#i make very impulsive decisions and for what

[bellart]

What is Dick Grayson’s problem? Part 1 (attachment style in part 2, dysfunctional family role in part 3)

Disclaimer: I don’t think any of these were written with intention, I’m just diagnosing for fun based on what symptoms are canon. I know a lot of people just ignore characterizations and plotlines that they think are out of character, which is fair because there are hundreds of writers writing for a single character, but I like to consider as much as I can canon, and coincidentally, Dick’s “OOC” moments come in episodes!

Bipolar 1 disorder

This usually requires a genetic predisposition, and we don’t know much about his parents, but we do know that his mom ran away to join the circus as a young adult according to post crisis canon. I think that was a mania spurred decision, but that’s just a headcanon. Traumatic childhoods are also usually a factor in Bipolar, and Dick obviously has his share of trauma. Bipolar doesn’t present itself until early adulthood, but there can be some signs in adolescence, like excessive energy and emotional intensity, which can be seen all the way back to the golden age.

I don’t think he has a real manic episode until he’s 21 during Total Chaos, but before that he displayed possible signs of a depressive episode. Honestly, it would be a fair argument to say that all of these are just caused by grief because they follow Jason and Joey’s death, but grief could also trigger an actual depressive episode, so I don’t have a solid opinion on whether it was an actual episode or not. I think most of Dick’s episodes are manic (not depressive) anyway.

His depression presents itself as melancholy, self hatred, agitation, insomnia, and impaired decision making. He isolated himself from his loved ones, had aggressive mood swings with Bruce, and lashed out at Tim.

Not long after this, a couple months pass and Joey Wilson dies, and Dick’s mood drops again, showing rumination and self hatred. He also has a common habit of self harm via picking fights with the intention of getting hurt.

Then Total Chaos begins and triggers his first manic episode, which are defined by excessive energy, grandiosity, impulsivity, hypersexuality, emotional intensity, and poor decision making.

He drastically changes his appearance and expresses sexuality more openly and crudely than every other characterization of him previously. He also has an extreme lapse in judgement/observation by falling for Mirage’s deception, which is another mania symptom.

At first he is upset with her for deceiving him and Kory, but randomly changes his tune and starts going out with her on dates and dancing at clubs, even commenting on her appearance in front of Kory. He’s doing this as a part of a greater scheme, but it’s still random, impulsive, out of character, and debatably hypersexual. Plus, the scheme was dodgy and not even necessary, while hurting Kory’s feelings at the same time. I think this is where the grandiosity and impaired judgement comes in, as he ignores her feelings and assumes that his decisions are best. He also has excessive energy and rarely sleeps, making Kory come out and dance at 2 am.

Also, let it be noted that I know any of these actions on their own might not be too crazy, but Wolfman spent a long time characterizing Dick as quiet, smart, kind, attentive to Kory’s feelings, and extremely monogamous and uncomfortable with sexual attention, so compared to that, this comes off very manic. And for the love of god I am not victim blaming it is possible for him to be behaving strangely and still be a victim at the same time.

Not long after this, he impulsively proposes to Kory and they try to marry almost immediately after. Then he suddenly quits the team he’s been leading for three years (nine years if you forget the small break in between Teen Titans and New Teen Titans), breaks up with Kory, and becomes Batman, and then has another big fight with Bruce. These are just more impulsive decisions and inappropriate emotional intensity that comes with mania.

Two years after this (in universe), I think he has another manic episode triggered by the stress of the earthquake. This starts with him working three jobs, as he’s on the tail end of the Titans 1999 run, while working as Nightwing in Bludhaven, and working as a cop at the same time. He rarely sleeps or stops moving for months. He makes poor and impulsive decisions like fighting Deathstroke one on one as a civilian and immediately leaves the hospital to continue after getting shot. Everyone in his life is asking him to slow down and rest, and he disregards their opinions, assuming he can do the impossible. He also pulls a lot of stupid/poorly thought out stunts as a cop that compromise his identity, which Babs later calls him out on.

Killing the Joker is an obvious and extreme example of emotional intensity and poor impulse control. He had some possibly psychotic symptoms during this time like frequently hallucinating Jason, which can also happen during an extreme episode.

Additionally, I would argue that him having sex with Helena and kissing Selina during the beginning of this episode was a sign of hypersexuality.

He also has a big fight with Bruce during “Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive,” but that’s context relative. But I do also think it’s odd how quickly Dick escalated it and turned it physical.

He then has a depressive episode triggered by Donna’s death, as he displays isolation, self loathing, irritability, and frequently lashes out at loved ones during his time in the outsiders.

Eventually, the depression lifts and his next episode is a wave of hypomania, which is similar to mania but it only lasts a few days. I think this happens in the middle of the Blockbuster arc, right before Barbara breaks up with him. He has high energy levels, can’t keep still, rapid speech, lack of self awareness, risky behavior, and grandiosity all packed into a couple issues between him crashing his bike and getting dumped.

(I love this issue sm I have never seen a more hypomanic person)

Very shortly after this, he has a quick drop triggered by Blockbuster bombing his apartment. He has feelings of emptiness or hopelessness, irritability, loss of interest or pleasure in normal activities, insomnia, anxiety, feelings of worthlessness and guilt, poor decision making, suicidal thoughts and actions, and recurring thoughts of death. I can’t put that many pictures in one post but if I could I would basically just screenshot every single page from issues #89-116 of Nightwing 1996. Between his apartment exploding, letting Catalina kill Blockbuster, sexual assault, following her around as a traumatized wet cat for a week, working as a mob enforcer, working with Deathstroke, and watching his city get nuked, he was not himself and severely depressed.

Then he goes away for a year so I’ll just assume he was normal, but when he comes back he’s written by someone who does Not get him, but it comes across as hypomania to me. I’m talking about his whole relationship with Cheyenne and his fight with Jason Todd basically. Hypersexuality, grandiosity, and irritability.

And then another depressive episode triggered by Bruce fake dying before New 52, and I barely know anything after that so goodbye 🫶

Making inconsistent characterization work feels like a puzzle sometimes and it’s fun but the one thing I won’t accept is a fuck ass retcon so I will NOT be saying he cheated bc he was manic bc his ass did NAWTTT cheat.

[vampimich]

P and the "wake up" whisper

--- Lies of P Base game spoilers ---

I don’t know if you all paid full attention to the scene right after P defeats the Mad Donkey (I know I didn’t for sure).

But there is a voice telling him to wake up.

Right as the stalker is lifeless on the floor and Geppetto is coming down of the carriage P muffles all the sound around him. He just watches the blood on his hands, human blood, as he is trying to figure out what he has just done. 

Sure, he has fought against puppets before, and of course no one has told him killing humans is something he mustn’t do. But he still feels different, even wrong. Even if he is a puppet and he in theory does not distinguishes morality or wrong from right, something inside is telling him killing should not always be the answer.

We can also hear a heart beating. We know that P hearts starts pounding ‘officially’ after we gain the maximum level of humanity and at the start of the game he barely has his springs reacting. But I don’t think this means his heart was not able to pound.

This was merely reflective of the fact that P himself could recognize or feel his own humanity. Things were happening with his body but he was unsure what it was; barely having connection to his feelings.

But this event shocked his heart so much that he actually heard it pounding, deafening him to every other external sound around him.

He was trying to make sense of what the sensation inside his ergo was and why he was reacting a certain way. And just before Geppetto breaks P out of this trance we can hear the “Wake up” being whispered to P.

It is coming from a male voice, and while I can’t seem to find any confirmation about who or what this voice was, my hypothesis is that this voice belongs to Carlo.

Carlo begging him to wake up. To free himself from the puppet strings. To don’t let himself be fooled by Geppetto. Because this killing happened because of Geppetto. And of course later in game we face other humans, but most of them we fight just because they are on their way to get us first, but we kill the Mad Donkey because we “had” to protect Geppetto. 

Yes, at the end he attacks us because he recognizes P as a puppet, but again, this was all because we were tasked with P’s father safety.

So I think that even if Carlo loved Geppetto, he knew what he did. To him, to Romeo and Lea and was pleading P desperately to wake up, to pay attention, to become self aware and take his own decisions.

And with this I think it would also make sense for me to confirm my theory that somehow Carlo had always been there in a way. His ego is not awoken of course (and probably will never do), but his the ergo is pretty much listening and reacting.

I feel he really wants to prevent himself/P from getting back his memories and relieving the painful stuff, and instead wants P to start on a blank canvas, living his own life, making his own choices, being his own person.

But this first human kill was so intense that he had to somehow intervene in a way, begging P to wake up, and who know, maybe this was the very initial step for P to start gaining humanity, aside from lying on the hotel door. 

This moment when he took a human life, is what got his heart experiencing disgust and maybe pain or grief of his own self and what impulsed him to try to experience things his own way and figure out how to be his own person.

But take this with a grain of salt, maybe I’m overreaching with this theory :p

Anyways, I’ve passed the game 4 times and I never noticed this before! If it was not because @cinnapiss made it apparent for me, this detail would have been lost to me!

(If you wanna see the exact moment you can go to this video: https://youtu.be/Mz1fXYJV2XQ?si=VLBxu-HMvZppVje4&t=1359 it is better if you watch it with headphones!)

[maud-lin]

A handful of people said they were interested in learning more about my major characters so here you go!!

This isn't in-depth or anything, just a quick summary for anyone unfamiliar with these characters (I've gotten a fair amount of new followers since the last time I tried to do something like this).

I'm happy to answer any questions about their backstories, campaigns in the games I've thrown them in, etc (send me an ask!!)

side note: after making this I realized it's Painfully Obvious that I love making paladins and sorcerers. I'm not ashamed of that

(actual bios under the cut)

Morana - BG3, NWN

(referred to as "Alias" during BG3 because she doesn't remember her name)

she/they

25~ years old (NWN) - 145~ years old (BG3)

"Human" (Bhaalspawn; Living Construct)

Redemption Paladin/Divine Soul Sorcerer

Chaotic Good

She is outwardly stoic but internally very sentimental and fuelled by compassion in her beliefs and decisions. They have an iron will and have continuously stated their disinterest in her so-called ‘fate’ woven for her by Bhaal. She believes nurture above nature, and in people and how they respond to their circumstances; but, deep down still fears the possibility that Bhaal might have branded her in a way she can never truly escape. They go through great lengths to defy Bhaal and protect others from herself, to the point of self-isolation; she hides her tumultuous emotions beneath the facade of a forbearing paladin. 

Rion - BG1, BG2

any pronouns

20 to 21 years (BG1/2) - 143 (BG3*)

Human (Bhaalspawn)

Sorcerer

Chaotic Good

(*technically how old they would have been)

Ineffably hopeful and optimistic. He enjoys causing trouble, but knows how far is "too far" and doesn't want to cause anyone genuine harm. They are impulsive, indifferent to authority, and driven by emotion — she claims not to fear Bhaal, has never been able to stay in one place for long, sparked by a sense of doom that never truly seems to go away no matter how far she tries to run from it. They are more afraid of embracing hatred and losing what makes them human than they are scared of Bhaal.

Callow - Descent into Avernus

he/him

28 years old

Bronze Dragonborn

Crown Paladin/Fiend Warlock

Knight of the Shield

Lawful Neutral

Prideful, show-boaty, happy to swing a sword around but deeply cowardly when faced with substantial responsibility. Likes the idea of being a "hero" more than he is willing to embody actual heroic ideals. He has a strong sense of justice and an even stronger aversion to confronting the possibility that his sense of justice may be wrong. Mortally afraid of vulnerability and losing his sense of control.

Rue - Rogue Trader

she/her

43 years old

Human (Voidborn)

Sanctioned Psyker - Telepath

Former Chiurgeon

Iconoclast

Constantly ping-ponging between misanthropic depression and ignorant idealism. She is "nice" on a surface level, but it is intertwined with a desire to alleviate her guilt and her short-term gestures often end up being insubstantial in the bigger picture. She believes her intentions are good, but is ultimately hypocritical and deeply selfish. She makes an active effort to show compassion to those in her interpersonal circle, but is just as quick to inhibit them and chain them to her for fear they may abandon her.

[clangenrising]

Still thinking about the update and it’s such a dilemma (being the coming kits of Luna and Flood). There is no true “right” answer to it.

Personally, the fetishization Luna expresses about Flood makes me very uncomfortable, especially seeing as he does not enjoy it/like that she sees him in such a flattened way. So the idea she very strongly feels is “correct” of him abandoning his life, family, friends, to assimilate into a society that would never suit him and absolutely hate him is just not possible. There is no way that would ever work and even in a world in which he agreed it would not end up well (because the city cats do not like clan cats, at all.)

But then to her, this is something they both did, together. And leaving Luna with kits is not fair to her or the kits themselves (also not something I would ever see Flood doing). Theres no way he could provide for them from a distance like brought up in another ask since she’s provided everything by her folk. And I’m not sure how a split custody sorta deal would work since the city cats hate wild cats and everything associated with them.

Most likely, I see this ending with Flood taking them to Risingclan. How it happens though I’m so interested in. I see two ways, the most likely being Luna giving them to him to raise as warriors either to “live by their wild instincts” (how I think she’d see it, yuck vibes) or she sees that them staying in the city is unsafe and give them up for protection-

Or. Evil ending. Things go wrong and Flood has to take them because of the city threatening or even attacking Luna for their origins. Making her a symbol of what happens when city cats mix with warriors, maybe even spin as the warriors coming in and taking the kits for themselves. Again evil terrible option that will set back the little amount of neutrality the clans have with the city cats by a lot. But also drama.

Very intrigued by wherever it will go! Loving the discussion and how mature it is if that makes sense? These are two young cats in a very difficult situation who made an impulse decision and now have to deal with it in whatever way they will. Even in a better world, where the city cats and clans were less hostile, it’s still a hard situation to find a solution for which makes it all the more interesting

hehe I can't make much comment but you're spot on with one of these.

And thanks! That's what I was going for, a really shitty situation that could have been avoided but isn't clearly the fault of one party or the other. Unfortunately, sometimes that's just how relationships go.

[regretismyconstantcompanion]

Albus listened in stillness again, as he had before—not interrupting, not deflecting. His expression didn’t shift at Harry’s words, though his eyes—the sharp, clear blue of a man still young, still growing into the figure Harry would one day know—flickered with something. Not offence. Not even surprise. Something quieter. Acceptance. Recognition.

When Harry finished, Albus exhaled softly, folding his hands in front of him.

“You’re right,” he said, without hesitation. “On all counts.” He didn’t offer a defence. There was no impulse to correct or justify. Just calm, almost reflective agreement. “I am arrogant,” he said gently, as though naming it aloud didn’t wound him, but rather clarified something he had long suspected. “Even now. Perhaps especially now. It is a fault I have tried—am still trying—to understand, let alone temper.”

“And you’re right not to wear rose-tinted glasses. I would never wish that kind of reverence on anyone.” His gaze drifted for a moment, to the window, to Fawkes, to some point beyond the moment—then returned to Harry with quiet clarity.

“I won’t speak in detail about Ariana, or what I did or failed to do. But I will say this: what happened to her is not something I excuse, even in the silence I keep around it. It’s something I live with.” The words weren’t heavy with self-pity. If anything, they were measured, precise. The honesty of someone who had carried this truth alone for too long and had learned to sit beside it without flinching.

“As for believing I knew best…” A faint, ironic smile touched his lips. “That is perhaps my most enduring flaw. I have confused silence for protection, control for care, too many times. Even with the best intentions, I have made decisions that others should have had a say in. And I have withheld truths because I believed the burden of them would be too much for someone else to bear.” His gaze met Harrys again—steadier now, but not diminished.

“I cannot speak for the man I become. But if he kept you in the dark… if he tried to shape the world around you rather than with you… then he was wrong. Even if he meant well. Even if he was afraid.” A moment passed, filled only by the low creak of the flat settling around them.

“Sometimes,” Albus said quietly, “what we withhold from those we love doesn’t spare them pain. It only isolates them. And makes them question the very love we were trying to protect.” He didn’t ask for forgiveness. And he didn’t offer Harry a lesson disguised as an apology. He simply let the truth sit there—plain, uncomfortable, and real. “You deserved more than that, Harry.”

Fawkes stirred softly on the windowsill, as if punctuating the silence with his steady, living warmth.

Then Albus added, with a faint, reflective smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s a strange thing, meeting someone who’s already seen the worst in you, when you haven’t yet done it.”

Harry x Albus D. Time Travel AU.

@regretismyconstantcompanion

( September 1st, 1910)

The very first thing which Harry Potter became aware of, was the deep seated, open wound that was grief. Even behind closed eyes, the image of Sirius' still laughing face flashed within his mind, as the man fell back through the archway. Harry felt as though his heart had been squeezed within a fire-clad grasp. He wasn't sure he would ever be happy again.

The next thing Harry noticed, was that he was lying down. Which was strange, as aside from the death of his Godfather, the last thing he remembered was being sent via Portkey to Professor Dumbledore's office, with the promise of a long awaited explanation from said Headmaster. Instead, he could feel a prickle beneath his hands, as they flexed against what he realised had to be grass. He was outside. And judging by the lack of light trying to assault his eyes as he opened them, it was sometime after nightfall. He groaned as he inched his head to look to his left, blinking groggily until his vision cleared and he could make out the fringe of what he thought was the Forbidden Forest. At least it appeared he hadn't gone too far from his destination.

Forcing himself up into a sitting position, Harry looked more properly at his surroundings. He was facing towards Hogsmeade, which he could see lit up in the short distance. Leaning on a hand, he twisted his body so that he could look over his shoulder. And sure enough, there was Hogwarts Castle, standing magnificently within her vast grounds.

Something about the castle seemed amiss from where Harry sat, but things always did look eerie in the light of the moon, so he didn't pay too much attention to the disquiet forming in his gut.

Instead, he got to his feet, stumbling a little from the effects of the Portkey. He hasn't felt this unsteady since the summer before last, when he had first been introduced to the concept. Once he was sure he wasn't about to trip over his feet, Harry crossed to the gravel and started his way up the path towards his school.

He wasn't sure what had happened to the Portkey, but he was certain Dumbledore would have some kind of explanation. He usually did after all.

[taddymason]

Face to Face

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 15- makeshift bandages

Sorry I’m a little late, I slept in fhsksbkssbsk. Anyways this one is kinda silly, idk what I’m doing with whumptober but I’ve had this idea in my head where Legend meets the dads so here’s this silly lil thing dbsksbsksbk.

Warning for a bloody stab wound.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Legend stared out at the ocean, listening to the waves as they crashed against the beach he was on. He breathed in the salty breeze, several old memories flooding his mind from the smell and sounds. He had mixed feelings about the ocean. On one hand, it reminded him of the pain and loss he had to endure, but on the other hand, he had the best memories at the beach. Whenever he got overwhelmed he would try to find a beach area to unwind, occasionally humming his song…

He was lucky that he was close enough to a beach in this world. The other heroes were great, but they would always burst into arguments and overwhelm Legend. In order to keep himself from getting riled up, he’d walk away, and so he found a beautiful beach to think about all that’s happened to him. He stared out at the horizon, watching the land across from him. But something was strange about it when he really studied it. He narrowed his eyes and noticed that there was a boat traveling to where he was.

A boat?

If Legend recalled correctly, they were the only ones here. So who was on that boat? And why were they heading towards them? He stood up and watched the boat closely. He didn’t know what that was, but he might as well figure it out before it got too close. Legend took off his clothes and took a deep breath, praying that no one could see him now, and he jumped into the water. He felt the familiar magic twisting his bones around and fusing his legs together into a beautiful pink fish tail, and he pushed against the water towards the boat. When he got close he kept his distance, but stared at the bottom of the boat. He didn’t know what he was expecting, he couldn’t see the people on the boat so he didn’t know if they were a threat. He circled the boat for a little bit, finally popping out of the water to get a good look at the people onboard. He only saw one person, but from what he could tell, they weren’t a monster. Was that the puppeteer? Legend narrowed his eyes, but he couldn’t see the person very clearly. Truthfully he didn’t know what the puppeteer looked like. But he was from either Sheikah, Hylian, or Gerudo from what he heard, so he should be on this boat, right?

The person Legend was watching suddenly looked at him, and Legend quickly dove back into the water, panicking. He wasn’t supposed to be seen.

Legend quickly swam underneath the boat, trying to head back to shore to report on what he saw. Just when he was out in the open, a sharp pain went through his tail, and he let out a scream. Legend sunk to the ocean floor as his tail throbbed, and he looked at it to see a spear straight through his tail. Blood was mixing in with the water, and the pain was so bad that he couldn’t move his tail. He quickly reached for the spear, trying to gather up the courage to pull it out, but the pain was too much. A shadow went over him, and Legend noticed that the boat was on top of him. They’re after him, he thought in horror. He was going to get captured and possibly tortured for information on the other heroes, or he was going to get murdered for being a mermaid or for being a hero or something. He needed to get out now, but he couldn’t move his tail, he was stuck. He turned and saw a net coming towards him, and he gasped as he was scooped off the ocean floor, his tail throbbing as he folded up in the net. The net pulled up quickly, and Legend broke the surface coughing.

“Let me go! Let me go!” He started yelling as the net pulled him closer to the boat. He weakly punched the air, trying to land a hit on his captors.

“Woah woah woah! Hey it’s ok, it’s ok!” He heard a man yell out, and he was cut free from the net and was carried out gently, which surprised Legend. Was he not a captive?

Legend let out a yelp when he slipped out of the man’s hold, and he fell to the ground harshly. He heard the man curse under his breath and he was leaned up against him.

“Nice going Rusl.”

“I didn’t think he’d be so slippery!”

“He’s part fish, what did you expect?”

“I—I don’t know! Leave me alone!”

Legend looked up at the man he was leaned up against, who he assumed was named Rusl. He had dirty blonde hair that reached to the middle of his neck, with some scruffy facial hair on his chin and an interesting mustache around his mouth. He had light blue eyes and had a gentle expression when he looked down at Legend. He frowned apologetically and rubbed Legend’s arm.

“That got you good,” he muttered, looking at Legend’s injured tail, where another man with reddish-blonde hair looked over. “How… how does it look, Leon?”

Leon gave Rusl a look before returning to his tail.

“Well, the spear went right through his tail so, I can’t imagine it’s anything good,” he answered, grabbing the spear which caused Legend to whimper. “Linebeck, look away,” he said, and Legend noticed a tall man with dark brunette hair turn away, looking nauseous. Rusl held onto Legend’s hand as Leon broke the spear in half, pulling it through his tail. Legend hissed at the pain and felt his tail go numb.

“Hey Leon, did you ever consider that doing that would cause splinters?” A very short man who looked a lot like Hyrule stepped up, staring at the broken spear concerned.

“He’ll be fine.”

“Not if he has splinters.”

“He’ll be fine.”

Legend gulped and looked at his bleeding tail, feeling dizzy from the sight as Leon put pressure on the wound. He felt the magic twisting through his legs and he groaned in pain as his tail split back into two legs. Leon yelped at the sight, throwing his red cape over Legend before continuing to deal with his legs.

“Woah,” he heard Rusl mumble at the sight. “You can turn into a… fish?”

Legend let out a pained breath, smiling at the kind man. “A mermaid.”

“I see. I’ve never heard of mermaids before…”

“Yeah, well, I’m not really a mermaid, it’s just an item that I use whenever I get into water.”

Rusl stared at him blankly, and Legend chuckled at his confusion.

“It’s weird I know.”

Rusl smiled as Leon sat up and turned behind him. “Oy, Talon,” he called out, “bring me some bandages!”

“We don’t have any bandages!” He heard the man named Talon yell back. He sounded like he was inside the boat.

“Then bring me something that can be used as a bandage for Din’s sake!”

“Ok ok, don’t cuss at me!”

Legend took a deep breath, trying not to pass out from the pain and the blood, and Rusl rubbed his arm again.

“I’m so sorry about this,” he mumbled, and Legend waved it away.

“It’s ok, thank you for taking care of me—“ Legend was interrupted when he saw a man walk up to Leon with bandages. He felt his heart stop when he nearly recognized him, and he sat up, almost hitting Rusl’s chin with his head. “T-Tarin?” He blurted out, and the man looked at him in surprise. He looked behind him and looked back with confusion plastered on his face.

“Are ya talkin’ to me?” He asked, and Legend felt disappointment and embarrassment when he realized that he was definitely not Tarin. His hair was thinning at the top, his facial hair connected all the way to his sideburns, and his blue eyes did not match Tarin’s dark brown eyes. Legend looked down, tears uncontrollably welling up.

“I-I’m so s-sorry—I thought you were someone else,” he stammered.

“Oh, it’s ok kid, no harm done,” Talon said softly, handing a shirt to Leon. While Leon tore the shirt apart and began wrapping his leg, Legend stared at Talon. He had such a kind face, and now that he was looking at him more, he was looking a lot like his uncle. A lump formed in his throat and he looked away.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” Talon asked, breaking the silence.

“I’m Link,” Legend said without thinking. He probably should’ve kept his identity a secret, but these men were all so kind that he didn’t think about it. Leon froze and looked at him intensely.

“You’re Link? Are you traveling with other Links?”

“Um…” Legend stopped himself this time. They were all looking for the group… was it smart to say yes? “I… uh… I don’t know.”

“… you don’t know?”

“Uh… well I…” Legend looked around, panic beginning to bubble up in his chest. Rusl cleared his throat and Legend looked up at him.

“We’re only asking because we’re looking for our respective Links,” he explained. “Y’see, my son is Link, and most of us here also have a son named Link, we were hoping that our Links would all be together.”

Legend narrowed his eyes. Rusl’s son was Link? Which Link was he the father to? He honestly looked nothing like them. Not to mention his ears were rounded, not pointed. Was his son Sky? Sky had very small ears, but so did Warriors, maybe Warriors was his son…

“Hey,” Leon interrupted Legend’s thoughts. “It’s a simple question, are you traveling with Links?”

“Leon he’s overwhelmed, be patient with him,” Talon muttered, and Leon sighed.

“I-I’m sorry, Link,” he muttered, and Legend smiled.

“Hey, it’s ok. Who’s your son?”

Leon sat up straight, a hopeful gleam in his eye. “Um, his name is also Link… and uh… he has long blonde hair, he’s kind of braided it on one side though, and he’s very young…”

Legend hummed. “That sounds like Four.”

Leon nearly jumped up at that, causing Talon to yelp slightly.

“Four? As in the Four sword?”

“Uh, y-yes. We had to give each other nicknames so… he’s known as Four, mostly ‘cause of his eyes but also because of his four sword.”

Leon smiled slightly, then looked down. “He’s alright?”

“Last time I checked, yeah. He’s safe and sound.”

Leon sat back, running a hand through his hair, looking relieved. Legend smiled and sat up away from Rusl.

“Really, all the Links I’m traveling with are fine. I’m sure they’d be happy to see you.”

The men all made different sounds of relief at that, but Legend couldn’t help but notice the Linebeck man watching him strangely. Leon finished tying his bandages and gave his knee a pat.

“We'll take you inside, and maybe we’ll find you some clothes you can put on.”

Legend wrapped the red cape around him tighter in embarrassment. “Um… it’s ok my clothes are all on the beach.”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Leon said, standing up. “Ok Linebeck you’re safe to look.”

“No, no you are not safe to look, Linebeck. There’s blood everywhere,” The short brown haired man stopped the tall man.

“Oh come on, his leg isn’t bleeding,” Leon muttered.

“There’s still blood everywhere!”

Legend chuckled at the men bantering, they reminded him of his own group. Rusl gave a small sigh and pulled Legend closer to him.

“Let me take you inside then,” he said softly. “I am… so sorry about this.”

Legend wrapped his arms around his neck as he was lifted off the ground. “Hey, it’s ok. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault anyways.”

Legend heard the others snort.

“No it was definitely his fault,” Leon said.

“I said that I saw a mermaid,” Linebeck started up, “and Rusl wasted no time to grab a spear and chuck it into the water.”

“He was so fast I didn’t have time to process what was going on!” The short brunette chuckled.

“He has a good aim I must admit.” Legend saw a different man with strikingly blue eyes leaning against a strange bird man. “It’s not easy to throw spears into the water, I’ve definitely tried.”

Rusl looked down ashamed. “Guys, enough.”

Talon picked up on his mood and stood up. “Alright y’all, let Rusl put Link inside. Leave him alone.”

The other men stopped and Rusl quickly turned to enter the inside of the boat. Legend watched him quietly as he was settled down in a bed. Rusl grabbed some blankets and set them down on top of Legend, and before he could leave, Legend grabbed his arm.

“Hey… it’s ok,” he said firmly. Rusl stared at him for a moment but smiled.

“Get some rest. We’ll get you once we reach the beach.”

Legend nodded and watched as Rusl left the bottom deck. He sighed and laid down, happily letting himself get rest.

[mad-hunts]

[musical-chick-13]

.

[magnusmodig]

ovo whispers menacingly abt his grandstanding .

[apazwtsn]

i can't explain how MUCH i identify with John, like he literally thinks and acts and makes the same mistakes as me at the point that i UNDERSTAND EVERY. ONE. OF HIS ACTIONS AND DECISIONS. CAUSE I DID AND FELT EXACTLY THE SAME. EVEN ON SEASON 4 I CAN TELL YOU IT'S NOT OUT OF CHARACTER. and how i literally connect to him in an incredibly big way. GOD it's like i can see what he's thinking every moment. you may think that i'm exaggerating or making it up but good lord he is literally me we feel literally the same

[ashmp3]

guys i think i will give into temptation and make a real life instagram 👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎

[gorwinglen]

hm. you know im not sure where i stand on the whole winter vs summer debate but i can say this: a cold snap will have you feeling horrendously sad and lonely which yes that sucks real bad. but a heatwave will make you feel legitimately insane. i am a loose fucking cannon rn LMAO i am straight up gonna do something irresponsible.

[ghostickle]

Honestly might be a small issue that anytime someone shows interest in me I think no I’m a bad influence and make really stupid decisions I wouldn’t be good for them to have in their life but don’t seem to be thinking in the opposing direction during that time at all

[fawniswriting]

𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐞

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: After a mission filled with close calls and bad decisions, the team comes home to find an even bigger threat waiting at the door—your wrath.

Warning(s): THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS!!! platonic!thunderbolts x reader. no use of y/n. use of the nicknames doll, honey, and pretty girl. canon typical violence. descriptions of injuries. descriptions of explosion, gun use, etc. established relationship. profanities. kissing. VERY suggestive content (minors be advised). talks of having a baby. bucky being a little feral (very briefly). slightly hurt/comfort. basically bucky and reader being the parents of the group.

Word Count: 3.6k-ish

Author's Note: GUYS I saw this fanart on instagram and instantly knew that I had to write something inspired by it!!! I've been itching to post a thunderbolts fic since last week 😭 welcome back 2012-2014 era of avengers' tower fanfics ✨️ anyway I hope they're keeping the revolution hair for bucky in doomsday or else I swear I'm gonna RIOT!!! (I know seb's head is shaved rn but wigs exist yk 😔) don't forget to comment, like, and reblog loveliesss 🩷

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky Barnes doesn't understand a lot of things since he returned to society.

Cryptocurrency is one of them. Social media is another. Anything that involves more acronyms than actual words is an immediate no on his list.

Above all else, Bucky Barnes struggles to comprehend how exactly he became responsible for the group of walking disasters now hailed as earth's newest, mightiest heroes.

Looking at the pack of hellions in front of him, Bucky has serious doubts about that title.

Right in the middle of the tower's lobby, the Thunderbolts—the New Avengers now, apparently—are scattered like barbie dolls in the aftermath of a toddler's tantrum. John is standing against a column with a tight jaw, his left leg lifted gingerly, wrapped in a makeshift splint that looks suspiciously like someone's utility belt. Beside him, Yelena sits on the ground, legs sprawled in front of her as she cradles a bruised shoulder with an equally bruised hand. Alexei leans atop the front desk with a dried blood streaking down his temple, the young receptionist gone in fright the moment the team walked through the tower's entrance. Even Ava, usually one to disappear before debriefs, is visible for once, propped against the wall with her suit half-glitched and her expression blank.

Everyone is accounted for. Everyone is breathing. 

But they all look like they rolled down a hill of bad choices where they banged their heads at every rock.

The mission was supposed to be a quiet recon, a simple surveillance on a rumored underground tech sale in an abandoned shipyard, low risk with minimal engagement. But then someone—Bucky still doesn’t know who—decided that they could handle it. 

No heads-up. No plan. 

Just four impulsive thrill-seekers interrupting a high-stakes black market deal involving high-tech plasma rifles and an offended buyer with too many goons. 

By the time Bucky caught wind of what was happening, it was already chaos. He had to go in solo, extract the squad under heavy fire, disrupt the shipment, and reroute an entire response team of hostiles to avoid further catastrophe. They got out—just barely—and none of them seemed particularly eager to look him in the eye about it, especially after the thirty-minute tirade he launched into somewhere between fourth gear and a traffic jam.

From his place in front of the elevator, Bucky crosses his arms. “If any of you pull something like that again, you're all getting benched. Indefinitely.”

“What?!” Alexei roars.

Yelena scowls. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You don't get to make that call, Bucky,” John protests.

Ava nods. “We're not children. You can't just ground us whenever you feel like it.”

“Yeah?” Bucky laughs. Sarcastically. “Watch me, kid.”

As if on cue, the elevator arrives with a ding. Bucky gestures curtly towards the opening metal door. “Inside. Now.”

Reluctantly, the team shuffles in like a group of sheep being herded back into their pen for a much-needed nap time.

For a beat, the only sound that settles inside the cramped space is the low mechanical hum of the elevator ascending. 

That is until Ava decides to speak up.

“I’m just saying,” she begins, “it wasn’t like we meant to crash the deal. We were just improvising.”

“Improvising?” Bucky exclaims, glaring at her. “You call tossing a grenade into an active negotiation improvising?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Yelena argues, crossing her arms. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Bucky screeches, his tone rising. “Walker nearly lost a leg!”

“It's just a sprain,” John clarifies. “Probably.”

“See? It's just a sprain!” Yelena repeats a little too cheerfully. “He'll be good as new in no time. Right, John?”

John nods, failing to conceal his wince when Yelena bumps her unharmed shoulder to his.

Bucky rubs his temples. “I can’t believe I’m in charge of you people.”

The elevator dings again at the top floor.

“You know,” Yelena says as the team stumbles out of the metal trapbox, “we technically stopped the deal. You're not giving us credit for that.”

“That’s because you weren't supposed to stop the deal. You were supposed to observe.”

“Back in my day, observe meant punch first, ask questions later,” Alexei quips.

Bucky lets out a scathing scoff that echoes through the air. “Right. Remind me again how many years you spent rotting in that Siberian prison, Alexei?”

“Well, that's not very nice,” John mutters.

“You know what else isn't nice, Walker?” Bucky growls. “Getting your asses lit up by dozens of machine guns because none of you seem to grasp the basic concept of following orders.”

The group swelters in a momentary silence.

“I mean, in our defense,” says Ava, “none of us actually got shot.”

Before Bucky can tell her off even further, a voice suddenly intercepts, “How fabulous! You guys didn't get shot? Geez, someone really should give you all a medal for that.”

The whole team stops in their tracks.

One by one, everyone turns their head towards the direction from which the voice has come. The view that greets them could probably send a perfectly healthy man straight into an early grave.

On the platform floor a few paces away, they find you standing with arms folded across your chest. Despite the bright lilt of your voice, your eyes are cutting as they assess the entire team with the judgement of a juror who has already decided on a guilty verdict. It's clear from your attire that you were freshly off work before going straight to the tower, and since everyone knows that you were supposed to be on a work trip to Philadelphia for at least another two days, it’s safe to assume that your ticket back was booked right around the time someone shouted “mission compromised!”.

It's a full ten seconds of shared disgrace before Yelena finally breaks the silence.

“You called her?” she hisses, landing an accusatory glare in Bucky’s direction.

“I did not.” Bucky scoffs. “And why does it matter if I did?”

“Bucky didn't call me,” you interject, your posture still rigid, your gaze still icy.

“Then who—no.” Yelena's eyes drift towards the kitchen, squinting as she takes in the figure trying to hide behind the doorway. “Bob.”

Ava snaps her head up. “Bob, you little shi—”

“That’s enough,” you jump in, moving sideways to conceal Bob from Ava's murderous line of sight. “He's got nothing to do with this. This is about you—all of you—and what a stupid, reckless, dangerous thing you just did.”

Under your scrutiny, the whole squad shifts like a pack of raccoons caught rummaging through the kitchen trash. The weight of your stare seems to age them all by a decade.

“I'm gonna give all of you two minutes to explain yourselves,” you declare, the authority in your tone indisputable. “And I already know what happened, so don't even think about trying to trick me.”

There is a lull in the air where everyone seemingly tries to process your demand.

When their mouths open again, what follows is not so much an explanation as it is a verbal dogpile. Everyone starts talking all at once—too loud, too fast, and entirely contradictory. John tries to lead with the logistics, only to be steamrolled by Alexei shouting something about creative liberty. Ava attempts to downplay the situation with a jovial “it was barely an explosion!” while Yelena throws her under the bus with a hasty “she started it!”. 

Bucky—standing to the side with the posture of a man watching his funeral getting turned into a Dollar Store circus—doesn’t even bother stepping in. He knows better. 

You hold up a single finger and the room quiets instantly, like someone pressing mute on a trashy sitcom argument. The stillness that follows is so heavy, even the lights begin to flicker in anticipation.

“But we got out fine!” Ava sputters, desperate to fill in the quietness, though her voice immediately thins when she adds, “Mostly.”

“Yeah! I mean, it's just a bruise here, a bruise there—everything's great.” Yelena grins.

Your sharp stare slides towards John, the lines between your eyebrows tightening as you take in the awkward angle of his injured leg. John nearly cowers under your piercing gaze.

“How bad is the damage?” you question, your voice booming throughout the surrounding space.

“What, this? Oh, it's not that bad. Probably just need to ice it then I'll be good as new—”

“Walker.”

It's hardly a secret that John is perhaps your least favorite person in that room, with you still clearly holding a grudge towards him for what happened with the Flag Smashers. The man is used to your constant cold shoulder by now. He expects it, even. More often than not, John finds himself wondering if you would ever warm up to him the way you have with the rest of the team.

And yet, as he now stands at the end of your long stare, John can't help but think that perhaps your silent treatment isn't really that bad. Especially if it means he doesn't have to be on the receiving end of the critical scrutiny you're currently aiming towards him.

The blond gulps.

“There's a forty percent chance it might be broken,” John admits. “But it's likely just dislocated. No big deal.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Get to the medbay and tell them to run a scan,” you command. “Alexei, go with him.”

“That's not necessa—”

The sharp glare you're sending him causes John's words to lodge in his throat.

Alexei springs right into action, steering John away from your ferocious perusal and back towards the elevator.

“C'mon, big guy,” Alexei bellows. “Let's go pay a visit to our doctor friends.”

As soon as the two men disappear into the elevator, your glower shifts towards the remaining two people standing behind Bucky. Yelena pretends to check her nails while Ava's eyes are roaming the ceiling with faux nonchalance, both a pathetic attempt to avoid the clear daggers in your stare. The ridiculousness would've made you chortle were you not livid beyond salvation right now.

“I want you two to go back to your rooms, clean yourselves up, and be back here in no more than thirty minutes,” you proclaim. “We'll continue our discussion after dinner.”

“Wait, hold on—”

“That's not—”

“Just go, you two,” Bucky interrupts, the blue in his eyes colder than the Arctic ocean. “That wasn't a request.”

The two figures slump in defeat, teetering towards the staircase with the speed of a turtle in a morning rush hour. You hear Yelena grumbling something in Russian under her breath, and you force yourself not to think about what the phrase might mean lest you want your skin to crawl in an even higher degree of vexation.

“Good gracious.” Bucky shakes his head.

Behind you, Bob emerges out of the kitchen, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly as he approaches you like a wounded kitten.

“They're mad at me, aren't they?” Bob murmurs. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you guys fight with each other.”

“It's not your fault, sweetie,” you assure him, extending your hand and offering a comforting squeeze around his palm. “They're just being idiots right now. You did good, okay? Give it a few hours and I promise you, they'll forget about this already.”

Bob nods solemnly, his voice quiet as he excuses himself and trudges towards the common area. You release a breath as you observe him diving head first onto the sofa, burying his face in the cushion like a Victorian widow fainting onto her chaise.

Turning around, your eyes lock with another pair in blue. The smile on Bucky's face grows as he takes you in, his arms opening with all the intention to collect you in his embrace. 

“Hey, doll. I've missed—”

“No. Stay right there.” You raise your palm, taking a step back. “I'm mad at you, too.”

Bucky blinks. 

He watches you turn around and walk away from him, his arms coming down limp by his sides before he scutters after your retreating form. Bucky lingers in the doorway as you move about the kitchen, taking out pots, knives, and pans while slamming the cabinet doors shut in the process. You don't even spare him a glance as you start retrieving fresh ingredients from the fridge.

“Honey?” he calls out, voice meek beneath the echo of your knife slicing through onions on the counter. “C'mon, doll, you're really not gonna talk to me?”

“No.”

The chopping continues.

Bucky rubs his face.

“You know I'm just as disappointed in them as you are, right?” he begins. “Swear to God, doll, I had nothing to do with this. Didn't even know what those rascals were planning ‘till I got the call from Alexei. Told ‘em off as soon as I extracted them outta there.”

“Hm.”

Sighing, Bucky takes a tentative step forward, then another, finally closing the distance when he's sure you wouldn't smack him across the head with the chopping board in your hand. His fingers find purchase around your elbow, halting your movements, the gentleness aching as he spins you around to face him. The knife and half-sliced onion lie dormant on the counter.

“Hey,” Bucky utters, so softly that the air nearly swallows the word whole. “Talk to me?”

You heave in a shaky breath, evading his eyes. “What's there to talk about? I told you I'm pissed.”

“Okay, that part I already got.” Bucky chuckles, brushing the back of his palm on your cheek. “Help me understand why? At least tell me how I can fix it, pretty girl. Hm?”

Your silence quivers at the edges, growing more brittle with each swipe of Bucky’s touch on your skin. The walls around your heart crumble under his infuriating tenderness.

“When Bob called and said the team had gone radio silent, I—” you pause, swallowing hard, “—I thought something terrible happened. I booked the first train out of Philly before I even hung up.”

Bucky stays quiet, watching you with careful eyes.

“I couldn’t reach anyone. Not John, not Yelena, not Ava, not Alexei—not you. And the longer I waited, the worse it got in my head. I pictured the mission going sideways. All of you gone.” You inhale sharply. “I pictured all of you coming home in body bags.”

Bucky's heart breaks at the shudder he feels running through your back. His soul is already mourning over the loss of light he would usually find shining so brightly out of your eyes. It makes him cling to you just a tad bit tighter.

“Bob finally called me again to tell me that you're all fine. That you're on your way back. But that's not the point, Bucky.” You look at him then, your fingers flexing. “The point is, I should've never heard about all of this from Bob in the first place. I should've heard it from you.”

Bucky's shoulders sink. “I didn't want you to worry.”

You shake your head, eyes burning with the threat of unshed tears. “But I do worry, Bucky! That’s the point. I worry every single time. The moment all of you step out of this building, I'm counting down the minutes until you guys return to me again. You can't shield me away from that.”

He steps closer, removing what little bit of distance between the two of you until all of your atoms are nearly merged as one. “You're right. You are. I should’ve called. Should've trusted that you'd want to know, even if it might scare you.”

“It did scare me,” you whisper. “And I didn’t want Bob’s voice telling me everything was okay. I wanted yours.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs, his arms pulling you nearer. “No more leaving you out. I promise it’ll be me from now on. I'll tell you everything, doll. Always.”

A shuddering breath leaves your lungs, and just like that, you completely melt away under Bucky's touch. Your forehead drops against the line between his shoulder and chest, your fingers gripping his sides as though he was the very force keeping you tethered to earth. Meanwhile, Bucky's lips ghost over the top of your head, whispering sweet nothings, the contrasting temperature of his palms appeasing you with random patterns against your back.

“I don't know how this all started,” you confess. “I'm not sure when I began caring this much about those idiots, but I do. The thought of something happening to them—to you—to all of you…”

Bucky's arms tighten around your frame. “I know, honey. I feel the same way.”

“This is not what I had in mind, you know?”

You tilt your head back to stare at his face, your fingers tangling themselves in the soft waves that Bucky has been growing out over the past few weeks. He almost cut them all off several days ago, but after some convincing on your end—which may have included activities that found your fingers buried in the soft tendrils and his face buried somewhere else—you managed to talk him out of it.

Bucky's eyebrows lift. “What do you mean?”

“Well… when you said that you were joining this team, I thought I'd never seen a more dysfunctional group of people in my entire life. I figured it'd be a miracle if all of you last a whole month without someone quitting or accidentally blowing each other up.” You chuckle, your eyes softening. “I didn't think I'd end up pacing the hallway every time you guys went out, worrying like some overworked mother of five.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, his forehead falling onto your own. “I get it. This wasn’t exactly how I imagined myself stepping into the dad role either, but… here I am.”

“Yeah?” Your lips quirk up. “How did you imagine it then?”

“Well—” Bucky's voice drops, his breath warm where it fans against your skin, “—I figured it’d start with a little house, somewhere quiet. Nothing fancy. Just enough for us to start building a life in. I’d fix the place up real proper. You’d hum to yourself as you whip up one of those famous pies of yours, and I’d pretend not to stare.”

The cheeky grin on Bucky's face grows, prompting a laugh out of your chest. His thumb continues to trace idle circles upon your waist.

“Then, when you feel the time's right, we’d try for a baby. The old-fashioned way. Real slow, real sweet. I’d kiss you like I got all the time in the world, and make love to you like I didn’t.”

Something flutters inside your chest, like stardust stirring in a forgotten corner of the galaxy. The way Bucky is looking at you makes you feel as if you were the first breath of the universe itself.

“That's how I pictured us becoming parents,” Bucky adds, brushing his lips along your jaw. “Not… this. Whatever this is.”

You smile at the graze of his beard on your cheek, angling your head to capture him in a brief kiss. 

“You know what I think this is, Buck?” you ask, teasing your lips against his own. “I think we should view this as a practice run. After all, how hard can it be to parent our own kid if we can do it to a group of five ridiculous, chaotic misfits, right?”

“Doll.” He sighs. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“Depends.” You hum, your lips twitching in feigned innocence. “If you think I'm imagining you putting a baby in me… then yeah, you're absolutely right.”

Bucky swallows your cheeky grin with a kiss, grunting against your mouth as he presses you back against the counter. The muffled moans you let out are music to his ears, a lascivious melody that rushes straight towards places he reserves explicitly for you. His hands slip under your blouse, roaming the expanse of skin, drifting lower and lower in search for the one place that could send him straight to heaven and—

“Yelena! Give it back to me!”

“I told you it wasn't me!”

Bucky groans.

The shrill voices resonate all the way down to the kitchen, followed by the unmistakable echoes of footsteps thundering down the staircase. Bucky makes a guttural noise of frustration as his face slumps into the crook of your neck.

“I swear to God, I’m gonna ship them to Asgard one of these days,” he mutters.

You snort, brushing your fingers through his hair and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. 

“Let's put a raincheck on the baby-making, soldier,” you purr, smirking when it spurs on a rumble from Bucky's chest. “Looks like I've got a fight to break up before we have two dead superheroes on our hands.”

He groans again, this time at the loss of your warmth as you slip out of his arms. From the kitchen's doorway, you raise an eyebrow towards the common area, perching your palms on either side of your hips as you take in the havoc ahead.

“What the hell is going on here?” you snarl.

“She stole my snacks!” accuses Ava.

“I don't even like Jammie Dodgers, you lunatic!”

“What a lot of crap. We all know you'd even eat chicken off the ground given the chance, you pig!”

“Fucking asshole—”

“Hey!” you interrupt, your voice sharp as you march towards the two fuming Avengers. “You call each other any more names, then I promise you, you're gonna wish you got shot on that mission today.”

Bucky watches the whole interaction from the kitchen with his arms crossed and a slow grin spreading across his face. He leans against the counter, studying you with the quiet reverence of a man who has found the meaning of home after decades of searching. Even in the midst of this domestic madness, even with the team’s antics grinding on his last nerve, he wouldn't trade a single thing in his life for anything else.

There are still a lot of things in this world that Bucky struggles to understand.

But with you by his side, and his entire team watching his six, he knows that he's got nothing to worry about.

[bearandhoney-com]

Despite having streamed minecraft for a good while now (almost two years) it took until now for me to ever make a minecraft youtube video and this is my creation.

a slightly rushed video, because i really wanted to finish it time for me to use it as an application for lifesteal, because you miss all the shots you never shoot and also part of the reason why i did it in teh first place is the thought of "wouldn't it be silly if i got into lifesteal"

de rushing it i am proud of the video, if for tehf act that due to part of my footage corrupting beyond saving i had get creative and made a format i haven't really seen ebfore for a minecraft video :]