving chest.

I'm not sure, actually, if Bob thinks I don't have balls, or if he thinks I've accepted the cancer and chose to let them kill me. The way he looks at me sometimes, like I'm something admirable, like I'm a dead man walking. I wonder if we've become the same to each other. Does he see me how I see him?

Bob, the big moosie, the big cheesebread, he corners me after club sometimes. It's not so much that I let him as that with Tyler gone, no one is tugging me out. These guys, they think every move is purposeful. I'm just some plastic waste caught in the wind. Drifting. I've been left to run all this on my own, I know Tyler's out franchising, it boils something bad in me. And Bob is here, Bob's arms have always let me rest.

Bob, Bob, Bob. He's finally stopped trying to push his testosterone too hard. He says, he's seeking balance. He looks to me and I have nothing. He's not getting his tits cut open. He doesn't want to lose range of motion, he says, doesn't want to risk losing fight club.

He says, "I don't know what your name is. Not anymore. But, Cornelius, Tyler, you gave me something to wake up for. I think about the heat of the stage, now I can go to the dank hell of the basement. I think about my wife, I think about you. I think about how my perfect dehydrated shrink wrapped body wouldn't've been able to beat you to shit fifteen minutes ago."

We are out on the steps of the bar, his voice is still coming in discordant with my ears a half dimension to the left.

I lean into him. I let him tuck my face between his tits, bare, warm and sweaty. I shudder and cry. I cry what's left of my brain out, and Bob holds me like I'm crystal, like I'm an antique glass penguin from the world's most prestigious menagerie. Like if he squeezes my skull too hard, it'll pop open like a zit, crack like an egg from an eagle pumped with DDT. I'm over easy. Sunny side up, he turns my face back to his and lets his tears fall into mine.

"God, you're crazy," Bob says, voice warbling, like it's some realization he's been slowly coming to, something he's not wanted to face, but now he has and he can get over it. "You're like, fifteen different cats in one tiny bag. You're not doing well at all."

I tell Bob, I'm sorry I don't have testicular cancer.

I'm sorry I lied to you, Bob Paulson. I'm sorry I used your misery and sympathy to sleep like a baby. Like one of those little commercial angels.

Bob's eyes are small in his face, wet, crushed up by his cheeks and brows. His thumbs wipe the wrinkles from mine until I'm soft, inert like uncooked porcelain. If he wants me to be, I'll be it. I tell him that. Bob, if you want it, I'll chop my balls off. It would be fair. Fair like us strewn out on the basement floor.

"I already knew," Bob says. "That's why I knocked your head in tonight. It's okay."

It's not, I say.

Bob says, "It is. I told you, at some point, I started noticing. Maybe it was my fault I didn't notice before. You were miserable enough that I couldn't tell, though, and I think that makes the difference."

We cry on each other some more. We're sitting, I'm in his lap, but I push up to cry over his shoulder. It's different. I let myself clutch at his greased hair. Bob, I tell him. Tyler left me, he brought me all the way here and he left me, but I think he's still around. I miss him. He treats me like dogshit, and I miss him.

Maybe it's because Bob's big, warm hand is holding, cradling me in my own head.

He says, "I think I know things about you that you don't like. I don't think you've ever knowingly spoken as much as you have just now, huh."

I'd love to say no. I do presentations at work. I tell single-serving friends on airplanes what I do. I read out the rules of fight club on nights I'm there and Tyler's not. I'd love to say no.

I'm not lying to Bob anymore, though. So I introduce myself, instead, and he says, "Okay." He says, "Okay. Let me bring you home."

[where-i-overanalyze]

Soul Eater characters and their MLP Gen 4 equivalents

i will be disregarding all ships and familial relationships for this purely because it would make it WAY too complicated and this is my silly little haha. i already put too much thought into it, i cannot burden my mind with the restraint of familial and romantic relations.

first up, the main 7 characters. starting with the one who inspired this all:

Maka as Twilight Sparkle

she's got the wings, she's got the book smart, she's got the power of friendship on her side, it's perfect. this was all started b/c while rewatching the anime, we joked that Maka's dubbed voice sounded like Twilight. this one is the strongest comparison, it gets worse from here.

Soul as Spike

no offense to Soul, but he's usually secondary to Maka most of the time. snarky, sassy, and often asking questions. also, his name is Spike, Soul's got spiky hair, it makes sense.

Black☆Star as Rainbow Dash

cocky, proud, super strong, fast, and blue!! a lot of their development revolves around like valuing other people (Black☆Star is more about like,,,, becoming his own person but y'know) also they both have scratchy voices.

Tsubaki as Fluttershy

calm and mild mannered, but also on occasion has the ability to go apeshit. befriends someone who is quite strong and obnoxious that most characters find annoying.

Death the Kid as Rarity

obsessive about appearances and has a particularly fancy way of talking. pale?? distinctive hair. makes sense.

Patty as Pinkie Pie

no explanation necessary.

Liz as Apple Jack

older sister figure! blonde and realistic, kinda tough and used to having to work for stuff (though Liz doesn't have to do it too much anymore now that she and patty are chilling w/ Kid) also, AJ was the only one left of the mane 6 lol.

Crona as Princess Luna

obviously the moon connection, duh. dark aesthetic, doesn't understand other people, and gets kinda possessed by madness!! which leads into my next choice

Kishin Asura as Nightmare Moon

evil!! but also because they were a bit misunderstood. spreads their powers across the entire world. possesses someone who is also part of them. lives on the moon.

Lord Death as Princess Celestia

tall and a god figure, but also kind of royalty? super OP but also we barely get to see them fight or use their powers ever so that our lovely main characters can be the ones to defeat the big bad. questionable morals at times.

Stein as Discord

crazy ass bitch!! tall and a slightly concerning amount of people simp for them. looks stitched together, stuff sticking out of their heads.

Marie as Princess Cadance

Ox as Snips

weird hair,,,,,,,,,,

Harvar as Snails

tall?? Harvar's a spear so he's tall by default. he's also gold-ish when he's in weapon form so that counts, also pointy b/c unicorn and spear.

Jackie as Octavia

Jackie has to be Octavia b/c her name is based off of cellist Jacqueline du Pré and even though Jackie doesn't play cello, this is who she must be to fulfill her destiny. also, they both have dark hair.

Kim as DJ Pon 3 (Vinyl Scratch)

gay. unicorn, so she has magic like a witch

Kilik and the Pots as the Cutie Mark Crusaders

there's three of them and they are inseparable. do not separate them. Kilik can be Sweetie Belle b/c he's standing in the middle.

Sid as Big Mac

man of few words. super strong and ,,,,,,, angular?? idk they're both kinda blocky. sad eyes,,,,,,,, UNDERRATED.

Naigus as Zecora

doctor!!! also if i was a pony, i would have a crush on Zecora. i have a crush on Naigus. this is my reasoning.

Medusa as Chrysalis

evil. weird and confusing hair!! dark aesthetic with one accent color. insanely manipulative, undeniably slaying.

Arachne as The Storm King

this one comes as a suggestion from Tumblr mutual (and my literal current college suite mate) @xaltiide she says that this guy is "the big bad" but isn't doing Most of the bad stuff in comparison to the other villains.

and finally, my grand finale

Giriko and Justin as Flim and Flam

they suck!!!! they suck SO BAD!!!!!!!! and they're evil. HORRIBLE.

anyways, happy April fools everyone. i finished the last half of this post while an edible kicked in on a Friday night and i feel like that probably shows in what i have created, but i will stand by this.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Greener Pastures (Vincent/Apollo)

Second place of the "First Rodeo" prompt poll was "Greener Pastures. For those who don't know, Apollo was introduced in this Amnesty Superhero AU. Thank you to @bellafarallones2 for playing in this space on Discord!

He was star of the rodeos but now they rob him blind

It took 18 years of Brahma Bulls and life on the line

To get this spread and decent herd but now he spends his time

Pulling night guard. 

-Stan Rogers, Night Guard

“How many does that make?” Duck stands from where he’s examining the tire tracks at the southern end of the pasture. 

“Seven.” Vincent removes his hat, fanning himself with it, “If they get anymore I’m in serious trouble. The car’s paid off but the house isn’t; I’ve already been to the bank once to explain the situation and they’re not happy.”

His neighbor stands, knees cracking worryingly for a man who’s only 32, “Cops got anythin’?”

“Nothing. I’m small potatoes, Duck, they don’t care about one old rancher losing his herd.” He sighs, “I’ve been on watch every night this week, but there’s too much distance to cover, and they know it. They got the last one out from under me.”

“You want me to help? Might go better with more eye’s on ‘em.”

Vincent considers it. He’s known Duck since he was 16, knows the offer of help isn’t given if it’s not meant. 

But if this goes wrong, his friend doesn’t deserve to be hauled into jail with him. 

“I’ll think about it. I have a plan tonight; if that doesn’t work, I might just take you up that offer.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vincent leaves a pile of windfalls from Duck’s orchard in the southwest corner of his property, and the cows can’t resist, munching happily as Vincent uses the scant oak trees for cover. 

The black R.E.O pulls in silently, lights off. Dulce stomps her feet when the tires stop, but Vincent shushes her softly, petting a flank to keep her calm. 

Two figures, the same size and height, leave the cab, ushering one of his heifers into the back of the truck. He can’t move just yet. He needs the proof. 

As the truck begins pulling away, he pulls his Winchester from the scabbard on the saddle, takes aim, and fires four shots. 

The cattle scatter, panicked, and Dulce nickers, alarmed. There’s two, responding bangs as two tires blow, sending the truck careening side to side before the driver loses control and plows headfirst into an empty drainage ditch. The passenger door  flies open and one figure takes off across the road and into the neighboring field. 

As Dulce trots over to the wreck, he hears another truck coming. The lights from Duck’s pick-up render the whole sight like a scene from a picture show, and the vehicle is barely stopped before the younger man is hopping out. 

“Jesus fuckin christ, Vince, you scared the hell outta me. Thought you’d gone and got shot.”

“I’m alright. I worried the driver might not be. I didn’t aim anywhere near him, but I only got two tires with four shots.”

Duck hops down into the ditch as Vincent shines his flashlight on the door. When it opens, a figure is slumped over the wheel, and his heart climbs up his throat. Then the rustler stirs, groaning, and looks at Duck. His angular face is partially hidden by red glasses, and his pale hair is almost white. 

“Hello.” The thief’s gaze moves from Duck to Vincent, then to the rifle, “Ah. I see. I understand my position is not an ideal one, and my bargaining power low, but I would appreciate it if you did not shoot me.”

Blood is running down his chin; he must have hit his nose in the crash. He looks more like a dazed deer than a threat. 

“Get him into the house and get my cow back to the herd.” Vincent jerks his light in the direction the other man ran, “I’ll deal with that one.”

Duck nods and Vincent turns Dulce into the starlit night. 

The second thief has made it a decent distance, but he’s only heading in the direction of more flat grass and so Vincent does him the courtesy of calling, “You may as well stop now. You won’t outrun me.”

He doesn’t stop, seems to try to sprint, only to fall a moment later. Vincent can hear him cursing the entire time he rides up. 

When he dismounts, the man looks up, unafraid and sneering. 

Vincent puts the barrel against his throat. 

“The safety is on.” 

“I know.” He sighs, “I’m not actually going to shoot you. But I need you to understand the gravity of the situation.”

The grin widens, “Coward.”

“Get up.” Vincent stands back so the man can climb to his feet. He seems unsteady on them, though it’s not until his hands are tied and Dulce is kneeling for him to get on that Vincent understands why; his ankle is sprained, though he’s been walking around on it without wincing this whole time. 

The short walk back to the house is a litany of insults to his weight, age, intelligence, cleanliness, and parentage. Were it any other day, he’d be able to let it roll off him, remind himself that he’s not interested in the opinions of cruel people. 

Were it any other day, he wouldn’t have spent the morning in the bank, staring down the loss of everything he nearly broke his back for. 

The rustler thrashes and twists as Vincent helps him down, clearly trying to make a break for the ditch, or possibly for Vincent’s own truck. By the time they burst through the front door, he’s holding the boy by the scruff. 

Duck is just hanging up the phone, and both he and the other thief jump at the bang of the windowpane on the door. The thief is holding a frozen bag of peas to his forehead, and in the light of the kitchen Vincent can now see he and the man trying to kick his legs out from under him must be twins. 

“Apollo, for heaven’s sake, stop that. Hurting them is not going to do anything but make this hole deeper.”

“I will not be cowed by some fat, old man!” 

“Be quiet.” Vincent turns to Duck, “was that the sheriff?”

“Yep.” Duck leans against the wall, frowning, “but he says he won’t send anyone out to pick ‘em up. When Indrid here gave me their names, that made a little more sense. These are Cold’s boys.” He glares at Apollo, “why they’re stealin from decent folk when their pa owns half the fuckin county is fuckin beyond me.”

“It is a long story. But I did tell you they would not send anyone; you needn’t have troubled with the call.”

“You ain’t exactly proved yourself the honest type.”

Indrid bites his lip, “If our actions have caused a financial burden, perhaps we could work it off?”

“At least one of you has sense, and some manners.” Vincent releases Apollo, but keeps a hand on his shoulder. 

Apollo flicks his blonde hair from his face, then sinks his teeth into the side of Vincent’s hand. 

“God fucking–” he catches himself, doesn’t swing out with his other hand to slap him. Instead he shoves at his shoulder and tries to pull away, tries to pull Apollos hair, but all the man does is bite down harder. 

“Fuck, is he part Gila Monster?” Duck tries to pry Apollo off with limited success

“That is certainly one theory.” Indrid pinches his brothers nose, and after ten seconds of spluttering the other twin finally releases Vincent’s now-bleeding hand. 

“Traitor! We could have run just then if you’d hit this brick with something.” He kicks Duck in the ankle. 

“I am not going back to him.” Indrid says to him with what Vincent is coming to understand as very reasonable fear.

“Coward. Traitorous, useless coward!” Apollo lunges at his brother, but this time Duck is ready with the dog leash from the front door, wrapping it around his wrists and trapping them behind his back.

 Vincent hauls the still-thrashing brat into the spare room, muttering, “I ought to put you over my knee” under his breath as he slams the door and slumps against it in the kitchen. Duck is watching him with concern. 

“I…I’m sorry you had to see that. I don’t like to lose my temper.”

“Apollo has that effect on people.” Indrid sits back down as Vincent washes his hand and fetches a bandage from the bathroom. 

“You don’t think he might have rabies, do you?” He’s only half-joking. 

Indrid shakes his head, “It would be nice if it could be explained so simply.” He fiddles with the corner of the now-thawed peas, “I truly am sorry. And I wish I could say that we–or, I suppose, he–will not do it again. But that would be a lie. Father has his reasons for demanding we do such things. Apollo might steer clear of Capra Farms, but he will find someone else’s livelihood to undermine.”

“So, what, we’re just supposed to keep him here like a fuckin lion in a zoo?”

“That may be our best choice. At least for now.”  Vincent looks at Indrid, “Can you bale hay and pick fruit?”

Indrid nods, almost eager. 

“Duck, I suggest you take this Mr. Cold up on his offer. You need more hands than I do. I’ll keep Apollo here with me for now; maybe once he’s calmed down he’ll see reason.”

And if not Vincent thinks I always was good at breaking in horses. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Knowing when to ignore things is a skill. If Apollo can apply it now, he can get himself out of this. He will ignore the pain in the ankle that fat old goat made him bandage himself. He will ignore Indrid’s betrayal. He will ignore the inexplicable surge of heat that came with his captor threatening to put him over his knee. 

He will ignore it. He will bide his time. And then he will take back his car, steal anything and everything of value Vincent Capra owns, and go home. 

Apollo supposes he could use the phone in the kitchen to call the cops to fetch him. But Capra has earned vengeance, and that will take time. 

When the door to his little room, with its small but comfortable bed and shelf of old books, is finally unlocked, he does his best to walk un-hobbled into the kitchen. 

“Good morning.” Vincent does not turn from the stove, where he’s scrambling eggs in the early morning light. 

Apollo says nothing, simply sitting down and pouring himself coffee. 

Vincent turns, setting a plate of toast next to jam and butter, and the bowl of eggs next to a little vase of wildflowers. Apollo realizes he did not, in fact, take the old man's place at the table; there are two settings laid out. 

“I want to apologize for my behavior.” Apollo says with as much sincerity as he can conjure, “my brother had the right idea. I will help around your…farm. To pay back what I owe.”

“Thank you for your apology.” Vincent replies mildly. Then he pauses in buttering his toast, “I’m sorry for how I acted. I doubt you can understand what losing livestock means, but all the same I shouldn’t have threatened you.”

He sets the toast down and Apollo realizes; the old goat is embarrassed.

Pathetic. 

“I hope we might be able to start fresh this morning. I have a few jobs you should be table to do without aggravating your ankle.” He holds out a hand, “do we have a deal?”

Apollo shakes it with his best smile, “We do.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vincent doesn’t trust Apollo any further than he can throw him–which, after that bull bucked him in 73 and hurt his back, isn’t far–but at least the younger man can follow directions. 

He fed the chickens and collected eggs, cleaned dishes and milked the cow Vincent keeps just for that. He also got himself barked at by Quixote before Vincent whistled at the dog to follow him out to the pasture. 

When Vincent sets dinner on the table, the younger man actually thanks him before helping himself to the meatloaf and green beans. 

There’s a clink as Apollo sets the fork down, staring at his plate. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Why are you doing this? How are you doing this?”

“This being…?” He fills his water glass. 

“The food, old man.”

“I’m not about to let you starve, or make a separate, sad meal just to punish you. So, you eat what I eat.”

“But why does it taste so, so good?”

Apollo seems so perplexed Vincent stifles a laugh. 

“Because that’s how food is supposed to taste. I may not be a rich man, but butter and salt and nice spices are some of life's little joys,”

“Ah.” Apollo says, understanding without grasping his reasoning. 

Vincent assumed Apollo’s life was a luxurious one up until now. Now he wonders if the twins had been like prized stallions, kept too close and penned in for fear of losing their value, greener grass only seen when they were let loose to do their fathers bidding. 

“If you want a real treat, I still have cherry preserves from Duck’s last harvest. Can you check the freezer? There may be some ice cream in there that it would top beautifully.”

Apollo balks at the order a moment, but still stands up and opens the door. When he turns and nods, it’s with a far more genuine smile than the one he gave this morning. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

It takes five days for Apollo’s ankle to take his weight, and once it does Vincent puts him to work more concertedly. He spends all of Saturday fixing a stretch of barbed wire, comes in sore and sunburnt but flops into bed after dinner feeling…oddly pleased with himself. 

Sunday morning finds biscuits and gravy in the kitchen, with Vincent telling him he needs to run into town for some supplies for dinner. Apparently, the older man observes the silly tradition of not working more than needed on Sundays.

When the truck pulls out, Apollo takes a test jog around the house, and looks over his damaged car. Unless he can lure a mechanic out here, he’ll have to take Vincent’s truck when he finally makes his run for it. 

Climbing up the porch steps, he finds Indrid waiting for him with a suitcase. 

“Duck drove me back to the house when I knew father would be gone. I got my things, and a few of yours.” 

“Good. I’m sick of wearing these hideous hand me downs. The pants are all too short and the shirts all too wide.” 

“I was also sent with this” Indrid lifts a basket of cherries, “it turns out Duck’s orchard is prize winning. He also sells hay to half the ranches in the county.”

“I do not care.”

Indrid sighs, “I know.”

“Is he mistreating you?”

“No” His brother looks horrified, “Duck has been wonderful to me. Especially given the circumstances under which we met.”

“Oh. good.” 

“Try not to sound so disappointed.” Indrid steps down, past him.

“I am not. Now go away. Vincent will be back soon and I want to sweep the house before he is.” He ignores how that sounds and wills Indrid to do the same. His brother cocks his head slightly, but says nothing else as he starts back up the road. 

Vincent returns just as Apollo is tossing out the last of the dust and throwing a stick for Quixote to fetch. Dinner is pork chops, apple sauce, and onions cooked brown and sweet. Vincent sips his beer while Apollo sticks to an orange soda. 

After their meal, Apollo is looking for something to read in the main bedroom when he notices the photo on the wall. 

“That’s you.”

“After my first big win on the circuit. Two days later I put most of the prize money into the account that turned into this farm.”

“Ah.” Apollo feels something dangerously close to guilt.

“I do think I cut quite a figure back then.”

“Yes. Though you have only gotten better with age.”

It’s the kind of compliment that soothes the egos of little men who nonetheless have something the Colds need. Only when it’s out does he understand he means it. The Vincent in the picture, dark haired and beaming, dust on his cheeks, is handsome. The man beside him, grey haired, with more weight to him and more lines on his face, is stunning.

Vincent chuckles, accepting the compliment but not believing it.

“I…I was going to sit. On the porch. To watch the fireflies and…and maybe see if I could spot the owl who has been calling. Would you like to join me?” 

Why is it so hard to ask? Why does it seem to take a thousand years for Vincent to answer?

A gentle smile, “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apollo is kneeling by the fireplace. It’s snowing outside, and Vincent sits in the chair before him, fully clothed, firelight making him look like a painting, like the statues of great men in the museums Apollo went to as a child. 

The rifle is on his lap and he shifts the barrel out over his knees. Apollo leans forward, taking it into his mouth and sucking. Vincent murmurs that he’s doing well, that he’s so very pretty like this. The gun is not loaded, this he is certain of. Even if it was, he is certain he would not be afraid. It is safe like this, comforting, and as it always does the dream melts into the two of them in the fields, grass green as Vincent takes him into his arms. 

He wakes up to the smell of coffee and toast, the way he has every morning for the last three weeks. Apollo is no fool; he knows what his dream means. Knows that every insistence to himself that he did not like men has been a lie, perhaps even the longest lie of his life. He also knows that his brother was kissing that silly cherry grower by the western fence last night. 

If Indrid, odd and unappealing as he is, can make someone kiss him, surely Apollo can do the same. 

They’re fixing the barn door today; it was knocked off its hinges by a bad summer storm. The chore passes uneventfully, the two of them discussing whether to go into town for a movie on Sunday, when Vincent’s jeans catch on a nail, ripping a hole in the thigh. 

“That was close.” The older man checks to be certain there’s no injury, “thank goodness I wore the thickest pair.”

Apollo nods, eyes on the patch of now-exposed skin. There is a tattoo there. An arm and something green, he thinks. 

Vincent has a tattoo. And if Apollo does not get a full look at it soon, he is certain he will lose his mind.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been hot enough that, were it anyone else but Apollo, Vincent would assume the suggestion of a swim was solely due to the weather. 

But he knows his Apollo. There is always an ulterior motive. 

He scolds himself as they arrive at the swimming hole; Apollo isn’t his. He’s working off a debt, and one day he’ll fly off somewhere new, either by mutual agreement or by stealing everything Vincent owns. 

That option should worry him more, but it’s hard to view Apollo as a threat when the hardened cattle rustler is animatedly talking about the heron they saw on their walk here while trying to get out of his clothes. 

He strips down and climbs into the water as Apollo is distracted by a hawk overhead. When the younger man sees he’s already in, he looks almost annoyed. Vincent does avert his eyes as Apollo tosses his underwear away; he’s swam naked with plenty of friends, but he’s certain Apollo has not done the same. He doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable. 

That worry evaporates when the blonde stands directly next to him, looking down with an intensity Vincent is trying not to read too much into. 

Then Apollo huffs, grabs his leg, and sends him backwards into the water. 

He twists away and comes up spluttering.

“Hold still!”

“Apollo, what on earth-”

“What part of hold still was unclear, old man?” Apollo grabs for his leg again.

“What are you trying to do?”

“See your tattoo. I need to know what it is of!”

“Asking is preferable to drowning me.” His exasperation is fond as he sets his leg on a rock so Apollo can see the blonde merman inked into his skin. 

“It’s…it’s a man.” Apollo blinks, tilting his head. 

“Yes. He wasn’t cheap, so please don’t insult him.”

“Do you like blondes?” Apollo’s eyes flick to his face, then back to the tattoo.

“It’s been known to happen.” Vincent lowers his leg back down so he’s standing comfortably. 

“Blonde…men?”

“Yes, Apollo.” He says patiently, amused that his clever ranch hand seems so stymied. 

“As in you like men to have sex with? While also being a man?”

“That's generally how it works.” He takes a step forward as Apollo goes stiff and faces him like he’s expecting execution. 

“I think I would like to have sex. With you. Because I have been having dreams that are about your gun. And sucking on it. When it’s not loaded.”

“Oh, my gun is always loaded.” He teases. 

Apollo looks alarmed. 

“That was a sex joke.” He says reassuringly, and hazards putting his arms around Apollo’s waist. 

“Oh. Ha. Ha?”

Were he being charming, being bold, Vincent would fear this was all an act. But the awkward shyness of it all leaves no doubt in his mind as to what the man in his arms is after. 

“You’re an odd little bird, Apollo Cold.” He strokes an angular cheek. 

“And that is a good thing?” Apollo sets his hands on Vincent’s shoulders.

“I certainly like it.” He tilts his chin up,meaning only to offer the invitation, but Apollo is instantly kissing him. It’s painfully, endearingly inexperienced, and the younger man seems to know it. 

“I, I have not done this before. I am sorry if I am bad at it.” He takes Vincent's hand and kisses over the skin still a little pink from the healed bite.

“You’ve picked up plenty of skills on my farm. I think you’ll manage this one.”

Apollo grins, bright and breathtaking as a sunrise, “I may need a bit more practice. Though I would prefer somewhere less damp.”

Vincent climbs from the water and helps Apollo up after him, enjoying the way his cheeks redden when he’s eye level with his cock. Then he fetches the blanket they brought, lays it out in the shade of a tree, and lays down with his lover in the soft, green grass

[nikox400x]

KFP 4: The true hell behind the cameras ft. The Co-director of KFP4

I know I already made my review to this thing, and believe me when I say that I didn't want to talk anymore about this dawn movie (For call it something). But the reason for this statement is something that I cannot ignore, so hold on to your seat because what you are going to read is not a mission impossible movie, this really happened in the same Dreamworks studios.

The devil has different names depending on the religion;

-In the Catholic religion he is called Satan.

-In Islam he's Iblís.

-In Buddhism it's Mara.

But in the world of kung fu panda, the devil has a human name, Mike Mitchell.

Context? Three days ago, as a result of all the protests about the poor narrative quality of the film, the KFP's reddit community was able to find someone from within the production of the film, a witness who could corroborate everything that we assumed was happening within that studio.

This person is no one else but the co-director of kfp4, Stephanie Ma Stine. One of the main people who, along with a large part of the team of animators who love this saga too, fought and fought throughout the production so that the film was not completely destroyed from the beginning.

This woman was contacted by a discord channel to answer some questions that the community was asking in the company of the administrators of the discord group of the kung fu panda fandom, at first this woman seemed frustrated by something that I am going to explain, The entire conversation was recorded and uploaded to YouTube to expose the nauseating experience that Stephanie had to endure during the production of this film.

To begin with, she had almost no power within the production because she was considered someone new to her job and the disgusting bosses at Dreamworks had no better idea than to give all creative control to Mike.

Dreamworks gave a time limit for the duration of the film, later you will know why. This guy didn't have the slightest idea how to direct such a short movie, much less if it was a kung fu panda movie, since the guy treated kung fu panda like a chinese version of the minions, obviously because he didn't give a shit about franchise and he just wanted something that would make people laugh (But his humor and the scriptwriters's was so bad that even it would insult ilumination itself) although not even the children could find this humor funny.

What kind of humor? Well, you know; fart humor, jokes with a childish tone, random chases that contribute nothing to the plot, jokes about annoying and invincible children, jokes without charisma, generation Z humor, random hits, etc...

And like any sane person would do, Stephanie tried to give it that serious but parodic and heartfelt tone that the first triology had, but obviously they barely listened to her because she was considered new. So she had to resort to encouraging people passionate about the saga within the studio to insist on adding things that would improve the plot. Most of the time when they insisted on improving the quality of the script it ended in a roll of eyes from the higher ups within the production as if trying to tell them; "Damn stupid people, so much bother for a children's saga that is only used to make easy money"

The problem transcended for a long time as more and more absurd ideas came out of the writing team, some of them that even destroyed the logic of the world they were building, all of this was translated into a long and nightmarish trench war between those who love the saga and the psychopaths who only cared about money.

So, what happened next? Well, the movie came out and fans (and non-fans) were disappointed because the movie seems like a draft made by people who didn't seem to speak the same language during the artistic decisiones in the movie. Exactly, because of all this conflict between those who agreed with Stephanie and those who listened to Mike.

And in the end, it was Stephanie who had to politely come forward in front of the disappointed people to give these professionally humiliating explanations, and what did Mike do on his part? Bury his head like an ostrich and do not listen to the criticism that he generated for their horrible decisions.

(Stephanie's user is called storyduke)

This is the conversation between her and the administrators of the discord group, pause the video calmly and read on your own if you need it, for prove I haven't invented anything of this to defame Mike or something like this. All this comes from the person who was by his side during all production.

In order not to overwhelm you because the video is very long, I leave you a summary of what she said below. I will mainly use the comment of this reddit user called Mystic3012 who explains all this quite well (My comments will be marked in red):

Early on, KFP4 was considered to be live action-animation hybrid, and featured humans (WTF?!). I posted concept art of the human Chameleon (then, The Collector, even though we already have Kai the Collector) vs Po. Seems like Zhen would've been human too. They'd have come from Hu-man City (Wow, how originally -_-), apparently... To add insult to injury, one of these versions had Po, the protagonist, stuck in a BOX for 20 MINUTES. (20 minutes... no words for this. And no, you're not reading wrong, HUMANS IN KUNG FU PANDA. If it hadn't been for Stephanie, this is what they would have given us. Thanks Stephanie, guys)

Mike Mitchell, the director, had total creative freedom. Hence, him + the studio leadership wanting laughs and a more joke-y vibe led to the overall tone, like the F5's comical side missions. Jack Black called him the "comedy guy"(I want to think jack Black is another victim here and he simply couldn't do nothing because his contract does not allow it), while Stephanie brought "things deeper" and "more heart".

Additionally, it was Mitchell who insisted against fleshing out the Chameleon's backstory "What a surprise...right guys?". Apparently, Chameleon and Zhen had ZERO backstory in early versions. By the time the crew pushed him enough to change his mind, they were too far along in animating to add anything but the Chameleon's few lines.

The runtime was a studio mandate since they believed children can't watch a longer film + maximize profits (You motherfu...).

TV shows are non-canon, as they are under separate film and television divisions that are "rivals".

Lord Shen, General Kai, and the Furious Five were VERY last minute additions to the point that their animation rigs were "made of sticks and glue"(The 3D models were so poorly made due to lack of time that if they made original animations, they would directly break, they had to reuse animations from the first, second, third movie and from the Christmas short for the credits. The animations of Crane and Shen's feathers, according to her, were bugged a lot and the wings tended to separate from the body or bend in unrealistic ways during animation tests). Hence, no plot relevance (e.g. not redeemed properly) and inability to bring back their actors, as much as some of the crew advocated for their return. Furthermore, there's a thing where actors are brought in for voice roles with X amount of money, and exponential increases for sequels. Apparently, a single line from Jolie would've cost $20 million (Easy Angelina!! XD. They could have simply changed the actress who played her like for example the one who play her in Secrets of the Scroll or the one of Legend of Awessomless, this was simply used as an excuse not to add them to the film), so you can imagine why the Five were absent...

Not everyone who dies goes to the Spirit Realm. It's not a definite rule behind-the-scenes, but it's vaguely agreed upon that only kung fu practitioners can pass on. It was also Mitchell's idea that all 3 villains were indeed sent to the Realm and that the Chameleon only wanted master VILLAINS summoned. [Pretty sure that retcons Lord Shen but alas-]

Pelican is named Chip, and a female. The fish in her beak is Fish.

Calvin Tsang, Head of Story, directed "a short film for KFP 4". Though, DreamWorks gave him a low budget but apparently he pulled enough favours for it to work out, with Stephanie describing it as "amazing, seriously" and shows "how strong of a director's voice he has".

Future spin-offs uncertain. DreamWorks has dissolved most, if not all, of its TV division.

Though, Mitchell was very vocal about a F5 spinoff. Execs are aware of the fans' demand for it (Wow thank you...-_-, just don't ruin it again).

Shifu's staff lacks its golden piece since it has been repaired following his mastery of Chi, per production designer Paul Duncan. (Same man responsible for bringing back the Dagger of Deng Wa with his attention to detail) (Niceee)

Universal mandated for a tentpole film like KFP4 to have "stars" hired for voicework.

For the record, Stephanie wanted for KFP4 to "stay truer to KFP1 and KFP 2" but was dismissed as a nobody by the crew (Basically what I said before, Mike and a good part of his team are anything but respectful of other people's works).

Case in point, she wanted Tai Lung being brought back to be done right. She pitched for Po/Shifu to have a vision of the Chameleon kidnapping Shifu, prompting Po to go on a quest to stop her. Shifu gets kidnapped anyway due to the Chameleon's manipulations, and he's hence present to say goodbye to Tai Lung. The execs loved it but "someone axed it" (That person better not know their identity because the fans cling to Tai Lung, I don't think they'll laugh much at this 😅). For those who've seen the film, the vision was reduced to Po's dream enroute to Juniper City.

Another example of Stephanie's intervention, she fought for Zhen to be redeemed ONSCREEN after betraying Po, much to the writers' refusal (These people don't even respect their own characters). She was supposed to swoop in out of nowhere to fight the Chameleon for a bit and disappears quickly again. She also ensured that her redemption scene wasn't just dialogue and had action going on. (She admits to Po and Zhen's underbaked relationship not supplementing this scene enough though.)

The writers seemed to HATE comments "poking holes at the story" (And then what do they want us to call that; "purposely destroy the canon of history because of its inaccuracy?" On top of bad in their own job, they're crybabies).

Zhen is a Corsac Fox as its the Asian fox with distinctive facial features.

Nico Marlet, renowned concept artist, only worked on the film for a week, left, and refused to come back (I don't even know if I want to know why, just imagine it).

Many crewmembers pitched ideas for Zhen's family's backstory but all were discarded (They can't even develop their own character, I'll call that technique "Work? What is that? it is eatable? XD").

By the way, the thing about humans was no joke.

(Conceptual art made by Luca Pisanu)

Original reddit forum:

Guys, that's it, how not to write a movie. I think you can already imagine my opinion, it is a complete shame what they tried to do with this saga but at least she was able to save it from being completely ruined. I sincerely ask you all to spread this information, I will leave you a link to the original reddit thread for your inspection. And I'm just saying one thing: I hope they fire Mike Mitchell and all his damn inept scriptwriters, and I hope we never see them again in another production of this saga. And of course, to the executives at Dreamworks: Stick your finger up your ass and don't touch what you don't know how to touch.

Don't be silent about these things, because you know what will happen? That they will do the same thing again with the fifth film because they see that the method works, in addition to the fact that they will also exploit their workers for nothing for such a mediocre product (Because yes, they also exploited them to finish the finale on time). Let this not happen again guys, please I ask you.

[fowlfics]

other than my Crocodad DofuWani bullshit (which is now at 22k and yes this is the first im mentioning it here whoops its still only half done. send help) my other brainrot which i have been thinking about today is AceLaw.

More specifically, an AceLaw where they met shortly after Ace entered the Grand Line, started dating, Marineford happened as normal... And then the plot starts. With Luffy and Law and the insurmountable mountain of grief they're both shouldering.

I have something relatively short (2k) to post about it soon, courtesy of exploring exactly how many characters will discord let me cram into a single message (got to -8808 lol) over in MDL

Here's an excerpt bc i ought to make some use of this blog:

Pulling out the leather-bound journal, he set it carefully on Luffy's lap.

"Please don't destroy it. There's only this one copy."

Luffy glanced up at him, baffled. It was better than anger or sadness, at least.

Law motioned towards the book wordlessly and leaned against the desk; No description he could give for the book would be better than Luffy just taking a look himself.

He pulled the cover open gingerly, recoiling slightly at the sight of the first page. It was inked almost fully black, with only three coloured letters right in the middle of it: red A, blue S and yellow L.

Their first Jolly Roger, Ace had told him. The one they flew over the treehouse right up until they abandoned it after their brother's death.

Law supposed it might still hang there, if no one had bothered to take it down.

Luffy whipped his head up, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Keep going," Law encouraged. "He wanted you to see it, eventually."

Looking back down, Luffy turned the page. And then again, and again, and again, moving through the pages fast enough to make it clear he wasn't actually reading any of the words, barely looking at the pictures.

If he was anything like Ace, he likely couldn't read all that well, not even the carefully calligraphed words Ace had bribed Law into writing for him.

That was fine, though. There would be time for reading, later. Luffy already knew most of those stories, anyway. He had been there for them.

The only novelty would be getting to learn Ace's perspective on them; Something that, judging by his words, Luffy could clearly use.

It didn't take him long to reach the end, flipping the pages faster and faster until he reached the end of the filled portion. The few dozen empty pages fell towards the rest easily, opening the journal on the last page, the one Ace had most often returned to.

Luffy's hand carefully traced the edges of the portrait carefully inserted into the back cover.

"This..." he trailed off.

Law gave him a moment. When it became clear he wasn't going to continue, he filled in himself.

"Is Sabo, yes."

Luffy looked up at him again. There was old pain filling them, old tears.

"Ace had been working on it for a long time," Law elaborated. "I have a whole binder of his previous attempts, too. He wasn't happy with how this one turned out, either, but he said it was the closest he could get." And then, because he had been curious for the longest time- "Did he get it right?"

Luffy hunched his shoulder. "...I don't know," he said. "I don't- I didn't remember what Sabo looked like, anymore."

It's been ten years, to be fair. If someone had asked Law to describe Cora-san, he would have had troubles, too. Feathery coat, heart-dingled hat, wide lipstick smile, spikes under his eye, that much he remembered.

But how many spikes? Under which eye? What colour were the eyes themselves?

Time had an unfortunate habit of sanding away the details, taking the sharp edges of memories and tumbling them into blunt, opaque things, like sea glass.

It did the same to grief; That was the price you paid for healing.

[munsonownsmyass]

When Snow Falls

Matthias Helvar x reader

Summary: Caught outside during a snowstorm, you're thankful your fjerdan neighbor comes to your rescue.

Authors note: This is my contribution to the TFC challenge. Us girlies on the Thirsty for Cox discord thought it would be a fun idea. Masterlist to all the stories will be linked here, once it's out.

Also, you can't tell me Matthias Helvar isn't either a virgin or very inexperienced. Look at how he acts around Nina in Shadow and Bone. This is the hill I die on. But maybe I'll change that 😜

Warnings: pining... so much pining its disgusting. Fluff, some fjerdan language (everything should be translated). Kissing, SMUT! 18+. The softest sex (unprotected) I've ever written. I'm so sorry, but they're in love.

Hajefetla means Songbird

Part 1 -

It didn’t take long before the leaves fall from the trees and the winds started getting colder. Winter was coming and while others might hate this time of year, this was one of the reasons you moved here. You had always loved the snow and knew Maine had some cold, snowy winters and you just couldn’t wait to be curled up in a blanket next to the fire, looking out over the snow-covered forest.

A week later you got your wish. The first day of snow fall was an absolute dream. Röed was running around, trying to catch the falling snow while you just stood there on the porch, watching quietly as the warm colors of autumn gave away for winter. In no time at all, a white blanket covered the forest. Almost like the forest was getting a clean slate.

The daily trips through the forest were getting harder, but you still did them. Mostly because Matthias often was waiting with some hot chocolate or mulled wine, if you made the journey to his house. The two of you had gotten friendlier. Matthias was still shy at times, but slowly he opened up and told you more of his home and past. He hadn’t lived an easy life, so you were glad he had found some peace here in the wilderness.

And so had you. Never felt more at home, like you’d finally found your place. You had also found inspiration again, the words flowing out onto the pages. A certain encounter had ignited the light within you and you already had several chapters of your newest novel ready. Some day you would have to thank Matthias for the inspiration.

Pushing away from the desk, you need a break after a long day writing. Röed nudges your hand, whining softly. You know she wants to go out, but the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Arguing with her on how it’s gonna be a short trip, you put on your coat and boots, nearly getting knocked over by the wind when you open the door. Before you can stop her, Röed runs off into the woods.

“Röed, stop!” You try, but she doesn’t listen. Running after her, you hope you catch her before she gets to far. The forecast had called for a storm and you did not want to get stuck out here. Soon you loose your orientation, seeing nothing but white and trees.

“Röed! Come here girl!” You shout, barely audible over the strong wind. The cold is seeping through your clothes, making you shiver. Limbs start to go numb, and you can barely move your fingers, trying your best to shield them from the cold. “Where are you?! RÖED!”

You fight through the thick dunes of snow, feeling like you hardly move as the winds keep knocking you back. Everything is white and you can’t see where you are anymore. Slowly you start to panic, imagining the worst. What if you don’t find your way home? What if you get lost? Fuck. What if you freeze to death?

“HAJEFETLA!! Over here!” You hear a voice in the distance, distorted by the heavy winds. Looking around, you see nothing besides snow and trees. “Matthias?!”

“Come on, we need to get out of the storm!” He shouts, taking your hand in his as he guides you through the storm.

Suddenly, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around you and without thinking you scream. “Calm down, min hajefetla.” Matthias says softly, turning you around to face him. Relived to be saved, you lunch forward, throwing your arms around him.

“But Röed… I need to find her!” You sob, the exhausting and cold starting to break you down. Matthias stops when he hears the distress in your voice, pulling his coat off before wrapping it around you.

“She’s already in my cabin. That’s why I came looking for you.” His words are soft, laced with concern for you. You tug at the coat, realizing he must be freezing. But before you can take it off, he stops you with a smile. “I’m Fjerdan. I’ve been through worse.”

Outside, the snow keeps falling, the dunes growing at a rapid speed. It wont take long before the house is covered and you won’t be able to leave. With a gentle tap on your shoulder, you look up to find a hot cup of tea and as you take it, Matthias sits down beside you, looking out through the window.

Stumbling through the front door, you are instantly hit by the warmth of his cabin. Röed and Trassel greets you both as you shed the cold and wet layers. You mutter a curse under your breath and Röed knows she’s in bad standing, hiding her muzzle in Trassel’s side. In a matter of seconds, you’re placed in front of the fire with a blanket, while Matthias is warming some water.

He keeps looking at you, making sure you’re okay. The kind gesture makes you smile, the butterflies in your stomach you're always feeling in his presence, suddenly feeling like an entire swarm.

“What?” you grin, hating the way the sound of Matthias speaking his native tongue makes your body tingle. He smiles softly, cheeks turning pink as he leans in a little closer. “It means ‘Welcome and wait out the storm’. Since we’re stuck, I might as well teach you some Fjerdan.”

“Looks like you have to stay. I won’t let you out in that storm again.” You just nod, silently agreeing. Matthias takes some of the blanket, before he holds up the cup in a cheer. “Jormanen end denam danne näskelle.”

The hours go by as the snow grows higher. It’s lucky Matthias was used to weather like this from home, so he had already stuck up on food, beverages and enough firewood for a day or two. You silently thank Röed for running off, cause if you’d been stuck at home, you would probably have freezed to death or starved. Not much of a survivalist, you’re very thankful you have Matthias. Especially now, as he turns out to be quite good company. With most of the shyness gone, you’ve talked nonstop since you came.

“So… ‘Dja jarmin ness’? is that right?” You try and by Matthias’ soft giggle, you realize you’re way off. Punching his shoulder playfully, you feign being hurt. “Well, tell me then.”

Still giggling, Matthias stops the chopping and look at you. Trying to compose himself. “Dje janin ess.” He speaks softly looking deep into your eyes. You swallow hard, fighting hard to resist him. How easily it would be to just lean in, feel his soft lips against your own. But you look away, fingers fidgeting with a loose sting in your jeans.

“What does it mean?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper as you look up at him again. His sky blue eyes find yours and for a second you forget how to breathe. Somehow, you always forget just how beautiful he is. He leans in close and all you can focus on is how desperately you want to kiss him.

“It’s a swear word.” He grins as he pulls back, resuming his chopping. Letting go of the breath you didn’t even knew you were holding, you feel embarrassed at how you expected something else, your whole body feeling like it’s on fire.

“Don’t you guys have any sweet words or sayings? You’ve only taught me oaths and swear words.” You huff out, trying to hide how flustered you are under a cover of annoyance. Matthias just smiles, dropping all the vegetables into the soup, before he leans against the counter with his arms crossed across his chest.

“I was a Drüskelle. We live hard lives. We are not soft men.” He looks to the floor, the memories of his past coming back, making you not quite believe the last statement. From what you’ve seen, Matthias did seem softer than most, kind. He sighs, before turning back to the pot. “We don’t talk much.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” You counter, causing him to smile wide. “Still… What would you say to a woman you love?”

He is silent for a while, stirring the soup. You fear the question was too much, ready to apologize when he speaks. “I would call her ‘min hjerte’. It means ‘My heart’ or...” He pauses, barely able to meet your eyes. “‘Min hajefetla’.” With the last words, he looks deep into your eyes.

“But… But that’s what you call me.” You breathe out.

“Yes.” His voice is low, like he’s afraid to speak the words. They hang between you like an unspoken prayer, a soft plea for you to head. After all this time, was he feeling the same way you did? You reach out, about to take his hand when your phone rings, startling you both. Frustrated, you take the call and jump of the counter.

“Mom, I’m fine.” You say, sending Matthias an apologetic look. “No, of course I’m not outside in the storm. I’m with Matthias and-�� You pause, interrupted by your mother. Cheeks slowly turning pink, you look to Matthias before walking away. “It’s my neighbor. Look mom, I’ll call you later.”

You hang up, muttering an apology to Matthias, before returning the phone to your pocket. He stirs the pot, the moment from before gone. You set the table and most of the meal is in silence. You talk some, but the tension in the room is hard to ignore.

After you’ve cleaned the dishes, whipping them in silence beside Matthias, he takes the towel from your hand and look at you with a heartbreakingly sweet smile. “I have an idea, if… If you want to help me?”

30 minutes later you look at your little masterpiece. In the living room, on the floor in front of the fireplace, were now a makeshift bed. Lots of pillows, blankets and mattresses, making sure it would be very comfortable. The winds were picking up and every other room was cold, so Matthias had suggested making a bed here. You agreed, not because of the logic of it, but because deep down you had a small glimmer of hope that the moment in the kitchen weren’t completely lost.

It doesn’t take long before you’re both comfortable there, enjoying the warmth of the fire while watching the tv. Christmas movie marathon. You couldn’t wait for Christmas, always loved this time of year. Your family was coming in a week, staying over the holidays and you couldn’t wait to show them how beautiful this place was.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Matthias just huffs, looking at the tv as he picks another piece of candy from the bowl. “I’m gonna sit here alone.”

You could kick yourself. You knew his family was killed when he was younger, which was why he had joined the Drüskelle. He had left his whole life behind and probably didn’t have anyone besides you, Röed and Trassel.

“Would-” You pause, trying to muster up the courage, afraid he’ll say no. ”Would you wanna spend Christmas with us?”

When he doesn’t answer right away, you mentally kick yourself, afraid you overstepped. But then he takes your hand in his, giving it the lightest squeeze. “You… You really want me to spend Christmas with your family?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to sit alone.” You say softly, turning towards him and look into his eyes. You cup his cheek, fingers trembling slightly. Here goes nothing. “But mostly I wanna spend Christmas with you… If you want?”

In an instant, his lips are on yours, the kiss soft and warm. It’s delicate yet still sends shivers down your spine. One hand is still holding yours, the other resting gently on your thigh. The kiss is short, but till the best kiss of your life.

“I do want that. But wouldn’t your family think it’s weird?” He asks, face flustered as he looks into your eyes, his full of glee. You match the grin on his face, already knowing that from now on you’ll do whatever you can to keep that smile on his face.

“Definitely not. My mom’s been pestering me about finding a man, so she would love it if you were there.”

“Oh, so I’m your man now?” He chuckles, playfully tickling your sides. You try to push him away, to no avail since he’s huge and built of pure muscle. He continues his onslaught, grinning at the sound of your giggles. When he finally listens to your pleas to stop, you find your self on your back, Matthias' wide frame over you. His leg is slotted between yours, his thigh rubbing dangerously close to your clothed core.

There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks at you, like you hung the stars from the sky. He leans on one elbow, his free hand brushing away a stray hair before he runs his thumb along your jaw. “Min hajefetla.”

His lips claim yours again, this time the kiss is more passionate. His wide frame cage you in under him, pressing you softly into the mattress under you as he deepens the kiss. Overwhelmed by desire for him, unable to hold back any longer, you pull him closer. One hand on his back, feeling his muscles dance under your fingers, the other entangling in his hair.

Moans fill the air as he presses closer, his hips now fully slotted between your thigs. His desire is palpable, his hard length pressing against your already wet core. But suddenly, he pulls away, breathing hard as he tries to compose himself.

“Is something wrong? If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.” You say honestly, but still hoping he just needs to breathe. You’re already soaked for him, never wanted anyone like you crave him in this moment.

“It’s been a long time.” He confesses, a soft tremble to his voice. “And… There’s only been one… before.” He looks away, face red with embarrassment. He might think it’s humiliating, but it’s far from it. Only makes you like Matthias more, proving that he is just the sensitive soul you thought he was.

“It’s okay. We can take our time.” You plant a soft kiss on his cheek, before claiming his lips gently. His kiss is still hesitant, but slowly it grows deeper, his tongue eagerly dancing over yours. Prepared to not go further, you’re surprised when Matthias breaks away to pull his sweater off. With idle fingers, he pull at the hem of your t-shirt, pulling it over your head. The rest of your clothes soon follows.

It’s not wild and hard, but soft and passionate. Taking your time, your hands explore his body, storing every inch of him to your memory. Hardly any sound is uttered, only soft moans now and then. Although you ache to feel him, you revel in this. You simply just want to be in his arms, feeling him close. You kiss again and again, as if you have all the time in the world.

You feel his hard cock rub against your wet slit, begging for entrance. You wrap your legs around his waist, kissing him deeper as he pushes in. Gasping, you feel how every inch stretches you open as he thrust in slowly. He moans your name, kissing you neck. It’s achingly slow, but it feels like heaven. Every thrust of his hips sends bolts of pleasure through you, making you quiver under him. it’s sweet and sensual, just what you both had needed for so long.

You look into Matthias’ glistening eyes, a look of pure devotion on his unguarded face as he hits that sweet spot inside you, feeling the way you clench around him. Your bodies move together in a slow, desperate rhythm. You whisper Matthias name, falling from your lips in a quiet chant. Both your bodies screaming with pleasure, every inch of your skin prickling with bliss.

As the day grows darker and the snow covers the cabin, you and Matthias are lost to the world, knowing nothing but each other and pure bliss. The storm silenced for a moment, only the beathing of your hearts filling the air. It wasn’t so bad, after all, to be snowed in.

TFC girls: @e-dubbc11 @mindidjarin @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @itwasthereaminuteago @phoebe-danvers @mattmurdocksscars @saintmurd0ck @a-bang-for-your-bucky @pedrito-friskito

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