#not like there are any people who want something from me anymore anyway

[scoonsalicious]

Bonus: Iron Man 1; 1/?

So, I decided to re-watch Iron Man tonight, and I started thinking about how Pocket would fit into existing MCU narratives. So, here's a little bonus, taking place during the first Iron Man movie. This might turn into something, it might not. For now, just a little fun thing I did, mostly so I could write more Pocket/Tony (even though she hasn't been given the nickname 'Pocket' yet). Enjoy!

“Only you would fuck a girl who called you a war profiteer,” you told Tony over the video call from your office in New York. “She still upstairs?”

“Miss Potts should be taking care of her right now,” Tony said as he fiddled with the engine of his 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster in his Malibu garage. 

“How’s that working out, anyway?” you asked, your interest piqued. “She’s lasted loads longer than any of your other personal assistants.”

“She’s good,” Tony said, taking a piece of the car’s engine out and putting it aside. “Very efficient.”

“I like her,” you told him. “I think she’s been good for you.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t need her if you just moved out here permanently,” he told you. 

“And just leave the New York office to Obadiah Stane? I don’t think so,” you said. 

“I don’t know why you hate him so much, Kiddo,” Tony said, turning his focus away from the car and fully onto you.

“He’s the one who hates me,” you clarified. “I’m just matching his energy.”

“I think you’re reading too much into it. He’s a little wary of you, that’s all.”

“He hates that you nominated me for Chief Technical Officer,” you said. “He officially opposed the nomination in front of the board.”

Tony frowned. “When the fuck did that happen? Why wasn’t I informed of it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe if you spent a little less time shooting craps and fucking Vanity Fair reporters, and actually attended a board meeting every once in a while,” you said. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Tony assured you.

“No, don’t,” you protested. “It’s bad enough he thinks I’m just another one of your fangirls. The last thing I need is for you to make a demand on him for my sake.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he asked you. “This job is yours– it should be yours. You’ve earned it.”

You sighed. “And I appreciate you saying that. Thing is, I’m not going to prove that by having you tell people. Only way it’s going to happen is if they see what I’m capable of, and if I leave New York for Malibu, they never will.”

“Did I ever tell you you’re very annoying when you make a valid point that goes against what I want?” Tony asked you.

“Frequently. All the time. Why do you think I enjoy doing it so much?”

“You know, I think I liked you better when you were just a stripper,” he said.

You stuck your tongue out at him through the video feed. “Yeah, well, whose fault is it that I’m not anymore?”

“You could always join my flight crew, if you ever wanted back on the pole,” he teased.

“Please,” you scoffed at the suggestion. “You call them dancers? They should be ashamed of themselves.”

“Hey now, what they lack in rhythm, they make up for in other… areas,” Tony smirked. 

“Do you ever get tired of being a giant slut?” you asked affectionately.

“Not yet, but if I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Maybe second,” you told him.

“Whaddaya mean?”

“I don’t know– maybe you should tell Miss Potts first,” you grinned. You looked behind him to see the woman in question coming down the stairs through the glass door behind him. “Speaking of which, it’s her birthday today, so be nice.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “How the hell do you know that?” he asked you.

“I pay fucking attention, dumbass,” you said.

Pepper Potts entered the basement, talking on the phone. “You are supposed to be halfway around the world right now,” she said to Tony as she tapped something on her tablet.

“Hey, Pepper,” you called.

“(Y/N), hi,” the other woman said. “How’s the nomination going?”

You shrugged. “Oh, you know, just roadblocks from the patriarchy. No big deal.”

Pepper nodded understandingly at that.

“How’d she take it?” Tony asked Pepper, interrupting your conversation.

“Like a champ,” Pepper offered. 

“Which translates to ‘like an obnoxious bitch,” you chuckled. Pepper winked at you over Tony’s shoulder. “You owe her a raise, Boss,” you told Tony.

“You give a raise,” Tony said. He directed his next words to Pepper: “Why are you trying to hustle me out of here?” 

“Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago,” she told him.

“That’s funny,” Tony said as he continued to play with the engine of the Roadster. “I thought with it being my plane and all, that it would just wait for me to get there.”

“This is the flight to Afghanistan?” you asked, and Pepper nodded at you.

“I mean,” Tony spoke over you, “doesn’t it defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive?”

“Ignore him, Pepper,” you said, turning to face your computer monitor. “Tony, if you don’t get your ass to the airport right now, I’m going to hack into JARVIS’s system right now and swap all your playlists from metal to nineties bubblegum pop.”

“You wouldn’t.” Tony said, standing up and wiping his hands on a towel.

“Don’t test me, Boss,” you threatened. “This is a huge-ass contract.”

Inside Tony’s garage, the opening notes of Hanson’s MMMBop began to play.

“Fine, enough! You win, you tiny monster!’ Tony grunted, throwing his towel down. 

You immediately cut the music. “Get on that plane,” you warned him. “I’ll know if you don’t.” You gave him a Look. “And Pepper, tell him to stop pulling your pigtails, okay?”

Pepper blushed, but she just nodded.

“Give Rhodey a hug for me,” you told Tony, “and let me know when you land, you absolute dipshit.” You disconnected the call.

“You know,” said Tony, turning back to Pepper, “sometimes I regret ever meeting that kid.”

Pepper smiled. “No, you don’t.”

Tony grinned at her. “No, no I don’t. Not even for a second. Now, about that Jackson Pollock painting…”

#unwanted bonus

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for.... losing my rival his job? Feeding a homeless person? Inadvertently hiring a hitman? I don't even know anymore.

So a little while ago I started up a pizza shop. Typical, I know, but I just really believe in the wonder of pizza and what it can do for people. There was a rival pizza shop across the street, which made things a bit difficult, but I could get by.

Anyway, a few nights in, this guy comes in right before closing time. He's looking pretty bedraggled, obviously he hasn't got much to his name, and he asks me if I have anything left over from the day I wouldn't mind giving him. I didn't, but I'd had a pretty profitable day, so I made him a pizza and gave it to him for free. He thanked me profusely and left, and I thought that was the end of it.

The guy came back a few times. Not incredibly often, but it was a semi-regular occurrence. Every time, he'd ask me if I had anything for him, and I was continuing to get incredible profits, so every time I would say yes and go make him a pizza. Good pizza, too, not just like, cheese. I was putting mushrooms and sausage and stuff on it, I wanted him to have some substance.

For a while, nothing really notable happened. The guy kept coming in sometimes, and I kept giving him pizza. After a while, he seemed to feel we were buddies, which I figured was fair, seeing as I was repeatedly feeding him for free without asking me anything in return.

But then he starts acting a bit weird. More confident, I suppose. A bit less like a hungry guy just looking for food to make it through the day. But I kept giving him pizza, even though there was a broadcast on the news that someone had tried to feed pizza to the bears at the zoo and I (only briefly, at the time) suspected it was him, because I wasn't about to just let some guy go hungry because I thought he was acting kinda funny.

Then one day, he comes in acting REALLY odd. I was rather off-put, but I made him a pizza anyway, figuring it to be an isolated incident. Honestly, I thought he was just getting to be in a financially better place, but didn't want to stop getting the free pizza. I resolved that if he came in acting like that again, I would cut him off. But I make him a pizza, and I give it to him, but instead of thanking me like he's been doing he tells me I won't regret it. Which strikes me as weird, but he's already out the door, so I can't really do anything about it.

The next morning, I go to work, clock in, and look out the window at my rival's pizza shop. Remember that guy? Yeah. His entire pizza place was swarming with bears.

I had no idea how to process this, but before I could, my rival comes in and tells me that he doesn't know how I did it, but I win, and then he just leaves. And THEN the homeless guy I've been feeding comes in and says he made it so my pizza shop was the best on the block. And then he leaves. So I'm at least 99% sure that guy somehow released a bunch of bears into my rival's pizza shop because he wanted to repay me for giving him food.

I don't even know what to do in this situation. I feel kinda bad for my rival. I mean, don't get me wrong, he was a bit of a jerk, but he was kinda just a guy, y'know? I genuinely did not expect for anyone to release BEARS into his shop because they perceived me as a friend.

He ended up signing the shop over to the bears, who are now friends with the guy I was giving free pizza, who gave me a cut of the profits, and I think they made a pizza cult in the old building or something? I don't know. I didn't expect any of this to happen. Am I at fault for it, seeing as I ignored all those warning flags?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality #cult mention

[blade-that-was-broken]

Well there’s child that bites that’s Bruce jr I believe, there is the one that got stuck in the ketchup bottle that one is also real hyperactive so maybe HC those two as twins make em identical nightmare children. I saw a fanfic where one of Bruce’s kids was like super allergic and intolerant to practically everything which causes problems cause Bruce owns a restaurant. And of course there is anarchist daughter. You should definitely give Bruce and brandy at least one pair of twins or triplets to justify him eventually having like 8-9 kids by the time he’s like 40ish.

Thanks for the ideas! Since we basically know nothing about them and most of them I don't even think have names at this point (?) it can be kinda of difficult. Bruce was about 13 when their parents divorced and it has been about fifteen years so Bruce is only about 28 at this point. He's not done having kids but he's got several already.

"Those two are twins, Jr. likes to bite," Bruce grimaced a little as he showed John some pictures. Brandy insisted on driving back home, even though Bruce said he could do it. He wasn't sure what her game plan was but she wasn't taking no for an answer. John just silently looked at whatever Bruce showing him at any given time and didn't seem to mind the rant and chatter. "And his twin is really... hyperactive. I love them to death but wow, they are everywhere, you have no idea."

"I can probably fix the biting," John replied.

He'd been doing that, insisting he could help or fix things or whatever. Bruce really wasn't sure what to make of it. His first instinct had been thinking that John thought there was something wrong with his kid that needed to be fixed and that made him upset. Sure, Jr. shouldn't be biting and they would work on that but he wasn't some broken thing to be fixed.

John said everything so plainly and Bruce couldn't really determine his meaning.

But he kept telling himself that John wasn't exactly himself either. The doctors said he would probably come back to himself. He just didn't really know who his brother was anymore.

"Uh... this one is allergic to pretty much life in general, especially cats, for some reason?" he said, flipping through the photo. "Which is tough because out neighbor loves cats and well... he's been kind of taking a liking to them too."

"Feed him eggs from a farm with barn cats," John replied.

"Uh... what?"

John looked up at him and tilted his head a little. Bruce had to take a moment to take that in. Clay did the same thing. Geez, how was he going to tell everyone else? He'd figure that out later.

"Helps with allergies."

"Okay...? It can be difficult with the restaurant since there is a bunch of stuff he's allergic and intolerant of but we are working on a medication regiment. And he's not really supposed to be around the kitchen anyways," he continued, trying to keep things normal but his speech just kept getting quicker and more excited. "They are going to love you. They have always wanted an uncle living close by. I know technically you don't have to stay out here but it is the best and you have an in!"

"An... in?"

"Me!" Bruce nodded with a grin. "I can get you set up with a fantastic place when you are recovered, if you want. You can stay with us as long as you want, I just know a lot of people tend to be independent so I thought hey, maybe he'd want a little place on the beach or something instead but then again, we haven't really seen each other in..."

"Alright, honey," Brandy interrupted. "You are getting a little excited."

"Where else would he go? We are by far the most financially stable and it's Hawaii for heaven's sake. People would kill to live here. There can't possibly be anywhere better. He doesn't even have an address."

Brandy just shot him a slight glare in the rearview mirror.

"Uh, he's right... uhm about the address thing," John confessed. "If I needed to spend my leave off base, I usually just found a camping spot or stayed with one of my squad."

Brandy's face twisted into something interested and possibly mischievous. John wouldn't have been able to catch it but Bruce definitely could. "Oh! We would love to hear about them! You must be very close."

"We are," John shrugged, lightly. "Might as well be family at this point. Kinda curated an orphans, losers and runaways club. Or in my case, all three," he chuckled.

It was the first time Bruce heard any sound that could possibly be classified as vague amusement from John, although Bruce wasn't entirely sure if it was genuine. He knew one thing; he didn't really like the type of humor.

"Except for Chaz, he's just a fool," John snorted. "They wouldn't let me get rid of him."

"What about the others?"

"Dickory is one of the best. He's very cunning but you can count on him even in strange plans. Pete is retired, not that you'd ever know he was there in the first place. Barely said a word. We useta call him Growly Pete cause that's generally how he was."

Okay. Best friend. Crotchety old man. This was okay. This seemed normal.

"Tresillo... hasn't been with us long but he's shaping up to be a good kid. Needed some discipline but considering his parents weren't exactly in the picutre, I get where he's comin from. He's grown a lot in the time that he's been with us, we're really proud of him."

Brandy glanced at Bruce again. He knew what she was thinking.

He wasn't going to think about it.

"Anyone else?" she asked.

He listed off a few more. "And then... and then Delta."

"Oh! Who is Delta?" Brandy asked with a smile.

"She's mah girl."

His what?

"My partner in crime, the law, whatever you wanna call it," John replied, rubbing his arm and looking out the window. "Go-to gal, best friend, right hand man or I'm hers, whatever you got, it's us. By some miracle the military thought it best to keep us stationed together. She ain't crazy but probably a good choice on their part."

"So, I suppose we will be seeing her visit sometime?"

"I'll haveta call her sister and see what all happened after well, this," John shrugged. "But maybe. It used to be where you found one of us, you wouldn't find the other far behind. I dunno how that'll be now. Things are different, but uhm... I'm hopin' she''ll come around sometime.''

#ask #soldier on au #i lost a whole page sobs #so I don't really remember what JD said about Tresillo and Delta and had to start over #I'm really sad about it

[michi-chelle]

“but i fear that they already got all the best parts of me” goes so hard

#if only this song came out like 6 years ago lol #i’m also nearing the end of season 2 of my free! rewatch and gosh haru’s conflict hits closer to home than ever #and idk if i’m just getting more emotional lately but makoto and haru’s fight in ep 11 deadass made me tear up #when will i stop relating to teenagers real or fictional lmao #part of me wishes i was still a teenager just because being a teenager would explain my sense of purposelessness in everything i do #like taking things one day at a time with a blurry future on a road leading to nowhere #but others having high expectations from you and being sad seeing you so lost #but you just don’t want to let go of what you have now #you don’t want to box your passions in what other people want from you #and going back to the lyrics of the song #you feel like there’s not much you can offer anymore ‘cause you were a ‘gifted’ kid and now you’re just an ordinary person #whose gone complacent to the disappointment of everyone who wants to see you succeed but you feel you don’t have it in you #so again you’re just floating through life trying to enjoy the blessings each day brings again with no clear goal #anyway idk what i’m writing #at the same time i’m glad i’m not a teenager anymore ‘cause that shit sucked #but being a grown adult sucks ass too #i know there doesn’t need to be any purpose in life but #i feel like things’ll be easier if i did have a dream #guess i need a best friend to take me to another country or something to inspire me or something #in other words i’m about to watch one of my fave free eps where rin and haru go to australia #anyway i’m rambling #michi yaps

[whimsyprinx]

i think at this point I should just give up on relationships

#whimsy whispers #I’m not anyone’s obligation and I don’t want to be anymore #you don’t have to reach out or check in and you don’t have to care it doesn’t matter anyways #I’m just tired of relationships being painful to me and me alone #if the people who I wanted to hear from or be closer to or to care saw this post it wouldn’t matter #and if people started caring suddenly or started reaching out in general/more what would change? would it even be genuine? #it doesn’t feel like people reach out because they genuinely want to it feels like they do so because they either have to or because they #want something #like I’ve said before I’m just tired of feeling like an obligation or a burden or like I’m not worth the time. #my presence and existence makes me tired and I’m sure it makes everyone else tired as well and like it’s pointless #I feel pathetic and dumb for clinging to people like I have been #hopefully I stick to this this time! otherwise I’ll only end up hurt again #doing this won’t make me any happier ofc because like I said before I feel like at this point I’m not capable of being happy but like #at least maybe it would be one less thing to hurt me if I stick to it long enough #idk I always hope that things will change and if I’m persistent enough that things will work out but that’s not how it works in regards to #anything #relationships are hard and idk if I deserve one that isn’t hard or confusing so like maybe I just shouldn’t have any #I managed to make this post without crying isn’t that wild?

[tardis--dreams]

One thing you need to know about me is that I will never reblog anything that has the addition "this should be reblogged by everyone" or anything of the like.

#unless it's like #really funny and not a guilt trippy kind of bullshit #i can agree 130% with a post and then see that comment and I'm like #yeah no. go fuck yourself. #(this point has been made so many times but people don't get why it's annoying apparently. people don't dislike your stupid addition #because they secretly disagree with the post but because now it seems like some weird social obligation to rb is #rb this or you're a bad person is a clever marketing strategy but it's quite stupid because it weakens the original point #oh you're saying everyone should rb this? well now it looks like the ppl rbing actually just do it out of some feeling #of social obligation. not because they really want to but because they want to fulfill the arbitrary standards you just made up for being #a good person #and don't get me wrong most certainly are most people rb these posts still out of agreement with the original statement #but it's still annoying as fuck and also you'd think ppl would know by now that people don't generally like being told what to do #so my hypothesis is (and i won't do any research to prove or disprove it (i might be very wrong and most people don't mind obviously)) bjt #but my hypothesis is that people who originally agree with the post but have a strong desire of being free in their choices #won't actually end up rbing bc it's just not that free of a choice anymore bc you just had to make it 'obligatory' but we all know #nothing is obligatory on a stupid webbed site like this so they scroll past while people who maybe would have scrolled past now feel #like they might actually be a bad person if they don't do as it says but without actually caring about the content. which diminishes #the positivity the post originally was supposed to spread bc how do you tell ppl actually mean it now when they rb these things #anyway. am i ranting about something completely asinine phenomenon on tumblr.com? yes. #would it be better to not dedicate my time and energy into making a 'hate' post? absolutely. but that will never stop me from doing so #(also works for things like 'you guys HAVE to do xyz [for your (mental) health/etc]'. literally the best advice phrased like this #is counterproductive. post something that doesn't sound like you're judging everyone who does otherwise and maybe ppl will be more inclined #to believe whatever your point or statement is) #ok I'll stop #shut up amy

[bmpmp3]

speaking of genbu's "serious" sounding tone in his voicebank, i think that might be why he was such a dead ringer for teto pre-synthv-bank-release with just a couple little gender parameter tweaks. wait do my followers know this. sorry i know most of my vocal synthesizer talk is genuinely gibberish to my beloved and loyal long time followers but do you guys know this. for a few years, people had discovered that since utau teto and genbu have this similar strong enunciation and dark sounding tone plus teto can have a bit of a tomboyish edge to her voice anyway -> if u mess with some parameters and phonemes he'll sound close enough to her, so it became a bit of running gag in the community, along with just being a genuine and novel use case for his voicebank. actually recently i found out about someone who made a couple of synthv scripts to set genbus voice to his falsetto pitch and set the tension to drop during each syllable automatically to make him sound like the utau sora amaha. genbu's purpose is to impersonate other vocal synthesizers

#i wasnt familiar with sora until i found that video. apparently she's voiced by lon? like that lon? like the utaite? #which is really neat! every day i find out about another utaite or seiyuu or someone who is involved with vocal synths in some fashion #im still reeling from anju inami providing the voice for a cevio bank! oh and the other day #i learned that the utaite kano was involved with the japanese version of luo tianyi #only to clear up some pronunciations - most of the bank is apparently the original provider. but its really interesting! #also jk jk genbu i love you. you are youre own vocal synth. you dont have to be her (teto). be yourself!!!!!! #i do love when people make teto and genbu have beef though. its so funny to me #tbh ive never been a teto user. shes not bad or anything i just never had any desire to use her utau bank. i keep her sv lite around tho #just in case i feel like making her bully genbu or something. bully that grown ass man #wait is she older or younger. i forgot how her fucked up chimera age worked again. oh well. whether ur 30 or 16 u can still bully him <3 #its a family activity. fun for all ages! anyway yeah i was never much of a teto user. tbh i think its just because like #if i want to hear a teto cover someone else probably has already done it far better than i could even think to LOL #i like when other people use her! sasuke haraguchi's use of her in hitomania and igaku has been magnifique #but i think with vsynths i prefer to use voices i like that no one uses much LOL #gives me much more drive to make covers if i know im one of the few doing it HJKDSLJ #whenever i get tired to pitchbending fast syllables (my least favourite part LOL) i think to myself.... i must.... i must.... #do it for him (genbu)..... hes not very popular since hes not the only male japanese voice anymore..... i must do it for HIM!!!!!! #(tunes one phoneme and explodes on impact)

[maddy-ferguson]

i'm studying with notes that aren't mine and tell me why the person uses parentheses ( like this ) i genuinely think there's something wrong with them

#and like i say: brf slt #and they use them way more than the average person too i have to erase the extra space every single time #i know i can't complain because well if i wanted notes to be written the way i want i should have just gone to class and the content #is there so like it's fine. but OH MY GOD #people literally can't write? i know it's hard i know about dyslexia and everything i know it's elitist to expect everyone to be able to #write perfectly but it's actually astounding how bad people are at this am i the only one who can write without making three mistakes #in one sentence anymore society...it's actual sentences not notes they took quickly in the moment like this is them making an effort #i think my biggest pet peeve is the way people use commas. the syntax in general is abysmal it's criminal. and that's coming from me the #person who writes like this on social media #i read a lot as a kid and i've always been very good at like writing without making any mistakes whether it was conjugation grammar or #spelling i don't know why but it always came naturally to me and so i just genuinely do not understand how people can make so many mistakes #that their sentences don't make sense anymore it doesn't compute for me. like i know the objective reasons but it's just not something i'm #capable of understanding😭 #i think one of the reasons why i could always write well is i see every word i think/say/hear in my head like visually without me doing #anything like automatically since forever? not forever i don't know what it was like before i could read but it's not like anyone #remembers what not reading is like once they know how to read. but yeah when i tell people this they're always like no this is not a thing #for me and i'm like okay... #but anyway. i don't comment on people's writing mistakes unless it's my sister because it's like rude and again i know it's shitty to be #like you can't write are you stupid because there's a lot of reasons but it's also yk the way we communicate so it's nice to actually #understand what the other person is saying #this doesn't apply to the way i write in the tags of my posts and elsewhere. btw. 😁 #doesn't even apply to english in general actually. tbh. but i type the exact same way in french so it's not a language thing #it's a me thing

[carrotpiss]

This is a bunch of sad lost and confused and frustrated and lonely sludge, advise not reading

#im just so completely miserable and exhausted and just angry with everything #gic has gone silent. im getting so stressed about the ethics of my top surgery fund because i dont know if its something i should be still #doing how long until they talk to me again if they do will the waitlists even be livable is it ethical is it worth it does anyone even have #the money to spare anyway to help before the endless nhs waitlist #why am i being left in the dark #im terrified that i dont know when my pap smear will be and that i have to go under anesthetic for it because i fucked up my own body by #being a pathetic cowardly idiot who is to stupid to exist like im supposed to so now im worth nothing and i cant navigate dating bc of it #bc it just makes me shut down immediately when i realise its something i do have to disclose because im shitty and broken and worthless #and i dont know whats happening and i dont want the smear anymore and the nhs sent me a terrifying letter saying im not a real person and i #predictabley got to scared to reply to so now i may have fucked up literally everything which is my fault but also why does the ngs not just #have a system that works and isnt briken just because im trans #and i jsut want to die i cant die but im jsut scared and i want to hide forver #i dont know whats happening with my job am i still getting paid will i get the November cost of living backpay will i get my pension refund #i jjst feel lost and pathetic and desperately clawing out for any vague threads of interest for sex and dating even though im as previously #mentioned in these tags not fit for that and should just die forever in box alone and aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhj #I just want a hug for the next millennia #instead im kust fighting off thoughts about starving myself as punishment because i dont deserve to eat jm not worth the expense of my own #paycheck to buy food for not that it matters because im sick and getting sicker amyway and of course one of my moles is looking insanely #dodgey and ive had to book a doctor's appointment for it but its so tempting to kust ignofe it surely itd be better if it was cancer and #then j could just die amd people wouldnt blame me for being pathetic or whatever removing myself but sad and tragic for dying from something #scary or whatever the fuck im fully aware thats a fucked up thibg to be thinking im just a bit at amessy ends atm and j dont even have a #hot chubby dude or not dude to pretend is ever going yo be interested in me or whatever and ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #dw to anyone reading this in the event someone is i wont remove myself im a huge coward and too lazy to do that #crouch speaks #and its only November! we still got winter to come!!!!! my favourite (sarcastic) time of the year that doesnt absolutely fuck with my head

[birdantlers]

A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

#artists on tumblr #Artistic #digital art #art history #anthropology #humanity #art discussion #art theory #skit yells

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

#teepods.writings #fics. #geto x reader #geto x you #geto angst #geto fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[funshape]

if they had tumblr in spongebob times

🧽 bubbleblowingbuddy Follow

who wanna go jellyfishing after work? just got a new net 😄

(7 notes)

🗿squidwords Follow

my fucking god can you guys not read the text under my art posts IF YOURE GONNA LIKE MY ART FUCKING REBLOG IT. LAST TIME IM GONNA SAY THIS if i catch you liking and not reblogging under my next self portrait series i’m gonna start getting REAL BOLD with that block button istg

#and squilliam if ur reading this which i FUCKING KNOW you are #stop block evading i know you’re making new accounts to stalk my blog on #come off anon and stop vagueing me on main #I KNOW you’re sending your followers to send anon hate #and no i WILL NOT forget what you did to me #at the bikini bottom talent show #YOU NASTY LYING BITCH.

(1 note)

🐿️ treedomepilled Follow

going here once would fix 90% of this sites userbase forever

#texasposting

(1302 notes)

⭐️ rock-star638226 Follow

the group chat is bullying me over my room setup and i can’t take it anymore please tell me this doesn’t look like something from r/malelivingspaces please. pplease

(515 notes)

🦑 squill-i-am Follow

can we talk about how pathetic the people on this site who post their art and then go “REBLOGS > LIKES!!!! DONT LIKE WITHOUT REBLOGGING!” under it are like seriously omfg deeeeply unappreciative selfish behavior are you 12. sorry not everyone wants to put your shitty oil paintings from your 5 follower art blog on their mutuals dashes i guess. and your art is probably ugly as barnacles if you need to beg for reblogs on it to get any amount of traction on it anyway, just saying😭

(672 notes)

🦀 krusty-krab-money-grab Follow

Hey anyone else working the afternoon shift rn just see a little green thing run past the cash register? what was that

(4 notes)

🦠 rate-the-chumbucket-5stars-onyelp Follow

DHRHEH THFORUMELA ITS THE FORUMEUAR THE THRREAL FORMULER I FUCKING GOT IT QUICNQUICK REBLOG THIS BEFORE THOSE CAPITALIST FREAKS AT THE KRUSTY KRAB SEND A CEASE AND DESIST GET THIS EVERYWHERE CONTACT BIKINI BOTTOM NEWS GET THEFUCKIGN WORD OUT THIS IS WHAT THEY DONT WANT YOU TO KNOW GO GO GO

#krusty krab critical #anti krusty krab #secretforumlagate

(839 notes)

🐋 pearlygirlie Follow

turning off anon for a while because oomf is in some sstupid drama and now i’m catching strays for it. mutuals can contact me on discord if you want i’m not saying anything about my stance on the situation because either way i’ll get hate for it. this website sucks

🔁🐋 pearlygirlie Follow

yes oomf is my dad.

(320 notes)

[jaylaxies]

NOW OR NEVER

PAIRING: spider-man!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, choking, fingering, slight bondage, usage of nicknames, breeding.

SYNOPSIS: going around the city with your massive poster which said, ‘Choke me, Spider-Man!’ was something you did for fun, not knowing that your dream might actually come true.

WC: 1.4k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, loves! this one was requested by my anonnie and i’ve also posted this as a mark fic before! i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

“Shh, baby. Don’t want your parents to hear now, do we?”

You truly couldn’t believe that it was happening—that Spider-Man was in your room with his slender fingers wrapped ever so perfect around your throat.

You’ve always wanted this from the day you first saw him, on the day he saved a lift full of people from falling down and crashing to the ground. You were one of those who unfortunately got stuck inside the lift too, which was the traumatic onset of your tiny crush on him.

No one knew who was behind that mask, yet his suit clad figure was a sight to see, his build lean and slightly muscular, not to mention he smelled brilliant (a little something you gathered when he saved you).

To add to it, his ever so attractive voice always grasped everyone’s attention, you thought he was funny too, which is exactly why you ended up making a poster full of glitter saying:

Choke me, Spider-Man!

It was a silly joke, albeit you’d definitely be lying if you say you didn’t get wet dreams about the superhero, because you did. Detailed ones at that.

Maybe carrying the poster with you at all times was a stretch but you did it anyway, granted that your city was full of crimes and spotting Spider-Man was an easy task, which is why you proudly held up the poster in the crowd whenever you saw him, after he fought with the villain that is.

The people around you laughed, but it wasn’t mocking, it was more of an amused laugh, and you could have sworn you noticed spidey look your way, before swinging away, much to your dismay.

This went on a few times. You were practically waving the poster frantically when it was the fourth time, yet he didn’t pay you attention of any sort, leaving you dejected as you dragged yourself back home from Uni, chuckling at your state.

Crush on a superhero?

Pathetic.

He’s loved by countless people all over the world, what makes you think he’d have time to give you even a sliver of his attention when he’s so busy saving the world?

Clicking your tongue, you threw the crumbled poster in the trash can of your bedroom, dimming the lights as you sat down on your bed, ready to change into your nightwear before opting to sleep to take your mind off things.

Just then, a loud sound of knocking on your window caught your attention, which was funny considering you lived up on a pretty high floor in your apartment building. You thought that it must be a bird, still, you decided to open the curtains to check it out.

Shock would be an understatement to explain what you were feeling the second your eyes laid on the person right outside your window.

The reason for your sour mood, or rather, the reason you spent hours trying to ease the pent up frustration in you each night, moaning out with need, was hanging by your window.

“Oh god,” you breathed out, brain short circuiting for a few seconds before you shook your head, opening the windows for him to come in.

Who knew Spider-Man would actually care enough to notice you?

Then you realized just how awkward the situation was, and you didn’t have much to say anymore now that he was standing right in front of you, looking around as if he was inspecting your room.

“Spider man,” you breathed out, and he chuckled.

His attention was on you now, walking closer to you, “so, you’re the one who wanted to be choked by me,” he said smoothly, and you couldn’t help but shamelessly gawk at his figure, mouth watering at the sight.

“Uhm—I mean, holy fuck you’re actually here,” you tried to voice out your thoughts, but they were a mess, which only caused him to chuckle at your shocked state.

“Didn’t you want me here, baby?” He asked and you felt your knees buckling at the deep tone of his voice.

You took another step back, only to lose balance and trip. But good for you, your spidey was quick to shoot his web on your silky night blouse, pulling you close and right into his arms.

He smelled so good.

“Careful. We don’t want you hurting your pretty face,” he whispered, tracing his glove clad finger along your jaw, gripping your chin when he noticed how your body had gone still, “deep breaths, babe.”

“Are you gonna fuck me?” You asked, voice coming out in a low whine, eyes twinkling with hope.

He chuckled, pulling his mask up which had you bubbling with anticipation, you really wanted to see what he looked like. However, he stopped a little too soon for your liking, only exposing his lips, leaning in to mumble against your own.

“I’m gonna fuck the life out of you,” he whispers, a gasp leaving your lips as you pulled him closer into a rushed kiss.

He was quick to take over, kissing you harder as he pushed you down on your bed, you could feel his fang like canines biting down on your bottom lip, “undress, quick,” he ordered, and you fumbled while getting everything off your body.

Your cheeks were warm, your eyes on his figure, which was now devoid of his costume, faint abs and strong muscles on display for you, but your mouth practically salivated at the sight of his cock, thick and hard.

Just when you sat up to touch him, he grabbed your wrist, pushing them up your head and shooting webs to tie them, making sure they didn’t move.

You never knew you’d be into web-play but here you are, getting wet by being constrained by webs.

“Please,” you begged in hopes that he’d touch you, or do something, anything.

“So needy, aren’t you?” He clicks his tongue, his fingers caressing your cunt, collecting your wetness, “so wet already,” he smirked, “wanna be fucked all night, huh?” He asked, continuing working his fingers between your legs, arousal leaking from your cunt.

His other hand was wrapped up around your neck, fingers tightening enough for you to gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt lightheaded with the whole situation, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better.

He was so good with his fingers, thumb pads circling your clit while two digits plunged in and out of you, eliciting moans out of you.

“Shh,” he whispered, his hold around your neck tightening which caused you to open your mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to lean in and spit in your mouth, watching the glob travel down your tongue till you gulped it down, earning a praise out of him, “good girl.”

He pulled back right when your body started shaking with the orgasm building up in your lower abdomen, his hold on your neck loose to let you breathe some more before he took it to the next level.

He ran his lips down your neck, sucking harshly as he lined his cock to your eager folds, your expression blissful and your entrance so wet, it made it easy for him to bottom out, “so fucking pretty,” he groaned out.

His voice strained as he started fucking you into your mattress, his power was evident with how precise and hard his thrusts were. It was a lifetime opportunity for you, and you wished to savour every second of it as you wrapped your legs around his slender waist, pulling him even closer and deeper in your pussy.

He hit your spot over and over again, “cream my cock like a good girl, baby,” he rasped out, his own orgasm approaching.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, with his fingers still gripping your neck, the lack of air was evident but it somehow made you feel as if you were floating with unadulterated bliss around you as you finally reached your state of euphoria, coming undone on his cock, exactly when he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with yours as he emptied himself in you.

You whined when he pulled back, getting dressed after draining you, “you’re leaving?” You asked, frowning.

“Gotta save the world now, pretty,” he whispered, removing his webs from your wrists before pecking your lips and rushing out of the window, leaving you dazed.

Maybe making the poster wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

@jaeminvore @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @ikeuizm @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @haechan-nahceah @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @luvswonyoung @ma-riiii @addictedtohobi @heeliopheelia @haanigurl

permanent taglist open! comment or send an ask to be added!

© jaylaxies | tumblr

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #kpop smut #enha smut #enhypen imagines

[ao3commentoftheday]

I've always found it hard to find the right words for comments, but I used to try and put down something on all the fics I liked but after seeing what some of my writer friends, who are fairy popular in their fandoms, say privately in the groupchat about some of the comments they get, I can't bring myself to leave any comments at all any more.

I know it's a form or unloading where they can salt without hurting anyone and I generally think that's a good thing, saltmates are needed so you can talk about all the crappy annoying things in fandom in a private space and not spread shit on tumblr or ao3 etc.

But It's so so disheartening to me as a comment shy reader because it's never good enough. If it's just emoji hearts or someone saying "second kudos" it's too short and worthless. If it's epicly long well-written, funny, sweet, and clever love bombing, then it's too much and annoying.

I just don't understand, I don't write myself, I draw, badly, and I never get the kind of praise they sometimes get, but I would LOVE to have some of those things said about my work.

I love my friends a lot and I'm a firm believer in saltmates, but it makes me a little crazy and very paranoid to see the difference between what they say in private and what they actually answer to the comments in public on their fics.

I've read a lot here on tumblr about how fic writers love ALL comments etc etc and a lot of tips and tricks for people who have problems leaving comments, but I dont trust that now and I never comment anymore because I do not want a writer of a fic I love to think such things about me, even if it's just in their minds in private.

Do I have extra salty friends or is this a common thing among writers that no one wants to admits out loud?

From my experience, as a writer in fandom on and off for 20-ish years and as the mod of a comment-positive fandom ask blog, your friends are extra salty.

Have I heard people get frustrated with "I liked this!" comments? Sure. But for every one of those, I hear at least 10 people who are giddy and bouncing and just over the moon that someone liked their fic. I've never heard anyone complain about "epicly long well-written, funny, sweet, and clever love bombing." Most fic writers I know would probably pass out from happiness if they received one of those.

I don't know your friends, of course, but it sounds like someone in the group got a little toxic at some point and the rest of them went along, for whatever reason. Maybe burnout was a factor. Maybe they had a specific thing they wanted to get from their comments section that they weren't able to receive. Whatever the cause, the effect on you is bad.

I know you didn't ask for what to do about this, but I'm going to lay it out for you anyway:

stay in the group chat and feel worse and worse about every comment you've ever left on a fic

say something to your friends and ask that they have those conversations when you're not around (your choice if you include the part about it being because they make you feel bad)

leave the group chat and maybe also lose those friends

None of those options are great, but your current situation already sucks so it might be time to try something new.

I'm so so sorry that they made you feel like your comments weren't enough, anon. You don't deserve that. No one does. I hope if those authors see this ask that they pause and reflect and realize the audience they were speaking in front of.

I agree that people need a place to be salty, and I appreciate them doing it in a private space - but it wasn't private enough. ❤️

#asks and answers #long post

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hello could you write a fic for miles42 having an airhead gf like shes his opposite (kind, always smiling, extroverted but shes a bit blunt) !! for the fic u can do wtv u want tbh !! but if u dont have any inspiration u could do something about her meeting miles42’s mom nd uncle or, him taking his gf on a date or wtv u want bc idk if my ideas are good lmaoo

(Hello! Sure I can and here ya go! Enjoy!)

Earth 42!Miles Morales x Opposite!Reader

It's so funny how you guys even ended up getting together

You both obviously clash but oddly work out well together

Even Miles was surprised he ended up with you

"Blink twice if he kidnapped you, kid."

Words of Uncle Aaron the first time he met you

When Uncle Aaron and his mother met you, they probably thought he was gonna be with someone who matched him, probably Emo or at least similar to him

And to their surprise, and his mother's joy

You walked into the door!

His mother thinks your good for Miles, she sees you're able to get him to smile more, he's happier and she sometimes sees specks of Miles before his dad died come back

Even if Miles is surprised at himself he really does love you

He needs someone like you in his life

Walking down the street hand in hand people would never think that you guys were together

Even in photos, you're smiling, it always seems like he has a permanent frown on his face until out come along

It always looks like two completely different photos, but no

He warns you about being kind to everyone though, as he noticed is a habit of yours

Brooklyn isn't safe, everyone knows that and you could get hurt because you're too kind

You're kinda an airhead also

You once followed a man into his house because he said he had cats and she had kittens

Don't worry, the man was a kind and older man but the principle still stands

Miles noticed you're sorta an airhead, not a bad thing but something he looks out for you for

But he truly does love how much you care for him, his mom and even Uncle Aaron

When you guys first met he was a little suspicious

Just because he wasn't used to that in Brooklyn anymore

You were also incredibly blunt

He found it funny at first when it was at other people

He gets kinda frozen and can't help but sigh when it's directed at him

He thought Uncle Aaron would not like you when he brought you home

Not him mom

But you did great!

He didn't even need to warn you about calling his mom by her first name

He's gotta get used to you being so extroverted

Especially because now he is more closed off and likes to keep to himself more

Especially being the Prowler

But when you want to do anything and everything, social and make friends

He's the one looking over your shoulder and directing you away from assholes

He loves you, but he doesn't want you being hurt

You got them scary boyfriend privileges

I think you guys make a great pair

Miles was initially hesitant to introduce you to his mom and Uncle Aaron, but you wore him down.

So that's how he stood in the hallway of his own apartment like the guest, as his mother already liked you.

Plus, you didn't call her by her first name.

"Aye, you're so pretty, Mija." Miles' mother smiled at you, getting a genuine one back as she stood next to you, glancing at Miles.

"Oh, ¿cómo te las arreglaste?" Mrs. Morales started, her son blushed as he stood behind you, watching his mom practically flaunt around you.

"Mom!" Miles complained, Mrs. Morales waving him off with an eye roll.

"How did you meet my son of all people, hon?" Mrs. Morales asked, guiding you to the kitchen as you followed behind her, laughing under your breath.

"Well, I was walking to Mr. Gonzalez's bakery, and I was in line but I looked outside," you started, Miles freezing in embarrassment at the upcoming story as Uncle Aaron laughed.

"I saw Miles standing there in the window, but he was just staring at me?" You said, a confused tone in your voice as Miles could hear his mom chuckle.

"Anyway, I smiled at him and he sorta jumped. He…sorta smiled back? It was a little loopy but then he turned away real quick, but he tripped."

"Oh, man…" Uncle Aaron laughed, wrapping an arm around his nephew's shoulder as Miles looked down, blushing thankfully hidden as he hid his face in his shirt.

"He fell sorta hard so I went outside to help him, and yeah!" You smiled, Miles shaking his head as Uncle Aaron elbowed him.

"Stop…" Miles muttered, turning around to head to the kitchen as Uncle Aaron couldn't keep in his laugh any more.

Hey, you said it how it was.

Miles may complain about it, but seeing how you were sitting on the counter talking to his mom with a smile on his face, he couldn't complain about it much.

#earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles x reader #miles morales earth 42 x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #across the spider verse x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #into the spider verse

[rowenablade]

Okay. I’m going to wait to do a second watch before I articulate most of my other feelings here, but I want to address one thing.

I’m seeing a lot of posts like, “I related to Izzy because I am also queer and older/disabled/depressed. By killing him off, the writers are saying that I deserve to die.”

Guys.

I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid. I totally understand grieving a character that you relate to. But speaking as a writer, I just want to point out that trying to write with the shadow of “what is the absolute worst and most harmful way a reader can interpret this” will smother your ability to create. Twisting yourself in knots, trying to think up the worst-faith takes possible and scotch-guarding all your writing decisions against them is exhausting to the point of making you just not want to write anymore.

And we’ve seen the writers deliberately choose not to do this in Season 1. Remember all those terrible “Izzy is racist” takes that the writers and cast seemed completely blindsided by? That happened because the writers and directors and actors weren’t going over every scene with a fine tooth comb, ferreting out every shot or line of dialogue or micro expression that could possibly be interpreted as racist, and scrubbing it off. Because there comes a point where your story is what it needs to be, and you have to accept that some people will interpret it in ways you didn’t intend them to. And if you can’t accept that, you’ll never find the courage to put your work out there.

The point of diverse casts and writing teams isn’t to achieve a state of, “Nothing bad ever happens to a character from a marginalized demographic ever again.” It’s to achieve a status quo of these types of characters just being people in the world of the story. Not symbols, not representation boxes to tick, not tokens that you can point to so that you can say, “Here, we acknowledged this type of person exists, now where’s our woke points?”

OFMD is full of characters of color, queer characters, older characters, characters of differing body types. And in stories, things happen to characters. Some fall in love. Some make the same mistakes over and over. Some turn into birds. Some die.

Izzy’s character represents a lot of things, but he does not represent every older, disabled fan or fan who has struggled with suicide, any more than Jim represents all genderqueer fans, or Olu represents all black fans. That’s not how the writers were handling him. They were handling him like a character, because that’s what you have to do.

Again, I understand being sad. I am so, so fucking sad. But this idea of, “Any time something bad happens to a character I relate to means that the writer thinks I deserve these bad things to happen to me,” will poison everything you engage with eventually. Because stories are full of things happening to characters, and they won’t all be good things. And the more representation we get, the more often bad things will happen to characters we relate to.

But good things will happen too.

Queer couples get married. Disabled women run off with their favorite husbands. Middle-aged characters change careers. A multiracial polycule finds a home at sea. A fat man covered in tattoos stars in a drag show and all his friends cheer. All these things happened in the same show as Izzy’s death. This is what this world is.

Anyway. I know emotions are running high and I’ll probably get blocked or unfollowed by a few people for this. But I’m just trying to find my peace where I can, and if anyone else finds this useful, cheers.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #izzy hands