#you can still send asks if you want to

[bluedalahorse]

Hey!! so... besides August representing (?) "the hanged man", what major arcana you think correspond to the other characters?

Hi hi!

Oh boy, I love tarot headcanons! I’ll share my general thoughts, though I have to say as someone who reads, who shows up as what would change depending on who I’m doing the reading for. Part of what I like about Tarot readings is that they create a triangular relationship between reader, cards, and querent/question, and every card has multiple shades of meaning. No two readings are quite the same, and I like that.

Generally speaking though, here’s how I’d see things playing out…

Wilhelm strikes me as The Fool. The Fool is a card with lots of coming-of-age protagonist energy; he’s at the edge of a cliff about to fall into something new. Or maybe he’s deliberately jumping into it. Wille can be thoughtful and impulsive in turn, but his impulsivity is usually what pushes the plot forward. We have Wille beginning his arc on an impulsive moment—getting into the fight at the club—and ending his arc on one when he goes running after the car.

Simon’s card would be Strength, traditionally symbolized by a gentle maiden holding back a lion, and generally representing the triumph of reason/compassion/moderation here over brute force. Simon is aware of his emotions and boundaries and—for the most part!—doesn’t let himself get swallowed up in toxic masculinity.

Sara and Felice both get nudged toward the Empress archetype at times, by other people, and each of them possesses different Empress-like traits. However, I am inclined to say that neither of them would feel fully comfortable in the Empress archetype.

I thought long and hard about Felice’s role arc the story, and I think the best Major Arcana card for her might be Judgement. Judgement deals with decisions, listening to your intuition and intellect, and truths coming to light. Early on in the series, Felice is surrounded by judgmental people, who are judgmental in the wrong way—her mother, her father, her friends. She finds herself struggling with their image of her, and feels like she’s not good enough, but early on she can’t put it into words. Over the course of the series, Felice gains wisdom about herself and the problems inherent to Hillerska’s system and is able to make decisions that are truer to herself. Her testimony to the school investigation team allows important things about Hillerska to come out. She is bringing about changes that are necessary. I was between Justice and Judgement for Felice, but ultimately settled on the latter.

Sara, meanwhile, feels like she might be the High Priestess. Her power lies in knowing and intuiting, and she’s one of the characters who often acts as a witness to the school’s secrets. She’s empathetic enough that she can understand the more “difficult” horses out there. While the socially obvious (but ultimately less genuine) thing to do in situations might be something that Sara misses or doesn’t quite grasp, she has an ability to cut through to the deeper emotions in a situation and name what people are inwardly struggling with. In a world like Hillerska, which is lacking in emotional honesty, the High Priestess’s energy can really shake things up.

I know I talked about August as The Hanged Man before, and I think that continues to be a space where he makes sense, I’d also argue that he spends a lot of his time in the mindset of The Chariot. The Chariot is all about momentum and attempts to control it, and an unhealthy excess of Chariot energy can look like “don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop if we stop we have to think about all our trauma so we won’t stop.” Which… August is very much in that place. Plus, there are horses on that card.

A few other thoughts: Hillerska and all the stuff surrounding it feels like it would tie in well to the energy of The Hierophant. A lot of the family trauma cycles would fall under The Devil. The monarchy stuff is The Devil with a dash of The Emperor thrown in there.

At some other point, I’m going to have to talk about Minor Arcana, because I love the Minor Arcana. Three of Cups seems like it would be such a meaningful card for this series, since a lot of the friendship interaction happens in trios. Simon-Rosh-Ayub let’s goooooo!

[samble-moved]

post itself

false flags

trans/adjacent tags

accessibility features

tumblr live post (thanks for the link, @problemnyatic)

flashing / strobing / lights

unblockable flashing ad

buying ad free

staff @/macmanx guilt trip

list of staff + more issues

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #151

There is a LOT of Iron Man merch out there. One day, Stark Industries comes out with a line of Iron Man themed night lights that look like arc reactors. The marketing? "For kids who are scared of the dark: Iron Man will protect you."

In completely unrelated news, a whole bunch of child abusers across the country have recently been arrested as a result of  anonymous tips to local authorities.

Bonus:

It's an open secret at some point. Teens who are being abused start buying the night lights. Hell, adults start buying them. Charities pop up to cover the cost for anyone who needs it. Kids who are newly safe often send their night lights on to others ("I'm not scared of the dark anymore," they say).

Even with all of this, nobody snitches to the media or government. They all know grown-ups tend to complicate and ruin precious things.

It helps that the night lights clearly can distinguish between different types of situations. Kids whose parents need mental health or addiction support suddenly find they're being contacted by free services that actually help. If ICE is a concern, the people knocking on the door are not cops but immigrant rights activists. Kids who are hungry get food. Families who need housing support coincidentally find it.

"Iron Man will protect you," indeed.

This fic idea was inspired by this post from @fotibrit!!

[cryptidwithacopiccollection]

Apple juice? :3 (Apollo)

(It said to ask with a number 1-31 and I’m not sure I understand what that meant so uh-…..15.)

One apple juice fresh off the press!

[masque-of-plague]

If you feel like you need "permission" to do something in fandom, this post is for you!

Something I've noticed a lot of in this fandom is that people hesitate so much to do so many wonderful things they want to do because they feel like they need someone else's "permission" in order to do it.

Understandably, there was a HUGE history of people dog-piling, harassing, and bullying people for doing things that were not explicitly approved by either the creators or the fandom at large. I am so happy that the tumblr fandom in particular has moved away from that horrible time, but the effects it had on people still linger, even beyond things that "weren't allowed."

So if you need permission to do something you've been thinking of doing, I'm giving you permission. 💕

Do you have an idea for a fan event but you need someone to tell you that you can? I'm telling you right now that not only can you start that fan event, but you will do a great job AND people will love it.

Do you have an idea for a fanfiction but you're worried that people won't like it? I'm holding your face gently and promising you that there is an audience for everything and if absolutely nothing else, you deserve to make that fic.

Do you have a headcanon that directly conflicts with common headcanons in the fandom? I support you having that headcanon. YES, even if other people dislike or even hate that headcanon. YES, even if some people are upset about that headcanon. It's their job to avoid that headcanon then-- it's not your job not to have it.

You deserve a space to be heard, to make your creations, to hold you headcanons. Anything that brings you joy, amusement, euphoria, validation, healing, catharsis, anything that you find interesting or enjoyable, you deserve to engage with it.

I promise you are capable. I promise you are not doing anything wrong. I promise you are not hurting anything.

Whatever you thought about while reading this post? I am giving you permission to do it.

[phoutube]

ii hoodie anon . this is me searching for you five years later . the last ask you ever sent me and i want to find you ii hoodie anon

[justepilepsy]

Because of current frustration

Happy fuck spiderverse year.

The art direction is in part ableist.

You can enjoy the movie and still say that.

Note: it's ableist because it's using common animation and color choices KNOWN to cause seizures (and death) in audiences. This includes people who don't have epilepsy.

I will never not be bitter about this because the first movie message was about "anyone can wear the mask" when it clearly was excluding people by simply making it impossible to watch this film in a safe manner.

If you got a headache after watching that film. That's a photosensitive reaction and it means you're not immune to these effects. A movie you love should not give you a headache or dizziness or disorientation. It should not give an above average amount of people seizures.

And those effects causing these symptoms should not be hailed as the reason the film is good.

Spiderverse utilises other aspects of comic art to already stick out.

Rapid Glitch effects, large bright high contrast red and blue areas covering the screen, prolonged moving patterns, and flashing lights are not what make this film look good.

[valtsv]

okay fine i'll read homestuck. whatever. i've cracked i can't take it anymore i need to fuck around and find out.

[buglaur]

my vault boys

[ratwars]

If the PM had somehow been the primary target of all of these plots instead of the ADA I firmly believe half of the situations could have been solved with Kajii. I understand he isn't popular but listen there is a reason he is who they pull out first with a hat trick when shit gets real.

[ccherrybloom]

Ashtrays & Antihistamines Pt. 1

oc, m, hayfever, wc: 2.8k

Part 2

CW: foul language and allusions to gay sex lol

~~

a.n. + summary: i don't think i've ever posted a snzfic on this blog, but there's a first for everything, right? featuring my lovely little ocs and their stupid dumb little band. i don't normally write them in snzcerions, but...every now and again i can’t help myself and one slips through the cracks lol. This particular one centers around my absolute shithead of an Irishman, Peter, as he deals with a hayfever flare up for the first time in like…twenty years, lol. of course, ever the lucky one, this begins to happen during the band’s first mini-tour. Cue shenanigans. I hope you all enjoy!

~~

“hH’RRSHhiue!” Peter fell into himself with a harsh sneeze, the band’s rundown van jerking sporadically with its driver’s sudden movement. “Goddamnit!”

“Bless.” Geoff offered lazily from the passenger seat as he turned a page of his book, unbothered by the vehicle’s erratic veer. “That’s like the tenth one since we’ve left Dublin.” The bassist pointed out, shooting the guitarist a pointed look from the corner of his eye. “You alright?”

“Fuckin’ hayfever,” Peter answered as he scrubbed his palm aggressively against the underside of his nose, careful not to put too much pressure against his nose rings. He followed it up with a drawn-out sniffle. “I’m fine. Christ.”

“I don’t remember ya being like this before,” Maurice quipped from the back of the van, leaning forward to join in on the conversation. “I mean hell, ya lived in Dublin fer how many years…?”

“Longer than you, Frenchie.” Peter retorted as he thrust a tattooed hand backwards to try and shove the singer away. Maurice easily dodged with a laugh, swatting at Peter’s hand as Geoff instinctively reached out to steady the van as it began to swerve again. “You can piss right off.”

“Look, I’m just sayin’, yer born and bred Irish — who knew all it took was a few months in London for yer own country to turn on ya.”

“I said piss off.”

“Who gives a shit!” Chris suddenly interjected as he pulled his headphones from his ears, a curly lock of the drummer’s dark hair falling between his eyes. “Just keep your bloody eyes on the road! I dunno ‘bout you lot, but I’d like to get there in one piece.”

Maurice backed off with a snicker, hands up in surrender as Peter quickly flipped Chris off in the rear view mirror before returning his full attention to the road.

After Peter and Maurice had both left Dublin for London a few months shy of one another, the four men began to pour almost all of their free time into their passion project, The Undergrounds. Much to their genuine surprise, people seemed to really enjoy their band’s sound and performances, so much so in fact that they’d hit a point where pubs across the UK were beginning to reach out to them, asking the group to come play for their open mic nights, with some even offering payment. With the requests getting further and further away from their homebase in London, the band finally decided to bite the bullet and buy themselves some transportation, namely their shithole of a van lovingly referred to as Van Halen. Despite its old clunkiness, it really did do the trick, and allowed the men to head across the border on their first ever ‘Let’s-Not-Call-It-A-Tour’ Tour. Realistically, with two of the four members being from (or as close to ‘from’ as one could be, in Maurice’s case) Ireland, the band had picked up quite a bit of traction across the small country with the men getting many open mic night requests which they normally had to turn down, much to Peter’s dismay.

At least until now, that is.

Peter had noticed something was off after their show in Dublin the night prior. At first he just assumed he strained his voice singing backup vocals — a product of over-excitement from getting to play in his old stomping grounds. But by morning the scratchiness in his throat lingered and was now accompanied by faint itchiness in his nose that forewarned him of worse yet to come. 

By the time the men packed up their gear and filed into the van late that afternoon, the unwelcoming prickle that had been festering in his nose demanded more attention, and his eyes began to itch in a maddening way that he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid back in Belfast. Initially he tried to ignore it, chalking it up as a residual reaction to dust from the old pub, or that it had been awhile since Van Halen had gotten a good clean. But as time slowly passed on their nearly three hour drive to Cork, and the itchiness in his sinuses progressed into full-blown sneezing, the reality of the situation began to dawn on him. He was immediately thrust back to Belfast, memories of summers spent constantly sneezing thanks to the fields near his old home, his eyes watering, his nose running, each summer spent absolutely miserable. He hadn’t had a hayfever flare-up in years, thinking it was something he had thankfully outgrown once his mum had moved them to Dublin, but yet here it was, back to rear its ugly head once more all these years later. The familiar lush scents of the countryside that used to conjure such vivid memories of home were now turning every intake of breath the guitarist took into a gamble. 

The itchiness in Peter’s nose only seemed to increase in urgency as Van Halen bumped its way through the Irish countryside. The landscape blurred past the windows, a mix of greens and greys under a sky that threatened rain.

“Nearly there.” Geoff hummed, taking a peek at the map app on his phone. “About another twenty or so.”

“Thank fuck.” Peter grumbled with a sniffle, his eyes squinting past the relentless itchiness. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and pulled his glasses up slightly before slamming his wrist into one eye and scrubbing hard.

“I think we could all do with a pint,” Maurice chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. “Especially you, Peter.” He added, gently poking the man’s shoulder.

Peter managed a weak chuckle in response, his wrist still pressed hard into the corner of his eye. 

“Just keep it steady Pete, yeah?” Chris leaned himself forward and rested his elbows onto his knees, eyes scanning the road ahead. “Not much longer and you can go ahead and drown yourself in whatever local brew you fancy.”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but the van hit a particularly bumpy patch of road, jolting everyone inside. Instead he just swore under his breath, turning his full focus back towards the road as Cork began to appear on the horizon.

“There she is.” Geoff whistled, pointing ahead. “Welcome to Cork, lads.”

Peter managed to manoeuvre Van Halen expertly through the narrow streets of Cork despite battling his allergic reaction, the van’s tires crunching over cobblestone as he pulled them into the parking lot of their dingy motel.

“Home sweet home.” Maurice hummed as he clapped a hand onto Peter’s shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the other two members filed out. “At least fer the next few days.”

Peter leaned back into the driver’s seat and let his eyes drift closed as he exhaled deeply, shutting off the engine. He only cracked an eye back open when he felt Maurice give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You alright?” The singer asked, his voice low and expression soft.

“I’m grand, Mur.” Peter grumbled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. The real truth of the matter was that he was miserable, itchy, and absolutely dying for a cigarette — not that he cared to say any of that out loud. 

The guitarist pulled off his glasses to give his watery eyes another scrub before continuing. “Just got a fierce bad dose of this nonsense…This shite best be all said and done before our show or I’ll–hh! hH’ITSHHhiue!”

“See, but that’s what we don’t wantcha doin’, actually.” The blonde teased as he patted the guitarist’s shoulder before the other quickly slapped it away as if he were swatting a mosquito.

“You fuck right off, Murry.” Peter sniffled hard, dragging the backside of his hand beneath his nose. “Just get yer shit and get goin’.”

Maurice did as he was told and hopped out of the van with Peter not far behind as the pair hurriedly began to help the others unload. With the sky steadily darkening the four moved quickly, eager to avoid the potential rain. Luckily the unloading and reloading of Van Halen had become more and more familiar with each passing gig, and it didn’t take them long to have all the necessities laid out beside the van, ready to go.

The motel itself was a shabby vintage looking two-story building, its neon sign flickering with an almost uncertain intermittence as if it were clinging onto its last shred of life.

Maurice and Geoff took the lead, carrying the group’s heavier equipment while Chris and Peter followed suit with their four bags. They bustled their way to the reception desk where they were met with a disinterested looking clerk who simply handed them a single worn key with a faded plastic tag attached.

“Yer in room 107.” He mumbled, barely looking up from his magazine.

“Cheers, mate.” Geoff scoffed as he shot the others an exasperated look and snatched the key. He led the group down the dimly lit hallway, their feet dragging against a carpet that had clearly seen better days. When they reached their room Geoff wasted no time unlocking the door and shoving it open, revealing a tightly packed space with two queen beds, a small television, and a bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been updated in at least two decades.

“Alright, how we doin’ this?” Chris asked as he tossed the bags he had onto the closest bed.

“By drawing straws, of course.” Geoff instructed as he pulled a set of straws he had prepared earlier out of his pocket. “Shortest straw shares with the other shortest straw.”

The others agreed on this being fair enough and drew their straws, quickly comparing them.

“Well, it’s you and me, innit?” Chris said as he held up his short straw next to Peter’s. He gave the other a playful nudge and smirked. “Just don’t go tryin’ nuffin, yeah?”

Peter sniffled thickly and shoved Chris away before pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, careful to avoid the rings, and itched it aggressively. “I got enough of ya the first time.” He moved from rubbing his nose to scrubbing his eyes, trying to ignore the way Maurice bristled at the mention of their one-off fling. “Won’t be doin’ that again.” Chris flipped him off and called him a wanker, but he went ahead and ignored that too.

“Hey, Pete,” Geoff called out as he tossed his bag onto the other bed. “Why don’t you take a shower? Might help clear up a bit of that hayfever.”

Peter, who’s eyes had started to glaze over, did his best to nod in the ginger’s general direction. “That’s the best ideee-hha I’ve heard all d—hh! hhUH’DITSHhhiuew! ‘IGKSHhhiueww!” He doubled over hard into cupped hands, his entire body tensing violently with each sneeze before he groaned thickly against his palms. “—all damn day.” He finished on an exhale, voice cracking. “-snf- Jaysus…”

“Bless you.” Geoff offered, a twinge of sympathy in his voice. “You know you really ought to—”

“G’way outta that.” Peter interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand as he trudged his way to the bathroom, eyes half-lidded. “Last thing I need is yer bloody mother hennin’, Geoffrey.” He added before pulling the door closed behind him. 

Flicking the light switch, Peter had to wait a full second before the dull fluorescents sputtered to life, illuminating the unsightly bathroom as he dragged his feet towards the shower. The tiles were cracked and the floor was splotchy, but he didn’t care, he just wanted some relief. 

The pipes whined in protest as he turned on the taps before water began to sputter out from the shower head. The water pressure seemed abysmal at best, and Peter cursed to himself as he leaned his weight against the sink, waiting for the water to warm. As steam steadily started filling the small space, he could feel the tightness in his sinuses ease up slightly, making his nose run. The liquid caught on his septum ring and trailed rapidly down towards his upper lip. Blowing out an annoyed breath, the guitarist took a second to wipe his nose haphazardly against his sleeve before stripping and stepping into the tub, letting the warm water cascade over him with an appreciative sigh.

Outside of the bathroom Geoff and Maurice were seated on each side of their shared bed as they sorted through their bags.

“Think he’ll live?” Maurice asked as he pulled out his plastic toiletry bag, setting it to the side.

Geoff gave a small shrug in return, glancing towards the bathroom door. “I reckon it could go either way with that dumb git.”

Maurice snorted at this, but his knit brow betrayed his feigned air of nonchalance. “Just hope the shower helps, I s’ppose. Don’t think we can really afford to have him down fer the count.”

Chris, already sprawled out on the other bed, headphones back on, piped up. “Eh, he’ll be alright. Just needs to wash off whatever’s settin’ ‘im off. It’s no big, yeah? You French people are wound too tight.”

Maurice rolled his eyes at this but chose to ignore the drummer’s comment. “I just don’t want anythin’ to screw this up for us.” He murmured as his eyes fell onto the bathroom door. “That’s all.”

“hh-Hh! hH’dDZTShiueww!” Peter sneezed loudly and openly, his head snapping downwards as the shower’s stream continued to steadily pelt against his tattooed back. He blinked hard, eyes bleary as the need to sneeze lingered in his nose like an unwelcome houseguest. Instinctively he brought up a hand to hover over the lower half of his face as his breathing began to come out in shuddering, shallow gasps. “hah…Ha’TdSHhhiuew!” This one bent him double and he swore immediately afterwards, more than a little frustrated as he blew his nose harshly into his hand. Had his hayfever always been this maddening? He couldn’t remember. It had been a long time since he’d had a flare-up, probably pushing two decades at least. The thought that it had come back now during the band’s first tour just pissed him off further.

Sighing, Peter turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, reaching out for one of the worn threadbare towels from the hotel rack. He dried himself off quickly before wrapping the towel dangerously loose around his waist – the only member who had yet to see his dick was Geoffrey, and the guitarist couldn’t give less of a shit if today was the day that changed.

Wiping a hand across the fogged bathroom mirror, Peter allowed himself a moment to peer at his reflection as he dragged a hand through his damp, dark hair and threw on his glasses. His green eyes were still red-rimmed and watery, his nose and cheeks were decorated with a soft dusting of pink…he looked pathetic, but at least the shower was helping him breathe a little easier.

Residual steam billowed out into the cooler room as Peter made his way out of the bathroom, catching the eye of Maurice.

“Peter,” The singer looked up from his bag and offered the dark-haired man a small smile, taking in the other’s lean frame. “How ye fairin’?” 

“Bit better, I’d say.” Peter hummed, though a small sniffle still escaped him as he wandered over to his bag, making Maurice frown.

“Reckon you’re up for a drink?” Geoff asked, not looking up from his phone. “We were thinking of checking out this pub nearby. Interested?”

Peter mulled it over for a moment, turning his back on the others before dropping his towel and pulling on a pair of boxer-briefs. “Yeah, g’wan then.” He finally affirmed, clearing his throat against a fist as he fished an old t-shirt from his bag. “Pint’ll do me some good.”

“Are ya sure?” The singer asked, chewing on his lip nervously as Peter wiggled into a pair of jeans. “If yer not feelin’ up for it–”

“Sod off, Maurice, will you?” Chris suddenly retaliated as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Actin’ like you’re his bloody mum or somefin’ just cos you’re shaggin’. Prat.”

Peter couldn’t help but snort as Maurice glared daggers at Chris, his face turning a delightful shade of crimson. The fact that he and Maurice slept together on occasion wasn’t exactly a secret – their initial one-night stand was how the two had met in the first place, after all – but it wasn’t something that was often discussed amongst the group. Peter personally didn’t care, but Maurice clearly did.

“You don’t see me actin’ like a bloody bellend even though I’ve also sucked his–”

“Ça commence à bien faire!” Maurice shot up suddenly from the bed, cutting Chris off as his native tongue spilled rapidly from his mouth. “Fer the love of God, no more, thank you!” 

The singer hurriedly made a beeline for the hotel room door, grabbing his coat as he rushed past the others, his face absolutely aghast as the others snickered. “Just…hurry up, then! Christ, I need a feckin’ drink…”

“I think we all do.” Geoff huffed as Maurice stepped into the hall. “C’mon, lads. Let’s go.”

[jessicas-pi]

it has occurred to me that it is truly preposterous that I, the Maker Of A Ridiculous Number Of AUs, have never yet played that ask game that's like "send me an ask with a character pairing and an AU and I'll write 3 sentences"

anyway, send me an ask with a character pairing (or just some characters) and an AU and I'll write probably way more than 3 sentences

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #102

When Flash first overhears Peter talking about the "Stark Internship," he rolls his eyes and thinks, "Of course he'd go with that excuse at Midtown School of Science and Technology."

Whatever. Flash knows the truth. He's seen the car that Parker gets picked up in, seen the body guard / chauffeur and the absolutely insane amount of discrete safety tech he always has on. Flash is convinced that the whole orphan thing is just a cover story and Peter secretly has parents at least as rich and influential as Flash's own.

Maybe they're politicians or the mob or something, and that's why all the secrecy. Honestly, Flash is doing him a favor by bullying him all the time for being an unimportant orphan. It's the perfect cover. Maybe he'll even drop the ridiculous Stark Industries lie and come up with a more believable backstory soon.

Then, one day Flash and Peter end up in a kidnapping situation.

The kidnappers take Flash's watch, but they leave some of Peter's tech since it's better hidden. As soon as they're alone, Flash expects Peter to hit that panic button and get them the hell out of there.

Only... he doesn't? Did Peter learn nothing from K&R training? Flash reaches over and hits the secret panic button 3 times immediately, no hesitation. Peter is shocked. Flash is like, "Oh come on, I obviously know your secret."

He's kind of curious and excited now to see who Peter's secret parents are, once the cops get them out of there.

He is not at all prepared when Iron Man bursts through the door.

He's even less prepared when Tony Stark steps out of the suit and totally freaks out at Peter, hugging him and checking for injuries.

... maybe he's finally met Peter's secret parent after all.

[bigboobyhalo]

What did you think of BBH's chat, where he asked if they'd like face cam and the majority said no?

Pretty rude to me, like I know he's not going to take it to heart, but his voice was quite subdued afterwards so it definitely stung.

Especially with some frequent chatters being so vocally against with weird reasonings. I know some of the chat are just obsessed with being argumentative and "getting one over him" and bullying. But talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face (most were lamenting the lack of man bun picture as an excuse to say no to the face cam, even when he offered to do the cam with his hair up)

On the other hand, BBH doesn't have to do the song and dance of being "forced" he could just turn on the cam. He's just being shy / silly or maybe just wanting a little hype up / excitement to goad him on. Still people rather wanting to see a vtuber with three expressions or your dog instead of you? Little owie.

Sorry if I sound thirsty, it's not really the cam or lack of cam I care about but the response of chat to a streamer suggestion being shot down - 'cause if he's suggesting it it's because he wants to do it and was hoping chat would be hype about it. Just my second-hand embarrassment kicking in I guess.

NO I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING AS YOU LOLLL like bad is a grown adult man and does not need me to defend him. I don’t know his thoughts or what’s in his mind or if this actually hurt him. but personally if I got THAT strong of a negative reaction to the mere suggestion of showing my face on stream well I would never want to show my face again ever to be quite honest !!! like anon I need you to know I was thinking this EXACT thing as this went down…. and even if he’s not hurt emotionally by this (wouldn’t be surprised, he seems like he’s got very thick skin considering the fact he actively seeks out friends that bully him LMAO) I would not be surprised if the takeaway he got was that people don’t want facecam stream. IT’S NOT TRUE BADBOYHALO IT’S NOT TRUE I need badboyhalo to know he is very handsome and I would kill people with hammers and knives for a facecam stream and I normally don’t even LIKE facecams that much in general

[fairytail-incorrectquotes]

💸 here's some cash can we have sassy Wendy quotes

Gajeel: Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

Wendy: That doesn't narrow it down.

[darkest-before-dawnclan]

Getting my wisdom teeth out today (yay 🙃) so we’re gonna pause for a few days! We’ll return with the fifth and final ask for week 1 when I’m healed up some :)