#rolling and just. fun. i enjoyed.

[legoyuri]

OMFG I just watched the bird cage, i really liked it.

[patrickztump]

So this sucked. This was pretty miserable, I– having to bang around on this thing for, like, so many takes. And like– Just have hot girls grabbing you. Uh, yeah, well that, yeah...

[front-facing-pokemon]

[intjsimp]

It’s finally beach weather in Fl!!

[bones-and-whatnot]

When it comes to the toy motifs, I usually see Jax interpreted as a plush, but I always saw him as one of those noodly-limbed, rubbery, bendy figurines you see at dentist waiting rooms and stuff.

[edsbacktattoo]

I have Gathered some Data

@skysofrey and I recently got into a discussion about names in OFMD. Specifically, how many times does Ed actually call Stede by his name in the show? We could only think of a few examples each and that didn't seem right. And because I'm insane, I decided to rewatch and note down every time a name was used, who used it, and who was being spoken to. Here are my findings!

Before you proceed, please know that this is strictly for fun and because I was curious. There are likely errors in the data (I'm sure I missed some things, I'm just one person.) but! I still think that what's been gathered is very interesting.

Here are some other fun/important/miserable things that I found in my travels:

There is one more time where Stede calls Ed “Edward,” and the only time it isn’t said to him directly. This is when Stede is addressing the petrified orange.

Of the five times that Stede is called “The Gentleman Pirate,” two of them are from Ed.

Ed calls Stede by his name only twelve times in the series. Only two of these instances are spoken to someone else. There are two others when Ed is looking for him at the pier, and therefore spoken to no one.

There are only ten instances of other characters calling Ed something other than his name or “Blackbeard.” Two of these are from Izzy, during the scene in Spanish Jackie’s bar, where he’s informing Stede that Ed would like to meet with him. During this scene, he only uses “my captain” and “my boss.” This is one of the very few times he doesn’t refer to Ed to other people as “Blackbeard” and it’s at the time that is arguably the most important. (He’s an idiot.)

Out of the twenty times that Ed refers to himself, fourteen of those are as “Blackbeard/The Kraken.” He refers to himself with names other than “Ed/Edward” 70% of the time. 50% of the times he refers to himself by his name are during the beach scene in episode nine, and there is only one instance where he uses his name that is not in Stede’s company. ("Actually, I do want to be called 'Ed' from now on.")

Izzy only refers to Ed as "Edward" to other people four times in the show. Two of those times are when he's marooning Stede's crew, and each time he uses his name in that scene, he takes on a mocking tone. Meaning that 50% of every instance he's referred to Ed as "Edward" to other people, he's been mocking his name.

Ed calls Stede "mate" as often as he calls him by his name, but he only calls him "mate" directly.

Stede calls Ed by his name only once more than Izzy does.

80% of the times Ed refers to himself by name happen in episode nine.

[5hrignold]

awful. beyond redemption. i will stare at it for days

[enderspawn]

honestly like on the topic of jrwi shipping I genuinely like. i support a lot of different ships but i accept they’re not likely to ever be canon yknow? like. half the time i don’t think i even want them to be canon per say, bc it can flatten down a more fun or interesting dynamic.

if i ship characters it’s either bc 1. it’s neat or 2. it’s funny, not bc i particularly actually want that to happen yknow.

[astranauticus]

not sure if this counts as an AU but.. thinking about the Per Aspera crew as horror game bosses like.. you are wandering through a forested mountain range and you know somethings wrong because the forest shouldn't be this eerily silent, this devoid of life, and then you hear the crash of falling trees and there is a hand that is half your size glowing golden in the night and it is grabbing you and its claws are digging into your flesh and you see the spines running down the golden arm that is far too long as it lifts you over a crater in mountain, over a coiled, serpentine thing with a visage that is not of this world, and if you look closely you can see the shape of a child curled at the centre of the thing, golden hair reflecting the glow of the creature and if you listen closely you can hear her sobbing, 'Don't hurt me, I don't want to do this'. you are sailing through the astral sea when you see an ephemeral, resplendent spelljammer cutting through the starry waters and you rejoice because you have been lost on the seas for so so long, so you board the ship looking for help, supplies, anything, and you are greeted by a blue fire genasi (you wonder, do those even exist? but you can't get off the ship now because where else will you go?) and she tells you she is the captain of this ship but as far as you can tell there is no crew on board, and if she is not appearing right behind you from a trapdoor you've never noticed she is always in the engine room 'fixing the ship' even though the ship seems to be sailing perfectly fine ('Where are we going?' you ask her once and she doesn't even turn to look at you, 'Don't worry about it') and if you are ever so unlucky as to damage the ship in any way, you begin to catch flashes of red and orange out of the corner of your eye, a fire genasi wearing the woman's face who whispers at you with hollow, angry eyes 'Don't you fucking dare hurt my ship'. you are sailing through the astral sea when you see a rotting, decaying spelljammer, so badly damaged it's barely moving although you have to wonder how it's even staying afloat at all, and out of some morbid curiosity you climb on board and the deck of the ship is in no better shape than the hull, the marks of hard-fought battle - scars in the wood from sharp blades and arcane energies, stains of blood and oil splattered about - still fresh but you know time doesn't pass on the astral sea so who knows how long ago this all took place, and as you climb below decks you start to notice the writings on the walls, pieces of parchment nailed to every surface and connected with fraying, rotting threads, or words etched directly into the wood, the deep gouges barely readable, and you start to hear the creaking and clanking of rusted machinery slowly moving about and you turn a corner to see a figure standing in a room facing the wall, slowly scratching yet more of that unintelligible writing into the bones of the ship, and it turns as the rusted dented mechanite stares at you with eyes ablaze and he asks 'Who are you? Where is my crew?' as sparks of arcane lightning begins to arc through the room. you are running through a feywild forest and you know, even without the figure chasing you, that you have made a horrible mistake, you should have known better, should have been more careful, should have kept your impulses in check, and now you are being chased through an unfamiliar forest and the figure, the Hunter pursuing you knows this realm like the back of his hand, knows every tree and shrub and vine that is slithering up to grasp at your ankles, and you glance back desperately to catch any glimpse of your pursuer but there is no pursuer, he has hidden himself with some arcane trick or some innate power or just the knowledge that this realm is his home, and you hear his voice even though you cannot see him as he cries out 'You should not have hurt my family. Prepare to face the Hunter of Hundkiln'

sorry no Vhas yet maybe I'll update with one for him once we get more of his whole deal

[oozeandgoo-art]

old drawing I never posted. i like these two freaks, I should draw them more

[sunflowerdigs]

Look, I fully understand that some Buddie fans may not be on their best behavior rn, but you can miss me with any kind of "toxic shipper" discourse that attempts to (badly) group Buddie fans in to "good" and "toxic" categories (please, please, put me in the good category! Pick me, pick me! 🙄). Getting up on your high horse now just indicates to me that you would like to be held to a very high standard of behavior, and that we should all keep that in mind moving forward.

[onstoryladders]

A Byler flashfic because why not 🥰 light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, coming out. Maybe a bit ooc but I don't give a damn. Enjoy 💖

NOT MY TYPE

“I thought you liked her”.

Mike doesn't know why he said that – the words just rolled off his tongue without so much as a warning, and he let them. It feels good, though, and it's worth it just to hear Will's soft laugh so close to his ear.

“You thought I liked Angela?”

Mike snorts. “Yeah, well. I didn't know she was an asshole at the time, cut me some slack”.

“Sorry, it's just-- so absurd”.

He elbows Will's side. “It's all your fault!”

“I didn't even speak a word to her, Mike”.

“It was-- it was before that. I mean, you didn't give me the painting at the airport, so I thought, y'know-- it had to be for someone else. And since we were meeting El's friends at the rink-- well, it sounds dumb now that I know, but. Yeah”. He shrugs. “I didn't have all the facts. I had no idea she was Satan incarnate”.

“You're doing Satan a disservice”.

“No doubt about that”.

They remain silent for a little while. It's nice, sitting so close to each other, this time with clean clothes and no smoke twirling above their heads. Just them and the stillness of a Friday evening – as still as the end of the world can be.

When Will speaks again, his soft voice sends shivers down Mike's arms. “I wouldn't like her anyway. Even if she was nice”.

“What, you don't like blondes?”

“I mean...”

Will turns to the side, and Mike does the same. He's not sure it was a smart decision, because now their gazes are interlocked, so close that they can see their own reflection in each other's eyes, and his gut is twisting with something warm he cannot name.

“I've always been partial to darker hair”, Will says.

Mike's throat is suddenly dry. “How dark?”

He doesn't know why he asked. It's a stupid question, it barely makes any sense at all, and-- and what answer does he expect to get?

Like yours, a little voice in his head supplies.

That makes his stomach churn even more, and suddenly it's like he can feel all his thoughts and emotions on his face, written with fire on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He turns away.

“It's not about her hair, though”, Will says.

“Hm?”

“Angela, she's-- she's just not my type”.

“Yeah?” Mike bites the inside of his cheek. He wishes he was wise enough to let the conversation die, but he's always been a little bit of a masochist. “What's your type, then?”

For a few seconds, Will doesn't answer.

Then: “Taller. Broader”, he says. He sounds a little weak, a little strained – like he's forcing himself to go on even though every molecule in his body is against it. “With bigger hands and-- a deeper voice”.

Mike frowns. That's not the description he expected. Those aren't traits that people usually ascribe to girls. It almost sounds like Will's talking about...

“Boys”.

Oh.

Mike's breath catches.

“Oh”.

When he turns towards him, Will is staring at his own hands. He looks scared, and Mike doesn't even think before reaching out to take his hand and hold it.

“Hey”, he says softly. “It's okay”.

Will shakes his head. “They were right”.

“Who?”

“My father, Troy. The others at school”.

“Those jerks weren't right about anything”.

“But they were!” Will raises his head, and Mike's stomach knots up when he realizes he's crying. “Don't you get it, Mike? They took one look at me and knew, even before I did. They were...”

His voice breaks, and something deep inside of Mike shatters just the same. He grabs Will by the shoulders and pulls him into a hug. “Wrong”, he says, arms tightening till their chests are pressed against each other. “They've never known shit about you, Will. Not Troy, not your father, not the other assholes at school”.

Will grips Mike's shirt. “They weren't wrong”.

“So what?” Mike threads his fingers in Will's hair. The awareness of just how close they are would drive him insane if he couldn't feel the dampness of Will's tears against his neck. “All the things they said to you-- it was bullshit, Will. All of it. And it's got nothing to do with whether they were wrong”.

Will shakes his head, tries to push Mike away. It's weak and half-hearted, and Mike doesn't let him.

“Listen to me”, he says, feeling his heart in his throat. “Remember what they used to call Dustin and Lucas? Or even me?”

“That's different”.

“Why? I am a nerd. Lucas is black. So what?”

Will doesn't answer that, and this time it's Mike who pulls away so that he can look at his face, all red from crying. Will is a pretty crier, and Mike would kick himself in the face for thinking that in a moment like this, but right now his priorities lie elsewhere.

Seeing Will like this hurts too much.

“So what?”, he asks again, trying to convey his sincerity through his eyes. “And they didn't know, Will. They just assumed something about you and decided that it was a bad thing, but you know what? There's never been anything wrong with you, so screw them”.

New tears stream down Will's face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Screw every. Single. One of them”.

That makes Will chuckle, and Mike preens at the sound. “You made your point”.

Mike scrunches up his nose. “I don't know, you don't look too convinced”.

“I'm not sure I even look alive right now”.

Mike snorts. “You look fine”, he says, and before he knows it his hands are on Will's cheeks, thumbs swiping under his eyes to dry them from tears. “Just a little red all over”.

Will's eyes widen slightly. “Because I cried”.

“Yeah, I know how crying works”.

“Just making sure”.

Mike doesn't lower his hands after that. He keeps brushing his thumbs against Will's face, touch as soft as a feather, and Will lets him. His eyes are still wide, alight with a flame that Mike has never seen before. It turns his insides into liquid heat.

“Thanks for telling me”, he whispers. His own voice is startling in the silence between them.

“Thank you for not freaking out”.

“Hey, you're my best friend, Will. I love you”.

And it's so easy – letting the words out. He doesn't need to think about them, doesn't have to wonder what they mean, because it's second nature: he knows he loves Will like he knows he needs oxygen to live, one of the undeniable facts of life. Connotations don't matter here.

Except that they kinda do, now, because as easy as it was to say it, Mike's hands are still cupping Will's face, and his eyes keep flickering to his lips, and nothing about this feels like it's supposed to do. The warmth in Mike's body is familiar yet strange – and for a second he wonders if Will's confession did change everything, after all.

Am I such a bad friend?

“What's wrong?”, Will asks.

Mike raises his gaze. “Huh?”

“You're crying too”.

Mike blinks, and a wet veil drops in front of his eyes. “Oh, shit. I don't-- I don't know why”, he says, suddenly feeling small and weird and like he shouldn't be here. “Shit, sorry”.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because it's dumb to cry without a reason”.

“It's not dumb”.

Will raises his hand, and for a second Mike thinks – hopes – that he's gonna reach out and wipe away his tears like he did for him, but Will seems to change his mind halfway through. His lets his arm fall in his lap again. His fingers curl.

Mike wants to tell him that it's okay, that he can and should touch him back if he wants, but doesn't know how to do that without turning into glass – cold and fragile and see-through.

Vulnerable.

He takes his hands away and rubs his eyes.

“Are we okay?”, Will asks once he's done, and whatever doubts Mike was feeling disappear without a trace at the earnestness in his gaze.

“Of course”. Mike smiles. “We're a team, right?”

Will smiles back. “Best friends”.

“Cool”.

“Cool”.

Mike's confusing feelings can wait a little longer.

This is all that matters now.

[astridthevalkyrie]

“i’m a girls girl but also a hater” shut up shut up shut up 😭

[the-kipsabian]

my last two remaining braincells

[wizardofgoodfortune]

Rating: Mature Chapter: 8/?  Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Slow Burn, Single Parents, POV Alternating, Dream is a sculptor, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Bullying, Descriptions of Violence, Smoking, Drinking

In the space between dreaming and waking, Hob felt a dull ache at the back of his neck.

That’s not good, he thought, half-asleep, I’m going to be feeling that for days.

In an effort to relieve the pain, Hob turned to his side, burying his nose in something soft and fragrant.

(read on ao3)