#so i lost the actual good coloring that i first made and spent a lot of time on

[melonmass]

Here are some sad Trolls headcanons/scenarios that won't leave my head (I try to put them in a timeline order)

Floyd left expecting to come back eventually. What it took to leave BergenTown made him scared of coming back for a long while.

Since Indie sub-genres are basically all also sub-genres of other genres (Indie Pop, Indie Folk, etc) maybe there's a tribe of Indie trolls out there that are just a bunch of trolls descended from the other main six tribes. (I sometimes imagine Floyd spent a lot of time there in the 20+ years he was gone)

Clay used to scratch his arms/wrists when he was mad as a kid. They had him wear wristbands to help, and he actually loved the feeling of wearing them.

Floyd could stop any fight between his brothers by crying. This how he ended up known as "the sensitive one"

One of the bros tried to convince Branch John Dory was actually his dad. He cried, because he didn't want his bros to not be his bros anymore. John Dory was mad about this prank because of how upset it made Branch, and because he never wanted to replace their parents.

This "date" made Spruce feel so uncomfortable, he threw up when he got home. He pretended he was just sick, and John Dory never stopped apologizing for convincing him to go out while he was "sick." (image from Branch's clueboard, cleaned up by @kittyball23)

In general, I think the ages of BroZone at the time of the break-up were Young Adult, Teen, Preteen, Child, and Baby.

Grandma Rosiepuff geniunely expected the other bros to come back after a bit of time. They'd fought before, and they always made up.

Branch went gray not just because Grandma sacrificed herself for him, not just because he lost the only family of his that stayed. But also because he failed her. He failed to keep her safe. And he failed his brothers who trusted him to look after their grandma.

Creek was always manipulative and toxic af. During the big escape, his shoved Branch out of the way. (no one ever believed Branch when he said it was on purpose.

Someone helped Branch get back up and keep going so he wasn't left behind. He never got a good look at who it was. He used to imagine finding them and becoming a sort of found family with them.

It was Clay. He saw Creek shove another kid out of the way (obviously on purpose). But he didn't recognize who the gray troll kid was. He just quickly got the kid up and moving so he could go back and look for Branch and Grandma (this is how he ended up left behind with Viva and the Putt-Putt trolls).

People tried to look out for Branch while he was still a kid. But he liked to keep his distance, so they all did, too. They weren't ever able to help him get his color back, anyway. (Poppy was the only one who never gave up trying to help him)

Everyone kind of agreed to stop bringing up the trolls left behind around King Peppy (and in extension Poppy) because it's cause him to completely shut down. It looked like he might go gray, too.

Clay developed some self-destructive habits after arriving at the golf course. He thought he failed to save his baby brother. He was very good at keeping it hidden. Eventually he improved through sheer stubbornness. He keeps the old wristbands as a comfort, and to cover scars. (Literally no one but him knows)

John Dory interacted with a few other survivalists on the Neverglade Trail. Maybe he had an opportunity to "settle down" with one of them. But the guilt of leaving his brothers behind started eating him up, so he ran. (who knows, maybe he has a kid he doesn't know about)

When John Dory tried coming home, it was a few years after the escape from the Troll Tree. He saw it empty and thought it meant the Bergens had finally eaten every last troll. Maybe some of his brothers escaped. But the way he saw it, the younger the brother, the more likely they didn't make it. John Dory was convinced his baby brother was dead.

John Dory didn't have very much memorabilia when he first left. When he returned to the Troll Tree empty, he took as much stuff as he could carry without being scared of getting caught.

Bruce really wanted to invite his younger brothers to his wedding, but he didn't have a way to contact them. John Dory was the only one he had any way of reaching.

That postcard to John Dory was sent because he was desperate to reach out to ONE of his brothers, but he didn't want to have that reconciliation or fight at his wedding. So it's a mostly blank postcard. (John Dory cried, because it was confirmation one of his brothers was alive.)

Bruce named his daughter Rosie, after Grandma Rosiepuff. (he thought of naming some of his sons after his presumed dead younger brothers, but that felt wrong when he changed his own name to distance himself from them and the band)

Poppy might have briefly had a bit of a crush on Creek. This makes the betrayal all the more devastating.

At some point between the events of the first movie and Floyd getting captured, he crossed paths with Creek. They briefly had a fling, but eventually, Creek's toxicity became too much, and Floyd went left for someplace new. (And Creek might have been arrested in the Indie Mountains.)

None of the other troll tribes knew the Pop Trolls were annually being eaten alive for so many years. Some find their ability to keep so cheery and positive after all that to be actually impressive.

Peppy is doing therapy with Mr. Dinkles because the events of World Tour made him realize he doesn't have a good way of coping with things. (Running, hiding, and keeping secrets aren't actually good in the long run.)

Crimp experienced some major abuse from Velvet and Veneer. Yet she never tried leaving the job as their assistant because it was the only job she could get.

John Dory, Bruce, and Clay never expected to see Branch grown up. They didn't know how to react to/treat him like a grown up when they first saw him again.

Floyd genuinely thought he'd die in that bottle, even if the bros managed to hit the perfect family harmony. At that point, he was so drained, his hair was almost entirely white, and he couldn't even stand himself up. But the idea that the last thing he'd ever see would be his brothers singing and dancing together like old times made him happy.

The perfect family harmony undid most of the physical damage Floyd experienced. But he still feels a sort of phantom pains sometimes. His legs will feel numb and tingly. Stretching helps.

Velvet tried to completely throw her brother under the bus after they got arrested. She tried to blame him for everything, tried to claim she was forced to go along with it. Veneer's confession, Crimp's testimony, and just the way she slowly took more and more of the spotlight away from her brother kept her from getting her way. Veneer even got a lighter sentence than she did.

#dreamworks trolls #trolls brozone #trolls band together #trolls branch #trolls floyd #trolls john dory #trolls bruce #trolls clay #trolls poppy #trolls headcanons

[sunshinechay]

I absolutely understand why Babe would forgive Charlie so quickly. These two moments right here explains it perfectly:

And this one

Babe has spent almost his entire adult life feeling like he can’t love anyone. Feeling like he can’t, like he wasn’t worthy of that love, that he wasn’t worth it. He wanted someone who would love him uncondititionally and completely. Someone who would take care of him and not judge him. Then came Charlie. For all of Charlie’s flaws and lies, that is the one thing I don’t think I’ve ever doubted. Charlie loves Babe. He loves Babe so much but he also knows that if he tries to tell Babe who he is right away, Babe will reject him. Babe will, like he did at first, assume that it is all a part of Tony’s plan to get Babe back, to force him to go along with what Tony is planning.

With the foundation that their relationship has now, Babe knows that Charlie loves him. That everything he did, no matter how fucked up, was because he loved him. Charlie offers to die so that Babe will gets his senses back. I think that right there says a lot about how much Charlie loves Babe. How much Charlie loves period. He was even willing to lie to Tony on something easily fact checked. He lies and says he hasn’t seen Jeff. If Tony doesn’t know Jeff works at the garage I’d be very surprised. Charlie is so completely willing to put himself into harms ways for those that he loves. And Babe knows that.

So Babe forgives him. Babe forgives Charlie because Charlie disproves every single negative thing Babe has ever thought about his ability to love, about his ability to be loved. Babe is so starved for love, for touch, for someone to love him. Charlie gives it to him in spades, never stopping. Babe feels safe enough with Charlie to actually love him back. Something he has never done before, he’s never felt like he could.

This is also not so incidentally why I won’t get on the “Way might be a walking red flag but I’m color blinded” train. I have felt the exact same way Babe has felt before, something I still struggle with to this day. That kind of intense self loathing is tough to live with. Babe lived with his for years before Charlie. He never felt like could love anyone, and Way made him feel that. Way made him feel like he wasn’t worthy. It feels like an extremely fucked up version of “if I can’t have him no one can”. I do think it comes from Way also feeling similar to Babe, which is why I am still ultimately sympathetic to Way as a character, but the boy needs to step the fuck back from Babe and let the man live his life and be happy with Charlie. Babe has said so many times, including to his face, that he and Way could only ever be friends. Way just doesn’t seem willing to accept that, which a big yikes for me. Add the hypnosis on top of that and if this were in any other genre, I’d be voting for Way to get his head lopped off. Still I love Way is able to move on, whether that is with Pete or not. Hopefully his and Babe’s friendship will improve because of it.

So yeah, I don’t find it surprising at all that Babe is willing to forgive Charlie that easily. Charlie is everything he’s ever wanted on a silver platter. He was also willing to be completely honest with Babe as soon as Babe asked for honesty. He didn’t lie, he didn’t beat around the bush. He explained it all, point blank. He didn’t even lie about being the reason Babe lost his senses, even when he could have and it’s likely Babe would have never found out. Charlie proved that he does love Babe, genuinely and completely. He wants to protect Babe no matter what. He is willing to do anything. It’s exactly what Babe wants and what he needs. I have no doubt Babe will give back as good as he gets too.

This likely isn’t the end of the road for this discussion. I think they will revisit it eventually, though under what circumstances I can’t say. For now, Babe is willing to forgive him easily, because he loves Charlie and Charlie loves him. In the end, that’s all Babe wants and now that he is getting the chance, he’s going to grab it and hold on with both hands. He knows he can do that because he knows, down to his core, that Charlie will do the same for him.

#pit babe #pit babe the series #babecharlie #charliebabe #pit babe meta #yes i finally got the chance to watch the episode #and i am in my charliebabe feels right now #to distract myself from the lack of alanjeff this episode #and yes before anyone tries to say otherwise #i am looking forward to more of way and pete #i do like way #i just hate the way he treats babe #he’s like some kind of manifestation of the dark voice in babe’s head that makes him believe all of the negative things about himself #and i hate that #anyway #*gestures vaguely* #cap watches pit babe #cap speaks

[moonit3]

a soulmate au with a yandere who isn’t reader’s soulmate, can you imagine it? the angst, the pain, the sobbing and the eventually bloodlust made the yandere when noticing the universe is separating you away from them? this is peak.

the potential scenarios i have in mind are down below, but first some warnings/notices: yandere, scarring, blood, killings made the yandere, breaking inside reader’s house (the yandere, not me), blood, mentioned kidnapping, identity theft, body modification (such as plastic surgery).

matching tattoos!

the moment they noticed the difference from yours tattoo from them was horrible, the numerous plans they made inside their head to finally approach you were immediately broken down and their smile was gone.

this can’t be real! ITS MUST BE JUST A MISTAKE THE UNIVERSE MADE!!!! you are destined to be with them til your last breath like they always planned, but things don’t always go like planned, so they have to adjust to make things work to their needs.

already knowing how your tattoo looks like, the yandere don’t hesitate to pay a great amount of money to change the tattoo they have. the process hurt a lot, but it was worth it when they finally introduced themselves by showing their new tattoo to you.

the realization in your face when you see the matching tattoo on their arm is truly amazing, eyes sparking when you hugged them and asked them if a date sounds good and who is them to refuse?

the world is grey until meeting the soulmate’s eyes!

the yandere expected you to be responsible to make them seeing the colors of the worlds, but they were caught off the guard when they accidentally looked into someone’s else eyes, someone that isn’t you. and it didn’t took much time for the yandere to get rid of that person themselves, it was really easy actually. that idiot was into the delusion they were in love with each other.

and when they came after to watch you, the yandere finds out that your soulmate has already died a long time ago, making your world becoming grey once again. what a devastating news! (nah, they are smiling inside), but the death of your beloved doesn’t change the fact that you can’t love again.

in fact the yandere tells you that he also lost his soulmate and gains your compassion by the sweet lies they tell you, it’s doesn’t take time to get closer to you and then dating.

you couldn’t be happier to have a relationship with another person after your world turned grey again and the yandere couldn’t be happier to be with his true soulmate, but he can’t forget to feed the other one who lives down on their basement, after all they still need to see the colors on the world to choose the best clothes to fit your eyes.

soulmate share each other names on the wrist!

the name they have on the wrist doesn’t match your and nor does your match their, but that don’t last long after changing their whole identity just to be yours. is that a crime? probably so, specifically after he literally obliterated that stupid person who dared to steal their rightful position…but you don’t need to know about that part and also the part they adapt themselves to become your real soulmate.

the money they spent to resemble someone they weren’t, the time they lost to mimic the voice that stupid loser and the people they had to eliminate to not bring any suspicion are worth. they are doing this for you, to your name and to make sure that anyone else hurts you, but you don’t need to know that!

their face hurts a little every time they smile at you (which is often), but that doesn’t matter. blood comes out of their nose one a while (the surgeon told them to not force themselves after the surgery) and sometimes you notice how their voice keeping failing, is something wrong with your significant other? they assure it’s nothing, but you can’t believe them….

@moonit3 writings

#yandere oc #yandere concept #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere female #yandere drabble #tw scars #tw body mention #yandere imagines #yandere writing #yandere headcanons #yandere male x reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #yandere hcs #yandere headcanon #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

[bowdownperv]

How do #first time!Billy and Y/N become boyfriend/girlfriend?

It's no surprise following the 'events' of the last day of school that you spent nearly every day of your summer so far with Billy. But, the two of you never established an official label for what you were. Dating? Fuck buddies? Both of you were too scared to slap a status on your relationship and potentially fuck everything up. There was already enough fucking going on between you two.

About two weeks after grand slamming you into his mattress, Billy took you on your first unofficial date. He was very diligent in not using the word 'date' when asking you to go out for dinner with him— in fear of scaring you off—but everything about that night was a date.

You got to see him in a suit for the first time, and holy fuck was it a beautiful sight. The black linen vest hugged his torso so well highlighting his popping pecs and broad shoulders. And—oh fuck—if you dared looking down at the way his pants clung to his thighs and protruding bulge, you'd have to change into dry panties. He was dressed just about as slutty as a man could be.

That night he bought you a quite expensive dinner and called you 'baby' for the first time in a non-bedroom setting. The name slipped out of his mouth without thought but you didn't mind whatsoever. You sucked his dick extra good that night and he's called you baby ever since.

Since then, your relationship remained quite static. You didn't mind particularly. You had a hot man in your back pocket every second to kiss and touch. But, was he your man?

While the question only dwindled in your head occasionally, it was the primary thought in Billy's head all the time. He wanted you to be his girl and no one else's. Hell, he had to resist the urge to punch any guy that even looked at you. The yearning for you kept building up until finally one day he couldn't take it anymore.

❊ ❊ ❊

The two of you arrived at the beach and stationed yourselves in the sand a few yards away from the waves. Billy had been off all day. He was much shyer than usual and was gripping your hand abnormally hard as you were walking down the boardwalk. It took your fingers five minutes for the color to return to them when he let go.

You laid out two towels with your cooler in between and looked at the handsome man across from you with a sour look on his face.

"You okay Bub?" you asked resting your still cramping hand on top of his.

"Yea," he sighed. "I'm gonna go use the bathroom, be right back."

Billy walked away mumbling something under his breath. You shrugged and reached into the cooler to grab a seltzer and lean back.

Billy didn't actually go to use the bathroom. What he did do was slip some random toddler with a bucket on his head $5 to do him a favor.

The little boy came trotting over to you with a puzzled face and chocolate ice cream stuck to the corners of his mouth.

"Oh. Hi there, are you los-" before you could even finish you were interrupted by his squeaky voice.

"Is that your boyfriend?" he pointed to Billy lurking behind him.

You almost spit out your drink.

You looked at Billy hoping to see some answer in his eyes but his face was blank as a statue.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” you let out a chuckle.

Billy’s face stayed completely straight and it made you think he was seriously opposed to the thought. Damn, maybe you were just fuck buddies.

The kid quickly lost interest and ran off to chase a seagull with his little plastic shovel.

Billy groaned. He didn't get his answer and lost $5 along with his dignity.

❊ ❊ ❊

When the two of you got back to his place, you plopped on his bed and kissed him on the cheek.

"Well, that was fun," you smiled running a hand through his hair.

"Yea, it was. I had a lot of fun with you, thanks for coming baby." He smiled but you knew his facial expressions long enough to tell it was fake.

"I know somethings bothering you bub. Just tell me what's going on," you caressed his sunburned cheeks.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

"Y/N, we've been spending so much time together and it's been the best four weeks of my life having you right by my side. And I just don't know what's going on in your head and what you think this is between us because for me it's something bigger and"—he paused—"fuck it, are you my girlfriend?"

Your brain got whiplash. You honestly thought he was going to break things off with you for a second. You were certainly flustered.

"Do you want me to be?"

“More than anything. I’m so fucking in love with you Y/N, and I don’t think I can stand to go another day not being able to tell you that or call you my girl. You’re the only person I want to be around and the reason I smile each night and every morning. All I want now and forever is you."

"I'm all yours then."

#first time!billy #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #stranger things blurb #billy hargrove blurb #billy hargrove fluff

[taiturner]

NEW YEARS CLEAN-UP 🎊

rules: unburden yourself from the abandoned WIPS collecting dust in your folder and share 5 gifs, then tag five people. (tagged by @yenvengerberg, thank you i feel like i can do something useful with these things now 💖)

tagging with no pressure of course: @wyllhalsin, @capinejghafa, @cardvngreenbriar, @seance, @ayoedebiris, @ughmerlin, @craintheodora, @lottiemilfews, @natscatorrcio (yeah miles i'm tagging you to be funny i know what you did with those psds)

these are all from projects that i have in a folder titled "on the bench" that i want to pretend i'll come back to, but.... some of these have been benched for so long and they're no longer fresh in my head so i fear they'll be abandoned forever. should also be mentioned that a lot of projects on the bench are literally just me making all the typography first and then losing inspo when i actually wanted to gif things.... usually by the time i do start, i change my mind about the type anyway. i also have so many abandoned gifs from other gifsets i've already posted but i'm not even sure where to begin searching so... here are some things!

one of the many gifs i already created for a prompt from @yellowjacketsoctober to put the show in a different genre. ironically, a prompt that i came up with for the event specifically to make this gifset but didn't even complete. i spent so many hours and so many days trying to gif this entire arc for these three with the intent to make it a heist drama set but after so long i realized i was just giffing exactly what happened in the show and it started to feel pointless. but at least here's a preview of something that i'll never finish. my trio of all time, can they commit more crimes together please! (should also be said that this folder is 44gb because i already saved all the caps + because these psds are so heavy... new years clean up for real)

i don't know what it is about lydia that makes it so hard for me to finish any set for her, but every time i try i seem to always lose the drive eventually (probably because twd in general just feels really uninteresting for me to blend, for some reason). from a 2022 spotify wrapped meme, i'm pretty sure i restarted this specific gifset so many different times, unhappy with the colors and the blends and the text and everything -- which is why there are two very different examples here. my girl of all time though i will finish something for her eventually (and maybe even this one, because this song is still so good for her).

one of the many gifs that were abandoned by my scream vi set for favorite slasher in october. when tumblr first changed the image upload limit to 30, i promised myself to never take advantage of that too much, but i severely underestimated how many moments i would want to include for this movie and i made so many other gifs for this set but ultimately cut them so i could try to tone it down - 18 gifs in this set still feels like a lot but i spent so much time on this set that it was hard to part with many more. anyway here's sam being the hottest final girl in the world and correct about everything.

i don't know how long this has been on the bench but it was definitely a project i started way before season 2 even aired. i think i just got stuck and wasn't sure where to go with it, but anyway her!

extra spoiler for @wyllhalsin but this was supposed to be a pride edit in june for one of my favorite lgbt characters of all time. this show's camera movements nearly makes it impossible to blend anything so i lost the drive, but i will come back for felix someday (and for coty, obviously this set was for him).

#personal #tumblr2023 #tag game #this is such a good idea kissing the person who started this game #'new years clean up' and then i still dont delete these psds Just In Case -

[bunnidid-reviews]

I got the second Elle(s) book today and ofc read it soon as I could

Some thoughts:

- this book focuses more heavily on the inner world exploration, and I found the art to be even more dynamic and lovely in this one

- Blue takes over the host position from the previous book, because of the loss of her aunt and shocking revelation that Elle was adopted as a baby. The whole book is about rose Elle finding her way out of the inner world and back to taking control of her life

- we get a little bit more development on the other parts of Elle, since Rose interacts with them as she’s going through each of the inner worlds. But there’s not a lot there, if I’m honest? They all act like strangers that happen to be dragged into the story rather than parts of your very self who’ve always had a sense of being at least connected to you in some way. Especially since its implied that Elle has ‘had problems with this before’, and she purposefully made these inner worlds for each of them, we as the reader are left confused to how much they actually know eachother.. theres just not much there

- and as for Blue, the one part who’s been looming over both this book and the last, we don’t know much about her either, aside from being manipulative and stealing money and clout off her friends. If she’s supposed to be a persecutor part, she has no obvious drive outside just ~being evil~. (To quote my very own blue-colored persecutory part; “What a lazy bitch”)

- this.. ending..?

(The text reads: Wow! Embryos merged? So that means.. I really am six different people! )

Maybe it’s a problem with translation, but the tone of this picture and text really cuts off any of the built up tension thats been riding throughout the book.

- this book never explicitly mentions DID as being a diagnosis, so it’s more of a concept of multiple personalities being used in a different way…

I’m not someone who’s going to speak on what makes ‘enough’ trauma to create DID, because birth complications and adoption are traumatic, and it’s also not something I have experience with. I can’t speak on how this would feel for people who had twins and lost them for it to be portrayed this way, though. In the book, this is clearly stated to be some sort of Special Unreal Circumstance and I found that.. in weird taste..

-it’s not.. DID. I thought the adventuring through the inner worlds would be more about making honest connections and getting to know these parts of her more fully, but Elle’s journey was really just about pulling herself up by the boot straps and switching back out. She doesn’t really have trauma and this book makes it super clear

-I’m disappointed that there wasnt much time spent with brunette Elle because she really seemed to be grieving honestly in the last book, I thought theyd be helping eachother more. But its.. not reallyyy and its shown as growth anyway

-I like the series but I can’t really take it very seriously. It has the vibes of seeing all the major plot points of someone’s OC stuff without all the extra content that fleshes out the characters.

———

I might just be in a mood because I feel very out of place with my own DID at the moment(I’m usually fairly comfortable, but I think I might be having a DPDR episode), but I’ve been sitting on the Elle(s) series for a good few months now, and I don’t really get any deeper connection

I’ll get the next book anyway and see if any of it ties up more neatly. I know its the artists’ first comic I believe, so maybe theres not so much depth becauseeee offff inexperience. Or translation issues because I believe it came out elsewhere first. I dont know!

O well, enjoy my short review

#dissociative identity disorder #did in media #actuallydid #elle(s) #bunnidid reviews #also in a weird place about liking the art and having a really hard time reading it with all the extreme lighting #supposedly she gets streaks of color in her hair for each of the parts she helps but its really not visible throughout any of it #wheres my DID magical girl transformations :( smh have to do everything myself

[unactivewaspsfics]

Sojourn, Baptiste, and Symmetra Playing their Favorite Games with You

Quick Note: I have had no motivation until this morning, I am not sure how it happened but here we are!! I hope you guys enjoy frfr <3

Sojourn

Sojourn is not one to bloat about how good she is at board games, but it does slip up sometimes.

"I was actually the best in my field when I was in the army... Both as a soldier AND at playing Uno!"

Being a small dabbler in bored games yourself, you decided to ask her if she would play a 1v1 Uno match with you; same rules, no cheating.

She accepted with a small laugh, not of nervousness but of self-confidence.

You moved over to the couch, a coffee table in between, as Sojourn pulled out a deck of Uno cards from one of her pant pockets.

Yes, I am implying she has Uno cards at all times on her person.

She looked up at the ceiling as she decked the cards, making sure you are aware she isn't cheating.

Once she has decked the cards out, each of you two having 7 cards each, you looked at your cards.

They were the best card combo you have ever gotten.

A +4, 2 reds, 2 greens, 1 blue, 1 yellow, and 2 color-changing cards.

The only downside to getting the cards was, you forgot to put on your poker face, unlike Sojourn.

You gave a cheeky smile as Sojourn shook her head slightly at you as you placed your first, and only, blue card.

Sojourn placed three blue cards and topped the fourth card off with a yellow.

You placed your yellow as a sojourn placed a skip card and two '+2' cards.

You looked shocked, dropping your cards on for her to see.

Sojourn laughed, leaning back in the couch chair.

"Just going to tell you this now Hon, a poker face and good luck are how you win Uno.. coming from your undefeated champ here!"

You groaned before sitting back up, calming for a second before challenging Sojourn to another round of Uno, two out of three wins.

In the end, you lost, winning one round by 2 cards; you had lots of fun though, asking Sojourn to play more bored games in the future.. maybe like Apples to Apples or Exploding Kittens.

Baptiste

Baptiste is a simple man who loves playing simple games, like Hopscotch or Charades.

He has invited you multiple times to play these playground games but you have always been too 'busy'.

In reality, you never really have been in the right mood to play these games, well, until it was one of your off days.

Baptiste saw you waking up early and instantly knew, today was the day for his games.

He walked over to you, putting an elbow on the nearest counter to you, ready to charm (rizz) you up.

"Bonjou, I see you have today off, does that mean my lovely friend can finally do something with me?"

At first, you declined his offer with a laugh, but he was not going to let you decline on this perfect day.

After a few minutes of him begging, following you around, and coming up with ideas to play, you accepted with a laugh.

He grew a happy smile and jumped in the air, laughing excitedly.

Baptiste grabbed your hand and dragged you outside, an already pre-made Hopscoth area on the floor with colorful chalk.

"Okay- I'll go first then you follow after! Ohh- I am so happy you accepted my offer!"

He started his turn at Hopscotch, and while you watched him you noticed how childlike he acted while playing it.

He had fun, messing up and looking back at you with a cheeky grin; he was reliving the childhood he always wanted.

You started to feel bad for declining all the times he offered for you to play with him until he ran to you and told you it was your turn.

You walked to the first square, using one leg to jump onto it, then two, two again, and so on and so forth.

You could hear Bap in the background cheering and hyping you up, making it more enjoyable for the both of you.

Once you were done, you turned to look at Baptiste, a smile on your face; you felt happy to play like a child again.

You asked him if he wanted to do another round, or to play another playground game; he agreed happily as he offered game ideas.

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing Playground games with Baptiste and reminiscing about old stores from your school days; it was the best way to spend your free day.

Symmetra

Symmetra is a GODDESS at playing Dance Floor.

I mean, she has the highest score on it! Unbeatable Sym!

When you asked her if she would like to play with you, she was a bit surprised.

"You really want to try and play with me? No one really asks since I have the high score."

You could tell that she was excited about it, even if she couldn't express it properly; her little hop in her step as you two went to the Dance Floor game was evidence enough she was excited.

Luckily, this Dance Floor was a two-player.

Sym was happy enough to let you pick what dance you two do, even if she has done all of them.

She laughed as the game started, how you were stumbling over your feet.

You, on the other hand, were trying to impress her somewhat; trying your best while dancing.

She was impressed... Impressed by how much you were out of breath in the first few moments of it.

I mean, having to focus on where the steps are and when to press it was exhausting!

Having to go from left to right to top corners to middle and whole other combinations of foot placement was out of your league.

Sym, on the other hand, did it so flawlessly; you were so impressed and slightly hypnotized by how easily and swiftly she moved to the beat.

After 30 minutes of you putting your heart into it, and Sym trying to help you with techniques she found over the years, you two finally made a decent enough score on the game to call quits.

You were so out of breath while Sym looked like she never broke a sweat, maybe it was how out of breath you were that your vision was impaired (lol).

"So, I know you might decline but- I would love to try to get a better high score again with you. I'll bring water and I can show you stretches you can do before to help with your achiness" she offered.

Despite your sweaty self, you agreed; knowing how happy it made Sym to have someone to play with.

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #overwatch 2 x reader #playing games #sojourn #sojourn x reader #vivian chase #jean baptiste augustin #baptiste augustin #baptiste x reader #symmetra #satya vaswani #symmetra x reader #oneshots #i literally am in an overwatch phase save me

[tokiro07]

Was talking to a customer today about media consumption, specifically about the benefits and risks of binging

I've talked about this concept a number of times lately it feels like, but this particular conversation helped me realize a nice framework to look at it with: while binging is quick and to an extent feels good (i.e. "I finished this series in X amount of time!"), it greatly reduces the amount of anchor points that one can form to become attached to the media in question

For example, when I was reading Dungeon Meshi, I ended up reading all 90+ chapters in the span of three days; Dungeon Meshi is made up of a lot of small arcs, each lasting only a few chapters, and I ended up reading all of them in the same context (sitting on my couch at around the same time of day) with minimal exposure to outside factors (other readers, sharing what I was doing with my family or friends, etc.)

Aside from key moments, like those that were particularly funny ("an exact duplicate...?") or particularly emotionally impactful (the ancient magic, Senshi's youth, post-Dungeon Rabbits, etc.), I feel like I couldn't really relay the events of the story to someone else without missing a lot of the best bits because, again, by binging them I ended up mashing all of the events together in my mind. I didn't even end up reading it at a particularly noteworthy time in my own life, so reading it so quickly meant that it didn't end up connecting to my personal life either

Compare to say, One Piece, which I hadn't actually read in its entirety until Gear 4th was revealed; I realized that the significance of this moment may have been lost on me, so I decided that this would be a good time for me to fill in any of the gaps in my knowledge (i.e. Davy Back, Skypiea, Water 7, etc.) and read the full-color version

At just shy of 800 chapters at the time, this process took me approximately three weeks; some chapters I read lying on my bed, some I read sitting in a chair, some I read during breaks in college. Some I read while listening to Three Days Grace, some while listening to 10 Years, some while listening to Rise Against

Even though I was binging One Piece, the sheer amount of time it took me to actually do so ended up giving me a ton of opportunities to create anchors; I remember different contexts, outside conversations, and most importantly, the impacts that they had on me

Rereading Punk Hazard at the time was definitely the highlight, as it altered not only my reading experience but my involvement in the fandom and just generally how I lived my life. Because I was reminded of Monet, I started looking into the theories surrounding her, which led to me looking into other theories and finding forums like Oro Jackson. Monet herself became the ultimate anchor point for me, as she retroactively became the frame of reference that I have for my entire One Piece experience

Reading One Piece took so long that it ended up being a defining segment of my life in and of itself, whereas the time spent reading Dungeon Meshi was so small that it barely registers as a single event, despite the fact that I think it's extremely high quality and a story I highly recommend

It's like when you're studying for an exam - you can't just cram the night before, you'll wear your brain out and only really remember the first and last things you read particularly clearly; but if you space it out and give yourself time to rest, you'll have multiple beginnings and endings that you'll remember a lot better than you would have otherwise, both because they're each their own isolated incident that you can think back to while also giving yourself enough time to recover

So when you're consuming a new piece of media that you've really wanted to get into but you were too late for the live updates, please consider regulating your experience. Limit yourself to 10 chapters a day, or one arc per day, or whatever's the most conducive to that particular medium. Just resist the temptation of "just one more, it's so good and I've got time for it"

You may have the time for it, but like eating a bag of candy, you're going to end up overdoing it and regretting it because A) you don't feel as good as you would have otherwise and B) now you don't have it when you want it later

#media consumption #media #dungeon meshi #one piece #monet #harpy monet

[neverluckygoldfish]

52 -

The past two months have felt like a blur, stuck in a vicious cycle of relapse, recovery, relapse, recovery, and so on.

It’s been really fucking tough. I’ve felt like a zombie. Sometimes it feels like this is all life is, a weary merry-go-round until we die.

But after falling down 800 times and still getting back up on that 801st try - I’m in a much better place.

And I’m not beating myself up about it. Shit happens, we fall down. Sometimes we fall down and stay down because we’re so fucking tired of having to get back up.

I watched a looootttt of movies with happy endings as a kid. I did a lot of things alone and I never really noticed how much that influenced my way of thinking and my approach to life. I guess that’s where I started to believe that I had to live two lives. Because who I really am - my family didn’t like. As a woman of color, of immigrant parents, and growing up in a predominantly white neighborhood - I never felt like I found my place. I didn’t belong at home and I definitely didn’t belong in the outside world.

So we take that first drink or the first hit to forget we feel that way inside. And we keep drinking and using to keep forgetting.

And it’s where I started to believe that one day everything will magically work out so I just have to keep holding on to be saved.

I’ve spent so much time ignoring my body that trying to be present in it now, as an adult, makes me feel like a fearful little kid. Anxiety feels scary because I never learned how to manage it.

Ignore all the problems until you’re almost 30 and have a bunch of substance abuse issues and no one to turn to because you can’t trust the people who were supposed to care for you.

I’m just so damn tired of caring. Caring what people think - am I being nice and kind and do they feel heard and god forbid any one ever thinks I have ill intentions….

So yeah, my attitude lately is to block out the noise & do whatever I want to do. Whatever I know is truly good for my soul.

So I started a weaving again and have made some yummy food and am getting in a lot of snuggles with my dog. Also I listen to new music and take in the sunset. I take a long bath and put on my expensive lotion that’s saved for a special occasion because every day is a special occasion now that I am CHOOSING to be alive.

I realized I like having little projects. So I’ve been assigning myself shit to try because I’m interested in it. And that’s enough of a reason for me.

Isn’t the whole point of life to experience? And when you boil it down to that core, what really separates us from each other if we are all in it for the experience?

Am I sounding crazy?? Because I‘be never felt more enlightened and grounded in my sense of things.

Holy shit, it all makes sense now.

Or maybe this is all just one psychotic episode waiting to break loose. Lol. Hopefully not.

I’ve decided I don’t need some big overarching life goal - that I’m totally fine with going with the flow. I don’t need to have all the answers. In fact, forcing myself to think that way has actually cemented this “not good enough” belief.

Because when I think back as a kid and getting lost in the present - I was happy. I used to get lost in entertaining myself for hours. And the world (or my world) told me that was wrong. I wasn’t doing it correctly.

But I’m fine the way I am. You know? Like imagine if we could roll the tape back to before we ever started to hate ourselves or constantly try to “fix” our lives - how did we approach the world before everything was clouded by this inherent sense of “not good enough”.

It’s kind of jarring to realize that people don’t automatically think and know the worst parts of me and judge me by it.

It’s kind of jarring to realize that nobody really is that bothered by me. I’m feeling okay taking up my little space in the world.

I’m ready to care for that little girl who has felt so scared and uncomfortable all these years.

In some ways, I’ve never felt more free.

#self love #higher self #mental health #healing #recovery #sobriety #healing journey #addiction recovery #spiritual growth #alcoholism #depression recovery #self improvement #inner peace #nurture your inner child

[talkshitgetcrit]

above us only sky / Aemond Targaryen x Allyria Dayne (OFC)

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Hi there - this is the first fanfic I’m posting anywhere online since a break that lasted roughly three years. English isn’t my first language. Also, in this chapter Aemond and the OFC don’t even meet yet. Idk, I have a good feeling about this. Maybe you would still like to give it a read?

Summary: A historian stumbles over a lost record of the ‘Dance of Dragons’, aka the Targaryen civil war. He excitedly tells his boss about it. We get to see the first part of those records, set in 128 AC, a few months prior to Viserys’s death and the events of episode 8 of HotD. Aemond attends a family meeting.

Warnings: Slight fat phobia at one point, mention of NSFW themes, canon-typical violence later on.

Words: 2,8k

I have a lot more to say, but I promised myself I will keep it short. So I will leave you to it, and keep my comments till the end.

To the honored Archmaester of the Citadel,

And my good friend and fellow scholar –

Dear Perestan,

Often have we discussed the history of house Targaryen, and the three colorful and turbulent centuries spent under their reign.

You know me to be a true scholar, determined to pass on the most accurate version of events, and therefore always cautious not to rely too much on any biased source, be it an overly piteous septon, a certain court fool who could have done with a bit more piety in his life, or an old and withered bearer of the maesters’ chain, much like ourselves. I am a scholar, and I do my best to only tell of what is true – I must plead with you to keep this in mind while you study the transcripts of my most recent source, for otherwise it must sound all too much like hogwash and old women’s tales.

But from all I know, this is the most truthful retelling regarding the fates of Aemond Targaryen and one of the women – no, I cannot say it otherwise; the woman in his life. It holds little bearing for the overall history of Westeros, but it shall be answering some questions we have long asked ourselves. Inconsequential as it may be, since stumbling across this little booklet in the dusty depths of the Starfall library, I find myself returning to my research with renewed vigor every morning.

I ask you, dear friend; if even we, as life-long students of the Dance, could be so blind, what other tales and truths may rest in other libraries strewn across the continent?Mayhaps another maester in another time will unearth those. For now, the both of us have to be content with some new knowledge regarding the tale of Aemond One Eye and Allyria, the Sunken Star of Dayne.

Your good friend,

Yandel

From The Diary of Allyria Dayne:

Today I saw my first dragon. We had finished our morning meal and were about to depart, when we all heard it – a strange noise in the distance, at first like the cry of a rooster, a piercing, solitary note, before it developed into a full roar.

I have never heard anything like it – no wounded boar or stag, not even a cornered mountain lion can scream like that.

It died down again after some moments, and we all were silent.

Servants and guards alike stopped in their steps for a breath of time, just like the horses and birds and beasts of the forest.

It was a bit like we were all children, each waiting to be coddled and told this was nothing to worry about.

Though of course, no words like those were said.

The animals seemed to shake off their stupor a moment earlier than us – horses neighing and thrashing around, and suddenly the sky was dark with swarms of birds, each sounding their own alarm as they made their exit.

I was looking up at that storm of wings and fathers, so I was among those who actually saw the dragon.

Our tross is composed of many riders, wheelhouses and even city guards at this point, and yet wherever they stood today, they all were touched by the shadow of the giant beast's wings.

For just a moment I saw it in its entirety; a dark outline against the bright morning sky, terrible and mighty. I wish I could describe it more closely, but the next moment it was already gone, like a bad dream in the morning sun, so neither I nor anyone else got a good look at it.

But the chaos in the camp remained – and weirdly enough everybody immediately got to work to set things straight again, without even losing a word about the dragon.

Chests had spilled their precious cargo over the rotting leaves, along with fallen crates full of provisions. One of Lady Fowler’s court dresses is stained with mead now, and it smells like it, too. One of my nephews cut his hand on some broken pottery while he fell, and there was plenty of crying, snot and blood and dirt all mixing on little reddened face.

He was the one who asked it, too:

“What was that, mother?”

And just like that, the spell of silence over the whole company seemed suddenly broken.

CIty guards were cursing the dragon, and so we learned its name – her name.

Vhagar.

“My old nan used to tell tales of Balerion, the black dread, but I can’t think he could have been much worse than that bronze beast”, I heard one of them say, and another told one of our guards:

“They used to fly out only over Blackwater Bay, where they would disturb no one but the fishes. Out to Dragonstone and back, and it only took one ring of the bell, or maybe two,”

His eyes were shining when he said it, as if what he really wished to say was:

‘They terrorize us small folk, us ground-dwellers, but I would not find it all that bad, if only I was one of them.’

I asked him ‘why do they come here now?’, and for a moment he looked at me all gruff under the rim of his helmet and over his beard.

“Fought with each other, m’lady. Or so they say. So one half stay on Dragonstone now, and the other here, and avoid each other like the plague, that they do.”

He snorted and spit out while I was still trying to make sense of this.

“The dragons?”, one of our guardsmen asked him, and he looked confused.

“The dragons were the one who fought?”

The city guard laughed. “Aye, you could say so. Dragons they do call ‘em… Nah, lad, I’m talking about the Targaryens. Rhaenyra and her black lot on the ‘Stone, and in King’s Landing we have our Greens.”

He probably could tell he was not making much sense to us and fell silent. Lady Fowler called for me then, and I bid them goodbye, and as I left I only heard some more talk of princes and dragons and that we were lucky to have none of that down in Dorne.

I’m not much of a believer, but in terms of bad omens it does not get much worse than that, I suppose.

Vaghar, the scourge of Starfall, they call her at home, – though I assume a beast like that , nearly 200 years old, gets called ‘scourge of’ in a hundred and one places.

And this very same dragon is the first I see of King’s Landing. This morning, we were 5 days from the city, and this evening as I write this it’s five days, still.

An axis on the Fawnton’s wheelhouse broke, and by the time it was fixed it was nearly turning dark.

I must admit, at least to me there is something good to it, too; Soren wants to ride ahead with some men, maybe to hunt, maybe to stock up on provisions, and Lady Fowler has allowed me to come with.

I think I’m a bit of a disappointment to her – not another daughter to adorn her happy, pretty family, but a thorn in her side.

She disagreed when I found the courage to ask her about it last week.

“You come after your mother, Allyria. Maybe not in looks, but your spirit is all the same. And that is just fine with me. I must confess, more than once I have almost called you by her name, too.”

I don’t remember my mother as well as I wish I could, but tonight I miss her terribly. I miss home, and grandfather, and my little brother. But above all, both those living and dead, I miss Raydan.

And that is what drives me forward. I still believe that the only way to get justice for my big brother’s death leads through King’s Landing.

Aemond

“You stink of dragon shit”, prince Aegon greeted his younger brother, before grabbing a maid that had tried to sneak past him unnoticed.

“What are you waiting for, girl? Get my brother a cup as well.” Then he let go and she hastened away, lips pressed shut and eyes blank.

Aemond stepped aside to let her through, looking after her as he pulled off his gloves.

“Watered down”, he reminded her, and the servant girl turned again, eyes widening a bit as she stared at his eyepatch and the scar, before she hastily curtsied and fled the room.

“You know I don’t”- “You don’t drink wine during the day, yes”, Aegon interrupted. “But I also know you usually crack during these nice family gatherings, and then you can even be fun to be around”.

He grinned, and Aemond found himself grinning back. He and Aegon had not much in common – but they were family. The blood of the dragon. The True Blood, as their mother had hammered in, time and time again, from the moment she deemed them old enough.

For Aemond, that time had come a bit earlier. On dragon wings, and with a blade and searing pain.

There was that phantom itch under his eyepatch again, and he balled his hand shut to keep himself from scratching at it.

He had told them, back then, that he deemed it a fair trade – an eye for the biggest dragon alive.

Nowadays he thought it more than fair – what was an eye lost, for the insight he had gained?

Otherwise he might have grown up as spoilt and unfocused as Aegon.

The doors opened again and their mother Alicent entered, along with their sister Helaena and their grandfather Otto Hightower, followed by Sir Criston of the Kingsguard.

“You may leave”, his mother told the other two guards who had been waiting in the shadows like pale silver ghosts.

They left, and a moment before the doors closed, the servant girl entered, carrying the cup of wine for Aemond, keeping her gaze on his shoes and fleeing from the room the second he had taken it from her.

He was not much of a gambler, but he was willing to bet his eye – or maybe one of his brother’s eyes – she had waited for the queen to arrive.

In his mother’s presence Aegon would not dare to touch them, the servant girls all knew that.

They all sat down at the table, and Aemond did his best to follow along as his mother and grandfather recollected the events at court this week; Which ones of their highborn sheeps, always flocking to the throne had died, had given birth, would soon marry. Who came and went, and what had happened elsewhere in the realm.

Aemond paid little mind to it – there was only one family in this realm he cared about, only one that really mattered.

The rest of them were just sheep, no matter if they called themselves nameless peasant, son of a long line of nameless peasants, or Lannisters or Tully or Baratheon.

His family had dragons, and dragons ate sheep, whether they walked on four feet or two.

Alicent maybe was a Targaryen in name, but in name only. She would never understand, for she had never seen King’s Landing and all of Westeros shrink beneath as you rose up into the sky, until even the mightiest stronghold looked like you could squash it with your thumb.

And so she chose to bore him and his siblings with the fates of their people.

“Then there is the arrival of Lord and Lady Fowler later this week. They bring some other Dornish nobles with them – a son of the Yronwoods, and a lady of the Daynes” – “Sweetstar Dayne?”, Aegon interrupted.

Alicent frowned, looking down at the raven message in her hands again.

“Sweetstar?”, Haelena asked. “Do they call her that because she is nice?”

Aegon grinned. “No, because she’s fat.”

Aemond choked on his wine.

“Aegon!” Alicent's voice cracked sharp as a dragon whip.

Helaena flinched at the loud noise, as she usually did.

Otto cleared his throat.

“It’s not Lysa Dayne, and not one of her daughters, either. Just a girl from a minor family branch they want to marry off. Ellyn, Alana, something like that.”

“Why?” Aegon asked.

Aemond began to wonder if he was dragging this out on purpose, to taunt their mother or simply to steal everybody’s time.

Maybe his brother had nothing to do but drink and whore himself into an early grave, but Aemond himself had other plans – for this afternoon, and life in general.

“Family died of Spring Fever. Or was it Dornish Cold? I’m not sure, though Lysa and Aspin Dayne sent a letter to inform us – something her surviving relatives always neglect, even though the Crown has an interest and a right to know what is going on in any keep in the realm, even if it’s just an inconsequential sheep shack with a wooden palisade and a handful men to it’s banner.”

Aemond had closed his eye and had barely listened, but that seemed like a good time to interrupt his grandfather.

“Shall we discuss something that actually matters instead? Is it true Rhaenyra is pregnant? Again?”

Otto and Alicent shared a glance.

“We have not had a raven carrying such news yet”, Alicent then stiffly replied.

“Strange. It is all the keep seems to talk about these days.”

Aemond leaned forwards in his chair. “Should the crown wish I could ride to Dragonstone, find out if there is any truth to these rumors.”

“The crown wants you and Vhagar to stay here. To serve. By your brother’s side.”

“And father’s”, Haelena added. No one paid her any mind, except Aegon who rolled his eyes about his sister-wife.

Aemond was not ready to back down.

He would follow his mother’s and grandfather’s wishes, but it could not hurt to remind them once in a while he could do more than fight on the training grounds, and Vaghar could do more than shit and feed and sleep.

“We might actually be of better use elsewhere. I don’t know if you noticed, mother, but neither I nor Vhagar particularly care for council meetings or dances.”

Aegon snickered.

“Imagine, though. Take mother’s seat in the council, and have Vhagar look on through the window, and maybe then all those little lordlings would learn to hold their tongues.”

Alicent looked at Aemond, as if she had not even heard her other son’s words. Then, suddenly she reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Your time will come, and once it does, you might wish for slow times like these to return. Use this time to prepare. Do not squander it-“ Finally, she took her eyes off him, Hightower-brown eyes meeting two Targaryen-lilac ones instead.

Aegon lowered his head in faux-acceptance, though Aemond was sure his brother had probably not been listening and certainly did not care.

Mother turned back to him again, and Aemond evenly met her gaze.

“And you, Aemond… do not squander it by forgetting to live. There is a whole world outside the dragons pit and training grounds, and in time you shall find something you enjoy in it.”

Aemond felt his lips stretch into a sour, ironic smile.

Dear mother. How could she understand that the rest of the world only saw a missing eye and the rider of Vaghar, death-bringer and city-burner, where she saw her darling son?

The eyepatch meant the high-born ladies did not scream or faint when they saw him, but none of them could stand to even look at him for long.

That did not mean he didn’t know what the world had to offer – if you had the coin to pay for it, and as a son of the crown, his pockets were deep. Music and booze and women, pretty girls in the houses along the streets of silk, who would try not to wince when they looked at him, who always preferred if he took them from behind.

“Go to dragonstone. If you must.”

For a moment, he was speechless as he looked first at her, then at his grandfather and brother, before he slowly rose off his seat.

“But know that I ask you not to. You have mended yourself into this family’s sword and shield over the years. But even the sharpest blade can fail when used in the wrong way.”

So she would let him go, and grandfather too, judging from the lack of protest. He considered it for a few moments, before he slowly sat down again. His mother had said it, and in his heart of hearts he knew it to be true: Now was not the time. Not yet.

Aemond sat down again.

“No, mother. I shall stay and listen.”

Alicent returned to her notes about taxes and Tyrells and the king’s name-day tournament, and Aemond did his best to listen, though soon he found himself wondering if that afternoon, he should try to fight not one, but two men of the Kingsguard during practice.

End of Part one

A/N: Hm. Would honestly be kind of surprised if anybody makes it till here. Well, just in case you did: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! While you read it, it probably became clear WHY this thing needed some sort of prologue - I spent way too much time on the ‘a song of ice and fire’ wiki and set myself the goal to write a story that is mostly canon-compliant. The great thing about Westeros is that it is huge. There are hundreds of noble families where for entire centuries we don’t know what they were up to. The terrible thing about Westeros is that it is awfully detailed, and you first have to fine a corner where your story can bloom. Is it entirely canon-compliant? Definitely not. You would probably have to be a hardcore fan to point out most of the discrepancies.

The other reason I formatted the story like this is, that this story lives somewhere on the middle ground between the TV show and the book, and the comments from the historians were some of my favorite parts about the book.

Last but not least: Please hit me up if you like Aemond, or just HotD in general, and you want to talk about it! Let me know if you like my writing, or if there is something you would like me to write about Aemond (or some of the other characters on the show, this is very much not a one way street!). I’m honestly just excited about being able to return to Westeros again, and I’m excited to share my excitement with other people - and because I am very excited, I will overuse the tagging system a bit, to get this baby *slaps roof of this fic* out there. Is this considered very rude? Idk. Let me know?

#prince aemond #aemond targaryen #HotD #hotd fic #aemond x oc #aemond fic #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #house of the dragon #aemond one shot #hotd one shot

[wings-of-ink]

hello!! i discovered your story yesterday and i'm already in love, it's so well written i cried twice for poor MC who keeps suffering, i love it (and i love oswin and the dads!! best dads!!!)

i have a hard time imagining the mounts though, it's kinda hard for me to imagine anything or anyone tbh lol, so i wanted to ask if you had any pictures of the horses/mule you described? i love the mule and chessy, they're adorable it took me so long to choose

oh and 2nd question before i forget: english isn't my first language sorry, could you explain the difference between curvy and voluptuous in the body type choice?

have a good day/night!

Hello Anon! Thank you so much for your kind words, they've made my day very bright! I'm glad you felt that connection with your MC as well.

I can help with the mounts, I do have photos for the references I used. Unfortunately, I seem to have lost my original reference for Oswin's horse, but I found one that is similar.

Chessy and Mule might be polar opposites too, so I can see why it would be hard to choose between them! You'll get to see bits of your chosen mount's personality as you travel as well. ^_^

Pictures and info and the answer to your second question are below the cut:

The one below is what Chessy would look like. Her color is a bit lighter I think, but this is close. She's based on Arabian horses.

The one below here is what Eb would look like. The only difference is that the story's version has a full white star on the forehead. He's based on the Mustang.

Below is Bay Bay, based on various breeds of draft horses. The picture shows a breed called Gypsy Vanner. Bay bay is colored like this, but is actually bigger than this breed typically is.

And, of course, last but not least of the MC's mount options is Mule - based on mules, lol:

And this finally, this one is about what Oswin's mare, Flit looks like. She's based on the American Paint Horse:

As for your second question... I included both curvy and voluptuous as options as some people interpretation differs a lot, and I wanted to leave it up to that reader's interpretation more than anything. But I will provide you with what comes to my mind with these words.

Personally, I would say curvy is a body that has rounder hips/rear with a chest/upper body that are about same size as each other. With curvy, you may see a slightly narrower waist as well. Perhaps you could say a thick "hourglass" shape - top and bottom are sized the same.

I, personally, would say voluptuous is similar, but the proportions are different than curvy - not as even and perhaps more full. You may have a much thicker rear with this type, and/or a much more endowed chest area. Maybe the thighs are thicker instead. This may be "pear" shaped or "apple" shaped too.

Hope that helps a bit!

Thank you so much for the questions! I was pleased that I got to show off the mounts a bit more. I spent probably too long thinking about them, lol.

#if wip #twine if #twine wip #interactive novel #asks #if game #interactive fiction #god cursed if #gc mounts

[epickiya722]

https://www.tumblr.com/epickiya722/738825822216044544?source=share

megumiiiiiiiii from jjk !!!!!!

<3333333333333333333333

I had no idea what this was for! 😆

My first impression: Megumi actually was the first character to get me to laugh. His introduction scene of him frantically checking that shed and then calling Gojo and telling him he was gonna punch him, yeah. That had me. I knew I was gonna like him.

My impression now: Again, I didn't hate Megumi during the first season. He may not be my number 1, but he is damn sure a favorite character.

Favorite thing about that character: To me, Megumi is a good balance of a character who's aloof but not too aloof. He's a shadow type, but he's not all about being dark and gloomy. He's transparent about his morals, but he doesn't go as far as to trying to oppose someone like Yuji every single time. Gege could have easily made him like the "bitter rival", but I'm glad he's not.

Least favorite thing: I hate how the fandom treats him sometimes, I really do. Like, most says he's too grumpy (even though at most, he's actually just real chill and not frowning, he had smiled, folks). There's the jokes with how quick he is to end it all, which makes me uncomfortable, it does. (Spoiler coming) Calling him a "bitch" and "bum" because he lost the will to fight. Hello, he literally witnessed the deaths of people who has been in his life since forever? He spent his birthday possessed by Sukuna. I would be like him, too! Honestly, a lot of people in fandoms takes thing at face value. They don't just open their eyes and mind and really take in the story and characters.

Favorite line/scene: Gonna be a spoiler here! But I love how later Megumi gets scenes where he travels in the shadows. Like, when he ambushed those guys during the time he and Yuji went to go talk to Kinji. And his fight with Reggie. Also, funniest Megumi like for me is the delivery of "Oh, it's like that?!" when he realizes what Nobara was talking about referring to Yuko. Like, what was up with that, Megumi?

Favorite interaction that character has with another: It's gonna be unfair to say the interactions he has with Yuji, wouldn't it? But those are my favorite interactions, but I also am going to say with Nobara, too. Like, they have grown to be my favorite anime trio because they just vibe so well with each other. I JUST WANT THEM HAPPY!!

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: Maki and Mai. He has scenes with Maki, but I would like more and I wished there had been scenes with Mai. Those three have been through it with the Zenin clan.

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character: ... okay, Megumi actually doesn't remind me of anybody. Like, no one comes to mind at this moment for me. I know someone is probably reading this and going "Sasuke" but uh... we'll get to that later.

A headcanon about that character: I headcanon that Megumi likes light colors. Sometimes, he just likes a little color in his life, so he does wear other colors that aren't black. Hence his blue track suit. I feel like pink would grow to be his favorite color because of Yuji's hair color, who is like, sunshine personified. (Warm and inviting, but also dangerous.) He sees the color and is reminded how good of a person his friend is and how there's still some bit of good in the world.

A song that reminds of that character: Maybe it's the vibes, but Fujii Kaze's Shinunoga E-Wa gives me Megumi. Like, I feel like that would be a song on his playlist.

An unpopular opinion about that character: Just like with Nobara and Sakura, I very much have came to dislike the "Megumi is JJK's Sasuke". He's just not to me, I'm sorry. I think Megumi and I don't see Sasuke. The only similarities they have is being black haired boys. Like, I don't see Megumi trying to kill his older siblings. Trying to save her actually. He ain't trying to kill Itadori and he's not angry all the time, he's capable of being showing other emotions. Like... I just really came to hate the Naruto-JJK similarities. Like the series don't even feel the same story wise! Acting like Naruto is the only series that can have trio teams... like stoooop.

Favorite picture: Honestly, love it when it just goes "fuck it" and let's loose. He deserves it. Also, them lashes!!

Send Me a Character...

#kiya answers #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #jjk manga spoilers #jjk spoilers

[dont-talk-back-to-heapass]

Captainsona Picrew Time!!!

Here is, as promised, the big post with the taglist and shit. I made it in the form of an FAQ because idk how to do this lol.

What is this project?

I'm making a picrew (an avatar maker on the Picrew website) for In Space With Markiplier captainsonas! If you don't know what that means, go watch ISWM, I am begging you, it is so good. Ahem. Anyway, it'll have a lot of customization, from canonical outfits to lots of facial expressions to realistic and rainbow skin colors. I will be posting updates on the project, and taking input and suggestions, during the long, long, process of making it. This post is general info and an FAQ for the project and the process.

When will this be done?

To be honest, I don't know. I have a lot of stuff going on, and while I am really passionate about this project, it takes many many hours to make even one part of a picrew.

As of making this post, I've spent around nine hours on just the drawing, not including uploading and figuring out the actual Picrew side of things, and I only have the ears and head uploaded, with the mouths almost done but not even colored.

So it will take a while. However, I do plan to post it as a WIP when I have enough of it done to be somewhat usable.

What's the taglist for? How do I add or remove myself?

The taglist is a list of people that want to be tagged when I post updates about the picrew. (You can also follow #captainsona picrew, if you want to see them but don't want to be tagged.) It'll be at the bottom of each post about the project, under the cut.

To add or remove yourself, just let me know via ask, dm, comment, or tag!

What program/brush are you using?

I use Krita, a free art program, on my Windows Surface 8 and a brush called "d) Ink-3 Gpen" (the yellow pen one that's in the favorites by default). It's a square-ish brush that doesn't change opacity, so it's good for the clean, solid lines I want in my picrew.

How do I make suggestions?

You can drop suggestions in my ask box, or message me directly! (If it's in the tags or comments of a post, it may get lost.) Feel free to just chat with me, too!

Why are you doing X that way? Don't you know there's a way more efficient/standard/easy way to do it?

Nope, I don't! This is my first time making a picrew, my first time making a taglist, and my first time making such a big project. If you have any suggestions on how I can do any of the above better or easier, please do let me know.

(taglist under the cut)

Taglist (hopefully up-to-date)

@intellexual-asexual (as promised) @goldglitch @zephyrus77 @technologyvoid @nicenice7 @kaar-ne @lostglassguitars @happistar @hink12 @captain-m-faye @weird-hellsite @dimnomss @i-got-a-bad-feeling-about-this @god-tier-bastard @bluewolfangel @themanbehindurfather @calvin-kingofwhatever @worldtravelerbuff @kai-justis @backtothefuturefan88 @fennfruners @catonfence @i-need-a-real-username @yourthoughtsjim @the-fat-raccoon @inesdsleep @the-actor-you-love-to-hate @weirdmixofweirdness @flerpdederp-likes @captain-heebie-jeebie @starry-nightengale @soap-stains @abyssal-zone-stares-back @talander2can @sleeping-void @immyowengod @drops-ofmadness @valis-geese @miss-antivinny @matter-of-the-universe @survive0000 @just-4nother-ghost @rustychips @cursednevermore @ashofacrow @niconooo @justablix @hink12 @voidling-games

#captainsona picrew #dragonn talks #iswm #iswm captainsona #markiplier #picrew #pinned post #big project #long post #my picrew #taglist #tag list

[just-a-carrot]

Yo yo yo Carrot.

I did do research on character design a bit ago. I was just wondering if there were any specific tips/things you kept in mind while designing any of your characters. I have a general idea of where I'm heading but I figured it couldn't hurt to try. No need to push yourself though.

(Orlam has a white shirt because he's basic :). It's perfect character design. )

hhhhh... i can try 💦

behind the cut because this got long

i think the problem is i never have any specific things in mind. for the life of me i can't even think back to how i came up with any of the characters i've ever come up with. usually they are like a mish-mash inspiration of various ideas tumbling around in my head, often influenced heavily by sheer vibes and/or music i'm listening to and/or media i've consumed or images i've seen

for me i think the biggest thing i've noticed is that i develop characters incredibly slowly lol. like i have a really hard time jumping into a new story with new characters that i haven't spent a long time thinking about (i.e., literal years). they all start from like a small random kernel of an idea or inspiration and then they grow and develop as the rest of the story starts slowly turning into random scenes into my mind, and i continue to learn new things about the characters even while actively writing (i think i've said before but some of the biggest themes and plot points in OW that feel like core parts of the story i didn't even come up with until i was actively in the midst of writing it, like, post writing arc 1 and even arc 2; arc 4 in particular like i had not planned 80% of what happened in that arc until i was writing it laksjdfa)

and i feel like a big part of this is because i'm actually really bad at designing/developing characters at the drop of a hat and can only figure them out through long periods of thinking and writing

2018 vs 2023

2018 vs 2023

i first drew the OW characters in 2018, but i'd had the idea for the general story (arc 1) even before that. from what i can remember when trying to come up with what they'd look like, i would try to think about their vibes from their role in the story. iggy is somewhat soft, awkward, and anxious, so i guess my mind developed a somewhat nerdy disalarming look for him with kinda muted colors (we don't talk about the fact that his shirt/overshirt combo makes no sense laksdjfads). orlam i knew i wanted a kinda scraggly little guy with greasy hair (sooper sekrit never-before-heard!ow lore: i actually did originally design him with a ponytail but it changed to a rattail while working on arc 1)

i'm quite bad when it comes to fashion design in general so i often come up with fairly plain-looking outfits. but some of the things i like playing around with the most are things like height dynamics and color variety (i always try to use a diverse range of hair colors for instance, as i feel like it's one of the big things that can instantly differentiate characters in a group)

you can see this in easter too i guess:

admittedly with easter it was a bit different in that tho i had some mental images in my head of generally what i wanted the chars to look like, some of the details and choices got limited because i had to use a sprite generator someone had made to create the sprites for the game (because it was an RPG maker game and i wasn't good/still am not good at creating animated sprites). so their final designs were a bit of a mix between my original ideas and my ideas translated into sprite generator options, hence some of the... odd design choices lakjdfsd

going back even further to characters i designed for other stuff like novels and stories, though my art style was different back then i feel like a lot of the same types of design choices can perhaps be seen LOL:

also please enjoy this old old old old OLD carrot!art from 2005 of three chars i created as a child that i thought were the coolest things ever...

i feel like i've lost the plot here a little bit LKAJDSFLKADSF

though i guess this is simply because i can't really explain what my head does when it comes up with characters. i don't have any sort of formal training in character or game design. i do have an art degree but that was more formal stuff (and i was often told that my personal cartoon-esque style of artwork and the stuff i drew in my sketchbooks was Not Creative). so i don't really have any set sort of guidelines or rules or even strategies that i use for coming up with characters. they tend to just kinda form over time in my mind according to my own aesthetics???? like i create characters that i would like to write and draw. i create groups of characters because i really really like group dynamics. i create characters with varying heights and body types and vibes. i create lots of short loud-mouth snarky asshole characters ldkajfsldkadlfafLDJFADFAD

if you have any more specific-type questions i can try to answer them but i think this might be the best i can do for just talking about my general mindset for characters... 💦

#ow: asks #game dev asks

[intrepidacious]

every dream gone

summary: After the events of Winter Soldier, Bucky slowly realizes just how much he lost after his fall.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: bucky being sad; vague mentions of brainwashing and a whole lot of guilt; don't look for a happy ending with this one folks (i'm sorry 🥲)

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i started writing this fic back in september and it took me until now to gather the emotional willpower to finish it. blame this song that inspired the whole thing.

masterlist | read on ao3

It took Bucky a while to remember you, after everything, but he did.

The first memory came back while he was on the run. He'd been in Europe for a while by then, sleeping in freight cars, never staying anywhere for longer than a week, trying to keep a low profile while both HYDRA and Steve were still frantically looking for him everywhere. Those early days were the worst.

He spent most of his time on trains and tried to figure out why he hated it so much.

Being in England calmed him a bit. It was nice getting used to hearing people speak English around him again, and not in a tone that commanded obedience.

He didn't have much to go off, just scattered memories that didn't quite seem to fit together. There was always something off about them, something like the taste of metal where it shouldn't be. This time, the fragments led him to a flea market.

There were only a handful of people dotted in between the stands, which was probably for the best. His long sleeves usually attracted some curious glances this late into July.

He didn't exactly have money to spare for knick-knacks or secondhand souvenirs, but his feet carried him straight to one stand in particular, without him even realizing. His fingertips grazed along the spines of old paperbacks that were lined up like soldiers, but Bucky didn't spare them more than a glance.

He stopped at the next table over, a small frown on his face.

"Look at all those colors, Buck!"

Pastels and acrylics, steel nib fountain pens and piles of hand-bound sketchbooks. The woman selling them looked up from her novel when he didn't move for a whole minute, his eyes fixed on the notebooks.

"You can pick 'em up if you can't decide, you know," she said.

He nodded, blinked, almost embarrassed at the way his fingers shook as he picked up one of the books. It was bound in blue linen, and the deckle edged pages stuck to his gloves.

"You draw?" the woman asked, in a way that was more politeness than actual interest.

"My friend did," Bucky found himself saying.

Hands covered in charcoal. The smell of paper and something else.

"How dare you!" A laugh, carelessly loud and graceless. The most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. "My nose looks nothing like that!"

The memory passed through him softly, almost dreamlike, and for a second, he didn't know whether he wanted to cry or scream. He did neither.

The woman was looking at him strangely, but she accepted the note he handed her for the sketchbook, even though it wasn't Sterling.

"Young man," she called after him, and he almost wanted to laugh. "You're gonna need this, too." And she handed him a pen, as if she'd known, as if there was something in his face that told her how lost he felt.

It was cheap, surely, but it was also the first gift he'd gotten in decades, and so he kept it in his chest pocket. Right above his heart.

***

The next memory came not too long after that.

He was sitting in a rundown coffee shop in Edinburgh, barely paying attention to the room around him while he tried putting his past onto the page. The book was filling so achingly slowly it made him want to throw it against a wall most days.

A good chunk of it was about Steve.

Bucky supposed that was to be expected, because he'd been the one to first make him remember, and because it was Steve.

So page after page was detailing pneumonias and ill-fitting jackets and bruised knuckles in Bucky's narrow writing, trying to piece together a life that should have stayed his. It was desperate work, futile work most days, but he tried anyway.

And then the café owner switched stations on the old, dusty radio in the corner, and there was the song.

It took only a couple of notes until the images struck like lightning.

Swinging skirts and heels clacking on wooden floors. The smell of sweat and hairspray and something else. Something like May bells.

"You're quite good at this, aren't you?" Hands tightening around his neck in the most pleasant embrace.

"Only as good as my partner."

How could a simple hum sound so content? "And I ain't exactly called Rogers, either. But you’re the one leading."

"And thank God for both."

A dip, a scream. And that laugh again. He wanted to bottle it up and get drunk on it for the rest of eternity.

When the song ended, Bucky was shaking with it. He'd broken the pen in his hand, and the dark ink smeared all over his palm like black blood.

He didn’t do so well with presents these days.

***

He remembered your name when he heard a mother call out for her child in a park and it stopped him in his tracks because the corners of his mouth started to lift on their own accord. It was like you were muscle memory, your name so deeply ingrained that his body remembered you long before his mind could catch up.

And your name.

Whispered in darkened picture theaters until your skin prickled with goosebumps, shouted across dance halls sweltering with heat, spoken with reverence on dizzying fair rides. Bucky’d said it again, and again, and again, and for so long he couldn’t think of anything sweeter than the taste of it on his tongue.

He tried it out now, and it came out like ash.

The sound of his name on your lips came to him only hours later, because he kept prodding at that part of his mind that kept you hidden from him, kept trying to unlock the gate to his forgotten memories until finally it slid open an inch.

He was trying to make dinner.

He’d not had a warm meal for weeks at that point, but the past few days had been good and he’d bought vanilla extract for pancakes. The sugary smell filled his tiny apartment, but he didn’t even notice at first, not until he opened the window and then turned back to the stove.

“Bucky.”

Like a breath of air that echoed from deep within until it reached him and left him shaken.

He said your name again, called it into the silence of the room. It didn’t answer him.

He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than going crazy, and so he breathed in again.

“James! It’s almost nine, we’re gonna be late.” Nails drumming against the wood of a dresser. You’d painted it with flowers, purple and blue and yellow. Beautiful.

“And whose fault is that, sweetheart?”

His fingers wrapping around your waist, pulling you close, so young, so human. Your perfume, soft and lingering mist-like between you, and something else. Something like Christmas morning.

Smiles had come so easy to him back then. “I’ve been sittin’ by the door for a good twenty minutes now, waitin’ anxiously for you to finish up.”

“If you’re getting so anxious over me, you needn’t have waited, Buck.”

“I’d wait my whole life if it went you’re comin’ down the stairs, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t noticed he’d slid to the floor, trembling.

The pancakes burned.

***

Your name was so much and yet so little at the same time.

Bucky tried finding any record of you, in libraries, newspaper archives, even using a computer once he figured out how to go online. But you’d been a normal girl, a lovely, perfect, beautiful, normal girl. That had never been enough for the history books.

He had to put you together again himself, slowly. The smallest details took him months.

You would always get holes in your tights and scold him for prodding at them. You used to hate getting your picture taken, but you would benignly let Steve draw you as long as he kept you entertained. You’d liked dancing, and flowers, and sweet things, and somehow, inexplicably, you’d liked him.

“You are the worst date I’ve ever had.”

The taste of whipped cream and chocolate on your lips, and the feeling of your fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck. That little sound at the back of your throat.

“You were saying, sweetheart?”

Bucky’s hand balled into a fist. It wasn’t fair.

The worst part was that you were barely more than the memory of a beautiful dream, hazy and blurred. He was well aware he didn’t deserve good things anymore, but these faint half-images collecting in his brain were nothing short of cruel.

"I can't remember her face,” he told the only person who might have understood, because he himself didn’t. “Why can I remember every single person that I had to ...” He trailed off, dragging his hand over his face. “And yet I can't remember her face?"

Steve's hand was on his shoulder, a gesture that should feel comforting in its familiarity. Instead, Bucky had never felt this small in his own skin.

Wrong shoulder.

"I'll see what I can do," Steve said calmly, but there was a helplessness in his voice that made Bucky’s stomach churn.

It wasn’t supposed to spill out of his own eyes.

***

You would have loved Wakandan sunsets.

They were richer, more colorful than the ones Bucky remembered, but maybe that didn’t actually mean much. The beautiful things had a habit of evading him.

Sometimes, he was selfish enough to wish it had stayed that way, because at least in forgetting, he hadn’t known to miss anything at all. Years and decades worth of lack came crashing through to drown him now, more and more frequent, as if they were trying to make up for lost time. Or mocking him.

But you would have loved the sunsets, and so he tried to love them, too, just like he was always meant to do.

“Do you have to leave already?”

A sniff, a petulant sigh, his limbs heavy and warm, but resolve unwavering. He’d fancied himself so smart, then. “You know I do.”

Daybreak kisses that tasted contently like sleep. Slowly untangling his fingers from yours, something cool grazing them.

Steve brought back a small package, and that was all that was left to find of the part of the past that he’d shared with you. A thin stack of official papers, the dog tags he’d worn in Austria, and a ring.

Bucky sat down.

He knew, rationally, that you were long gone even before he saw the official documents. He’d never expected you to wait for him when it had always been the other way around. Still, to read it so plainly was like his insides were being twisted into the tightest knot, and his heart, his carefully guarded heart that had only just started to remember its own rhythm stuttered painfully. Like it was sick of this whole dance, the waiting, the longing for something so out of reach. So lost to time.

He didn’t want this, any of this, but there was nothing he could do but stare and wait for his vision to clear.

“There’s something else,” Steve said, his voice far away like he’d been wrapped in cotton. “Do you remember the house?”

A rickety porch swing and a picket fence that needed bleaching. Thorny rose bushes blooming in all your favorite colors. Two spare rooms.

“Are we going to be hostin’ a lot of guests, then?” That smug little curl of your lip he liked to kiss.

“I hope not.” Arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. Always the same gesture, as familiar as the smell. Vanilla and peonies, and something else. “We could find a more permanent use, don’t you think?”

“She kept it. It’s still there.”

Bucky traced the letters of your name with his thumb as if somehow, somewhere, you might have felt the familiar caress. It looked lonely there, all on its own.

Maybe it was lucky that he’d long run out of screams, because he might have never stopped.

“Thank you,” he said, and even though it didn’t seem sufficient, Steve nodded.

Bucky threaded your ring onto the chain of his dog tags and closed it around his neck before he hid them under his vest, the metal like a ghostly touch over his heart.

***

It took Bucky five more years to make it back to New York. Well. Five more years passed.

He’d lost so many of them it didn’t even seem to matter at this point.

The slip of paper had been kept inside an envelope he’d found between the books in Steve’s apartment, waiting for him, just like he’d said it would. At least some things were still there.

The bus drive took an eternity, but his feet found their way on their own accord. They’d known it well, once, after all.

He thought the hardest part would be to turn around the final corner and see it again, but that wasn’t it. He’d dreaded the drawn shades, the overgrown garden, the withered flowers, the faded paint on the front door. Dreading things made them easier to bare, sometimes, he’d learned that.

No, the hardest part was seeing the sign. Cottage for sale.

And the quiet.

The mailbox was battered from decades of wind and weather, but underneath the rust he could still see the remnants of your handprint, cracked golden yellow on the dark metal. It disappeared under his vibranium fingers.

“See? We left our mark now. We have to stay here forever.”

He found the key still inside. He used to scold you for leaving it so recklessly, but you kept losing every spare you got made, and besides, times were different, then. You knew the neighbors. So did he.

“Don’t forget, it’s Mrs Hopper’s birthday on Wednesday, and you promised to mow her lawn.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“And the Sawyers asked if you could take a look at their furnace, because it’s been acting up.”

“You’d think they’d hire a professional for that sorta thing.”

“Maybe you’re just nicer to look at.”

The plot next door had been leveled. The curtains in all the other houses were drawn, even though it was a lovely spring evening.

Bucky’s steps were heavy as he climbed the steps to the red front door. It was like he could hear whispers coming from all sides, his head pounding with the weight of something that was not quite there yet, not quite clear, not quite something.

The key slid into the lock.

“Leave your shoes outside, Buck, you’ll track mud everywhere.”

He almost did.

The first step inside was like going through the looking glass and finding himself in a world so different, and yet so familiar. Because he didn’t recognize the painting on the wall, or the color of the cabinets, or the rug next to the stairs.

But there was that smell. Vanilla and peonies. Something like baking and spring, something like home.

He carefully pulled the door closed behind him, the floorboards softly creaking. Dust billowed.

And then more memories came rushing in, as if they'd been waiting for the moment he crossed the threshold.

"Ready?"

"Yes!" He could feel your cheeks lift in a smile and grinned as he slowly pulled his hands away from your eyes. Could feel the gasp that fell from your lips as you took in the sight in front of you.

"Do you like it?"

"Are you kidding me? I love it!"

“I love you.”

He thought he saw movement just out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned, it was only his own grave reflection staring back at him out of one of the dirty windows. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like the ghosts of the past were surrounding him.

“There you are,” they seemed to say. “What took you so long?”

“Just picking up something sweet for my best girl.”

“This is exactly why I’m gonna marry you.”

“Just that? Really? What about my other qualities?”

“Those I tolerate.”

The plates his ma had given you, the porcellain chipped with decades of use, stacked neatly in the cabinets, gathering dust. Your favorite brass pot was out next to the sink, as if you’d just left it there to dry, intending to use it again in a couple of hours.

In the living room, the horrible curtains your aunt had forced upon you had finally disappeared, and despite everything, Bucky could feel himself smile. The bookshelf was still overflowing.

“We’re gonna run out of space soon, you know that, right?”

“Well, build me a new shelf, then!”

Another promise he’d broken.

He had to go upstairs. He knew it, even though every single cell of his body was screaming at him not to go.

Seventeen steps. The second to last was the one that creaked.

Deciding which door to open first was like choosing his own hell. In the end, the house decided for him, because the wailing behind the one to the far right sounded so alive he almost bolted through the entrance.

It had been locked, and Bucky only realized why when it was already too late.

It was the most desolate room yet, cobwebbed and stale, furniture hidden underneath white linens. A dusty wooden mobile dangled from the ceiling, trembling as the house settled, casting eery shadows over the dirtied green walls.

“Aren’t you a bit overzealous there, love?” He dotted some green on your nose and you shrieked.

“Do you wanna be caught unawares?”

“As far as I know, there’s a bit of a preparation period involved.”

“Hm. Maybe we should just get a head start, then.”

He couldn’t bear it a second time, so he took a lung full of stale air and opened the bedroom door.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Everything smelled like you, had your loving touch on it, had been allowed to live alongside you for all this time when he hadn’t been. The wilted flowers in the vase by the window. A book on the nightstand, your bookmark tucked between the pages because you weren’t quite done with it yet.

You weren’t done yet.

A pair of reading glasses lay on top of it, and Bucky almost laughed because he couldn’t quite picture you wearing them, and then, suddenly, he realized he could picture you, and his hand reached out blindly because he remembered that it was there.

“You know I hate these things.”

He didn’t let go of your hand for a second. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t you want me to have something’a yours to keep me company?”

Your laugh, again, and again. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

The bed creaked softly when he sat down on its edge, the frame shaking in his grip, and hey. There you were.

There was your smile.

It seemed to echo, or maybe he only wished it did.

“I’ll be back so soon, you won’t even notice I’m gone, sweetheart.”

“You better.”

The way you looked at him. Like you really believed him when he told the both of you that everything was going to be fine. That you would be the lucky ones. The exception.

He hated himself for letting you hope, but maybe this was his punishment; to be the one left behind, despite everything.

“I’m sorry,” he must have said, or cried, or screamed, because the house repeated it back to him, over and over.

“I’m sorry.”

And then, there was nothing.

anyone else need a tissue?

thank you so much for reading!! if you liked this, please consider leaving a comment or a reblog, or just come scream at me in my inbox. to see the less heartbreaking rest of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications <3

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[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, if you want music, you can find that practically anywhere online. If you want a journey, try Colourmusic on for size. I promoted this group rather hard on my blog in 2022 because the initial reaction I got from posting their tunes wasn’t insignificant. I got hundreds of hits from Tumblrites just for posting their rare work, and I even had a synesthete on this platform tell me that one tune by them ‘tastes like citrus’. I spent so much time in 2022 firing arcs of fanboy spooge all over my hapless audience I swore I wouldn’t dare bring another post involving this group to Tumblr for a full year. Well, it’s been over a year and my desire to post more music by them has reached a fever pitch. If you’re looking for a far more in-depth view on this group, I have covered their tunes numerous times before. But for those looking for an abbreviated description of what this band brings to the table; all you need to know is that they’re a high concept indie rock group whose modus operandi is to incite the feeling, the sensation of a particular color. For each album, they invoke a new color. They started in 2008 with an orange album (F, Monday, Orange, February, Venus, Lunatic, 1 or 13) that was enthusiastic and energetic. Their second album and magnum opus, 2011's My _____ is Pink, was passionate and playful. They followed it up with a purple album (May You Marry Rich) that is appropriately lush and ambitious, and a blue album that very heavily took its inspiration from the actual element of water. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m a much larger fan of their pre-2015 work. I’m not even 100% sure if they’re trying to make music based on colors anymore. I’ve spent a lot of time listening to their post-2015 work in the last month and found their 2018 album Swimsuit to be tonally solid, but it was also a very personal and bleak affair that I didn’t necessarily immediately want to revisit for multifarious reasons. I found a decent portion of their ambient and at times upbeat 2021 album Thank Goodness Hell Is Easy To Get Into was a breath of fresh air… although they took a pretty hard nose-dive into stoner rock territory, and stoner rock just ain’t my cup of tea, folks. But not all is lost in their direction, as their most recent works still did their very best to tell a story complete with a rising action, a falling action, and a denouement. If you smash play on the video above, you will be introduced to the very first Colourmusic video I came across in about 2009 or so. These guys made some great and very underrated music videos just over a decade ago and before you say anything, you’re welcome, Tumblr. You’ll feel a smile stretching across your face as you realize *I too am a member of this captive audience*. It’s Tog from their pink album. Enjoy!

I just want to point out that the video I posted this week is just about the closest I can get to posting a bukkake porno without being a handed a well-deserved lifetime ban from Tumblr. If you want another of their awesome videos, click here and continue your videographic journey. And check out Colourmusic folks! They’re WAY underground, especially these days, and still phenomenal! Image source: https://alchetron.com/Colourmusic

#music video #music on tumblr #colourmusic #my _____ is pink #tog #oklahoma band #oklahoma sex rock #high concept indie rock #indie rock #indie #video #stoner rock #Ryan Hendrix #Nick Ley