#i miss my expression of happiness and sadness and nostalgia

[takasgf]

if there is one media i grew up with, experienced it in different times of my life and kept love in my heart for it, despite not talking about it much often it would be gotg. I watched the first movie back in second or third grade, the year it launched on a pirated USB stick, and i wasnt supposed to. My dad put it on the tv, thinking i was asleep but i was not and i watched it secretly out of curiosity. I was immediately interested in all these fun characters. Its not like i havent watched many action movies my parents would put on after i was supposed to be asleep, but this one was different. I re-watched it many times, created the silliest self insert ocs for the universe, WROTE A BOOK BASED ON SAID OCS AND A FEW CHARACTERS I LIKED AND SHOWED IT TO MY SCHOOL AND FAMILY (they were so proud and so was i, until they made me read a passage from it in front of the entire class like 3 years later)). Then i watched the second movie at the cinema, LOVED IT, i remember it being such a fun movie (i sadly watched it only one time) and it fulled my mcu interest all the way through 2017-2019 until endgame happened and my mcu phase was over. I havent watched any movies after endgame and i dont think i will, except for gotg 3. I need to see it. I know i'll bawl my eyes during it because i already started weeping while watching the trailer. I love these characters so much, i love these movies so much, they are full of personality and color and humour and awesome music !!!!! I love S.tarlord so much and idc about his actor, but the character has impacted me and my creativity so , so much (in a good way). I love all of the Guardians and I wish to re watch the movies and that holiday special they made recently, but we'll see if i suceed. If i do, you can expect a GOTG!Ishigeru AU as well HAHA

[breezeflows]

The Long Road (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Summary: You’ve finally set out to finalize your divorce with Stanford Pines after seemingly “moving on”. But what will happen when you seek him out and he’s nowhere to be found? Time to pack your bags and head out to your once hometown, Gravity Falls, to find out.

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EEEE it’s finally here!! This is by far one of my favorite fics I’ve ever made, and I’m stoked to work on it more in the future!!

Thank you everyone so much for the support so far, and a huge thank you to my sister for always supporting me and my works!

THEMES: Angst (this chapter is honestly kind of sad), (LOTS OF YEARNING BECAUSE READER AND FORD DONT KNOW HOW TO EXPRESS THEIR FEELINGS), Arguments, Emotional Conflict and mentions of Divorce :,)

With that being said, enjoy the first chapter of The Long Road!

Chapter 1

A soft sigh escapes you as you drive through the windy backroads of Oregon, a sense of familiarity and nostalgia filling you with each tree you pass. Autumn was finally in motion, bright colored leaves falling from the trees and coating the grounds below in a warm, yet damp, glow.

It was your favorite time of year, but you wished you could be visiting your once-hometown on different circumstances. The papers labeled: "DIVORCE AGREEMENT" flapped gently in your passenger seat as you glanced down at them, the chilly air seeping in through the cracked windows of your car.

 You were headed towards Gravity Falls, a town you once held near and dear to your heart. It was the place you and your former husband, Stanford Pines, had moved to after the two of you got married. It was everything you wanted, small, quiet, and isolated. Ford even had a cabin built for both of you out in the woods, and although some of the designs were questionable, you didn't mind a single bit. You were just happy to be alongside him. You had known him almost your whole life, practically growing up alongside him and his brother, Stanley, who he had eventually cut off all contact with after Stanley practically stomped on Ford's chance at a lifetime opportunity in high school. (womp womp)

Regardless though, everything was perfect, until it wasn't.

Ford always had a thing for the supernatural, and you knew that. After all it was one of the things that had drawn the both of you to this town. He had intelligence beyond comprehension, and it was one of the many traits you admired about him. You supported him and his work, always helping where you could or if you were given the chance. Whether it was chasing pesky eye-bats or bringing him a hot cup of coffee to keep him caffeinated during his late-night lab sessions, you were always there for him, even when he was engrossed in his studies and missing from your shared bed. Your unwavering support never faltered, not until Ford came clean to you about some sort of "Muse." He described him as a powerful interdimensional being, one that went by the name of Bill Cipher.

"He is truly a force to be reckoned with, Y/N. His unparalleled knowledge is unlike anything I've ever encountered, and he holds the key to improving the very fabric of our world. His power is crucial in unlocking newfound potential for our realm and beyond. He is the reason why I must keep moving forward."

Ford spoke excitedly as he cupped your cheek with one hand, the other resting firm, but gently on your shoulder.

You remembered the determination in his eyes, and the eagerness in his tone. Although you on the other hand, were less than thrilled. Your heart sunk at his words, and though you wanted to be excited for your husband, the concern you felt for him was overpowering as realization set in. The weird window designs in the cabin, the tapestries covered with curtains, it was all making sense. Your husband practically worshipped this thing, and it bothered you.

The night ended with conflict; you explained to Ford how you trusted him deeply, but his Muse? Not so much. It all just seemed too good to be true. Not to mention how it felt like a punch in the gut that Bill was his motivation to push forward in his studies, but not you.

One disagreement led to another, and Ford eventually found all his time spent down in the lab while you remained upstairs. You no longer brought him coffee or kept him company while he worked. The two of you had grown distant, and while it felt as though your heart was ripping in two, Ford never showed the same concern. Hell, you barely even saw him nowadays. The only times he’d emerge from the lab was to grab more coffee filters for the machine, which was soon moved downstairs. He no longer returned to your shared bed on late nights, opting to sleep downstairs in the lab instead. He was practically a ghost now.

You exhaled gently through your nose as you sat at your shared dining table, the fresh cup of tea you prepared swirling with wisps of steam that fogged up your glasses. It was early morning, and the sun was just beginning to rise in the sky, casting the room in a warm glow. You hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, tossing and turning with reoccurring nightmares that plagued your mind. They didn’t make any sense to you. They started out with a blue flash, followed by a yellow flash, and always ended with you and Ford finally calling things off with a bad argument. You presumed the last part of your dream was there due to your constant worrying that that was the direction your relationship was headed. Either way it troubled you deeply. At this rate things weren’t going to end well, it only being a matter of time before one of you snapped.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as you hear a familiar pair of footsteps making their way up the creaky steps, the noise echoing quietly through the house. Part of you wants to retreat to your bedroom, contemplating if you’re ready to have an encounter with him this early in the morning. It’s been a week since you guys’ last crossed paths, and you barely managed to maintain eye contact with him the last time. Your stomach churns with anxiety, and your fingers tighten around the handle of the mug filled with lukewarm tea. Suddenly, movement in your peripheral snaps you out of your thoughts, your vision glued to the liquid before you. Ford steps into the doorway of the kitchen, seemingly taken back by the sight of you there. You slowly turn your gaze towards him as he stands in the doorway, his face partly shadowed in the dim lighting of the room. He stands a few feet away from you as his eyes study you intently, as if he’s searching for something. There’s an air of fatigue about him, evident in the bags beneath his eyes and the disheveled state of his usually tidy appearance. He seems to hesitate for a moment before finally speaking as he steps forward, his voice low and rough from the lack of use. “Good morning.”

A mix of emotions stir in you as you take in his appearance, a pang of concern in your chest at the sight of his exhaustion. A small part of you wants to reach out and comfort him, but the distance that’s grown between you over the past few weeks makes you hesitate, resulting in you replying with a simple, “Good morning.” your tone neutral.

Ford then moves to take a seat at the table across from you, his fingers drumming against the wood in what seems like a nervous gesture. He looks at you intently before speaking, his voice slightly strained. “I wanted to inform you that Fiddleford will be coming to stay for a while, to help me with my research. I’ve been working on something big, something I cannot do alone.”

Your gaze softens at the mention of your old friend from college, someone you and Ford had spent a lot of time with. Back in those days you always had two cups of coffee on hand, never just one.

“I see...” Your vision retracts back to the mug as a sense of betrayal fills you. Did Ford feel as if he couldn’t come to you for help anymore? Did he just not care? Your grip tightens as you speak once more.

“Is that all you came up here for?”

Ford notices the subtle change in your tone and the way you avoid his gaze. There’s a pang of guilt in his chest as he notices your reaction, but he pushes it aside, reminding himself that this is for the greater good.

“No, that’s not all,” he says, his voice slightly softer. “I also wanted to talk to you about… us.”

You’re unable to hold back a frown as your stomach sinks, still avoiding his gaze. You manage to hold back tears at the mention of what you assume is going to be a very hard conversation. “Oh.”

Ford notices the tears welling up in your eyes, and his heart aches from the sight. But he pushes on, knowing this conversation needs to happen.

“I know things have been… rocky between us lately,” he continues, choosing his words carefully. “I know I haven’t been around much, and I’m sorry for that. But I want to talk about what’s been going on.”

You bite the inside of your lip as your fists clench, the tears welled up in your eyes now threatening to spill over as you finally meet his gaze.

“What do you mean things have just “been rocky” Ford? I feel like I’ve been living with a ghost for the past month!” Your voice betrays you as you speak, revealing your hurt. “And now you’re reaching out to someone we haven’t seen in literal years for help instead of your own wife?”

Ford’s heart sinks as he sees the tears welling up in your eyes and hears the hurt in your voice. He knew he had been distant, but hearing you say it out loud was like a shot to the chest. He flinches at your words, and guilt washes over him.

“I… I know I’ve been distant, Y/N. And I’m sorry,” he starts. “But the research I’m working on… it’s important. It’s bigger than the both of us. I need someone with specific skills and knowledge that you may not have.”

The wound in your heart deepens as you stand from your chair, the legs of it screeching against the wood as it’s scooted back. You point a finger towards him harshly as the tears brimming in your eyes begin to spill.

“But what about us Ford? Our relationship? Is it not important to you anymore? I barely see you now!”

His heart sinks even further as he sees the hurt and vulnerability in your eyes. He feels like he’s been slapped as you point a finger at him and ask him why he’s been isolating himself.

“Of course our relationship is important to me,” he protests. “I love you, Y/N, more than anything. But this research, it’s something I need to do…” he pauses a moment, before speaking again.

“It’s bigger than our relationship.”

Ford runs a hand through his messy hair, frustration and regret evident on his face as you stand there. Words fail to come out of you as you stand there, trying to process the words that just shattered your fragile heart. He wants to apologize, to take back his words and soothe your pain, but his research was too important to him.

“Y/N, please don’t cry…” Ford pleads as he stands, reaching a hand towards you. The hand rests softly against your arm as you tremble, your attempt at hiding your pain feeble.

“I wish things could be different, but this research is my life’s work. It’s all I’ve been working towards for decades.”

You remain tense and quiet as you keep your gaze down towards the table, the silence so thick you could hear your own tears hit the wood below. Although a sudden knock at the door breaks the tense silence between you both, and Ford turns his head to look towards the door. He hesitates for a moment, torn between continuing the conversation with you and attending to Fiddleford’s arrival. He glances back at you, seeing the tears still streaming down your cheeks and he feels a pang of guilt in his heart. But he pushes it aside, knowing that once again, his research takes priority.

“I’d better get the door..” he mutters as his hand slips softly from your shoulder, making his way to the front door of your shared home. You slouch back into the chair, defeated, as you raise a shaky fist to your mouth. Your tears seem to be unending as you sit there, lost in thought even after the front door creaks open. Ford and Fiddleford’s voices echo throughout the halls as they make their way to what sounds like the entrance of the lab.

“Is Y/N here? I’d love to see her.”

“Uh, no she’s uh… out in town, at the moment.”

This was going to be a rough couple of months.

RAHHH thank you so much for reading the first chapter of this fic! Please feel free to leave your thoughts and comments, I’d love any feedback!!💕

[estapa-edwards]

I MISS YOU, IM SORRY PT 2 - J. HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x fem! reader

word count: 3.7k

requested? yes -i NEED a pt 2 to i miss you, im sorry! 🤍

warnings: use of y/n.

pt. 1

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As I stared at the glowing screen of my phone, Jack's message seemed to jump out at me, stirring a flurry of conflicting emotions within. It had been a few weeks since we last spoke, and despite my efforts to move on, his presence still lingered in the corners of my mind like an echo that refused to fade.

"I miss you."

Those three simple words carried a weight that threatened to pull me back into the depths of nostalgia, where memories of our time together danced in the shadows of my thoughts. I never knew I could miss somebody this much, I reflected, feeling the ache in my chest intensify with each passing moment.

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a photo on social media – Jack with his new girlfriend. She bore a striking resemblance to me, with her long dark hair and piercing blue eyes. It was as if he had found a replacement for me, someone who could fill the void I had left behind.

At first, the discovery had filled me with a strange mixture of jealousy and resentment. How could he move on so quickly, as if I had never meant anything to him? But as I scrolled through their pictures, I realized that perhaps it was for the best. He deserved to be happy, even if it meant finding happiness with someone else.

And so, I made the difficult decision to keep my distance, to refrain from responding to his message. It wasn't out of spite or malice, but out of a sense of self-preservation. I couldn't bear to reopen old wounds, to subject myself to the pain of seeing him move on with someone else.

Despite my resolve to keep my distance from Jack, there was one connection I couldn't sever – my friendship with his brother, Luke. We had formed a bond that transcended the complexities of Jack's love life, spending countless hours together sharing stories, laughter, and the occasional pint of ice cream.

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Despite living under the same roof, Jack's presence in our shared space had dwindled in recent weeks. His busy schedule and newfound relationship kept him away more often than not, leaving Luke and me to our own devices. It was during these moments of solitude that I found solace in Luke's company, grateful for his unwavering support and understanding.

As the days turned into weeks, my visits to Luke's room became a regular occurrence – a sanctuary where I could escape the chaos of my own thoughts and find solace in the familiar warmth of his company. We would spend hours talking about everything and nothing, laughing at inside jokes and sharing stories from our past.

But no matter how much I tried to bury my feelings for Jack, there were moments when his absence weighed heavily on my heart. Sometimes, in the midst of our conversations, I would catch myself drifting off, lost in a sea of memories that threatened to pull me under.

It was during one of these moments that Luke caught me staring off into the distance, a concerned expression etched upon his features.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

I forced a smile, pushing aside the ache in my chest as I nodded in response. "Yeah, just lost in thought."

But Luke wasn't convinced, his piercing gaze seeing through the façade I had erected around myself. He knew me better than anyone, could sense when something was weighing on my mind.

"Is it Jack?" he ventured, his words hanging in the air between us like an unspoken truth.

I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But in the end, I knew I couldn't keep it bottled up inside any longer – not from Luke, my confidant and closest friend.

"Yeah," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I miss him."

There was a sadness in Luke's eyes as he reached out and squeezed my hand in silent understanding. He knew all too well the pain of unrequited love, the ache of longing for someone who was just out of reach.

"I know it's hard," he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. "But you're stronger than you think, Y/N. And no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

His words brought a sense of comfort, a reminder that I wasn't alone in my struggles. With Luke by my side, I felt as though I could weather any storm, no matter how fierce.

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I was just about to leave Luke's room one afternoon when I heard the sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall. Before I could react, the door swung open, revealing Jack standing in the doorway, a surprised expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice tentative. "I didn't realize you were here."

I felt a pang of discomfort at the sight of him, memories of our past rushing back to the surface with a vengeance. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the weight of our shared history pressing down upon us like a heavy blanket.

"I was just leaving," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

There was an awkward tension in the air as I gathered my things and made my way towards the door, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere that surrounded us. But before I could make my escape, Jack spoke up, his voice filled with uncertainty.

"Y/N, wait," he called out, his words stopping me in my tracks.

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest as I braced myself for whatever was to come.

As Jack's words hung in the air, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. The anticipation that had built up inside me came crashing down like a wave, leaving behind a sense of emptiness that threatened to consume me whole.

"Actually, never mind."

With those three simple words, he shattered the fragile hope that had flickered to life within me, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in their wake. I stood there in stunned silence, unable to comprehend the sudden shift in our interaction.

Before I could gather my thoughts or muster a response, Jack turned on his heel and disappeared into his room, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, my heart heavy with disappointment and regret.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Had I imagined the connection between us, the unspoken bond that had once held us together? Or had he simply grown tired of playing games, choosing to retreat behind the walls he had built around himself?

I wanted to scream, to lash out at him for the pain he had caused me with his thoughtless words. But deep down, I knew that it wouldn't change anything – that the distance between us was a chasm too wide to bridge, no matter how much I longed for things to be different.

With a heavy sigh, I turned away from his door and made my way down the hallway, each step echoing the rhythm of my broken heart. It was a painful reminder of the harsh realities of love – that sometimes, no matter how much we wish for things to work out, the universe has other plans in store for us.

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No matter how hard I tried to avoid Jack, it seemed like fate had other plans in store for us. No matter where I turned, he was there – a constant presence in my life, a reminder of the love we had shared and the pain we had endured.

It felt as though the universe was playing a cruel joke on me, taunting me with his presence at every turn. Whether it was bumping into him in the hallway, catching a glimpse of him across the crowded room, or hearing his laughter echoing through the walls of our shared home, there was no escaping the inevitable.

Each encounter served as a painful reminder of what could have been, dredging up memories of happier times and igniting the embers of longing that still smoldered within me. No matter how much time had passed, the wounds he had left behind remained raw and tender, refusing to heal in his absence.

And yet, despite the pain it caused me, there was a part of me that couldn't help but be drawn to him – to the warmth of his smile, the kindness in his eyes, the way he made me feel alive with just a simple touch.

But I knew that giving in to those feelings would only lead to more heartache in the end. I had made a promise to myself to move on, to let go of the past and embrace the possibilities of the future. And even though it was difficult, I knew that I had to stay true to myself, no matter how tempting the allure of Jack's presence may be.

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I stood in the kitchen, lost in the comforting routine of chopping vegetables and stirring simmering pots on the stove. The rhythmic clatter of knives against cutting boards filled the air, a soothing melody that helped to drown out the noise of my thoughts.

But just as I was beginning to lose myself in the familiar motions of cooking, a sharp knock on the door shattered the illusion of calm, jolting me back to reality with a start.

My heart skipped a beat as I glanced towards the entrance, a sense of apprehension knotting in the pit of my stomach. It couldn't be, I told myself, my mind racing with a million possibilities.

With cautious steps, I made my way towards the door, each footfall echoing the rapid rhythm of my heartbeat. As I reached out to grasp the doorknob, a sense of dread washed over me, the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon my shoulders like a heavy burden.

And then, with a trembling hand, I swung the door open – and there he stood, Jack, his presence filling the doorway like a looming shadow against the fading light of dusk.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire. His eyes searched mine, a mixture of emotions swirling within their depths – regret, longing, and something else, something I couldn't quite name.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice soft and tentative. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me as I struggled to find my voice. "No, not at all," I managed to reply, my words coming out in a breathless whisper.

There was a tension in the air, palpable and charged with unspoken emotion. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the world narrowing down to just the two of us, suspended in a fragile bubble of uncertainty.

And then, without a word, Jack stepped forward, closing the distance between us in a single stride. His presence enveloped me like a warm embrace, his scent familiar and intoxicating all at once.

"I've missed you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than you'll ever know."

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken implications. I couldn't deny the surge of conflicting emotions that washed over me at his confession. Part of me wanted to believe him, to hold onto the hope that our connection was still strong despite the obstacles that stood in our way.

But another part of me couldn't ignore the bitter reality of his words – he had a girlfriend. The thought stung like a fresh wound, reopening the scars of heartache that had barely begun to heal.

"Did you actually miss me, because you had a girlfriend?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and disbelief.

There was a flicker of guilt in Jack's eyes as he met my gaze, a silent admission of the truth I already knew deep down. "I did," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it wasn't the same. She's not you, Y/N."

His words cut through me like a knife, reopening old wounds and igniting a firestorm of emotions within me. How could he expect me to believe him, to trust in his feelings when he had chosen to be with someone else?

"I don't know if I can do this, Jack," I confessed, my voice trembling with emotion. "I can't be just another option, waiting for you to decide if I'm worth choosing."

Jack's words hung in the air between us, a fragile bridge spanning the chasm of uncertainty that had grown between us. His confession stirred a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within me, tearing at the walls I had built around my heart in an effort to protect myself from further pain.

"You know how much you mean to me. The whole time I was with her, I wished it was you instead."

His words echoed in the depths of my soul, resonating with a truth that I couldn't deny. Despite the hurt and betrayal I felt, there was a part of me that longed to believe him, to cling to the hope that our love was still worth fighting for.

But the wounds he had inflicted ran deep, leaving scars that would forever mar the landscape of our relationship. Could I truly trust him again, knowing that he had chosen someone else over me?

"I want to believe you, Jack," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't know if I can. Trust isn't something that can be easily regained."

There was a heaviness in the air as we stood there, caught in the gravity of our shared pain and regret. For a moment, it felt as though time stood still, the world narrowing down to just the two of us, suspended in a fragile bubble of uncertainty.

And then, without a word, Jack reached out and took my hand in his, his touch gentle yet filled with a quiet determination.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

Tears glistened in my eyes as I listened to Jack's plea, his words reaching deep into the recesses of my heart. Despite the pain and uncertainty that still lingered between us, there was a part of me that wanted to believe him – to believe that we could find a way to heal the wounds of the past and move forward together.

But as much as I yearned for reconciliation, I knew that I couldn't ignore the doubts and fears that gnawed at the edges of my resolve. Trust wasn't something that could be easily regained, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to take that leap of faith just yet.

"I appreciate your honesty, Jack," I replied, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me. "But I think we need some time apart – time to figure things out on our own."

There was a flicker of disappointment in Jack's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the reality of our situation. He knew as well as I did that our relationship couldn't be repaired overnight, that it would take time and effort on both of our parts to rebuild what had been broken.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "But please, just know that I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

I nodded, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "And I'll always be here for you too, Jack. But for now, let's just focus on being friends."

There was a sense of relief that washed over me as I spoke those words, a weight lifting from my shoulders as I embraced the possibility of a new beginning. It wouldn't be easy, and there were sure to be challenges ahead, but I knew that as long as we had each other, we could weather any storm that came our way.

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In the weeks that followed our heart-to-heart conversation, Jack and I embarked on a journey of rediscovery – one that would test the boundaries of our friendship and pave the way for a new chapter in our lives.

With each passing day, we grew closer, our bond strengthened by shared laughter, heartfelt conversations, and moments of quiet companionship. We spent hours exploring the city together, revisiting old haunts and discovering new ones, each adventure bringing us one step closer to understanding ourselves and each other.

There were moments when the pain of the past threatened to resurface, old wounds reopening with a raw intensity that left us both reeling. But instead of turning away from each other, we leaned in – offering comfort, support, and a shoulder to lean on when the weight of the world became too much to bear.

Slowly but surely, the walls we had built around ourselves began to crumble, revealing the vulnerable hearts that lay beneath. We shared our hopes and dreams, our fears and insecurities, laying bare the pieces of ourselves that we had long kept hidden from the world.

And in those moments of vulnerability, we found strength – strength in each other, in the unspoken understanding that bound us together, and in the knowledge that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, as friends.

As the days turned into weeks, I found myself grateful for the opportunity to rebuild our friendship from the ground up, to forge a connection that was deeper and more meaningful than anything we had ever shared before.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of our daily lives, there were moments when Jack and I found ourselves drawn together by an invisible force – moments of quiet intimacy that left us both breathless with the realization of just how deeply we had come to care for each other.

It was in the small gestures – a lingering touch, a shared glance, a smile that spoke volumes – that our bond grew stronger, weaving a tapestry of connection that defied explanation.

One evening, as we sat side by side on the couch, engrossed in a movie marathon, I felt Jack's hand brush against mine, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins. It was a simple touch, yet it spoke volumes – a silent reassurance that we were in this together, no matter what.

In that moment, I found myself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth and comfort it offered. And as our fingers intertwined, a sense of peace washed over me, filling the room with a quiet serenity that spoke of the deep bond we shared.

There were other moments too – moments of shared laughter and inside jokes, of stolen glances and secret smiles – each one a testament to the depth of our connection and the growing affection we held for each other.

And as the weeks turned into months, I found myself falling for Jack in ways I never thought possible, his presence a constant source of joy and comfort in my life.

But amidst the growing closeness between us, there lingered a sense of hesitation – a fear of crossing boundaries that had long been established, of risking the fragile equilibrium of our friendship for the sake of something more.

And so, we treaded carefully, tiptoeing around the unspoken tension that simmered beneath the surface, content to bask in the warmth of each other's company while keeping our true feelings carefully guarded.

But deep down, I couldn't help but wonder – what if? What if we took a chance on love, risking everything for the possibility of something beautiful and true?

As the days passed and our friendship continued to blossom, I could sense a shift in the air – a tension that crackled with unspoken emotions, threatening to burst forth at any moment. And it was during one quiet evening, as we sat together on the balcony, that Jack finally found the courage to speak the words that had been weighing heavily on his heart.

"Y/N, there's something I need to say," he began, his voice soft yet tinged with a hint of urgency. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I realize that I owe you an apology."

I turned to face him, my curiosity piqued by the solemn tone of his voice. "What for?" I asked, my heart racing in anticipation of what was to come.

"For everything," he replied, his gaze never wavering from mine. "For hurting you, for taking you for granted, for not realizing sooner what you mean to me."

His words washed over me like a wave, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within me – surprise, disbelief, and a flicker of hope that threatened to ignite into something more.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I know I messed up, but I want you to know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

I felt a lump form in my throat as I listened to his heartfelt confession, the weight of his words settling in the pit of my stomach like a heavy stone. Could I trust him again, after everything we had been through? Did I dare to hope for a future where we could be more than just friends?

And then, before I could form a coherent response, Jack took a deep breath and spoke the words that I had longed to hear.

"I want more, Y/N," he confessed, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want to explore what we could have together, to see if there's a chance for something real between us."

A sense of relief washed over me as I heard Jack's heartfelt confession, his words echoing the silent desires of my own heart. For so long, I had yearned for something more – something deeper and more meaningful than the platonic friendship we had shared.

"I agree," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his words settling over me like a warm blanket. "I want that too, Jack."

There was a flicker of hope in his eyes as he reached out and took my hand in his, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. It was a simple gesture, yet it spoke volumes – a silent promise of the journey that lay ahead, filled with uncertainty and possibility.

And as we sat there, bathed in the soft glow of the evening sky, I knew that no matter what obstacles we may face, we would face them together, united by the bond of our shared love and the hope of a future filled with endless possibilities.

[qveerthe0ry]

With Peace on Earth

Summary: A brief tale of your first Christmas Eve in Jackson Word Count: 2,166 Pairing: Joel Miller x GN! Reader Rating: 18 + Explicit (but not super descriptive smut) Warnings: 18+ mdni, established relationship, fluff, post-outbreak/Jackson, oral (m and gn receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, fingering (gn receiving), finger sucking, spit as lube, Joel is handsy, soft!joel, no y/n, no physical description of reader, reader is gender neutral, description of reader having a mother when they were young, reader celebrates Christmas, reader has no age, a tiny bit of sadness, nostalgia, no beta, let me know if I missed anything! Note: I wrote this very quickly to try and alleviate the writer's block because I have about 15 Pedro character WIPs (mostly Joel) and have yet to complete a single one. I also wrote this to express my feelings about how the holidays haven't really felt very magical for me for a while, but adopting new traditions has helped me find the magic again.

The streetlights are reflecting off of the fresh layer of snow. Despite it being the dead of night, the white ground makes everything just a bit brighter. The air is dry, and it smells like pine and open fires and for a second, when you focus really hard, it’s Christmas Eve, pre-apocalypse. 

You can remember it plain as day. You can feel the air like it was yesterday, that palpable excitement as you spread a mixture of oats and glitter and sequins across your childhood front yard. 

“So the reindeer know where to land Santa’s sleigh,” your mom had told you. 

You can feel the warmth of her hand enveloping your tiny, freezing fingers. The warmth of her voice, of her gaze on you. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, try to remember that happy memories can be just that— and not a cruel taunting of the way things used to be and how different they are now. 

You don’t realize how cold you actually are until two warm arms wrap around you, and hot breath creeps down the collar of your long johns. 

“Gonna catch your death,” Joel mumbles. 

You lean back into him, close your eyes, and take a big, deep breath. You smell the snow and the chimney smoke but also homemade oat soap and lavender laundry wash and it isn’t like it used to be, but maybe that doesn’t have to mean it’s worse. 

“Was hoping I’d see Santa fly over,” you say, distracted, watching the stars in the crisp winter sky. 

“You think he made it through all these years?” 

Joel chuckles as he says it, and wraps his arms a tad tighter around you. 

“I like to think so,” you shrug. 

His soft laughter turns into a hum, turns into lips pressed under your ear. 

“I love the way you are.” 

It’s sweet. It’s sticky, nauseating words coming from a man you never thought would be anything but cold and calculated, when you first met. It warms you all the way through, maybe even melts some of the snow that’s blown its way onto the porch you’re standing on. 

You want to say it back, want to tell him how much you love the way he is, the way his guarded heart shines through the cracks so bright it blinds you, the way his smiles make you weak so that it’s a good thing he’s so stingy with them. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask instead. 

He takes a long moment to respond. You can feel his teeth grinding together where his jaw is hooked over your shoulder, and the way his breath is coming in less than slow and steady. 

“Just— It’s 20 years into the end of the world and you still have hope.” 

You sigh and turn your head, seeking out his stubbled cheek, and press a kiss to the wind burnt skin. 

“I found you after all this time, didn’t I?” 

He huffs, and it sounds amused. You turn a bit in his hold to look at his eyes and the way his eyebrows gather together in the middle. 

“And this is a blessing, not a curse?” 

You want to kiss the skeptical look off of his face, so you do, hooking your arms around his neck and capturing his bottom lip between your own. 

You feel the warmth of his palms through your shirt as they splay out across your back, fingers digging, working the muscles there like he’s kneading bread. You hum into his mouth and let your fingers tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck just as his tongue finds yours. 

You can feel him slowly filling out his worn jeans where his hips press into your own and you think, with a chuckle you can’t contain, that this is the only Christmas gift you want from now on. 

He pulls away at your soft laughter, his own eyes twinkling with an edge of humor. 

“Are you stallin’ or somethin’?” 

You shake your head as a smile splits your face from ear to ear. 

“Never. Always a blessing, babe,” you tell him. 

Your hands drop from his neck quickly to grab two handfuls of his ass and squeeze, and he glares at you as you press him just that much closer to you. 

“I’ll give you a blessing,” he grumbles. 

His head ducks down so that his lips can find your pulse point, and then his teeth, a playful nip with a hint of something more desperate and charged. 

“Better not give the whole neighborhood an eye full,” you warn, half-heartedly. You know most people are asleep, and you know neither you nor Joel would really mind it. 

Still, on the off-chance Tommy and Maria are still awake across the street, you don’t need to give the town leader any fuel for retaliation. 

His breath comes out in whisps of steam around your face, minty with notes of whiskey. 

“Go on ‘n get, then. Warm up by the fire.”

And you know by now not to protest, not when your prize for obeying is so worth being bossed around by the grumpy old man. 

You undress by the fire and look around the living room while Joel makes sure the house is locked up. 

It’s not quite decorated like an old Christmas movie, but it’s still festive, still as warm and full of cheer as you remember from before. 

There’s a Christmas branch, really, a small little bush that Ellie had brought home to you a few weeks before. You had spent the day looking around for scraps of anything red, some ribbon, the sleeve of an old t-shirt, some berries on a bush that you were certain weren’t edible. You both worked on decorating the Charlie Brown-esque tree as Joel watched, grumbling, but plucking away at a rendition of ‘Oh Christmas Tree’ on his guitar as he complained. 

There are three big socks hung up on the mantle of the fireplace, Joel’s, who griped about having to give up the precious fabric while he decorated them with you and Ellie at the kitchen table. ‘Decorated’ used lightly, as you only had a few errant pipe cleaners and the guts of a few raspberries as a red/pink dye. 

And then there’s the whittled reindeer Joel had presented to you just days ago with a shy look on his face you don’t see very often. The wood is smooth and the antlers are intricate, and even though you can’t see it, you know there’s a little heart carved into the bottom of its back left hoof. It’s your favorite decoration out of all of them, displayed lovingly and proudly on the coffee table. 

You grab an old blanket from the back of the couch and lay it in front of the fire just as Joel finds you again. His footsteps are lighter without his heavy boots on, and his fingers don’t feel as warm now as they grab your hips. 

“Gonna lay down for me?” 

His voice is low and gruff and calm, and all you can do is obey, and lie down naked on the fleece. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him undress. The light of the fire makes all of his golden skin look even more so, dancing an orange glow across his scarred stomach and sparsely haired chest and the contrasting hardness and softness of his form that’s so familiar now. 

You touch yourself gently as you watch him, light strokes, just to tease while you wait for him. With a grunt, he gets down to share the warm blanket with you, rolling you onto your side to face the flames. 

“You remember that Mariah Carey Christmas song?” he asks as his rough hand curls around your hip. 

You hide your smile in your own arm before answering. 

“Not sure if I do. Sing a few bars for me.” 

He groans and squeezes your flesh. 

“You're pullin’ my leg."

“Yeah, I remember it.” 

Remembering songs post-apocalypse is strange, the way you can not hear it for decades but still remember every note and word. Now, ringing through your head, is the high register of All I Want for Christmas is You, and you hum the chorus as Joel’s heavy prick presses against the small of your back. 

“That’s how I feel,” he tells you.

His hand gets bolder, travels to the place where your thigh and hip meet, and then farther, between your legs, where it’s quite obvious what you want for Christmas, too. 

“I feel the same, Joel.” 

His breath puffs against your neck as he nuzzles that tender place behind your ear. He doesn’t often talk about his feelings for you, electing rather to show them through gestures. You like when he says it though, it makes it feel even more tangible, makes a nostalgic warmth tingle throughout your guts and your chest. 

“Have you been good this year?” he asks you, a hint of mischief in his voice that makes you giggle. 

“I think I have, yeah.” 

“Debatable,” he grumbles, “but I guess you won’t get a lump of coal.” 

He gets you on your back, and your breath hitches as he covers you with his big, solid body. His skin feels so incredible against yours, always, every time you’re together like this. 

He starts to press open-mouthed kisses down your body, a searing hot trail across your most sensitive spots, until he’s mouthing around where you want him most. 

“Please, baby, please.”

You know he likes to hear you beg for it. His sweet brown eyes find yours as he smiles, and the warmth of his gaze and the fire start to pull little pinpricks of sweat from your pores. 

But he doesn’t tease you for long. You watch with wonder as his graying curls bounce between your legs, his attentive mouth working you tenderly but thoroughly. Your hand tangles in his hair for purchase as you lift your hips to urge him on. 

He’s always so sloppy with it, and his saliva drips down onto the blanket, and you love it like this, so messy and haphazard, with no regard to anything but making you feel good, getting you off. 

His fingers, three of them, tap at your parted lips. They’re so big as you take them in and swirl your tongue around them, getting them nice and wet, and your own spit seeps from the corners of your mouth. He groans, and you can feel it with his mouth on you. 

His hips make small little moves to rut against the blanket between your open legs, and you want him inside, need to feel him inside you. 

You tell him this much, though it’s muffled with his fingers in your mouth. He doesn’t let up until you’re teetering on the edge, moaning and whimpering around his flesh, gripping his hair so tight you don’t know how you haven’t pulled it out. 

You whine when his mouth retreats. 

“I know, I know. So greedy for it,” he coos, teasing. 

You scowl at him, but it holds no heat, and he laughs at your impatience as he coaxes you back onto your side. 

Behind you, Joel’s chest is solid and sweaty against your back. His fingers are solid too, sure but gentle, as he works them inside one by one to open you up with the help of your drool. 

“So good for me. What a present,” he tells you. 

It makes you impossibly hotter, and impossibly more in love with the man, and impossibly more impatient. 

“I want my present now,” you sigh. 

He tuts at you, against your shoulder blade, but you know he won’t deny you for longer because you can feel him leaking all over the skin of your back. 

When he presses into you, slow as ever, you feel even more full than you usually do. 

“Yes,” you pant, “like that. Just what I wanted.” 

He fills you over and over, a leisurely but steady pace, and his hands roam across your slick, heated skin. As his body presses against yours, and as he reaches around to work you to your climax, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed at the realization that things are okay, things are great, and they’re allowed to be, despite the state of everything. 

When you come, he comes too, deep inside you. His teeth bare down on your shoulder, and he grunts your name into your skin, and he tells you you’re perfect, and that you’re so good to him.

Joel doesn’t move far, after. He grabs an article of discarded clothing to clean you up. You know his back must kill like this, on the floor, but his happy breaths across your cooling skin make you think that this must be worth a little pain in the morning. 

And when he sleepily mumbles, “Merry Christmas, Darlin’,” it sounds a lot more like “I love you.”

[ad-hawkeye]

wanted to know if you ever got to read artem’s pool/8 ball card i thought the event story was cute but i was a wee bit curious on your thoughts on the card

I JUST FINISHED IT!!!!!!!!! AS WE SPEAK!!! i have a whole list of my thoughts HAHA SORRY FOR THE RAMBLING IN ADVANCE

"artem had to join a pool club for work" is one of the better excuses to give him a new hobby, ill begrudgingly give them that

im glad artem still has the alcohol tolerance of a squirrel. do NOT let this man go off by himself he will accidentally take a sip of alcohol and then need a time out in the corner.

"is it that obvious?" yes, artem.

mc making sure artem eats a fucking meal is rly cute LMFAO

mc ordering artem a non-alcoholic drink is also sweet. i remember i wrote a fic (all the way back in like 2021 after reading atmospherics) where i wrote abt artem going out of his way to drink mocktails after all of that. genuinely really happy to see that's canon.

i've noticed newer ssrs are just. shorter? first year ssrs tended to be like, over an hour long when put on auto. but newer ones are only 40 mins on auto. laaaame. but then again with the overall writing quality, maybe they're just putting us out of our misery.

ah yes. artem getting surprised by mc kissing his cheek in public. what a sly sex chad. did they get the only good artem writer left at hoyoverse on this card or something

artem being exhausted from socializing is a mood. girl same.

the way these two talk about alcohol sends me. dear god artem we can let you have a sip oh god. OH JESUS CHRIST ARTEM NO --

this story is cute enough to make me sad. godddd. it's really nice to see artem more casual and open, esp since this story is more in character.

THE IRISH GOODBYE?? ARTEM LMFAO.

mutuals meet me in the secret passage of the pool place

sneaking out by running is giving the same energy as his revisiting youth ssr where they decided to sneak to the school's roof and hide from the security guards lmfao. ah. the nostalgia.

AND this ssr acknowledges artem's love of movies?? YES

STOP KISSING IN THE STORAGE ROOM GUYS THE CINEMA STAFF IS GOING TO FIND YOU!!!!!!!!!!!! DEAR GOD

"this should be filmed in slow motion" LMFAO

JUMPSCARE. JUMPSACRE. NEW ARTEM EXPRESSION. JUMPSCARE. HOLY FUCK

i sincerely think a full on artem smile is all i ever wanted back in the day i cant believe i fucking got it in the POOL CARD OF ALL CARDS

"was something set up incorrectly?" "[artem pout] probably."

mc taking a pic of his stupid distracted expression is amazing and him getting blushy about it is even funnier

"was it too sour?" "yeah...."

thank god pathetic artem is back

nevermind he is licking her arm like a dog. tot's fascination with licking will never fail to amuse me. this is like when my dog licks my leg in the middle of the night

if one sip of alcohol fucks him up this bad i'd hate to see what happens when he's a few shots in. mr wing breaking it down sloppy style on the floor (not clickbait)

STOP LICKING EACH OTHER YOU FREAKS

i think artem should trip a few more times it's funny

this is the closest we've gotten to artem fessing up about atmospherics i can fucking taste it

NOOOO THEY FUMBLED IT. NO ATMOSPHERICS MENTION. ENDING IT ALL. GOD DAMN IT

i can forgive this bc the running joke of them missing scenes in a movie is back

all in all as far as post second anniversary cards go, this one wasn't bad at all and had a lot of cute moments. a few weird ones (which is to be expected at this point ig), but mostly cute!! it made me miss my fav artem cards but in a good way. siiigh ;_;;;

[januaryembrs]

ALL FOR YOU | Luke Skywalker x reader

Request: Yay to 1k, well deserved! :))) <33 I hope you don't mind me asking for Luke skywalker x reader? I feel like there's so few pieces and overall love for him in fanfiction. Maybe something simple like them reuniting after he's taken up his quest and returns to Tattooine? Or Reader being fascinated by his lightsaber but too reserved to ask him for a demonstration let alone touching it? You decide, if none of these ideas appeal to you then I shall be happy with whatever you come up with instead, as it is a gain for the Luke fandom! <3

description: A familiar face strolls into your flower farm on Tatooine, four years after he abandoned you in search of a princess.

Word count: 1.1k

trigger warnings: sad, angst, crying, leaving reader, semi break up? ends in fluff I promise

main masterlist

Author’s note: I'm so sure I had a second Luke ask in my inbox that has gone missing so if anyone else asked for one that isn't this, please send it again I have no clue what's happened to it!

The air in your lungs felt dry as you swept the floor of your shop. It had been in your family generations, and quite successful too as a flora farmer on Tatooine seeing as the harsh sand air made it difficult for anyone to breed plants. You, however, had been blessed with a sheltered farm. Expensive to run but it was worth it seeing how beautiful the flowers bloomed at your tender hands.

You heard the bell to your front door open, though you were certain you had put it on the latch. “I’m sorry, we’re closed for the day,” You called over your shoulder, not paying attention to who it was who had intruded. Probably a mistake, you thought, cleaning the sharp grains of sand into a neat pile near the wall. You got little thievery this side of Mos Espa, and trusted the locals to be kind to you while your back was turned.

“I’m not here for flowers,” 

You froze in your place, back straightening tensely. You knew that voice; had always known that voice. 

It was the call to home, the spirit in your stomach on the most lethal of Tatooine storms, the nostalgia you feel smelling your mother’s cooking. Your childhood bedroom, your tenth life day, your first time at school where you met him. 

A mop of blonde hair that poked into his sight, round blue eyes that looked up at you in awe (you had always been taller than him growing up), the toothless smile he gave you when you offered him to share your new ink. 

Luke Skywalker had been your first kiss, your first dance, your best friend, your light on a dark sand night. It had been four years since he left home with the crazy old Ben, following two droids and a princess.

No word as to how he was, where he was going, or whether he intended to come back. Yet here he was.

You stood, mouth hanging agape, a frown pulling on your features. 

Luke fiddled with a long-stemmed funnel flower, a small smile gracing his features at your stunned expression. He knew he should have come back, he should have been back a long time ago. But he promised himself the day he found Leia and learnt of the depth the Empire wished to destroy the galaxy, he would not rest until he had made the universe safe for you again. 

Safe for you both, for the family you had always talked of starting together. 

“L-Luke?” You stuttered, broom clattering to the floor in your shocked state. Your eyes were deceiving you, surely. He had not come back for you, not said a word since that day. And now suddenly he was back here on a scum hole like Tatooine? “You- They said you were dead.”

“Dead?” He seemed confused now, stepping further into your shop with a soft look in his eyes. He looked tired, aged. He had grown taller since you last saw him, his arms seemed wider and his face more chiselled. But his eyes were the same, the way he flicked his hair subconsciously took you back to the little boy whose aunt had yet to cut his blonde locks. 

“You were captured by the Empire, that’s what they kept saying,” Your voice was hoarse, your eyes now stinging as they were rapidly filling with tears. “You and the Alderaan Princess. The two of you got captured from the resistance-”

Luke was in front of you now, and your sad gaze couldn’t take him in fast enough. He was still your Luke. He was older, seemed wiser as though the weight of the world, every world, had done nothing but press down on him the past four years.

“I’m here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t let anyone take me from you,” He replied, his hands reaching out to hold the top of your arms, gentle as ever yet you could see in his face he was almost begging for you to react. Say something, yell at him for leaving, scream at him to get out, actually cry rather than stare at him so heartbroken and wetly. 

“They said-” You gulped, as you felt you were stuck on a loop of recalling all you had heard from him in the years that had passed. You huffed, willing yourself to actually spit out what was stabbing a thorn into your heart so deeply, “You left me.” 

You started crying. Sobbing and shaking, and Luke immediately pulled you into his chest. His smell hadn’t changed one bit, and the thought made you cry harder. 

“You ran off after another woman and said nothing for four years. I thought you were dead, I thought you hated me.” Came your muffled, throaty voice in his shoulder. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his waist, as if you didn’t trust him not to vanish at the touch. “I dreamed of this for so many nights, I didn’t realise it would hurt so much to see you again,”

Luke felt his eyes grow hot at your confession, neither happy nor sad to see him. Just hurt, and nor could he blame you. “I know.” He cleared the frog in his own throat, “I know, I’m sorry. Just please trust I stayed away to keep you safe. I could never live with myself if you had been hurt because of me,”

“So you left me for another woman?” You pulled away, looking at him aghast, wiping the tears on the back of your hand. It was in vain as more came barreling down anyway, landing on his black robes. 

“No! Never,” Luke sighed, bringing his forehead to meet yours, “Leia is… Leia’s my sister. I swear I’ll explain everything, there is so much for me to tell you just,” He brushed his nose against yours, “Please trust me. I was protecting you, I was trying to make things safe, for the life we want together,” His ocean blue eyes met yours, his filled with concern as he tried to read you. Your mind was so muddled even his force powers couldn’t quite decipher quite how it was you were feeling seeing as you didn’t even know yourself, “You do still want that with me, right?”

You sighed, feeling his words fan over your lips in a manner you had been dreaming of for four long years. You needed to kiss him; you hadn’t stopped needing him as embarrassing as it was. All you had ever known, all you had ever wanted was Luke Skywalker.

“Ofcour-” Somehow, Luke knew what you were thinking, what you needed, though there had never been a time when he didn’t, as he brought your lips together passionately. 

You thought it best to wait until his kiss stopped being so all-encompassing to ask about the lightsaber attached to his hip.

[yzy-starpants]

[Serious] I don't get the hate around "Squidiot Box"! Just watched the episode for the first time and adored it. To me, it's a commentary on trying to escape the subconscious mental state.

Just a preface that this is just my opinion, and I'm already a massive modern SpongeBob fan, so please don't hate on me or comment a generic "mOdErN sPoNgEbOb SuCkS bOoHoO". Yes I KNOW modern SpongeBob isn't perfect. I still love it. Anyway, I was kinda scared to watch this episode after hearing the extreme negativity surrounding it. Understandably, the concept of the "Imagination Box Repair" store seems like a bad one, but I interpreted as that being a part of SpongeBob and Patrick's imagination too. Like, did no one ever play as a kid imagining something broken that needed fixing? In SpongeBob and Patrick's case, their imagination box is their imaginary vehicle that needs fixing, so they bring it to an imaginary repair shop. Especially because the repairman didn't actually "fix" anything, and then Squidward easily "jostled" the box back into function, thus SpongeBob and Patrick imagining that Squidward fixed their box. I mean, maybe the writers intended the repair shop to be literal, but I found it easy to imagine that it wasn't literal. (Excuse the pun)

As for the Squidward part, I actually really enjoyed it! The OG Idiot Box episode was about contrasting SpongeBob and Patrick's immense childlike imagination with Squidward's lack of it—or at least, that's what it seems like, when in fact the episode tells us Squidward DOES have an imagination, because that's how he's IMAGINING the sound effects of SpongeBob and Patrick playing in it. He just doesn't know how to properly USE his imagination to his own benefit, and is unwilling to try. In "Squidiot Box", he *IS* trying, but still to his own detriment. The childlike SpongeBob and Patrick easily imagine treacherous situations because for them, the adventure is fun and it's also easy for them to imagine solutions out of it. For the more relatable, adult Squidward, his attempts to build himself an enjoyable space in his imagination is thwarted by intrusive and negative thoughts, represented in the episode by Patrick's interjections, but it's doubtless that Squidward would've eventually imagined something terrible if left to his own devices—especially given the fact that his first attempt to leave the box was a staircase leading nowhere, and that he was repeatedly unable to think of escape solutions for himself. I actually found it to be a rather sad but deep commentary that in the end, thoughts of extreme happiness were just as dangerous to Squidward as dangerous, unhappy ones, and in order to remain in a safe mental space, he has to imagine the mundanity of his job. As much as he wants to escape, Squidward has been institutionalized. His mind is his own prison. SpongeBob and Patrick, the childlike ones, are able to have fun inside their own thoughts, but they're also the ones who are easily able to exit the imagination box when they need to. 

Okay, so obviously I'm most likely overanalyzing a silly episode of SpongeBob, but I just had to express my disagreement for the popular opinion about Squidiot Box and the notion that it's just "nostalgia bait" or that the writers ran out of ideas. I mean, of course it IS nostalgia bait, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's been a long time since an episode made me miss my own innocent childhood mentality this much. The imagination box itself was a callback for sure, but it felt to me more like a device to tell a new story rather than a rehash of the OG episode. 

And if I'm wrong about everything above, then at least the episode was visually GORGEOUS, and not boring for a second. It felt like a lucid dream. 

*cross-posted on Reddit*

[ronance4everbrainrot]

Since I love Robin being the dad so much. Here are more Dad Jokes, this time from @kolimachris again.

---

Smiling at the ground, Nancy starts talking "You said the happiness of your friends...so.." she nervously look to her left "does that make us friends?" she looks to her right, at Robin. "As in officially..?" hope and some kind of apology is hidden behind her eyes and Robin can't help but get flustered while looking at Nancy's breathtaking grayish-blue eyes, that reminds her of those pretty rocks she always collected when she was younger.

Robin shakes her head at the weird and short nostalgia thought "Uh-Yeah! I-i mean right?" Robin looks to the ground, nervous about the answer even tho Nancy asked first. "Right" Nancy turns to look at Robin, who's walking a bit behind her and then looks of to the side again, smiling with a blush forming. Robin also smiles, happy that they finally are officially friends and also back on good terms.

They walk in comfortable silence for a while until Robin got bored of the silence and she need to fill it in the best way possible. "Hey Wheeler?" she looks to her side and Nancy looks back at her, annoyance very present in her eyes "you know I hate it when you call me that, Buckley" Robin chuckles "Obviously, that's why I say it" Nancy just rolls her eyes "anyway" Robin starts and catches up to Nancy when she started walking faster. She almost trip on a root but catches herself, she hears chuckling and looks up to see Nancy smirking with amusement at her almost falling.

Robin clears her throat and jogs over to where Nancy stopped walking. "You're still a weird runner, Buckley" Nancy turns around and continues walking, this time again with Robin next to her, who was flushing a bit red. "You know what, I shouldn't have tried to break the silence, my joke was stupid anyway" Robin mutters annoyed. "Oh God, not you and jokes. What's up with that anyway" Nancy said chuckling, as if she actually dislikes Robin's jokes, she loves them.

If Nancy weren't looking at Robin right now she would have missed the dark/sad expression on her face, because it was gone the second she blinked. Robin looks down at the ground "I-uh..I already made jokes since I was like 7 or something. A-at least my d-dad said that..." Nancy watches her with curious and gentle eyes, as Robin takes a minute. She chuckles sadly "And I guess I just never grew out of it..." she shrugs, looking up again, meeting Nancy's eyes.

Nancy sees so many emotions going on behind Robin's eyes, that it almost overwhelmed her. Her eyes widen but then turn to an understanding, yet not fully knowing gaze, meaning that she'll be there for Robin but also that now is not the time. Robin thinking she overshared, wants to apologizing but Nancy gave her another look, which stopped her from apologizing, so she nervously played with her Rings and blurts out "W-what's brown and sticky?"

Nancy's stops walking and turns fully turns to Robin, her face showing confusion and mild disgust. Robin also stops walking "A stick" she quickly says to not make the situation more weird. The awkward silence feels like hours, just staring at each other, but just few seconds in and Nancy scoff laughs in disbelief "Seriously, Buckley?" she continues walking. Robin followed her and tried to explain that this was not the joke she originally wanted to say. (it was tho) but Nancy just rolls her eyes and quietly mutters to herself "You're an idiot, Buckley" shaking her head in amusment as she hears something hitting the ground and a quiet groan.

[I confused myself while writing this. Idk what is happening or if there personalities are changing every few lines. But this is the moment that joke was said]

__

(This is the same party with the mushroom joke, from the dad jokes post before)

After a lot of dad jokes from a drunk Hopper and Robin, the kids decided (well Max wanted to go to the others but was also getting annoyed by the jokes. Lucas would have stayed but he also want to hang out with the others, and El just followed them around, because she still wants to cuddle with Max, and she was also getting annoyed by the jokes) to go join the others, the adults (Murray and Joyce) already left 5 jokes before, so that just left Robin and Hopper drunkly laughing their asses off at their own jokes.

Robin suddenly stopped laughing and gasped "Oh. My. God." she looks around her seat to search for her backpack. She find it on the right side leaning against the seat and picks it up. Hopper just looks at her in confusion. He was going to ask if something was wrong but then Robin pulled something out of her bag with a "Ha haa!" and stands up to sit next to Hopper.

She starts talking before Hopper can ask anything "I found this in my room when I was still living with mom and then I packed it in the bag when she kicked me out, and then I just totally forgot it existed and I was looking for clothes to wear today and then I found it in my closet and then I decided I wanted to show you it because you also like jokes!" she takes a deep breath and continues, finally showing Hopper her item. It was a small stack of papers, which are tinted a bit yellow and also worn out on the edges. It was glued together at the left side and resemble a book. The book cover says 'How to make someone laugh' and each letter is a different color. It has a big smiling in the middle of the cover which looks like it's laughing. He saw that there was more but couldn't identify it because Robin pulled the book away again, talking with her hands as always.

"It's a book full of jokes, I don't remember if I came up with them myself, but I made the book myself when I was like 8? I'm surprised it's still in a good condition. Also-" Robin looks up at Hopper and sees his blank and confused but also impressed and amused expression "Oh wow, sorry. That was a lot of talking." Robin chuckled. Hopper opens his mouth to say something but Robin continues again "so let's just get to the point of. I wanted to show you the jokes I've written on here." Hopper just chuckles and shakes his head at not getting to talk again.

Robin opens the slightly yellow tinted book at a random page, very gently. She holds it close to her face and snorts. She then clears her throat, trying not to laugh and asks "What do you call a cow with no legs?" Hopper just looks confused and thought 'there is a word for that?' he was going to ask out loud when Robin breaks and starts laughing "Ground Beef". Hopper needs a few second to understand but then starts chuckling and quietly mumble "ground beef, heh."

Robin's wipes a tear away and sighs happily "Damn, I really am a comedic genius" she brings the book closer to Hopper again and shows him the next joke. "What do you call a cow with two legs?" she reads out loud and then points at the drawing of what's probably a cow with only hind legs, leaning on the ground with the front. And the words "Lean beef" under the drawing.

Robin chuckles a bit and says "Yeah, I also don't find that one as funny. I honestly only understand it with the drawing. Which is something I actually drew once, because I wanted to draw a cow laying on the grass but added standing legs at the end, because I forgot I wanted to draw the cow laying down. And well that's how I came up with that joke. It's not one of my bests, but I've got some more." Robin's says as she shows Hopper more jokes that she wrote down in her self made small book.

[Honestly, I just didn't know how to describe the book more, but there absolutely were more details, also love how Hopper didn't say anything really only because I didn't know what he would or wouldn't say]

__

Robin and Murray are sitting on the couch at his place. Robin has been talking about her dad, just about his personality and how he was kind and funny. Like the opposite of her mother. "And-" she sniffs "And he always made those stupid dad jokes" she chuckles sadly. Murray wanted to say something but he just places a hand on her shoulder and gives her a meaningful look. "I know what you want to say. 'but don't you also make stupid dad jokes'. Duh" Robin's says "But his jokes were actually stupid, or made no sense!" she chuckles more happy this time and thinking about a memory. "Like this one time-" she stares up at the ceiling, head falling on the couch "-, he told me this joke 'Where do you find a turtle with no legs?'" she sighs and then snorts "I was just 6 or 7 when he told me that and all I could think about was this poor turtle with no legs and then he continued-" she rolls her eyes "-'Exactly where you left it.'" she turns to look at Murray "First of all, how would he know it'd be exactly where I left it. I mean like, maybe a wild animal could have taken the turtle or smth. And second of all, he told that to a child. And I was already sad that the turtle had no legs, wondering what happened to this poor turtle-" her eyes tear up and she leans her head back again, looking at the ceiling "and then he said that I left it there. Which just made be burst out crying" she laughs with sobs and Murray just squeezes her shoulder in comfort.

After a bit of cry laughing, Robin snuggles up to Murray and he just stays still for a bit, not knowing what to do. But then he just settles one hand on her arm and the other one on the armrest. She sighs. "I mean I get the joke, it has no legs so it can't go anywhere. But I-" Robin's goes on and in about how she would never do that to a turtle, and then starts talking about a turtle she once found last year. But she of course didn't take them back home, because her mother would have killed her if any animal was inside her house.

It was getting late and Robin's is yawning while talking and sleepily gesturing around with her hands. "So we-" she yawns "we-" Murray cuts her off "Maybe you should go to bed, birdie" Robin's snuggles closer to Murray "but! In your own room!.... Please" Murray said and slightly pushing her off. Robin groans but listens and stands up to walk to her room "Goodnight birdie, sleep well" Robin groans in respond. Murray just shakes his head, thinking about Robin's situation and how this sunshine of a person, could ever deserve all those things happing to them. He just shakes his head again, agreeing that he can't change anything from the past, but he'll try to make the future better. Then he yawns and stretches a bit when he stands up from the couch. He walks past Robin's room, that was, well still is, a guestroom, but it'll be Robin's room for now and however longs she decides to stick around.

He sees her sleeping peacefully, which is a relief. These last few days where a horror for Robin, so he's glad she is getting some good sleep tonight. He was about to leave, when Robin's mutters something "I love you, Dad" He stands there shocked, a warm feeling forming inside him with tears in his eyes. But then he thinks that, she's just dreaming something about her dad. But he'll just treasure this moment, even if it wasn't directed at him. So he gently closes the door and sighs "I love you too, little birdie" then he goes to his own room with a sad, yet also happy, smile and tries to decide whether he should mention this tomorrow or not.

[honestly, all those ones were about her Dad lol. Or well, her dad was mentioned. Also no idea what I created here.]

---

Hope you like it!

And anyone can leave some jokes in the comments!

Lots of love ✨😋😍✨

[starlight-shades]

tag gamerules: favorite: movie, hobby, animal, character, color, place, season, album, food

movie: I'm one of those people who doesn't have just one favorite anything. But I tend to rewatch Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron every now and then (it was def my fave for a bit when I was a kid). I used to make my dad watch it with me whenever he stayed home to watch me when I was sick.

hobby: Does drawing count when it's what I went to school for? If not, I'll go with reading. Love a good bit of escapism. I love storytelling more generally in all sorts of forms (i.e. movies, TV, games, etc), but reading was definitely what got me started. Recently I've been reading a lot of fanfiction. Last year I kept track of all the books I read and I ended up with the insane number of 534 books read.

animal: I'm a big fan of hyenas. This is another one where I don't have just one favorite, but hyenas are where I'm sitting right now. I think that they're really neat for a variety of reasons. They're matriarchal which is super cool, and they were used in medieval bestiaries as a sort of example of sexual deviance because they were believed to be hermaphroditic (they aren't, the females just have external vaginal canals that look like a penis- it makes giving birth as difficult as you think it does). I think they're a really cool example of how nature doesn't give a fuck about human ideas of how sexual dimorphism (and subsequently gender) should work. I tend to gravitate towards animals that media tends to use as shorthand for evil bc I think it's lazy and irresponsible (I also love sharks).

character: Ghost. I do too much projecting for it not to be him. I'm deep in my COD era (this is a COD blog after all). He's just this big beefy man who is deeply traumatized and has trouble trusting people and developing deep relationships. What's not to love?

color: It's maroon. It is maroon, it has been maroon, it will always be maroon. IDC that I surround myself with pastels. If it has to be one color and not a palette, it's maroon.

place: the aquarium <3. It's just so calming (when the children are not screaming, but we listen to the children scream because they're excited and it's good for them and we're an adult and can wait until they move on so we can watch the fish in the quiet). Every now and then I'll take a day in the middle of the week when school is in session to go to the aquarium or the zoo by myself. I like watching the animals, and I don't feel bad about sitting and drawing them for like 30+ minutes when there aren't any other people who's view I'm blocking.

season: spring. When it's easiest to spend time outside. It's not too hot, and if it's chilly I can throw on a sweater. I like sitting outside in the afternoon sun and reading poetry out loud. Makes me feel like a fairy.

album: star-crossed by Kacey Musgraves. That album came out around the time I had to put down my cat, and I would just listen to it on repeat and cry. It's got a very specific grief+nostalgia combo that really hits me. It's still one of my go-tos when I need a good cry. I have playlists for when I'm happy, but that album has a special place in my heart. 'if this was a movie..' and 'camera roll' are probably my favorite songs off of it.

food: this one is hardest I think. My family is Not Great at expressing feelings, so I ended up with food as a proxy for love and care. And both my parents draw from a pretty diverse set of culinary practices for various reasons, so I've inherited it. When I'm feeling homesick, I'll cook Italian. When I'm sad or missing my brothers, I'll cook Korean. When I miss my mom, I'll make Turkish. As I'm writing this, though, I'm thinking about dumplings.

TY to @soapsdish for the tag. Idk why the formatting did that.

I don't really have any other moots I know well enough to tag, but feel free to do this if you'd like!

[icarianiscariot]

sage, aloe vera, ivy, papyrus, tarot? ILU J 💖💖💖💖

HI SAMMY ILU2

from the random get-to-know-me ask game

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

oh music absolutely. i think because out of everything it came to me when i most needed it? or because it's always Been There and part of my identity. i don't know. you'd think it would be poetry, what with my career path and all, and absolutely, poetry - especially spoken word and slam - touches me in a way most art doesn't. maybe it's just,, vocal art is what gets me. i don't know. something something hearing the emotions and feeling them deeper for it, maybe ??? i don't know. but yeah. music. always.

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

waking up and someone i love has made me breakfast in bed. i did that as a very small child once or twice for like, father's day, but i've never received breakfast in bed myself, hmmm

ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired?

oh god lmao i have no idea. i'm quieter when i'm sad. i get twitchy when i'm angry/annoyed. i get really snappish when i'm tired or upset. i dunno! i think it's just in my face. i'm not very good at hiding my emotions. but also i have a resting bitch/sad/angry face so my neutral expression is negative so that's hard to read sometimes ?? i have no idea how other people perceive me slkdjflksdjf i think my facial expressions tend to be on par with my emotions, though, maybe?? or my body language?? i get pretty hunched up when sad/upset/etc. in a very classic way, i think. IDK AHHHH someone else, pls tell me what my emotional "tells" are, i cannot perceive myself XD

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

okay i put my spotify-generated "on repeat" playlist on shuffle and "(coffee's for closers)" by fall out boy came on! i have it on my "songs for kansas city" playlist and it's because of this like. "change will come, oh, change will come" and feeling disconnect and nostalgia and looking back on how things used to be and knowing i will never be there again. "come together, come apart, only get lonely when you read the charts." i like fall out boy, i like the chorus, it feels GOOD to sing along to it. kickdrum beating in my chest again.

taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?

grad school!! teaching and how much it sucks but how great my actual classes are. my new friends, the other first-years, my poetry workshop professor, the other poets in the program, hoping to work in the publishing house next semester. how much i miss my friends in arkansas and kansas city and ohio and new mexico and texas and [the list goes on for literally every state/country my friends reside in]. the d&d campaigns i'm in right now, thinking about starting my own. my new apartment, how it's still such a mess, and my office at the university, how much i love my desk. how i haven't had time to watch anything new lately, how teaching takes up so much more time than i expected/wanted. how i've been reaching for nostalgia in music and fandoms, revisiting things i loved again when i was fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. missing my job at the library but being so excited for this program that i couldn't bear to go back. ...things like that

[0721am]

Dearest, Darling, My Bee-shi 🤍

"Would you take me along? To a place I can't dream With my poor imagination

Far away in the universe from Earth to Mars Will you please go with me? Wherever it may be, an old loneliness In search of its antonym"

@thelilacdews

Shall we depart to a place where our joys vibrantly exist? I'm 99.9% close to losing my sanity and kidnapping you (keeping you safely and toasted in my pocket). I miss you so much. I know you're right here, yet your absence in my daily life is heavier to carry. I'm so used to rambling to my heart's content with you that your absence makes me want to take you to a land where we peacefully and gleefully exist together.

Bestie, my Twinnie, my Winnie the Pooh, my Hoseok, my Jimin, Happy 26th Birthday! I wish you all sorts of happiness today and every day. In particular, I wish life brings a miracle to you, a light in the dark tunnel you're travelling in, a silver lining in the denser clouds.

How I wish I could just grab the miracles like the balloons from the vendor and give them to you, make you smile and relieve from the sombre of the life! Oh, how I wish it was really simple to do.

Beeshi... how long has it been since I called you this? Lord, time is a cruel destroyer of sweet moments yet never forgets to nourish the souls with nectar. I often re-read our rambles, from K-Pop to other random stuff that we stumble upon Internet. They're silly and stir a great amount of nostalgia and sadness in the deepest pits of my heart. I miss you so much.

I know you will return. I know you're right here, in my heart, beside my soul, and a fingertip away from the call. I can't wait for you to return so that I can hug you tightly and welcome you. I'm waiting for this day to arrive sooner.

Baby, you have been my steady companion over these years. I'm despair of how I do not have words to express my sincere gratitude for your love. I'm running out of words to write about how much I love you. How strange that I, who is fond of writing, is tongue-tied when it comes to writing about my love for you, I feel inadequate. I'm constantly in search of words to show you. A realization drew in me that the best way to show love depends on the present. Right now, the best way I can show you my love is being patient and give you space to deal with your grief and stubborn hardships.

No matter where you wander off in your journey, remember, you've me. You're not alone.

Our friendships had been built on countless Tweets, Instagram Reels, and the courage to go after what we want. I came across a quote, 'Success is the child of audacity.' What a banger quote! Perhaps, that's we both need - the audacity. Courage sounds polished. Audacity sounds raw and brimming with high-volatile energy.

That's what I hope for us 26th year on this planet - Let our audacity shine bright and take us on paths that we never ever do with our courage.

Baby, I love you so much. Let's be silly together, forever.

Once again, many more happy returns of the day, Beeshi!

Most ardently,

T.

[chronicbloodynoses]

honestly mbikmb is actually me rn

the drum - i feel such a depressive cycle everyday and im not getting fucked up bc i cant w my situation but if i could i prob would b!

happy news 4 sadness - my ex lied 2 me constantly + my perception of love is actually so fked up after him and i constantly tried 2 change myself and use sexual stuff for him 2 love me (he treated me like shit and then convinced me i wanted too much from him)

sunburned shirts - honestly i see this as a nostalgia where it ends up not being what you remember, he used 2 look at the sun and he thought of it fondly, but it hurt more than he remembered

stoop kid - its me! im stoop kid! ive been so conditioned to my mother's baby-ing and when i try to be independent im not allowed and then i get yelled at for never helping out and im terrified to leave bc shes constantly saying that i'll fail completely on my own! also in my later "growing up" yrs i watched hey arnold LOL

something soon - i feel so strongly abt this song. trying to do things to keep from losing it + cutting off my hopes bcuz i feel incapable, i feel like the only way i'll ever b seen is to cause problems! break shit! my mother talked a whole bunch of shit about my dad so now i'll never ever see him the same despite him never actually doing anything to me! i both fear and hate him and miss him and wish i had a dad!!!!! treating what im going through as the past to keep myself from focusing on my problems so i dont kms!!!! wanting to hurt myself to have some reason to be upset!!!! wanting to express my emotions but never being able to!!!! if i cant feel better soon then im actually gonna lose my shit GENUINELY! i am completely unable to tell my mother anything bc either it has to do w her and she can do no wrong or its my fault how i feel! (fun fact- i got yelled at in eighth grade 4 listening to help let me go danny gonzalez bc of the kidnapping a girl part and my music is "too dark" LOL (she threatened to send me to a mental hospital on the same car ride to school)) this town is freezing cold!!! i need out!!!!!!! im not allowed to do laundry and my mom barely does it and acts like if i literally have no underwear then its the hardest thing in the world and i have to wait til bc shes constantly too tired (girl i just wore my last pair and im NOT wearing the ones with holes in them) wanting to be somethig more and never feeling content. ignoring my problems w content and procrastinating to complete guilt, i want to leave n sneak out (i literally could ive snuck someone in multiple times b4 LOL), if i dont romanticize what im going through i'll ACTUALLY fucking lose it (im already inching toward a breaking point xP) i hate this house!!!! ive grown up in the same butt fuck nowhere town in the same horrible traumatic house!!!!!!! i need!!!!!!!! to escape!!!!!! so bad!!!!!

guys we're halfway through the album LOL

no passion - this song is actually so depressed dancing 4 me but i honestly dont really listen 2 this one much n think abt the lyrics so no comment VERY EXTREMELY sorry for no passion fans i WILL think of u and listne 2 it more

father, flesh in rags - i love/hate this song honestly, like it kinda reminds me of my ex (scoliosis! his relationship w his dad was a big problem of our relationship!) thats all u get it kinda hurts LOL not in a way of missing him but i get really upset thinking abt all the shit i put up w and forgot abt bc of my SEVERE case of rose coloured glasses

strangers - im actually wanting to create are 4 this song LOL anyway this song is less specific 4 me (honestly i burnt out from something soon LOL) but i too am not gonna last much longer! im sofa king sick of it!!!! all of it!!!!!!

lawns - its okay will my dad left too <3

pow - fun fact my great grandpa was a prisoner of war! he was taken while he was in a plane over russia and there he learned the language in his 3 years there n idk if he escaped or was let go but hes honestly such a cool guy like! love him but he died when i was really young so i didnt get much of a relationship w him but if i was a great grandparent i'd be really happy 2 meet my great grand kid so im really happy i got to meet him

open-mouthed boy - i too call god a SHIT and then scamper off

ne way im so obsessed w car seat even if i dont have much to say and im just saying a bunch of nothing burgers i have so much appreciation for everything car seat headrest has done even w the songs i dont like (im looking at you hymn and famous) i know somewhere other people like them n are also so affected by car wseat and its just like wowzerz! love this band sofa king much! cant wait to see them live in june!!!!!

[hopefulpenance]

I feel a bit bad that I'm venting constantly about art, because i love it, but I think I have too many words and messes inside, so I'll just put it under.

This blog is gonna end up a diary hahs

I just feel like I'm failing pretty bad, and I'd like to go back when I just drew. I dont consider myself creative, in the sense that I'm not flooded with ideas or concepts. But I had _some_ cool ideas and if not, it was a pretty character or maybe fanart! Nowadays there's nothing, I feel so void-like, and I don't like questioning whether this is the way or not. I know it is, because it's always been this path, I just want to find that one piece that puts me back in enough order to move forward.

Last year I focused a lot on learning and improving, I was very happy doing that, however I fear that so much studying might have done me backwards. Studies with realism are super fun but maybe I ended up burying my artstyle somewhere in the way and now it got super difficult and tiresome to draw. Last week I was feeling like I just no longer know how to draw expressions, basically drawing from my head no longer feels natural and that's making me feel horrible.

I also have this awful fear that it's the tablet that's making it feel so unnatural. If I can't adapt to it, I'd have wasted so much money. And I *have* been feeling like i miss just my old drawing tab + a pc, which could just be me thinking back on that time when I was usually drawing constantly. Blaming the tools is dumb and an excuse, but if it's not and it IS the tablet... it's really sad having a dream set-up as a kid and once you achieve it it just doesn't work for you :-(

I'm pretty sure it's just some form of nostalgia but it's a fear that's been present recently.

I was so excited to get better, I wanted to work on making art that felt like a piece, a full work of art. I was excited to open commissions at some point and all of that seems distant right now. I don't know what more to do, apart from not giving up. That's a given, I'll keep trying. I just wish for something to change, click into place, adjust, anything, I want to make stuff again ( .⁠︵⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)

There are these drawings I made in 2022 when I was trying out pixel art, and I think they're my favourite stuff I ever made. They've been on my mind lately. I'll put them here cause why not really.

Edit to say, if you read up to here thank you, I post it for myself but it still means a lot. Hope you start next week filled with energy.

[ghaffari]

An Aesthetic Reality (Mar 2)

Have I ever lived an aesthetic reality? Is there such a thing, or is it all about perspective?

I think if I was surrounded by the visually distinct, my senses would know. I appreciate the beauty of nature, the beauty of human development, the way they struggle against each other, feigning coexistence (nature always wins). I have moments of being overwhelmed when a moment is swelling with visual splendor, wanderlust is fulfilled, nostalgia is born.

But I'm also very much aware of the unsightliness: The chaos, the detritus, the mundanity. It's all suppressive, ubiquitous, maybe totally inescapable. And, yeah, it feels (fucking) unfair to unwillingly oscillate between the height and abyss of aesthetic experience. For anyone who can be overwhelmed by the opulent, moved to tears, even -- the ugly can be debilitating, stupefying.

I'm thinking about the disaffect present (that is and has been present) in most successful art/fashion blogs on tumblr. In most celebrity personas. In books. Like, everywhere. I'm thinking about Bret Easton Ellis's characters who sob for no apparent reason, and this is all that's needed to give otherwise intentionally one dimensional characters an unfathomable depth. I'm thinking about these things because sadness is so fucking cheap and maybe disgusting when it's paired with spiky, chrome, lowkey camp graphics; juxtaposed by sincere messages of hope, of love, of apathy; is goth or cute or whatever-core; and, especially, when it's such a mood.

Pain is black, it's austere, it's timeless -- and maybe using it as an aesthetic is kind of a cop out for the individualism/vulnerability required to express the experience of joy. Everyone likes black (or at least is comfortable with its familiar presence in the world), and it does embody, augments, our internal capacity to endure, to hurt, to be desensitized. Black is the urban environment and the urban environment is cool because its citizens have seen it all, have been through it all, and they don't give a fuck. Badass. Hell yeah. But also: Why is no one challenging it and why is everyone like "this is SO me"?

And even on the other end of that spectrum we have the court jesters of urban life. The "main" characters, the clowns. It's still the same: "I've seen it all and I am numb to humanity, the experience of existence." It alternates the position of the humanizing heartfelt message and wears it outwardly, and the supposedly goth, pain-stricken underpinnings detach it sufficiently enough to fall in the same vein of universal acceptance. People love it because it reflects their own inability to deal with their "sourceless" (random sobs) loneliness right back at them.

An aesthetic revolution has to involve a community celebrating, accepting the personal role within universal joy. It has to be corny and lame and awkward. It can't care about color, it absolutely cannot hide behind black -- cribbing its mystery to mask the mundanity of their "tortured soul" which is experiencing a torture which has been experienced billions of times before it arrived at their doorstep and will be experienced countless times more when they're gone. We are flashes in the pan cloaking ourselves in the timelessness of black, clinging to it (ugh) creating the illusion that it says something about us when all it says is that we are adept at hiding within -- being swallowed by -- mass movements.

What does the lowkey homogeneity of the state of fashion and celebrity have to do with my desire to experience an aesthetic reality? Really, I just want to experience something other than fucking dread and depression and I'm pretty sure that starts with people lightening up, owning their true selves and naming their obsession with using sadness and jadedness for what it is: A crippling fear of what happens when you stand out for being happy, when you make it apparent that you have something precious to lose.

I'm missing color and colorful personalities and bizarre decor and the sky before night and naturally-occurring comedy and innocence and bohème. I'm tired of witnessing the abject horrors of pain and destitution and fear and apathy be warped into, celebrated as: fashion statements, aesthetics, popular archetypes, (cheap) depth-giving personality quirks. Like, I know it isn't going anywhere because of how safe and, I guess, therapeutic, it is, but I'm just personally tired of seeing it. I just want to be aesthetically inspired. To feel my chest heaving with gratitude because of a sensory experience that wasn't attached to some sort of pain. To feel free enough to be humorous, to see through a lens of humor. To feel my eyes welling with tears over the profound beauty and near perfection that life, nature, the human experience, has to offer. Like....... it's OUT there. It really is. But it's hard to find, maybe increasingly so, and it definitely isn't on fucking tumblr.

[2golesemsaturno]

Suddenly in a fleeting moment, fireworks announce that the new year is here and the old year has just been left behind.

Suddenly, in a fleeting moment, the glasses cross and the bubbling champagne announces that the old year has gone and the new year has arrived.

Suddenly, eyes cross, hands intertwine and human beings, in a warm embrace, with a single thought, express a single desire and a single aspiration: PEACE and LOVE.

Suddenly, the nation doesn’t matter; It doesn't matter the language, it doesn't matter the color, it doesn't matter the origin, because being human and descendants of one Father, we remember only one verb: to give and receive LOVE.

Suddenly, without hurt, without rancor, without hatred, we sing one song, one hymn: that of FREEDOM.

Suddenly, we forget and remember the happy future, and how good it is to LIVE.

But what about the 364 days of the year that are already gone? The days I lived, when I smiled, cried, fell?

I am no longer the same as yesterday, even though yesterday is the same distance from tomorrow. Because each one who arrived gave me a piece of themselves and each one who left took a small piece of me.

I am the songs I heard, the books I read, the trips I took, the secrets I kept and the ones others kept from me.

I am the tear that didn't fall, I am the smile, I am the consequence. I am the heartache, I am the sadness, I am the longing and the reality.

And just like me, the world is in constant metamorphosis, and even those who arrived and chose to build a nest instead of flying, these are no longer the same, and with each change they give me a part of you. I am the past of everyone who stayed, of everyone who left and I am the present of everyone who stayed.

Like a patchwork quilt, and every piece of me has a story to tell.

Yes, I'm in pieces, because it's not just me living in myself anymore, I'm the sum of my stories, my choices, it's me and my circumstances. It's me and what I made of pain, it's me and what I made of love, and of loves, it's us, just like patchwork.

And the goal for this “new year” is to have the courage to tear up all the pieces that hurt me and the courage to walk around sewing good patches into myself.

I already know that time doesn't matter at all, intensity is much more important. There are pieces in my quilt that were sewn together in one day; and others that took years.

364 new days are coming. Like a divine, delicious and very beautiful gift for all of us pilgrims.

Can we just let every chance of life roll? Can we just sit and cry about the things I haven't resolved?

Simplify what you can. Dance, move your body. Pray, meditate, silence. Walk barefoot on the street. Take a rain shower. Ask your inner child what she would like to do and do it.

Go to the beach, the waterfall, jump in a pool. Look them in the eye and practice the truth with yourself. Tell yourself with a smile on your face how much you love yourself.

Take stock of your life, review your mistakes and successes, how many goals you achieved and how many you failed to achieve. Review how many hugs you gave and how many you didn't give. How many people did you help and how many did you leave?

364 new days are coming. And in reality, without mincing words, I know that this year will bring pain, changes, as it is every year. I know that I will hurt a lot of people and that some will hurt me, but I also know that you have seen successes, and victories and there will be many happy moments.

I know that I will arrive and that I will leave. I know they hated me, that they remember me with nostalgia somewhere, that they will love me. I know there's a lot missing between how you see me and who I am.

But what matters is that, between the sewing and the tearing, I will be infinitely grateful, because all of this will be who I will be, and I will no longer be what I am now.

At the end of the year, you will realize that, deep down, you didn't want a “new life” so much, but just some opportunities to improve the one you already had.

So that's why I don't say goodbye completely. I think it makes more sense to shout, in the middle of the night from December 31st to January 1st, a loud: See you soon, old year!

See you soon…

Iris Dias

December 31, 2022

[17:48 PM]

[productofnfld]

The Robe by Brad Tuck and Rosemary Lawton

The older I get, the more I see Christmas as a complex (and complicated) season.

It can be happy. I mean, I think we’re constantly told it ‘should’ be happy.

The truth is, it isn’t, at least, not always. That ‘push’ to be happy can make the melancholy feel so much worse.

These days, Christmas for me comes with too many empty chairs at the table.

I miss my family and friends that have died much more during the holidays. In the nostalgia of the season the absence seems so much bigger.

These are the kinds of thought that come to mind when I listen to Rosemary Lawton sing The Robe. I don’t want to make you think the song makes me sad. It doesn’t. It makes me feel better, because I think Lawton knows the kind of feeling I’ve described. The way she expresses it feels… comforting and beautiful.

You can hear ‘The Robe’ on Brad Tuck and Rosemary Lawton’s Songs for Christmastime.

More Christmas and Holiday Music from Newfoundland & Labrador

Stay tuned for more great Christmas songs from Newfoundland and Labrador.

I'm a big fan of traditional Christmas music, I love to hear a modern rendition of a 300 year old carol but, occasionally, a brand new song comes to my attention and dominates my Christmas listening. Newfoundland and Labrador's musicians have been holding their own in both regards. I’ll be sharing local songs —both old and new— from now until Christmas in my 2023 NL Music Advent Calendar.

Follow along on Instagram stories and get playlists here.

Check out: 2022’s NL Christmas music calendar.