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#Seriously though what do I do
yanderederee · 2 months
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HELLO?
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I forget when the last time I checked on things like follower count
I’m honestly shocked. Might not seem like a lot, compared to bigger blogs, but I’m grateful for every single person.
I don’t know how one would celebrate these kinds of things? Please help!!
Should I do a writing event?
The last time I tried hosting a Writing Event, I only got a single response (which I am almost ready to post).
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falsegod · 1 year
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i was worried about the medicine they gave me at the hospital because i’m underweight and they didn’t ask me about it… so i checked the manual and it said not for kids under 12. and i was like okay i’m almost twice that age, there’s no way a 12 year old should weigh more than i do. and then i checked and i’m an average 10-11 year old
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lilybug-02 · 3 months
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Pain is a great motivator…
Part 26 || First || Previous || Next
—Full Series—
Meanwhile Toriel:
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(Loud noises don't wake her up usually.)
Artist note: I’m so proud of this :))) I know it’s a lot of dialogue and reading, but dialogue is grueling work for me. I’m glad with the art and for the amount of pages I made in such a relatively short time span -w- page 5 was super fun to work on. A lot of blood, sweat, and hours here... :) The backgrounds were a big bore tbh, but I finished them! Yippie!
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onawhimsicot · 1 year
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This week on MCYTBLR...
This is 90% a video covering the containment breach and 10% just things that made me laugh/my own personal highlights lol sorry that I left out big things!! the song is only like 2 minutes long and i ran out of steam adkjfha
Thank you @mcytblrsexymen for the funniest two weeks I've had in ages and for also having really organized tags because there was absolutely no way I would have done this without them
(YT Upload)
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shipwreckie · 1 month
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long (like ridiculously long) rant about watcher entertainment
Whilst the vast majority of the response to the watcher drama has been negative I still have seen a few people expressing opinions along the lines of ‘oh its just $6’  ‘shouldn't creators be paid for their work’ etc. I also think this situation is getting a lot of attention from people who don't necessarily watch Watcher, or haven’t keep up with them in years so here is my breakdown of why people are unhappy with the announcement that Watcher will be putting ALL upcoming content behind a $6 a month streaming service (with the exception of the premiere episode of each season going to Youtube.) 
The issue is not that it's $6.
The success of other internet companies like dropout and smosh is proof people are willing to pay for content they enjoy and to support independent content creators. I personally have given money to kickstarters, patreons, digital downloads etc in the past. But I do that because I know I’m valued as a fan with and without my money. I still get access to content on youtube for free. Even Dropout, who is a much larger and more expensive operation than Watcher, releasing 5 show a week, still maintains a steady Youtube presence.
The thing with these internet companies is they can be successful in creating something but they do have to understand that you are on the internet. You're not netflix or HBO or hulu or whatever. Watcher’s obsession with creating ‘television-calibre content’ worth $6 a month whilst also only having one show a week is unrealistic. They want to be independent creators but also television producers… but you’re not!  They hate being youtubers so much but YOU ARE. That’s how you gained a fanbase in the first place and you were successful at it! If you’re not happy being a youtuber that’s fine, move on and do something else. But you can’t expect it to be funded by the fans. So many famous artists create content they care less about that has a larger audience, and that in turn funds the stuff they DO care about. If you’re so dedicated to making expensive, high-quality productions you should be using these smaller cheaper shows to save money and fund them, rather than forcing everyone of your fans to pay a monthly subscription fee that I’m sorry, just isnt worth it or is simply unaffordable for the majority of your audience who you have now essentially told aren’t welcome or valued by you. And which one is it? 
Such a large percentage of your audience are casual viewers too. Why cut out that completely? What fans are you expecting to follow you to this ? Your most dedicated fans are there because they like Ryan and Shane, so why not push that? Are you trying to appeal to your fans or are you trying to make the content you want. There’s no clear creative direction that makes sense with this move and that’s why people aren’t supporting you. 
Also I’m sorry but how can we suddenly trust the content is gonna improve once we start funding it when there’s already been so many missteps both in their content and their business. Look at how many fans have said Ghost Files and Mystery Files have started feeling phoned in. Their patreon has been mismanaged for years, they barely promote it and the perks on there aren't really worth it (but they have 6000 paying members because people can and do want to support them!). They go months having barely any merch. There are ways to make money on youtube, they’re just not doing it well . 
And I’m sorry. But there is just absolutely no reason to have 25 employees. Shows like Survival mode should be cheap and easy to produce, and help bring in money to support larger ventures like ghost files. So why are there 18 people credited for a video of you playing Minecraft? And of course I don’t want people to lose their jobs. But continuing with this is going to cause EVERYONE to lose their jobs regardless. 
They also barely have a plan for their new content. People watch for Ryan and Shane, you KNOW THAT. So why is your first new big show hiring the worth it boys and doing a globe-trotting, crazily expensive show. Are you even really expanding your content if you’re still sticking to a one-video-a-week schedule with no present plan to change that? They have a survey for subscribers to vote which past show to bring back, but there’s obviously a major budget difference between filming something like Weird Wonderful World and something like SD&D&D… or at least there should be but there isn't when you employ 20 people to make one video. There’s such a clear lack of thought put into it that makes me even less likely to want to support. 
I want to say that they probably expected a negative backlash and thought they could just wait it out… but did they? Because WHY did they hype this up like it was an insane new announcement fans would go wild for. WHY do this several days before you have live shows where you let fans ask questions live to your faces? So much of this roll out makes absolutely no sense and makes Ryan, Shane, and Steve look so ridiculously out-of-touch with their fanbase, which only makes fans feel even less supportive. 
I think their defenders think we want to see Watcher crash and burn but the majority of us don't. I want them to be successful but this isn't the way to do it and I truly do believe it’s going to ruin their company. Unfortunately as much as I love them, I wont be supporting them. 
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rottmnt-residuum · 6 months
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you're so devastatingly smart and attractive- 95% of that ask is correct. you got the motivation, goal, and what they use to do it. the only thing off is the minutia of how it's done, but since i've literally never talked about that aspect outside of real life conversations, it's impressive that you got as close as you did
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theabigailthorn · 6 months
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Thanks to all my patrons for supporting me!
Turns out when you actually do your own research and writing [AHEM!] it takes time to make good content. These awesome names and plenty of generous people like them help make that happen. Their pledges give me the time to research the show PROPERLY and also go towards paying the crew, who make the show look spectacular.
If you can, and you wanna support what I do, sign up and join them :)
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swan2swan · 9 days
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If Sammy ever found out about this, she would lasso Darius, tie him to a chair, tell Yaz to yell at him for her, storm out of the room, and then come back after Yaz's "What were you THINKING?" rant with the Gun Safety Manual, and then lecture him for another hour.
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sentientcave · 1 month
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Retirement Party
Chapter 4 - Runaway
<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >
Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized reader, female reader, Poorly thought out action sequences, Guns, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though I might even tell y'all her name.
~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above
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You wake in the morning with your nose buried in a thick patch of chest hair, and strong arms around you. Your legs are hooked around one of his thick thighs, and something hard digs into your stomach. You start to inch away, but his arms tighten, and his hips cant against you, a thick, sleepy groan rumbling in his chest. It would be a nice way to wake up, if not for the circumstances. It’s been ages since you slept beside another person, let alone someone that feels as comfortable as John does.
“John,” you say softly. You don’t want to fully wake him up, just get him to let you go. “John, please let me go.”
He hums, one hand sliding to your waist, and then down to your hip, pulling you closer, grinding you against his thigh. You squeak in protest, becoming aware that you’re already wet, like you’ve been unconsciously humping his leg in your sleep for some time. You push your slightly freer top half away a little, so you can look at him. He’s still sleeping, a little frown on his face as he’s pulled unwillingly toward consciousness. He really is handsome, especially like this, all his defences down, grumbling like a hibernating bear.
“Don’t wake up,” you tell him, as if it’ll make any difference. “I just have to pee.”
One of his blue eyes cracks open, a little unfocused. “You comin’ back?” His voice is rough from sleep, rasping like sandpaper.
“Sure,” you say, even though you have no intention of doing so. Your body seems as eager as his is for something you’re sure is dangerous. Maybe he smells good, like tobacco, warm, boozy spices and something undeniably male, and maybe he feels warm and solid against you, but you don’t want to encourage this. You just want to enough space to clear your head. His admissions last night still have you spooked, John’s words not tempered by a night of surprisingly good sleep. “I’ll just be a minute.”
He loosens his hold on you enough that you can wiggle free, his eyes opening a little more so he can watch you slip out of bed. He rolls over onto his back, and starts snoring gently before you’ve even made it to the bedroom door. You take the opportunity to snag one of the bags stacked in front of the closet and your purse off the dresser and bring both to the bathroom with you. You’re not sure what’s in the bag, but you know the larger suitcase has things from your closet in it, so you’re hoping this one has more from your dresser.
You get dressed, glad that most of your underthings and a comfortable pair of jeans and a thick sweater are inside and pack your toothbrush and makeup bag into the larger one, and creep downstairs carefully. One of them is snoring gently on the couch, but otherwise, the house is silent. You carefully fish a set of keys off the hooks by the door and sneak outside. You don’t know where any of your shoes are except the red heels, so you just leave in your sock feet, and pile your things into the pick-up truck. You’ll drive it into town and leave it there, buy a ticket on a train or a bus, and get the hell back home.
It sucks to have to leave everything you own, beyond the clothes in the one bag and the contents of your purse, but maybe you can call the cops— Well. Probably not. Better to just start over anywhere else. You have digital copies of a few pictures of your parents, and that’s better than nothing, even if their wedding album is sitting on a shelf in John’s living room, along with all the family photos that your parents took of you and them while you were growing up. Your mother’s sketchbooks too, and her camera, and your dad’s guitar.
You bite your lip, holding back tears, and start the truck.
No sense mourning things. The memories are in your head and your heart, not trapped in the pages of books or twisted into the strings of the guitar. You don’t need them.
You haven’t driven in a long time, and the truck, unfortunately, is a manual, which you haven’t driven in even longer, but you manage to pull away from the house without revving the engine too hard, and pick up speed once you get to the road, only just remembering to hit the clutch with your left foot before you change gears. You’d feel pretty pathetic if you only made it to the road before stalling out the pickup.
You’re not sure which way town is, but you figure the road has to lead somewhere no matter which way you choose, so you navigate blindly, turning onto a bigger road a little ways down the gravel one that leads to John’s house. Bigger road means more people, although the hour is still so early that there’s no one around yet. The sun is barely up, and it’s still shadowy in the woods on either side of the road. The woods give way to fields suddenly, the sun making a too-bright debut, shining right into your eyes. You flip down the visor and adjust the rear-view mirror, wincing when you see a blue car a ways behind you, approaching fast.
You didn’t notice the car when you were leaving— It must have been parked behind the bigger van that they’d used to move all your things— but it looks sporty and fast, and judging by the way it closes the gap, there’s no question that it’s them. You push the truck harder, squinting against the light, heart hammering. The car’s engine roars, loud enough that you can hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, and pulls into the lane beside you. Gaz motions for you to pull over from the passenger seat.
You slow up enough that they pull ahead a little, and you yank your steering wheel to the side and stomp down on the gas and the clutch, shifting into third gear and nailing the side of the car, shattering a tail light and making it spin, stopping just shy of the ditch.
For a moment, you’re still close enough to see the shock on their faces, but you’re moving fast and leave them in the dust, at least momentarily. It won’t take them long to recover and catch up again, and if they hit you with the same maneuver, there’s no way you’ll be able to get the truck under control. There’s not enough weight in the bed of the truck to compensate, and you’ll wind up in the ditch for certain.
Funny, how it comes back to you. Learning to drive along mountain roads way outside Aberdeen, either in your dad’s little car or your mom’s old truck (usually the car, which was the easier one to drive. Your dad was the safer driver too, the better parent to learn from), and you can almost imagine your mother in the passenger seat, laughing her head off at the insane circumstances, encouraging you to throw caution to the wind, to get a feel for the road under the wheels and the way the old truck handled. She always laughed when she was under stress, but it’s comforting to think of. Your mum would never let a couple of thick-headed military assholes get the better of her.
The car is catching up again, so you floor it and smash through a fence gate into a muddy field, where the car won’t handle as well, and speed your way across the stubbly remains of wheat, already harvested. The car follows, and, predictably, struggles, the low frame too close to the muck, bumping unhappily over the soft, uneven ground.
Laughter bubbles up in your chest, relieving some of the built-up anxiety. You smash through a segment of the fence on the other side and yank the truck back onto the road, giggling when the truck fishtails a bit, mud slicking the tires on the pavement. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through your system that you feel like you might be sick the moment you let any of this catch up with you. So you keep driving, and pray that it doesn’t.
The car gets close again when you reach another wooded section of road. Through the rearview mirror you can see Gaz pop out of the window, gun drawn, but you don’t hear the crack when it fires, you only feel the impact when the bullet strikes one of the rear tires. You shriek, slamming on the breaks as the truck spins out of your control and off the road, slamming into a tree head on.
The lurch forward as the airbags deploy, your body hitting them hard, knocking all the air out of your lungs as you’re slapped back into he seat. The seat belt bites into your shoulder painfully. You unbuckle yourself quickly, ears ringing too loudly for you to hear the screeching tires of the pursuit car. You fall to the ground when you try to get out, head spinning.
You stumble into the trees, still blinking away double vision. If you can find a good spot to hide— Maybe you can double back and take the car while they chase you blindly through the trees. You cast about, feeling every rapidly forming bruise, wishing desperately that you had shoes, and dive into the underbrush, scooting forward on your belly, brambles catching in your hair as you curl up, out of sight.
“Please come out, doll,” you hear Gaz call out, boots crunching through the woods, closer than you would like. “It’s okay, we’re not mad. Just come out and we’ll take you home, yeah?”
Johnny is yelling further off, his voice incomprehensible but sing-song, mocking. Gaz moves further into the woods. You wait until his voice grows a little more distant before you drag yourself back out, sweater streaked with mud, leaves in your hair, and quickly sneak back to the road. The car is still running, the driver door left open. You breathe a sigh of relief.
“There you are, bird.”
You scream. A gloved hand drops over your mouth, cutting off the sound, and an arm loops around your waist, picking you right up off your feet.
Fuck.
"Look what you did, bird. Wrecked up Price's truck. 'E's not goin' to be 'appy about that." He turns so you can see the slightly smoking truck, the front half of it crumpled beyond repair.
You shake your head until he pulls his hand away from your mouth. "Its not my fault I crashed. Gaz shot the tire out. I wasn't even going to steal it, just leave it in town once I'd gotten to a bus stop."
He hums. You hear the slight crackle of a radio. "Got 'er, lads. Come back to the car."
"Rog."
"Aye."
Ghost shoves you into the back seat. "Stay put," he says sternly. "You're already banged up, don't want to 'ave to tackle you."
You sigh, all the fight leaving you. You feel awful, bruised and shaken up and trembling, and you do nothing but watch as Ghost gathers your things from the truck and puts them in the boot of the car. You slump back in the seat, inspecting the scratches on your hands idly. Your head hurts, and your shoulder aches, and you feel a bit like you've been stepped on, but nothing feels broken, just bruised and tender. You got lucky.
Well, not lucky. There's very little about any of this that counts as luck. Especially considering the look on Johnny's face when he jogs out of the trees. At first he looks stormy, but he grins when he sees you and opens the back door to crawl onto the seat and on top of you.
"Steamin Jesus, where'd ye learn ta drive like tha'?" He asks. "Didnae ken ye were a racer."
"Outside Aberdeen," you reply. Your ribs hurt. Soap’s weight makes every little ache more acute.
"Price isn't gonna be happy about his truck," Gaz says, tossing himself into the driver's seat. "What were you thinking, doll? You could've been hurt."
"You didn't have to shoot the tire." You try to push Soap off, but he wraps himself around you, a bit tight, but bearably so. You’re trembling, and he’s trying to help, in a thoroughly unhelpful way. "I was just trying to get home."
"That's the wrong way. Your home's with Price now." Ghost gets into the other front seat, and Gaz reverses back out onto the road.
You sigh, leaning your head against the window, watching the countryside flash by. It takes an embarrassingly short time to get back to John's house. You didn't get as far as you would have liked, hardly got anywhere at all. Your eyes prickle with tears, but you don't want to cry in front of them. You want to go back to bed, maybe back in time to the morning. You would have been wiser just to curl up next to John again.
Soap drags you from the car, hands a bit rough on your bruises, and pulls you back to the house. John rushes out, worry creasing his face, blue eyes sweeping over you and turning furious. "What happened?" he barks, not at you, but at his men.
"Bird was makin' a run for it," Ghost says.
"Wrecked your truck," Gaz adds.
"That's not my fault!" you protest. "You shot at me!" You glare at him, frustrated tears overflowing down your cheeks. It’s like they have no idea what kind of stress they’ve put you through.
"Woah, woah, c'mere, doll." John pulls you against his chest, wrapping strong arms around you, stilling some of the tremble in your limbs. "You broken?"
You shake your head, leaning into him, gripping his t-shirt tightly. You breathe in raggedly, trying to steady yourself.
"Lads. Why did you shoot at her?"
"Trying to stop the truck."
"She's a civilian you muppets. I take it that the truck's in no shape to drive, or you would've brought it back. You could have killed her." He pets a hand over your head, plucking out a few leaves. "You should’ve let her go."
"She stole your truck!" Soap protests.
"So what? It's wrecked now anyway, innit?" The silence behind you speaks volumes. "Alright, doll, why don't you go get cleaned up? " he murmurs against the top of your head. "I need to talk to the lads, and what I have to say is not fit for a lady's ears."
He gently ushers you into the house and closes the door firmly behind you. You trudge upstairs, feeling utterly pathetic, and lock yourself into the bathroom. Still sniffling, you comb sticks and leaves out of your hair with your fingers and put yourself into a hot shower, where you give yourself the freedom to cry your eyes out, hoping that the sound of water drowns your stifled sobs.
The house is quiet when you shut off the shower and dry yourself off. You wrap the shirt you'd slept in around you and poke your head out into the hallway. John is right there, holding out a bundle of clothes. "Here, sweetheart," he says softly, like he's worried a sharp word will set you off again. He must have heard everything. "I sent the boys to deal with the truck and that tail light, so it's just us. Just come on downstairs when you're ready."
You open the door wide enough to accept the clothes, and he turns to leave again, content to leave anything else to be said when you make it downstairs.
He'd obviously taken his cue from what you'd been wearing already, because he gives you a sweater and jeans again, comfortable worn in things. You go downstairs carefully, every joint and muscle in your body aching, even after the shower.
"How do you take your coffee?" he asks. "Or do you prefer tea?"
"Coffee, please. I can make it. I'd feel better if I did, honestly." You skirt around him to the cupboard where you'd seen Gaz take mugs out, recognizing your own nestled among John's mismatched ones. You put milk and sugar in your favourite mug, and pour in coffee, stirring it throroughly. The clink of the spoon is loud, and so is the pan he sets on the stove top.
"Eggs and toast okay?" He asks.
"Um, yeah. That would be nice. Over easy?"
"Yes ma'am." He looks at you over his shoulder while butter melts in the pan, blue eyes all worry. "Did I say something to you last night? Maybe the sort of thing that made you feel like you needed to steal a truck and run as fast as you could away from here?"
"Um. Yes." You hold onto the mug with both hands. "Some stuff about wanting to start a family. With me."
His ears turn pink. "I see."
"I suppose this is where you tell me it was just the whiskey talking, right?" you ask hopefully. You like him, even if it’s ill-advised, maybe even dangerous to do so.
"Wish I could."
Your stomach twists. “Oh.”
John turns around fully, guilt and sadness written all over his handsome face. He steps closer and touches your arm gently. “I’m so sorry about what my boys have put you through, sweetheart. None of this has been right.” He sighs, brushing a few tendrils of still-wet hair away from your face, studying you, those intense blue eyes focused on you intently. “But there’s something special about you, doll. I really do want to keep you forever. Not if you’re scared, and not if you feel forced— It’s just, the thought of you leavin' and never wanting to speak to me again is— I don’t want that.”
You swallow nervously. “This is just really overwhelming.”
“I know. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let this happen. Soap really could have just given you my number.” The smile he gives you is hopeful, and you can’t help but return it, just a little. “Now go sit down, doll. Let me take care of breakfast, hm?”
You nod and move to the table, sitting where you can watch him, and peek out the window too. The car is gone, but the van is still there for the moment, sitting idly to the side. You consider making another run for it, but your aching limbs protest even the thought. There’s not enough fight in you, and you’re not even sure you want to fight John, not the way you do the other three. His only crime has been wanting you to stay, and being a bit overzealous about it. You can’t be mad at him for that, can you? It isn’t really his fault.
Well, it might be his fault, in a roundabout way. He trained them, taught them how to ruthlessly pursue an objective. It’s just not his fault they can’t keep it from coming home with them. That’s a clear failure of whoever does their mental health assessments.
You sip your coffee and watch John crack eggs into a pan. He keeps glancing at you, and his smile flickers on a little longer each time that he catches you looking back, until he doesn’t stop smiling, and just looks happy, glad to have you there, even if you’re just keeping a silent vigil on the other side of the room.
It's not like you have anywhere to go. It'll take days at least to feel like you haven't just been in a car crash, and days more to locate everything to pack it back up. So long as you don't have to share a bed with John again, you think you could live with this, for at least a week. It can't be that terrible, so long as the others leave you alone. You rather hope they just leave. If you asked, would John send them away?
"John," you say as he sets a plate with buttered toast and a couple of eggs on it in front of you, and sets a couple tablets of paracetamol beside your plate. "If I stay… Will they be staying too?"
"I'm going to have them leave this afternoon. That alright with you? We can go for a walk to the neighbours while they pack up, if you're up for it. Maybe dr-- Well, not drive." He sets his own plate down and sits next to you, handing you a knife and a fork. “Have to get that sorted out. But the neighbours-- Rob and Melissa-- Their dog just had puppies a few weeks ago. Do you like dogs?”
You nod, breaking the yolks of one of the eggs with a corner of toast. "My parents had a dog when I was growing up. Some kind of German shepherd cross. Best boy. His name was Rob Roy, because he was a wee outlaw. Mam found him digging in the trash and--" you stop and give John a baleful look. "Sorry. That was more than you were asking."
"No, that's the most you've said at once this whole time. I'd listen to you talk all day, doll. Don't ever apologize."
"Sorry I-- Oh, shit, sorry--" you press your fingers to your mouth, cutting yourself off. "Force of habit."
"I'd like to see you lose that one. You have nothin' to apologize for. Not one damn thing, and especially not talking. I think you have the prettiest voice I've ever heard."
You roll your eyes, but you can't help smiling. "You're just saying that."
He touches your arm lightly. "You don't know me too well yet, doll, but I never just say anything."
Yet hangs in the air, heavy and deliberate. He wants you to know him, wants you to stay with him, wants you to like him. Even if it makes no sense, the offer is tempting. It's been a long time since you've let someone get close— You've had the occasional fling, and the odd reunion with an ex that you’d stayed friends with, but grief is like a canyon you can't bear to cross. What if you love someone and you lose them, the way you lost your parents? How could you live with that all over again?
Still, there's something that feels like warm sunlight in his smile, and you can't help but incline toward him, slowly but surely reaching for the light. No one can live in the shade forever. There’s no nobility in suffering.
So you let yourself talk, at least a little. And he listens, hanging on to your words like they're precious, gazing at you with something unfurling in his expression that you can't name. You're almost afraid to try.
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Image Credits: Banner
Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune
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thatorangedrank · 1 year
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Little is Alyx 👎🏻
Little is Penny 👎🏻
Little is a reflection of Ruby in Vol.1 and is a physical representation of “healing your inner child” 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻
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He's so slay
aksfhusrhguoahrgraugh
Art done by Georgia Le-Flay
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egophiliac · 4 months
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they have now revealed another character for ride kamens, hayate, and it looks like he's a kr jin homage? glad they confirmed that it's not only titular riders getting representation, but still, a pretty off the cuff surprise for me
yeah, Jin is a welcome pull, but a pretty weird one! I saw the post when it dropped (don't ask why I was looking at twitter at 3 AM) and the replies were. very confused. :') nice to see some Jin rep though! and if this opens the door to characters based on more deepcut riders, all the better!
of course, if they really want to stay true to the spirit of Jin, we know what he'll be like
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gummi-ships · 11 months
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Kingdom Hearts 2 - The World That Never Was
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butterflysonnets · 4 months
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yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.
to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!
i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.
also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.
they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.
they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.
i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.
#eve text#elmike#stranger things#byler#only tagging byler because i feel like yall will like this take lol#tagging tagging tagging WHAT ARE EVERYONE ELSE'S THOUGHTS#god i can't believe i'm making a post about stranger things. this feels like poking a bear#i'm not particularly anti m*leven but like... they'd have to do something pretty special at this point for me to feel like it's viable#i'm seeing the bts of s5 and it's got me Having Thoughts#elmike friendship is something i am so passionate about#even before i ever liked byler (didn't ship at all until s4 even though i knew it was a thing before) i've felt this way about elmike#i always believed they were close friends at heart and needed to break up#the romance part of them felt very distinctly young and very much “he was a boy she was a girl” to me#and it hasn't deepened into anything more mature and i don't see how it could based on the current state of the writing...#the fact that lumax exists — a young relationship that is actively maturing and is healthy — makes that clear to me#and the “love confession” in s4 and how disingenuous and miserable it felt was just the nail in the coffin#also the fact that will (who is IN LOVE with mike) was instrumental in making it happen? ... uh... okay... interesting choice…#fucked up and reductive if they make it another queer unrequited love sacrifice for the sake of pushing the heterosexual agenda YUCK#so i really hope the speculation about a m*leven breakup is real!! i think it just makes sense for their characters but who knows#i don't believe in the notion of love at first sight or one true love and i think the writers don't too???#love to me is an accumulation of experiences and we inevitably choose it at some point rather than fall into it... but idk#tv is so fixated on keeping couples together... sometimes it's just not reality guys especially with young people... LET IT GO...#like i said though i'm not 100% sold that they're going to give up their “golden couple” LMAO#stranger things hasn't historically subverted too many tropes if i'm being honest#anyway i seriously need this season to come out quickly... i'm so bored and getting my master's is crushing my soul#i need frivolity#ALSO btw i won't respond to hateful messages about this so please don't bother. it's not that serious. this is a netflix show
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spark-circuit · 2 years
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this tiny little man has committed many war crimes against my species. but he can still have a french fry, as a treat.
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cutekoala1001 · 7 months
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POV: You’ve been drawing for clients all week, and you finally decide to stop and draw something for yourself. Wyd? 👀
Anatomy practice
That present for your brother
Backgrounds
Hands
♡✨BUSTER MOON✨♡
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