#welcome to how much I think about all this stuff

[hxltic]

Choso remembers you saying something about it. In fact, you had asked him incredulously, “Cho, you have never touched yourself?”

And you said it so confused and almost sad, like you were genuinely upset for him. “That’s why you’re so pent up all the time,” you added. “It’s not something you should feel bad about.”

The memory crowded his brain when he returned to his apartment one night, slightly angry and plagued by what he doesn’t yet recognize as overstimulation, just thinking maybe his ponytails are too tight and adding to his headache. His muscles were sore as well, which didn’t help.

So he leisurely showers and lays in bed, trying his best to fall asleep and end his emotional torture, but it’s to no avail. He lays there on his back with his eyes closed. Contemplating. He has a hard time going to bed with the whole curse thing anyway.

Thinking back, you implied that the action was some type of release of frustration or stress. Choso understands that his head is constantly wracking about familial stuff, staying alive, his rent; it never truly stops. But what if it could?

The thought is crude, like it should be forbidden to indulge in himself that way. But you said there was nothing to be ashamed of, and above all else, he trusts you the most.

You. It all started with you. You were always helping him out, being his best friend and patiently teaching him things that nobody else could bring themselves to say. You were there for him and he owes you the world.

In fact, sometimes he would ask questions or pretend to be uninformed just so you could explain random, usually unimportant, stuff. He couldn’t understand why, but your puffy lips as you speak and your pretty eyes glistening— on the verge of full laughter at his confusion— makes the air thick around him. He’s only half human, but it’s like he carries the desire equivalent to a full one. He has barely been able to control himself.

In the darkness of his room, under the covers, Choso doesn’t even notice his hand trailing down his abdomen and over the cloth of his loose pants. It was so natural how he began to lazily dig the heart of his palm through the fabric, gently at first.

You had shown him the different pleasures of the world around him, most of which you liked to do. Mall shopping, for example. He thought it only made sense to carry your bags while you hopped from store to store, and in return, he got some say on what you left the store with. You couldn’t care less about the male opinion on how short your skirt was, but Choso was different. You knew it would be unfeigned.

“How’s this one?”

You step out of the dressing room in a pair of high heels that laced up to your calf and twirl in the skin-tight dress. The color fell on your complexion perfectly, it cinched your waist in just right, and covered just enough of what it needed to. The fabric hugged your thighs and the intended sheerness of the dress left just a faint shadow of the red set you were wearing underneath. But there was no point in waiting for his answer; it was all over his face.

He was speechless. He sat with his mouth slightly agape, holding his gaze to you up and down. You clear your throat, finally drawing his eyes up to yours, and he somewhat comes to his senses.

“Y-you look great.” He mutters.

Of course it’s in your nature to tease him, rolling your eyes jokingly: “Just great? God, Cho, I see how much you hate me now.” But you didn’t expect the immediate response after.

“No, no— more than that. There’s not a word for it.”

Now you were speechless, staring at him with the astonishment he had on his face previously.

Choso’s large hand wasn’t as gentle now, driving deep into himself in search for friction. His breathing slightly picked up from the movements since the room was becoming hotter around him, stifling even, so he throws the covers off his wanting body. With a deep sigh and furrowed brows, he tries to relax back into his pillow, welcoming the small hums and the newfound rush of cool air against his open chest.

Every now and then he’d also think about the time you took him swimming. He already knew how as a survival instinct, but that wasn’t the point. You were showing him around. Popsicles, hot summer days, and glowy laughs.

After the both of you sat on your beach chairs while munching on your matching snowcones, you agreed to get in the water if he did. That’s how found yourselves at the steps of the pool, Choso trying his damndest to be respectful when you remove your cover up, but he somehow can’t peel his eyes away no matter how hard he tries. You’re too busy thinking if you should revoke your statement while glancing at your reflection. Unfortunately for you though, you hadn’t thought that he would have no reaction at all to the water temperature and step right in without hesitation.

“You are insane,” you declare, your eyes hopefully showing the fear through your shades. Choso chuckles and stands at his full height in the three feet, and instead of trying to figure out if you were staring at his dripping figure, he glides towards you in the water.

He reaches out for you, still stuck with only your feet in the pool.

“Here, give me your hand.”

Reluctantly, you do. He walks backwards into the water.

In an escape from the cold, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close, linking your ankles behind his hips. He tries his best to keep his breathing steady as you stay hooked to him. “I’m going to sink in, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah okay,” you breathe.

Everywhere you connected was hot despite the coolness of the water nipping at you, and yet it didn’t make the journey down any easier. His hands hooked under your thighs as comfortably as possible, but the main burn in your heart stemmed from the words. It was truly an endeavor not to think about them out of context because surely he didn’t even notice the accidental innuendo.

Choso held his breath during the slow, controlled descent while you clung onto him. It isn’t until you get to the bottom that the real fight emerges.

“Oh, It’s not that bad!”

And even though he’s squatting, leaving both of you completely surrounded in the pool, when you pull away with a fat smile on your face and the shades pushed up, Choso could barely even think.

His hand finally pushes past the waistband. It wasn’t hard to find his length that was already standing up as far as it was allowed in his pants.

His eyes tighten when he feels the pressure of own his grip, and how relieving it was. Slowly, his hand moves up against the taut skin, only to be hit with a substance he feels blindly at the tip. He kicks his pants off with an easy motion in order to see himself.

He was flushed but too aroused to be embarrassed. Already gathering sweat and heart beating fast, he recognizes he has two options. Stop, or keep going without full knowledge of how to do it. Usually he’d ask you, but he’s smart, and some things he has to figure out on his own. Plus, he’s sure it all comes to the same outcome.

He swipes the substance from the top, and without a second thought, spreads it around so it eases the journey his hand slowly takes up and down his shaft.

When you looked at him that day, you glistened with a happiness he’d never seen before in his arms. Holding onto him even when you no longer needed to. He might as well have been looking at the fucking sun because he would do anything to see you like that again: staring at him like he was the only person in the world, your breasts close to spilling from your bikini top, hair tossing in your face from the wind, and only inches away from where he now recognized he wanted your lips most. His.

He could spot every freckle and dimple in your skin.

But that wasn’t even the best part. Your fingertips rested on his jaw and your palms on his neck, slowly caressing him while you dipped further on top of him underwater. You told him there shouldn’t be anything under his swim shorts. Of course he listened, but now he’s trying to determine if it’s a blessing or a curse. Intentional or not, every time you moved, the touch of your bare skin and the hold he had on where your thighs meet your ass was electrifying and downright addictive. He can still feel it to this day.

Choso’s heart rate was skyrocketing. He lacked some understanding, but he wasn’t stupid. He may not necessarily know what love should feel like, or reciprocated feelings, but he knows what he’s feeling now isn’t to be ignored. If it was, it wouldn’t be so goddamn suffocating.

His free hand brushes the hair over his forehead back at the epiphany. His other one is controlled, sliding up and down his cock continuously. There was so much precum leaking at his sensitivity, making his eyes flutter and his words unstable. At first it was just groans and soft moans falling from his lips. But now, he needs the words for what he’s about to do next.

Somehow he finds his hand hovering atop his bedside table, ripping his phone off the charger and dialing your number.

A few rings later, he hears your faint air conditioning in the background. “Cho?”

Instead of a response, a heavy, elongated sigh sounds on the line. Your voice was so refreshing to hear that it actually startled him. He thought he was ready to talk about whatever his feelings were, or ask about them, but maybe he got intentions of the choice to call you slightly wrong. His thumb slips just under his pink head, flinching his hips and ejecting whimper from his mouth.

He stares into the darkness, not even attempting to hide. “H-hello,” he mumbles.

“Are you okay? It’s pretty late.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Choso swallows, putting the phone beside his ear. He looks down at what he’s doing. Calves straining, cock throbbing, and muscles tensing. Had he always been this reactive? You both rest in silence, his as an occupied one, but a silence nonetheless before he interrupts it.

“I wanted to—” His grip became a little too hard and a low groan slips into the mic. He was trying to communicate without notifying you of what he’s doing, but you had brought it up so he doubts you would mind if it came to that. “—hear your voice.”

“Well, I’m here now. Hey, are you sure you’re completely fine?”

“I-I… fuck,” Choso curses, which is a rarity in all honesty, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He hears you shuffle. He assumes you sat up, intrigued. “Oh yeah?”

It’s like you were put on this earth just for him—to guide him, to trouble him, but it’s all a side of the same coin. And he loves every second of it. Your voice was so fulfilling even with its mocking tone, and maybe it’s just the arousal coursing through him, but he recognizes it as what it is. Flirting. With this fact, the world slows, leaving the intensity of the moment and the growing feeling in his lower half. His speech is impaired by his own breathing.

“Yeah,” he replies. Breathless and hot.

Once again, there’s another moment of silence. A squelch sound bounces off his length as he increases speed, still shimmering with wetness in the dark, and he’s thinking maybe you fell asleep. His balls tighten every now and then and he thanks the universe for the signal because when he touches them, his eyes almost roll to the back of his head before closing.

The sound he releases is mostly air. It was frantic and choppy and loud, as well as completely received on your end.

“Where are your hands?”

He processes your voice, blinking his eyes open slowly. “Huh?”

“Where are your hands, Choso.”

He tips his chin down, glancing at the stickiness between his fingers and his dick standing tall, itching for more. It’s weird, he thinks, but he admires his work and how he doesn’t feel dirty or the least bit uncomfortable with it. He watches the clearish-white seep from the peak when his fingers clamp around his base and squeeze; he hums satisfactorily.

“Busy.”

Incredulously, you parrot, “Busy?” A smile inches onto your face and he only knows because he can hear it in your voice. “Are they stroking anything, by any chance?”

On that note, he begins undulating again, tipping his head back to the pillow. It was burning desire, for multiple things. He didn’t know what, but you’re for sure one of them.

He grins softly but cockily, “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Because I’m so ‘pent up’ all the time?” He turns his head to the phone as if it were you lying beside him.

You both laugh in a daze, the feeling surreal. It then goes quiet.

“I’m feeling a little pent up right now, actually,” you coo.

Choso copies, “Oh yeah?” And he understands what you mean, because his cock tightens and warms. His speed enhances once more, sloshing somewhere in the back of the call and making the “h” sounds of his words lengthy.

“Yeah,” you moan on the other line. It was light; lighter than his. But his are the very reason why.

On top of the pleasant surprise of him taking your advice, he called you to experience it, and his voice is deep with fatigue but serene with arousal. It didn’t take a genius to guess what you were doing in response. “How does it feel Choso?”

“Keep talking and I’ll see.”

That instant he twitches, his hips now thrusting up into his fist for some type of release. It was growing with every word you spoke. He bites his lip and keeps his eyes closed to relish in the moment because it is ten times more exhilarating in someone else’s presence. Yours.

“Are you close?” You question. Your breath was more contained than his, but he could hear the movement of the covers.

Another grunt, “Yes.” In fact, he was so close, there isn’t anything else that he’d want. It practically overtook him.

He could barely hear you, or understand you, rather. And if he did, it took him repeating your words over again.

“You were thinking about me, weren’t you?”

It was snappy but his voice gave it away. “I called, didn’t I?”

“I bet you’re imagining it’s my hand, right? Or when you come it’s my face you’re spilling on?”

He curses under his breath, jolting his hips up and gripping his cock harder. Rougher. No, he actually wasn’t imagining that, but now that you brought it to life there’s no going back.

What you said after was unfortunately heard loud and clear.

“Slow down for me.”

And it should have been embarrassing how instantly he took his hand away, because if he didn’t, cum would be painted on his chest by now. He groans strongly and hisses as if in pain at your denial, breaths thick and weighty. “H-Holy shit.”

Choso never got angry at really anything, but here he was, brows low in irritation. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him raise his voice over the calming way he spoke either, but that doesn’t matter now. Had he gone slow he still would have came.

He speaks as confidently as you laying on his back, dry hand flipped on his forehead while his breathing regulates. “Why won’t you let me come?”

You had your own reasons, one of which being you took it as the perfect opportunity to pleasure yourself. “Because I said so.”

Choso opens his eyes to his cock as possibly erect as it could get, bobbing with every time he moved. It was an angry red instead of its usual pink now. “I’m so close,” he placates himself a bit, “…just…let me.”

You don’t respond, just release small whimpers of your own— but he knows you’re still listening. He sighs deeply, “…Please.”

It was so breathless it might as well have been a moan in its own: “What’d you say?”

“What?”

“I didn’t hear you.” You heard him.

“…Please let me come.”

He was shaking, his hand already wandering closer to his dick in pure anticipation you would say yes. Thank God you did after a few quiet seconds that were anything but tranquil— he actually thought that he was about to pop.

It’s swift when he cups his hands and runs from the base to the tip, squeezes there, and uses a few of the fingers to drag over the wet skin of his balls. The sounds he made previously come back tenfold.

His hips jerk and his abdomen follows. His back lifts from the bed, causing him to rise onto an elbow as he strokes himself through his climax. His engorged cock throbs in his hand and he shudders. He shuts his eyes just as milky white cum flies out in spurts around his waist and stomach.

Meanwhile, your own peak was near, and when Choso huffs through his, yours hits like a train. His vision was black and spotty, but he could hear you cry his name somewhere in the distance. This only made it worse. You carry him even farther into his orgasm since he thinks about what they’ll sound like in person. His name rolls off your tongue so beautifully already; when you’re under him it’ll put him on his deathbed.

He blinks his eyes open to the mess that he can’t bring himself to care about in the moment. He flops backward onto his bed sheets while trying to keep his lungs in order.

It seems to be that for you as well because a few much needed-minutes pass.

“Cho?”

He hums back leisurely.

You ask, soft and sweet. “Can I come over?”

“See you in ten,” he sits up.

©️hxltic

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

I've seen a lot of takes on what would happen if Sonic and Tails returned to West Side Island and confronted the people who were so abusive to Tails, and I had an idea for a somewhat new spin on it.

What if, now that Tails is a world famous hero, the Islanders try to try to basically gaslight him into thinking none of the abuse ever happened? They find out he's coming and they throw a big "Welcome Home" party and give him a medal and stuff, and when confronted about their treatment of him just completely deny or twist it. Like "oh yes I'm so sorry there were a couple kids who were bullies but that happens to everyone you weren't being targeted, and we tried to get them to stop it" or "we didn't know you were alone and homeless, if we knew we would have taken you in" and all sorts of garbage like that

And Tails, who's maybe a tween-young teen now, and no longer has distinct memories from that early in his life, starts to question if maybe he really was blowing things out of proportion. Maybe he really was just bullied by one or two kids, and they weren't really that bad. Maybe people didn't really chase him away and refuse to even let him go through their garbage for food. He knows he has anxiety. Maybe he was just imagining how much everyone hated him. And he almost wants to believe it, to believe that he was never truly hated.

But Sonic remembers. Sonic remembers the gang of older kids beating and violently attacking toddler aged Tails, and only stopping when he physically intervened with his own fists. He remembers questioning the townsfolk about the two-tailed fox he'd seen and being meet with sneers and complete disdain. He remembers how skinny Tails was, how his ribs were visible even through his fur and how he wolfed down the food Sonic offered him so quickly that he nearly threw it up later. He remembers how Tails flinched from any quick movement or attempt at touch. He remembers the long process of gaining the fox's trust, a process that tested his nine-year-old patience as he spent literal weeks urging Tails to come closer, keeping his hands slow and his face friendly, finally getting the fox to join him at the campfire, to walk beside him with dashing away when moved his arm too fast, and then, eventually, to let him touch him. He remembers the first few times Tails let him try to brush out his matted, dirty fur, each knot a testament to neglect, and finding scars and wounds on the skin beneath that spoke of so much abuse. He remembers realizing for the first time that normal, everyday Mobians could be just as cruel as Eggman.

Tails doesn't trust his own memory. But Sonic remembers. And Sonic is not quick to forgive.

[pennylanefics]

Potted Plant - Andrei Svechnikov

a/n: i have been trying my hardest to keep this energy up and get these out as much as i can :) i hit a small wall with svechy's but i finally got this one finished :) two more fics for him to go!

summary: andrei wants to make his home feel a little more welcoming for you after he asks you to move in with him

word count: ~1.8k

“I was thinking about something,” Andrei’s voice fills the otherwise quiet room. It was late in the evening and the two of you were relaxing in bed, Andrei’s arms around you as he read a book and you were curled up in his chest, playing a game on your phone.

“About what?” You lock your phone and look up at him, your chin resting on his torso. His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and grins.

“Do you want to move in with me?” He asks, his tone soft and evident of hesitancy, worried about rejection. Your eyes widen a little and your body freezes.

“Move in…here?” Andrei nods and hums quietly, cradling your cheek in his touch.

“Yeah. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? I mean, you are over here all the time, so it wouldn’t be a big difference, you know?” He comments. “We’d just make it official, and you could move all your stuff over here.”

You think about it for a moment, and he did have a point. You spent a lot of time at his place, way more than you were at your apartment, and it was perfect timing, since your lease was ending soon, you could just let your landlord know that you won’t be returning.

Sure, it wasn’t a safe option, in case something were to happen with you and Andrei, but you chose not to think about that right now, leading to you answering your boyfriend with a nod of your head.

“It would be nice. I will move in with you,” you smile widely up at him. His cheeks redden at your answer and he lets out a big, relieved sigh, pulling you up by your hips so that your face was so close to his, where he could kiss you with ease. His lips press against yours, his laugh eventually breaking it.

“Oh I am so happy,” he sighs, kissing you over and over, then moving on to place little kisses all over your face, eliciting a giggle from you.

“Me too. It’ll be nice to officially move in, so I hope you aren’t going to get tired of me,” you tease him, laying back down against his chest, trailing your finger around the soft, grey fabric of his shirt.

“I could never get tired of you, sweetheart,” he whispers.

In the days following, Andrei helps you pack everything up in your apartment, specifically your clothes, toiletries, and all of your personal items. It was easier to just bring everything, since you had no intention of coming back to the place, and it was better to take it all in one go than make multiple trips for small stuff.

Andrei takes all of the boxes and bags to his car while you take one last stroll through the apartment, making sure you didn’t forget anything. You were also taking the rest of the food that was in your fridge and cabinets, even though Andrei had plenty of food at his place, it was better than just throwing it to waste.

“Everything gone?” He wonders, walking back inside the almost empty space. All of your furniture was still there, which would be a task for another day, you’d most likely move it into a storage unit, or Andrei would find a place for it in his house.

“I think so,” you murmur, curling into his side as he steps over to where you stand. His arms circle around your shoulders, swaying you side to side a little.

“Bittersweet, isn’t it?” He whispers, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “Remember the first night I stayed here with you?”

“I do,” you laugh quietly, remembering the night, “ you fell asleep on the couch accidentally and you woke up aching because you barely fit.”

“And how you refused to let me drive home so you forced me to stay.”

“Hey, I did not force you. I was protecting you, you were half asleep, there was no way you could have driven home.”

“I was fine, baby. You were being overdramatic,” he teases, tapping your bottom playfully. You pull away from him and smack his chest in retaliation.

“Oh sure, because a 6’2 man leaning against his much shorter girlfriend to simply walk to the bedroom is fine and not tired at all.” He laughs and shakes his head, finally admitting defeat.

“So, are we ready to go?” He changes the topic, nodding his head towards the door.

“Yeah, let’s head out.” You take one final look at the place you called your first home and walk out shortly after, your hand in Andrei’s, heading back to his place, or rather, your new home with him.

It took a couple days to unpack all of the boxes and find a place for them, so much that you ended up keeping a majority of things in a box in the office closet, mainly pictures and trinkets that you couldn’t bear to part with for the time being, but had no space to display the things.

Andrei assured you that nothing would be given away or sold, and that if you are to move into a different house together, they would come with and he would make a space for it all.

Andrei was very understanding and sweet through all of this. He could tell that even though you were excited and looking forward to this new chapter together, you were still quite anxious and nervous about if things would change.

He gave you all the space he needed during this time, either taking a run or working out in the backyard while you organized your clothes or sifted through toiletries. He knew he needed to do something, so he went online while you cooked dinner for the two of you, needing to find a local store that sells shelving units.

“You want to go shopping tomorrow?” He asks once you both have your food plated and are sat on the couch to watch a movie while you eat.

“Sure. What for?” Andrei picks at his food a little, hesitant to bring the topic up.

“To look for some things that would make here feel a little more…like home, for you,” he says, avoiding eye contact for a moment. He finally looks over at you when you don’t respond, he sees a thoughtful look in your eyes.

“It does feel like home,” you lie through your teeth. But Andrei isn’t having it. He shakes his head at you and swallows his bite of food.

“Baby, I can tell you don’t think that. As much as you are wanting to live with me, I can tell you feel like something is missing. So I want to make this feel like your place as well, instead of like you are moving in to my house. I mean, you are, but this is our house now, and you should feel happy with it, too.”

You don’t say anything, your mouth falling open slightly, Andrei stunning you with his words and how well he could read you. A thankful smile stretches at the corners of your lips and you nod, reaching for his hand.

“Thank you,” you whisper, a hint of relief in your voice. Andrei smiles back and squeezes your hand.

“Anything for you,” he whispers back.

The following day, Andrei takes you into town, a couple stores on his mind that he thought would be best for finding things. The first stop was an office supply store and after some looking around, you found a nice mahogany shelf that would look so perfect in the office, since it was quite empty in there right now, as he didn’t use it much; he was more than okay with you taking over that space.

After having the box loaded into your Jeep, you head to the hardware store, another one of Andrei’s ideas.

“What do we need here?”

“I figured we could look at paint colors for the bedroom or the office,” he says, a blush covering his cheeks. “And I thought we could also get a few plants as well.”

So, that’s exactly what you do. After a lot of deliberation, you choose a new color for the office, not wanting to change his bedroom walls since it felt perfect to you, before you move onto the gardening section, browsing through all of the flowers and plants. 

Fifteen minutes pass before you finally decide on a monstera plant, a couple small succulents, and a growing pothos with some long vines for the living room. With one last trip to Home Goods for some simple decorations, you are finally ready to head back and get to work, or at least start with some things.

Painting would be for tomorrow, so first, you decided to put the bookshelf together in the room, and just leave it in the middle of the space while you paint the walls around. It took some time and frustration to put together, something that comes with every piece of furniture ever, but thankfully, only an hour later, it was fully set up and tightened really well.

“You want me to start taping the ceiling and you can do the floors?” Andrei sighs heavily as he wipes the sweat off his forehead. He grabs a large roll of clear packing tage and hands it to you.

“I think I’m going to order some takeout for dinner first,” you say, flopping on your back to cool off some. Andrei leans over you and can’t help but meet your face with his, giving you a light kiss.

“Sounds good. Could you order my usual?”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” You step out of the room and call your favorite Chinese takeout restaurant, and because you guys eat there so much, the lady answering the phone remembers your order by heart now, so she writes it down and hands it off with ease, wishing you well before hanging the phone up.

“That was quick,” Andrei comments when you return only a couple minutes later.

“The lady remembered our order,” you laugh softly, reaching for the tape to start laying some down on the carpet.

Andrei gets up on a step stool to reach the ceiling, and the music coming from your playlist continues on, neither of you saying much. But once everything is taped and you lay some old curtain linings down to shield the carpet from any splashes of paint, Andrei wraps you in his arms tightly.

“I love you,” he whispers. “And I hope this helps you feel a little more welcome and at home here.”

“It already has,” you mumble into his chest. “And thanks again for everything. I really can’t wait to spend our lives together.”

“Wherever it may be, my darling, I will always be by your side.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

[earlgreytea68]

having crazy thoughts about cryptozoology by patrick stump again....... the hidden track with lyrics about feeling like you need to prove yourself??? feeling like you'll never be the kid they want you to be??? the most hiatus song ever just in general. like to me its one of his most vulnerable like he talks about the struggle of expectations and how he feels like the ghost of the kid he was. how he feels studied and almost inhuman even when hes trying to express himself...

but also if we want to look into the whole pete/patrick angle?? omfg. just the image of "arms crossed nose turned up like youre trying to say impress me, good luck" - is that not pete wentz. like this is the most cruel interpretation of their musical partnership, one where they are bringing out the best in each other for the worst reasons. one where they only really act as foils to prove the other wrong and they can never really catch a break. and patrick is grating against it. i honestly this song is the only one on soul punk that reflects his relationship with pete/fob at all and its so devastating the way he does it. like he clearly needed it to process some stuff but oml.

anyways thanks for reading my little ramble <33 (and my earlier one about homesick at spacecamp.... can you tell im insane about overanalysing their songs) have a nice day!!

ahahaha welcome back! I love that you do this!

Cryptozoology has always killed me. A song named for the study of things that don't exist...and the song doesn't exist. It's hidden. And it's like the Patrick doesn't exist, not that particular one, not the one you mean. Not the one who had a Pete. You're right that that whole image and command of impress me is so loaded Peterick-wise: It's how they met, Pete wanting Patrick to impress him enough to join the band; it's their whole partnership, trying to one-up each other; it's Patrick tumbling into the hiatus, trying out a solo thing and feel Pete's judgment over his shoulder. There's so much there, and then there's Patrick insisting, I don't have to prove myself to you. Don't you?

There are so many little Pete flourishes in these lyrics, too. I can almost hear you trying too hard in answer to We must make it hard to look so easy doing something so hard. That whole thing about the ghost of the child who didn't die, he just grew up, makes me think of the crown to my head but I was only a kid. It also makes me think of the kid that Patrick was, who didn't die, who just grew up, and then was a has-been at 27. And then of course there's those old haunts, the old haunts full of Pete.

The song is a lot. You're right, Patrick had a lot to work through, and I approve of this album as therapy lol. He got a lot out and everyone came back together stronger.

[nannerism]

Hello again!! Hello!! I come with another 3D model!

I give you humanized (wait, no, humanoid!) Home! (and tiny Wally!) She has been very fun to work on, which is impressive, since I've been working on her for about 5 hours now! Yeesh!

And before you ask: Ronnie, home isn't a GIRL! Home uses He/They/It!!! (I think!) Why is it FEMININE? GRR!!!

To that I answer! I have my headcanons! It is silly to headcanon an estate as trans, but I am a firm believer in Transfem Home!! (or at least, fem presenting agender Home! Either works!)

She also spins! Look at her go...

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

if you have some, do you have any headcannons for barnaby?

honestly! not really! i don't have hcs for any of the neighbors!

[pyrriax]

6, 12, 30 for the writing asks ^_^

6. What’s the last line you wrote?

Shaking its head in what seems like disbelief before meeting his eyes again, almost like it wants to say something before it makes a noise like a growl, "oh, you're one of those seraphs, aren't you. A star-eater. No wonder you act like you've lost your mind."

(ignore that that's a couple sentences, the Thought is important)

12. Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

Oh yes! I outline my fics thoroughly. Though, I do allowed myself to deviate as much from the outline as I feel like when things go off the rails. Some snippets of planning from a couple fics & concepts:

My outlines are very... One for one. With some exceptions. I tend to basically write a very brief version of the fic and try to get the feelings and words right before I actually write it. This is... Also why it can and will take me a month to write a oneshot. I try to get things Right.

30. How much do you edit your fics?  Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?

So! I edit them a bit? I edit while I work, but often I don't really touch anything I've already written unless it's something longer that might be taking a few months to get through. I think the fic I've edited the most is the prologue of Artificial Stars, which was originally a quickly written 2k oneshot into about 5k of actually decent fic.

Usually I don't edit to make something shorter/more concise, since I tend to only come up with more ways to bridge concepts when I go back to it. Also to be fair... There's usually no difference between first draft and final product. I cannot be asked to edit my fics after I write them, I just release them to the birds and pray for the best. (Unless I actually decide to show it to my beta reader in full instead of just sharing snippets as I... usually do.)

Conclusion: Rarely, those thangs are being given to the world as-is unless something is horrifically wrong with them

[ghostcrows]

i love Stuff but i hate loving Stuff when i know how much of it plainly shouldnt exist bc it fucks people over or it fucks the environment over or its just like if you think about it too hard you wonder why everything in your life is centered around useless cheaply made kind of neat things...call that...etsystential dread. did you like that one. let me know

[lunarcry]

hiiiii muse page list update post i meant to do earlier but then i had icecream and did other things instead peace sign

this is for the full one on my page, srry i dont have it elsewhere/on my pinned yet. eventually. peace sign. as per always my multi is a billion times messier than my other blogs(guy who cant shut up)👍👍👍 atm the most proper writing will be happening on akira. probably

added general links of the gbf main story archive, and the a3 & prommy of wizard main story translations👍

on that note added sakuya & misumi (a3!) & chloe, figaro & mitile (promise of wizard) except figaro is mostly type0 verse & mitile will likely lean toward gbf au for a lil bit. thats not to say theyll stay this way (im about to reread+finish main story pt2), its just that i unfortunately am obsessed with type0. i will probably eventually put the rest of spring troupe on my 'wanna pick up' list....(person whos oshi is omi

on that note i should make a new type0 oc i need a silly class9 girlie SO bad. that was the foolery secret intel class right

i can not explain why type0 lives this much in my head

natsume (natsume yuujinchou) is on the list too now. lanna & lumina (island of happiness/a wonderful life) are there for now we'll see who else i add. none have descriptions yet, i know i have one for lanna & natsume from olds blogs but :[ i didnt wanna today

updated mika's (gbf) page with the text i wrote a while back, i'll revise it in the future. fenrir, morphe&phoebe, thelonim has events&fate eps linked on their pages now. emu has the official playlists of wxs main story & her first focus event added.

none of these links are meant in a 'check these', but rather, if you ever get interested in any of the media/characters, there's places to check. i should add the wxs digest anime to emus oh my god i forgot about that one

all the new charas are gonna take some months to be implemented properly...<3 i havent started rereading a3 still & i took a break from natsuyuu when my dog got surgery in february. they're there cuz i felt like updating the lists with links, and figured why not add the rest too. lots of descriptions are missing still. 'then why even add them' because faty was alrdy sending me stuff for figaro so why not actually put him on the list sunglass emoji

i added it on the muse page too, but if u dont know where to start then emu & fenrir are always good choices👍 once my emu break is over ill get back to all of that. phoebe is also a good choice thinking about it...

[brattybottomdyke]

vent post

[eltanin0]

i have spent a couple hours trying to draw today, nothing good has come of it. i wanted to accompany this with a picture but there's nothing even half decent. i'll try again tomorrow :I and sorry

[the1trueanon]

today on "anon's brain is Thinking (TM); Welcome Home brainrot edition": me sitting here, slowly but surely engineering an actual puppet version of Sage in my head, complete with moving ears and eyelids, because my engineering side just had to take over today XD

[bigshoeswamp]

thinking about how most nb people i know irl are either transfem or transmasc and use he/him or she/her as their main or only pronouns. The few people I know who go exclusively by gender neutral pronouns here are all artists who navigate mainly through queer circles - and still they face a lot of misgendering. Every space for nb people here has to be carved out of a language that does not leave space for us - and that’s thinking of pronouns only. That fact alone, though, molds so much of our identities.

There’s no understanding or respect to be gained on a larger scale, at least I can’t see it happening. I think that’s true for queer people in the whole world, of course, in a million different ways. Here, among other things, it’s about language - moreso than in many other places.

A language that genders everything leaves little space for imagining things outside of the binary, and makes people who aren’t queer (and a lot of queer people too) completely reject anything of the sort. Sometimes I feel nb people here have to be especially creative and imaginative and brave to make way for the world to fit us somehow. I imagine people feel this way all around the world, but still, it’s a lonely feeling.

Talking about me now... Ideally, I’d much prefer to use gender neutral pronouns only, but they change so much of the language it’s too overwhelming. It’s nouns, adjectives, verbs. Whole sentences are suddenly different and new and changed and I can barely think of opening myself up to anyway - I can’t deal with it all. I don’t want to announce my uncomformity in every word I use, I don’t want that to be in the first and last word I exchange with people.

With time, I’ve understood, or decided, that being all and being nothing can be almost the same to me, when it comes to language. What matters is the incapturability. In deciding to use all pronouns, I face that I won’t be understood or perceived as I am (which is, again, a fact of life for everyone, but which seems to sting so hard here). I can be a lot of things to so many people, and none of those facets are lies. They’re more or less whole, but not exactly untrue, never. I can pretend to be like water, and that all places recognize some part of me, somehow, even when I’m treated badly... I’m not water, though, I’m flesh and bone. There’s no total satisfaction to be felt here, I can only try.

I wonder if other people from here feel similarly. I get the impression that they do - even if my experiences and that makes sense to be comes from this body who is still well accepted most places I pass through in life (from being white, and skinny and my looks easily dismissed as “cute” or “boyish” from people who’d frown at gnc people normally). 

[medicinemane]

Anyway... as always I'm just so very very very picky when it comes to horror. I just have this very narrow window of what I personally like, and there's just so many things that just have horror elements rather than being horror to me (and don't even get me started on stuff with a human killer, for me personally that's a thriller rather than horror, and I don't care for it cause sadly we've got plenty of human killers in real life)

It's just so hard to do good horror. It's hard to ride the line between showing too little and showing too much, between building tension and being boring... and dear god is it so easy to trend into being goofy

Then you've got the issue of generally having to come up with something totally new that we don't have in the real world (to please me anyway) and having enough lore that it's actually something... but not talking about it so much that you make it sound stupid or open it up to plot holes

Very very very very tricky genre... I think I still respect bad horror, even though I also have disdain for it and don't like it at all... at least they tried, or... at least... some of them tried (some is just schlock)

[jiishwa]

mcr was amazing last night. like 13 year old me wouldn’t believe it.

[adrienette-evermore]

why is illusion both funniest episode of miraculous and also one of the most heartbreaking