#the amount of people shitting on new art is ridiculous

[txttletale]

Sorry if you posted about this before and I've missed it but are you arguing with anti-AI Art people (Specifically the ones deliberately ignoring or misrepresenting material facts) just on the basis that they're wrong? Or are you doing it to try to show that AI is going to be used anyway and they need to change the way they argue about it if they actually want to be productive with their goal of not having AI be harmful?

I suppose in truth I already seem to believe you're doing both at once, which is fine, but I guess what I'm really getting at is trying to prompt you for more of your own interpretation of the AI art discourse as a whole and how you feel about people calling you "Pro-AI" despise the fact that your economic beliefs inherently make you (from my very biased perspective) "more" "Anti-AI" than they are!

Sorry for the messy ask lol, you're just getting at a lot of thoughts I've been having trouble putting to words and want to see more!

yea i would absolutely describe my critiques of 'anti-AI' as coming from three separate but related places because there are three separate types of 'anti-AI art' talking points:

talking point type 1 is all the 'not real art / soullless / no effort' bullshit. i'm mostly critiquing these because they are fundamentally reactionary and profoundly silly and because i like talking about art and what art is and how it's made and shit.

type 2 is, to borrow a phrase from marx, "the economic shit". it's here that i think my critiques are more 'positive' than 'negative', as in, i think that these talking points are mostly coming from a reasonable place but are tactically misaimed -- my critiques here mostly amount to 'stop whining about midjourney and start unionizing your workplace because one of those will make a difference when AI comes for your job and the other won't"

type 3 is IP/copyright-brained petty-bourgeois mindset, arguments centering on ridiculously expansive concepts of 'theft' or 'plagiarism' and 'ownership'. they are superficially similar to type 2 arguments but instead of the fundamentally sympathetic and reasonable "i am worried i am going to be fired by my boss / no longer taken on by clients because of this new technology" they are instead arguing that they are either owed the hypothetical lost profits or royalties for every generated image. this is the type of argument i'm most vehemently against, because i think that all of these arguments essentially end in campaigning to strengthen copyright and IP law, something which i'm profoundly and fundamentally against.

sometimes people will make type 1 arguments when they fundamentally have type 2 concerns, but that just makes their type 2 concerns seem weaker and less worth taking seriously by association, which isn't good for us organized labour fans out there. but yeah these are all separate talking points -- i think i try to approach The Economic Shit with the 'you need to change how you think to achieve something productive' mindset, because of the three positions that's the one i have a fundamental political commonality and nominal shared goals with.

#ask #ai art

[helsensm]

I cannot hold it in anymore I am absolutely OBSESSED with your art and the way you draw Lao.

I also would like to inquire….. just perhaps… what are your top head-canons for him, and/or your opinions on popular ships for him/which ones you like?

No pressure!! I hope you are having a wonderful day 🧡

me, trying to act normal every time an awesome artist I look up to says something nice about my art

Thank you so much! first of all, please take this Lao with you, he's yours now~

now let me preheat my bad english.....

Most of my Lao headcanons (if they are not related to a particular art I made) were yoinked from another ppl, because DAMN FELLAS your brains are sexy. 😏 So you might have heard some of them already, but here's my top general hcs for him.

NOTE: we are talking about the current timeline mk1 Kung Lao

- Lao is very expressive with his hands and he's THE TOUCH person. Just look at how many times he took Raiden by the shoulder in the first chapter alone?? He'll be pushing, and patting, and shoving, and punching you all over while telling about his breakfast or something.

- Lao is struggling with inferiority complex. Since childhood he was under a tremendous amount of pressure, he has to do things right, to be better, or else he would be mocked or punished. Now he believes that he should be the best, or he would not be taken seriously. He's constantly seeking validation in his peers, causing him to act cocky and over-confident.

- Anger issues, usually when someone questions his skill.

- People call him lazy because he tries to act like everything comes naturally to him. In reality he trains hard and takes things seriously. Like, he's fighting with a RAZOR RIMMED HAT fgs, it's not something you can master in a day! Also he always got energy running through his veins, lucky bastard... *cries in iron deficiency*

- He makes his hats by himself. With his hands. He designs and creates. ALL of them. I will die on that hill.

- He's a slow to trust, but ride or die as a friend.

- He's a trouble maker FOR SURE, but not a bully. He's respectful and polite to most of the people (if they don't provoke him), also drinks his respect-women juice.

- Master of sass and sarcasm. And yes, I think he swears, but in the right circumstances or the right company.

- He's got rizz NOW, but in his teens he had zero game because he could not keep his mouth shut and would scare off the person with the most ridiculous piece of idiocy.

- I read it in one fic and really loved the idea that Liu Kang "told the blossoms" about Kung Lao, and they really liked him 🌸 so now they are following him around and bringing him news and gossips, that's why there's always those goddamn petals aroung him aasghGHHHj 🌸🌸

- He's rolling his eyes at Johnny, but they quickly become besties.

- He actually has a cold relationship with Liu Kang. Don't get me wrong, he trusts him, respects the hell out of him and will run into a wall for a man. But I think Liu will distance himself because of all the memories of HIS Lao and how badly they sting. oTL

- That smile and a bow Lao did after loosing to Raiden? He meant that. Loosing hurted BAD, but the pain was pushed aside by the sence of pride and happiness for his best friend.

oh shit, this is getting out of hand, I'm starting to think about the other timelines and dynamics, we'll be here all week hhhhgh

About the popular ships... Well, I'm a big fan of railao (yeah NO SHIT who would have thought), but I am a multishipper, so I'm just happy to see my fav characters feeling good in someone's hands. 😊

I really like the liulao and laoliutana for several different reasons. 👀 The johnshilao (or is it laojohnshi..? erm) was the one that didn't impress me at first (love the Lao just third-wheeling with a tired expression <:'D), but recently I'm starting to warm up to all the different dynamics these three can have. And that is, in no small part, thanks to you and your kenlao agenda 👀💖 damn you created such a nice cozy universe for them I'm 🥺💕💗💖

Bi-Han/Lao is a bit random, but I love how catto did them, they are such a cute pair of assholes! >:3

ummm, yeah, so I'm going to stop there ahahhH. Thank you again for asking and for all the nice little feels your art provides, I admire you tremendously~

#my asks #my art #kung lao #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #helsensm art

[thana-topsy]

Ok I gotta come out and say it. I envy you. Like, to a painful extent. The amount of people you get interested in your characters, how you're incredibly skilled in both visual art AND writing, how readers your fics have. I absolutely adore your work, but seeing it fills me with so much envy it's honestly ridiculous.

Did you deal with similar feelings towards other creators when you started writing fic by any chance? If so, how did you deal with those feelings? I feel genuinely stuck feeling worthless about my fics. I'm not as verbose with my language despite over 10 years of writing under my belt and it seems as though my plots don't interest people as much either. So I feel like there's just nothing of worth about any of my work.

I know that this is a lot to dump on you, but I felt like I would burst keeping this all in. Much love to you and I hope you have a wonderful New Year!

Hey there my friend, I've been sitting with this all day trying to decide how I want to answer you. I genuinely appreciate your honesty, because I know this is a familiar feeling for a lot of people, myself included.

I remember when I first rejoined Tumblr in early 2019, desperately trying to find anyone to talk to about TES, I would look at all these blogs gettings asks about their OCs like they were little celebrities and feel envy and longing. Now, when these feelings start to bubble up, I force myself to take a break from sharing my work, be it art or writing, if only to remind myself why I'm creating it and who I'm creating it for: myself. I know it sounds cheesy, and I probably sound like a broken record, but genuinely I just do this because it's bursting out of my skull. But I won't lie and say the engagement and the support doesn't have a big impact on my motivation. I love sharing with people and getting an enthusiastic response.

I think something people might not realize, or maybe they just forget, is that I used to write a lot of smut. Like...a lot of smut. (I still do). Hahaha and it doesn't get a lot of comments or engagement, but it does draw a lot of eyes. Once my smut stories started taking on heavier plotlines, a comment I'd get a lot was "came for the porn, stayed for the plot." And I wasn't writing smut because I thought it would get me an audience, I was just horny LMAO. But it encouraged me to branch out and experiment with the types of stories I was telling.

Anyways, art is another big part of it, yes. But that also didn't get a lot of engagement in the beginning, and my skills were rusty as hell. I was getting maybe 15 notes on here, 30 likes on instagram. But that didn't really matter to me, I was just insane with inspiration. I'd reach out to people and ask to do art trades, got ghosted a lot, made some good friends, (some people who are still my good friends to this day!). But it took a lot of risks, and I made a lot of accidental enemies and learned a lot of hard lessons. But having visuals to go with the stories I'm writing is like advertisement in its own way. I'm just lucky enough to hyperfixate on this shit like it's my lifeblood. I've always obsessively drawn my favorite characters, ever since I was a wee bab. Long before social media was a factor or the words "content creator" even existed.

And I think that's what it all comes back to. Above all else, do what you do with unbridled joy. If someone else finds joy alongside you, all the better! Even if it's just one person. Take risks, make friends, make enemies, draw that blorbo unapologetically and with wild abandon. Love what you create, even when it's bad. Even when it makes you cringe years later, don't delete it. Even when people try to find every reason to hate what you do and who you are. Don't stop.

Every act of creation is bringing something into the world that didn't exist before you made it. And that alone gives it worth.

Happy New Year!

#topsy's asks #long post

[ezras--moon]

Disorganized Attachment - Chapter 1: Fibonacci

IT'S FINALLY HERE!

Dieter x adult actress reader (no age gap, both in their early/mid 40s)

18+ although this chapter does not contain any explicit smut yet.

This work contains a lot of cursing, talks about substance abuse, mental illness, violence, and I have not researched anything about the film or p**n industry, so if that's not your thing, scroll on. (it is surprisingly soft and fluffy though)

More warnings: Negative self talk/thoughts, body image issues.

word count: 5364

Where to begin?

 You and Dieter met in high school, drama and art classes. You had a secret crush on him back then, but thought he was kind of a dick, too. He was envious, or even jealous, of your ability to memorize long monologues seemingly overnight. These ridiculous reasons were mainly why you didn’t become friends then yet, just secretly harbored certain feelings for each other. If just one of you had pulled their head out of their ass and talked to the other, you would have realized very quickly that you were two peas in a pod. 

 When you met again in college, you had all your acting, theater and film related classes together. You stuck to each other then, because you were both from the same hometown, and you’d both changed and grown. Experimenting with drugs welded you closer together, and you woke up in each other’s dorms after lawless nights quite a few times. Dieter began auditioning long before you both graduated, so did you. He was more successful pretty much from the beginning. You congratulated each other on a few projects, his always bigger than yours, and then at some point you just went your separate ways in Hollywood.

You still privately kept up to date with Dieter’s work and achievements; you watched the Oscars the year he won one of the categories he was nominated for, with a friend over the phone, squealing over the line and damn near rupturing her eardrum at the announcement of the winner. And he looked so handsome on screen, even with the sadness and hubris in his dark eyes that you were well acquainted with. 

He’d told you all the stories throughout your time in college together. The abuse, the violent reign of his strict parents drilling him to be the best in all his classes, to always get the big roles he auditioned for… and the harsh punishment if he didn’t. The constant pressure to be perfect and likeable, the emotional neglect in between his successes. What they never really gave a shit about was if he was happy.

While Dieter went off to become a real movie star, you struggled and clung on to shadier and shadier gigs, until you finally landed in the adult film industry. You’d tried your best and worked really hard to make a name for yourself in this new field, and you did, you succeeded! 

Your screen name was a secret to most people you interacted with in your daily life, you kept a strict line between your private matters and your work. Many of your loose acquaintances believed you were simply “in the film industry”, which was technically true. Sometimes, when you met someone new and they asked what you did for a living, you could see the split second of recognition in their eyes and then, as soon as possible, you’d drop them like hot potatoes. Better not to get involved with fans.

Now…

Around the time when you sign a contract with a new agency, Dieter’s spiraling into another crisis. He’s coked up to the max, never not high anymore, and during the short, intermittent down periods he thinks he’s worthless and needs to rebrand himself. All of his unusually bottomless lows are followed by particularly severe manic episodes lately, in which he comes up with things to do to revolutionize his public persona, and he won’t hear anyone out who tries to stop him. Because of the excessive amount of cocaine he consumes, he believes himself to be in possession of the necessary skills and fortitude to star in a real, professional porn movie during this particular spiral.

 And thank Mother Gaia for modernity, because his manager isn’t even opposed to the idea.

“Get me the most expensive co-star you can find to do this with me!” he barks into his phone, ordering some poor fool at his agency out to get him a role in a big production.

There isn’t much hope, Dieter thinks, that he’ll get anyone exceptionally hot, no matter their price tag - he’s getting old and has gained a few pounds since the peak of his career. But then again, it’s mostly the women in porn who are under pressure to be perfect, fresh off the rack, if they want to make it in the industry. And not just in some niche fetish market, but instead the very top of the food chain, the big studios, like Brazzers or Tushy dot com. His other, admittedly quite reasonable, hope for a really fuckable scene partner is that having an actual Oscar winning movie star like himself, aging and getting heavy or not, fuck his pent-up frustration into a dimepiece on camera would drive sales exponentially more than if he did it to a bridge troll. Fuck, he really should see his therapist again. These horrible thoughts about people’s looks, including his own, can’t be beneficial to his already dwindling mental stability. But that guy is a leech; even as rich as Dieter is nowadays, the rates of a decent therapist are nauseating.

When you receive the offer, you’re just on your way to a set, somewhere up in the hills. You don’t read the e-mail until late that night. The header gives away what type of shoot it’s going to be - a celebrity, a real movie star, and this time not just for a private sex tape. No, this time an A-list Hollywood actor wants to actually publish the tape. It’s guaranteed to make headlines for weeks. This would most definitely be the next Big Thing for you.

It takes you a while to read the wall of text before you find the name of the actor at the bottom of the page. You gasp, then break out into a fit of bewildered little laughs. 

Dieter Bravo! You damn outlaw.

You know he probably has no idea his people sent yours an offer, nor that you would definitely say yes, if he’s even aware you’re in this business - it isn’t likely that he knows your screen name either, because you would hope to have heard from him on social media if he had. You’ve followed him since you made your professional account.

The next morning, you wake up bright and early to give Dieter’s agent a call back, accept the job, make an appointment to sign the contract, and go get a fresh bikini waxing. You can’t wait to see Dieter again. Get to fuck him again, if the surprise of seeing you show up for the shoot doesn’t turn him off of it entirely.

As the aesthetician, a close friend of yours affectionately nicknamed Barbie, rips away at the wax strips to get rid of the bush you’d grown out for a vintage shoot, you think about him and what he used to mean to you.

You tell Barbie about him, in between wincing through the pain of the waxing; you tell her that when you were young, your bodies taut and lean, you enjoyed each other’s company very much. And about the things you’d say to each other in bed, how you could never stop praising his heavy cock, how deliciously it burned when he pistoned it into your welcoming heat; how he couldn’t stop sucking on your tits and emptying his balls into you, again and again for hours until there was nothing left to fill you with, always high on something.

 You know what he looks like, you’ve seen him at red carpets from the comfort of your living room, even this year - Barbie remembers when you screamed at her over the phone and she tried to match your excitement. She also remembers all the times you were intoxicated and reminisced about past loves, your dreamy retelling of your experiences always circling back to Dieter in the end.

 But the new memories all just come from images on screens, they’re not real memories of him. The last real one is over a decade old.

The contract you sign is your agency’s standard adult film production contract, you’ve signed hundreds like this before. Every rich adult film connoisseur who’s into “older” women wants a piece of you.

Several days pass after you sign, before you hear back and receive a shooting date very soon after. 

“Mr. Bravo would appreciate it if we could make it happen as soon as possible.” your agent relays to you on the phone. “Fine by me. I can definitely squeeze it in next week.” you reply.

That day…

Rolling up to his house in the hills, your manager drives you through the LA afternoon traffic, and ultimately you're twenty-five minutes late. “We should have known it was gonna be like this” you complain to your manager, a woman your age named Tonya with round, red cheeks, who’s raised five children by herself. “Nonsense. I guarantee you, this guy’s going to be even later himself. These A-listers usually are, they’re too self important to be on time. Now go, get up there! I’ll be right behind you.”

You grab your handbag and your cosmetics, wallet and phone secure in your jacket, and make your way up the thirty-something steps to ring Dieter Bravo’s doorbell.

A stern looking woman with a sleek black librarian hairdo and penciled-in eyebrows of the same color lets you into the mansion; she’s surprisingly nice. You’re instructed to take a seat in Dieter’s living room, on a comfortable couch. You don’t mind the staff standing by the open doors, and change into your outfit out in the open there - a pitch black, crotchless leotard, equally dark ballerina flats, and a thin pink robe for modesty before the shoot starts. Someone from the production crew arrives and brings a make-up artist, who makes you look a decade younger. That takes almost two full hours and removes any remaining shred of your guilt about being late. It's a bothersome process, but might increase the chances he’ll recognize you.

Finally, after another ten more minutes of waiting for him, his majesty makes an appearance, coming from the garage. He’s dressed in a cornflower blue robe, a fluffy, well-worn thing, and chanclas, along with sweatpants. He holds a starbucks cup in his hand and peeks at everyone in the room over the rim of a pair of sunglasses, chewing gum. His hair is as messy as ever, a patchy, scruffy looking beard on his face now. He’s sporting several heavy rings on various fingers and has a chain with an upside-down cross around his neck.

And then he spots you. You can see the exact moment it clicks for him, and everything falls into place. A sultry smirk at him, a wink perhaps, should do, so that’s what you respond with, to the look of pure befuddlement he shoots you.

He crosses the room so fast, he spills some of the whipped cream peeking over the rim of the cup he’s holding with an iron grip. 

“What on earth are you doing in my house, Dolphin?” Oh, God, not that nickname… you visibly cringe, but then sigh and go in for a hug. He accepts without hesitation, and you note that he’s wonderfully warm and soft. It almost balances out the reminder of that time he renamed you against your will, when you were sitting out on the fire escape stairs of your dorms, smoking a blunt together. It would be a good memory if it wasn’t tainted by that nickname designed to drive you up the wall, when your hysterical laughter at one of his jokes resembled the call of a marine mammal.

“I was hired to have a certain movie star fuck the shit out of me on camera.” you tell him nonchalantly, and he bites down a laugh to counter. “I didn’t know you do porn. I thought you might still be doing theater, because I never saw you at any award shows. Is everything okay?” “Yes, Dieter, I’m fine. I’m financially stable, I’m nominated for an AVN this year; the only setback is I’ve recently been pushed into the MILF category. Absolutely killing it there, though.”

Dieter laughs at that, finally - a hearty cackle, and it causes your already buzzing head to flood with memories of that same laugh that are aeons old. You realize he never laughs like this in any of the interviews you’ve seen. 

He pats your shoulder almost fraternally and sets down his drink to give you another hug. “I missed you, Dolphin.” “Please don’t call me that again. I’ll fucking leave and go home, I swear to God.” “Didn’t peg you to be particularly religious.” “I’ll fucking show you a pegging, amigo.” Again, you make Dieter laugh; he seems like he hasn’t earnestly laughed much in quite some time.

The two of you waste everyone else’s time while you catch up; you hear about his last ten years, he hears about yours, while you wander around the house and he shows you his awards. At some point, his manager shows up in the dining room, where Dieter is feeding  you with the best bread you’ve ever had and antipasti from the catering cart, and reminds you both that you’re here for work.

You think it’s odd that Dieter decided to shoot this film in his home. He doesn’t seem to care and says this house has seen weirder things. It’s more convenient for him to do it here. Your worries about the media backlash directed at him that would inevitably follow the release of whatever you tape today remain a secret for now. It’s not your job to bring it up and you trust that all the adults involved know what they’re getting themselves into.

The set in a spare bedroom is all done, assembled, lit up and prepared; as a last effort to prevent disaster, somebody wearing a headset is grabbing a sphinx cat and removing it from under the massive king size centerpiece of the shot. They just exit the room with their arm full of what you think is a raw chicken when you walk in with Dieter and both your managers, who know each other and proceed to go have a conversation somewhere in the corner.

 He introduces you to the director, a Finnish-American talent of the erotic arts, who then introduces herself as Ansa, and who’s supposed to make Dieter’s filthy vision a reality. The six foot four blonde with an angular jaw, who looks like she could easily be a famous basketball player, explains the concept of the Golden Ratio to you, but you have difficulties following, with the way Dieter is already staring at your mouth. “...in each shot, your two bodies have to be arranged in the exactly right way to align with the ratio, which you might know under its other commonly known name, the Fibonacci sequence. Well, technically the golden ratio and the Fibonacci sequence are different things, but they are closely associated with each other. We’ve come up with a few positions that work, they’re shown here-* She rambles on, then hands you a thin stack of cards, each depicting a drawing of a sexual position in which the visual lines and boundaries of the lovers’ bodies resemble a spiral from a certain angle. You look through them, wide-eyed, while Dieter chews on an Olive and ogles you over the rim of his sunglasses - shamelessly.

Ansa continues, “Somebody might have to touch you to adjust the position of a body part for the perfect shot. I hope you have an active gym membership, you might be forced to stay still and hold a difficult position for a while, through up to a few dozen of his thrusts, so we have enough material from each shot.” 

Can’t we just start fucking? Why does it matter how I sit on his dick? Besides, the whole Fibonacci sequence thing is kind of overplayed, isn’t it? Hasn’t this shit been done a million times before? There’s songs about it, media that’s structured according to it, stuff that won Grammys and everything. It’s been a meme online, too, people already laugh about it.

Those are the gripes coming up in your head in quick succession, and you don't fully realize that you say all of them out loud and worded exactly like that, making Dieter snort and bend over in a cackle. You blush, hard, and begin to stammer an apology for the bluntness, because she’s not used to your Modus Operandi yet and deserves some grace. This job could have very well been given to somebody else, somebody more demure and accepting of bullshit executive decisions. 

Ansa just smiles at you, not quite as amused as Dieter seems to be, still giggling to himself. “You’re funny, I like your attitude,'' she says to interrupt your desaster of an apology before you embarrass yourself, and you notice that you like her subtle accent, although her non-answer annoys you.

 You demand to know why they would ask you to sign a contract before letting you know this was going to be a cringefest, and then attempt to ask your questions again in a more respectful tone.

This is when Dieter realizes he’s missed you a whole lot more than he thought; you’re so quick on your feet, as you’ve always been. Just based on this, you haven’t aged a day. Ansa welcomes the rewording of your questions and finally grants you a real response.

She explains that that’s exactly the point of the scene. It’s supposed to drag this pretentious bullshit through the mud. It’s a direct parody of a short film Dieter starred in, ages ago, which you’d never seen, because it was such an obscure release with practically no advertising budget.

“I want to ruin that motherfucker’s career.” Dieter bites; he’s talking about whichever poor soul directed the atrocious short film. “He’s acting all uppity in the media after he landed a couple hits with some military propaganda, wastes of precious lifetime, bullshit ass movies.” You wonder why he’s so genuinely livid at this director, but he answers the question before you can ask it. 

“This guy screwed me over so hard on that stupid short film, I almost died trying to appease him and his artistic sensibilities, because he convinced me he was doing something worth my while with it. He had me drenched outside at night in Whateverthefuck, Ohio, in the pouring October rain, wearing barely anything, contorting and curling up and posing like a spiral for hours, because no take was ever perfect. And then that garbage didn’t even make a profit, so I got pneumonia for nothing. I had to pay someone to take that disgrace off my Wikipedia and IMDB. I want to make fun of his yuppie ass, I want to make a pornographic parody of his dumb, pseudo-intellectual garbage movie that nearly cost me my life.”

You get it then. The second layer reveals itself to you from behind the curtain of your initial reaction. And with it, you drop the robe they’d handed you. 

Dieter apologizes that he didn’t take the time to talk you through the project before you signed, but he wanted it done as soon as possible. You tell him it’s fine, usually your agency would have sent a request for more information, but you saw his name in that e-mail and didn’t hesitate.

He’s touched by this, though you begin to get a feeling that Dieter isn’t being honest about his intention to do this scene, or at the very least about his constitution. Constantly on edge, fidgeting, shifting his weight back and forth between both feet, extroverted. Friendly. He used to be quieter, and you wonder if he was miserable back then or if he is now, and if it’s your place to even ask.

There’s no time to, anyhow, with droves of production staff pouring into the room, until you and Dieter are practically pushed onto the bed while the camera tests begin. It’s busier than at any normal shoot, but he seems used to it, conversing with his assistant standing close by, about what he would like to order for dinner after. You’re puzzled when he turns to you to ask if you’d like to stay.

But again, no more time to answer questions, the stylist invades your space and touches up both of your faces and hair, and when the cameras are set to roll, everyone who isn’t essential to the shoot leaves the room. The question is long forgotten, when two more people roll a whiteboard into the room that has each of the possible Golden Ratio sexual positions pinned to it for easy review, before leaving as well. 

Dieter is awfully quiet over the next few minutes, when the last round of preparations begin, right before they have some time to get each other turned on, and then the cameras are going to start rolling.

But it never comes to that.

What happens next is Dieter is having a panic attack. A full-on hyperventilating, pacing up and down, cursing and yelling and… crying? He’s crying, crashing. A second ago you were busy holding still for the touch-up, and now he’s sobbing.

You’re immediately overwhelmed with the situation, in your leotard and the ballerina flats, adjusting the shoulder straps and wordlessly watching as Dieter’s team attempts to calm him down. His manager seems to be desperate to get him to stay away from the set while he’s melting down, so he doesn’t ruin the professional relationships they were able to forge over it.

 He’s so loud when he yells, you’re speechless. A moment ago he was content, laughing, talking about having dinner with you… Oh. You hadn’t given him your answer. You completely ignored his advance. He asked you to have dinner with him, and you ignored him, and now he’s breaking down in front of everybody.

It can’t be because of that. Can it? You stand up and put your pink robe back on, tying it in the front. Then, tip-toeing around the expensive equipment and slipping past all of the people outside the room, you make your way up to Dieter, who’s currently trying to vandalize the dining room, wielding some kind of award, ready to smash a glass table to bits with it. However, he’s being held back by his apparent crisis team, his manager trying to talk him down. 

Now it makes sense to you that the set was so crowded, with half of the workers not even doing any active tasks. They’re there to monitor him and mitigate the damage in case he goes off the rails. On second thought, that sounds cartoonishly conspiratorial, like they’re drugging him on purpose or something.

 You decide then and there to find out and try to help him, through whatever it is he’s burdoned with.

A step closer to him earns you a glare of disapproval from his manager, but you ignore it and take another. He’s like a feral animal, if only they had Steve Irwin here with a tranquilizer gun. 

“It’s okay, Dee… it’s me. Look at me.” you say calmly, raising your hands to show him you don’t mean to restrain him like the others, and it’s not like you would even stand a chance to. He looks at you and you almost start crying too, he looks fucking miserable. “I don’t know what to dooo, oh God” he whines, still looking right at you, fat tears spilling from his wide open eyes that are so dark you can’t tell how blown his pupils are.

His manager looks surprised that he hasn’t tried to swing a fist at you yet, you’re stepping so close to him, and finally she gestures for the two burly guys holding him back to release him and give you both some space. 

The out-of-control Hollywood actor in his giant mansion is coming back to his senses slowly, closing the remaining two or three feet of distance to pull you into a desperate embrace, soaking the strap of your leotard with his tears.

You wrap your arms around his middle and shush him, swaying him in place like a big baby and whispering reassurances into his ear. The entire thing is so fucking surreal, everyone’s eyes on you, and when they start whispering to each other so you can’t hear what they’re saying, you ask Dieter where you two can be alone.

You don’t expect him to be able to answer coherently, but the finger he points at a door down the hallway is enough. Keeping one arm around his waist, you lead him there step by step, past all the gawkers. It’s on you now to shoot them a glare, causing them to scatter behind you.

The door leads to another bedroom, which is in complete disarray and stuffed full of boxes overflowing with all kinds of shit. You lock up behind Dieter as he stumbles to the dusty bed and curls up on top of the covers, and you realize he’s been butt ass naked the entire time.

You grab a thin blanket hanging over a chair in the corner and make your way through the narrow path to the bed, past all his stuff. Climbing into bed behind him, you cover him and yourself with the soft blanket and spoon him, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. He grabs your hand and squeezes it with a trembling sigh. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” you ask quietly, so careful not to tread him loose again with the wrong words. He breathes for a minute, deep inhales and long exhales, then croaks, “I hate myself.”

It’s a simple response, easy to understand in theory, but the reasons aren’t clear to you and you’re not sure if you should ask. “Why?” you whisper, pressing your cheek to the side of his neck and nuzzling closer to him. He’s so fucking soft and warm.

He scoffs, like it should be obvious, and you have a hunch but don’t dare to bring it up. “I’m such a fucking waste of space. I’m a piece of shit. I’m so sorry.”

Barely coherent through his tears, you just tighten your arm around him and give his shoulder another kiss. “Don’t say that. Let me help. We can figure this out.” 

He shakes his head, “No, it’s fucking pointless. I’ve b-been to rehab so many times.”

“Are you high right now?” you continue to pry some answers from him with the patience of a saint that you’ve really only ever had for him, nobody else. He nods, sniffling and turning around in your grasp to face you. His eyes are red and puffy, cheeks wet, tears soaking his mustache. Up close like this, you can see the state of him clearly in his fully dilated pupils and everything else, and you swallow the emotions so you can be there for him, because what else are you supposed to do?

Thumbing away the tears that still keep coming, a seemingly endless well of them hidden under his eyes, you give him a soft smile. “I missed you, Dee. I’m so sorry we lost touch. Wish I could have been there for you all this time.” 

“No, no, that’s not your fault. I’m an asshole, I should’ve called.” He brushes your hair behind your ear with a gentle touch that stands out in overwhelming contrast to his earlier demeanor, when he was about to smash his table with his award. 

“Oh, you stop it. It doesn’t matter, I’m here now. And I’m not going to leave, unless you want me to.” you reassure him, and that finally seems to help, his features soften and he manages a crooked smile to try and match yours. 

A harsh rap at the door startles you both, and suddenly he looks like a cornered animal again, sitting up and clutching the blanket to his chest. Giving his calf a reassuring squeeze, you slowly get up and walk to the door, unlocking it and cracking it open to peek out at whoever would have the audacity to knock like a cop right now.

It’s Tonya, your manager, behind Dieter’s manager whose name you’ve forgotten since you were introduced. You make an effort to look annoyed at them breaking the brief moment of peace, expecting an explanation.  “We’re all leaving. I’ll call you in the morning, alright, sweetheart? Take care, and let me know if you need anything.” Tonya says, looking apologetic and her motherly nature appeases you. “Let me speak to him for a minute, please.” Dieter’s manager demands, but you refuse her with another glare. “Absolutely not.” Then you look back at Tonya with a much less furious look and a nod, “Drive safe, Tonya, I’ll text you if… yeah, I’ll text you.”

Tonya leaves, Dieter’s manager reluctantly follows, and you see some more people leaving and carrying gear out of the house. It’s suddenly very quiet, not even Dieter is making a sound anymore.

“Are they gone?” he asks after a while, when you shut the door again, locking it just in case.

“Yeah, they’re gone.” you assure him, and he lies back down on the bed with you, facing each other and holding hands. Yours are cold from clutching the door knob so harshly, and he warms them in his.

“Did I fuck it up?” he asks you after a while, the silence starting to make him uncomfortable.

“No, you didn’t fuck anything up. I promise.” You hook your pinky around his and look into his deep brown eyes, still filled with residual tears. “Pinky promise.”

He laughs again - not loud like earlier, it’s a quiet chuckle, but it seems even more genuine now that it’s between the two of you. “Pinky promise.”

You end up staying the night. It turns out he didn’t mind you not answering his question on set at all, you were busy. He orders dumplings for dinner and rolls a joint you share by his pool out back, huddled together on the side with your feet in the water. The pool is fucking heated and the emerging steam billows around you in the lights like the smoke you blow out your noses.

You haven’t smoked weed in so long, you’re a lightweight and he smokes most of it himself, content with just handing it over whenever you lift your hand to request a few tiny little puffs that make him giggle at you; he still thinks you’re adorable after all these years.

Dieter has make-up wipes for sensitive skin and scrunchies in his en-suite bathroom, and you even discover a half empty box of tampons under the sink. You don’t need any right now, but the fact that he has them on hand at all makes you a little emotional.

He gives you a shirt that’s three sizes too big and puts on a quiet movie for background noise, turning down the brightness of the enormous TV mounted to the wall opposite his bed. You toss the fake lashes into the bin, burying them in there like a casualty of the disaster of a set.

You finally properly meet his cat, which you’d mistaken for a whole raw chicken earlier as he was being carried off set. The friendly little guy - named Mad Max - lets Dieter put a sweater on him with no complaint, strutting his stuff all pretty in pink as he goes to devour the contents of a can of wet food from a bowl on the kitchen floor.

Dieter offers you a guest room, but you decline, climbing into his unbelievably comfortable kingsize bed, the effects of the weed making you feel heavy and deeply content. Exhaustion creeps into your bones as you curl up next to him with your head and hand on his chest, your eyes falling shut. His slow even breaths and the shapes he gently draws on your back with his fingertips lull you to sleep soon after.

This is not how you expected this day to end, but you’re the opposite of upset about it. If only it could be like this forever.

#dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fic

[baby-girl-e]

Cherry Wine

Tag List

Part 2

Characters - Phoenix x F!Reader

Summary - reader realizes her feelings for her childhood but convinces herself she’s out of her league. 

Word Count - 1.7k

Warnings -  Fluff, Kissing

A/N - As most of my fics happen, this idea came to me in the middle of the night! If you like this, keep an eye out for a potential part two. Even if this crashes and burns and nobody likes it I’ll still probably write more because I write because I want to and it’s incredibly Therapeutic!

Growing up nothing made sense without Natasha around. You never had as much fun when she wasn’t there, always leaving early from the parties she didn’t attend. You had known each other since you were in elementary school, clicking the minute she moved in. She made you laugh more than any of your other friends, and you just seemed to get each other. For the longest time you thought that was all she was to you, a good friend. A good friend that you never wanted to part with. It wasn’t until she told you she was joining the navy that you finally realized how you really felt. Shit. You loved her, and she was leaving. You were obviously enthusiastically supportive of her decision, this was the perfect job for her. She was always destined to escape this small town, figuring she would outgrow it at some point.

 If you were being honest you had outgrown the town yourself, just didn’t quite have an out at the same time she did. That is until you got an offer to apprentice with a famous painter that had agreed to take you under his wing and teach you more than you could’ve learned going to art school. Painting has always been a comfort to you, being able to express how you felt without needing to use words. You could even channel your feelings about Natasha into them as well. One of your most successful paintings was actually inspired by her. It was an oil piece that depicted a faceless dark haired woman looking up into the sky. You had decided on a whim to enter it into a competition at a festival and ended up winning first place. You had a couple of offers to sell the painting (more than a couple honestly) but you just couldn’t bring yourself to sell a piece that meant so much to you. 

The painter who offered you an apprenticeship was actually one of the people who wanted to buy the painting, but when you refused his astounding amount of money solely for the fact that this painting meant so much to you, he knew he had found a true artist. That was how you found yourself with your bags packed and a one way ticket to San Diego. You got lucky when your now boss had told you where his studio was, heart warming at being so close to where Natasha was currently stationed. The two of you kept in touch and she said that after an extremely dangerous mission that almost took her life they offered her a choice of either staying or going somewhere else. She loved San Diego too much to leave it, and wanted to finally put some roots somewhere after years of traveling. 

Boarding your flight, your hands were shaking with anticipation. You were finally getting to live the life you’ve always wanted, close to the woman you loved and painting with a famous artist. The painting part was going to be the easy part. What about when you saw Natasha again? How were you supposed to act around her? Like you weren’t enthralled by every little thing she did? You liked to think positively, but you also liked to think logically. She was so far out of your league that it was almost ridiculous that you’d even be friends. She was always traveling, seeing new places, and she was a god damned navy aviator. She was the full package, beautiful, smart, and dangerously talented. You couldn’t help but feel highly inadequate speaking to her, let alone fantasize the idea that you two could ever be lovers. You shook the thoughts from your head and carried on boarding. 

The flight itself was short, given you lived only a few states away. Your new boss had set you up in one of the apartments he owned claiming he needed you to focus on your work and getting another job to pay for living expenses would be a distraction. After you argued with him for a minute, it was settled that he would let you live in the apartment and pay for your living expenses. You were never much of a negotiator and he seemed hellbent on supporting you. God knew he could afford it and never knew the difference. To put it into perspective, just one of his paintings could go for at least a year's worth of living expenses, and that’s being conservative.

 The rest of your things were being driven out by your sister and her husband in a week, so you made do with what you brought with you. After you unpacked the small amount of things you did have, you decided you wanted to go to the beach with your camera. It was nearing sunset and you were near giddy to get some good reference shots for a landscape piece that your boss wanted to work on with you. You threw on a light yellow sundress, sandals and a white cardigan thrown over the crossbody bag you always had. Once you felt confident about your outfit choice you headed out to the nearest beach. The walk there was pleasant and fairly quiet, save for the hustle and bustle of the city around you. It gave you time to think over how you would tell Natasha that you were here. You had been meaning to every time you talked, but the words always escaped you. It was almost like you wanted to live in your bubble of fantasy, fearing that reality might pop it. 

When you snapped out of your reverie you realized you had definitely made it to the beach, people scattered here and there, the day obviously winding down. You immediately pulled out your camera and started snapping shots of the ocean and the sunset above it. You made your way closer to the ocean, taking off your shoes to be more comfortable. Feeling like you had enough pictures of this particular part of the ocean, you let the camera hang from the strap around your neck. You walk a little further before you come across a rowdy bunch of friends that seem to be playing some game of football. They looked so happy and carefree in the sunset so you snapped a few shots of the group. It wasn’t until you put the camera down once more that you realized that you recognized one of the players. How could you ever not recognize someone that beautiful. She looked different here, more carefree, more sure of herself. You were about to make your quick exit, not wanting to disturb her or the fantasy you had built, when you heard your name being called by the Pilot in question. She was now actively running towards you at a speed you didn’t know was possible in the sand, so you made a quick choice to cap your lens and carefully set your stuff down before she all but tackled you. Your heart was soaring at being at the receiving end of one of her hugs again. Her hands were gripping your back like she was afraid you’d float away if she let go for even a second. “What are you doing here Y/N?” She was breathless and you blamed it on the fact that she had just stopped playing a game to sprint towards you. “I live here now, just got in today.” She pulls back just slightly to see your face and oh. You forgot how easy it was to get lost in her eyes. All this time you thought you were painting a picture of her in your head. You thought you had amplified everything to put her on a pedestal, but clearly you were wrong. “Like permanently?” You try to form a word but all of your energy is being put into not looking at her lips, knowing if you did your heart would take over and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tasting them, so you just nod. She smiles at that and it looks like she’s considering something. She always had that look when she was trying to decide if a risky move was worth it. 

One time when you were in elementary school the two of you had found a tall dirt hill and you just so happened to be on your bikes, so you both ran your bikes up the hill and stopped at the top. You weren’t sure but when you looked over to Natasha she had that same look, like she really wanted to do something but was weighing out her options. You’re brought back to the present by Natasha apparently making her decision because her lips were on yours. You were shocked to say the least but the second your brain caught up with what was happening you were kissing her back. Everytime you imagined what this would feel like you never actually got it right apparently. You never imagined the way she takes your bottom lip between hers like she wanted to keep it. You never imagined the way she shyly slipped her tongue past your lips to explore your mouth further. Your arms ended up around her neck as hers pulled you impossibly closer by your waist. Eventually the need to breathe became apparent and you pulled away to be slightly chased by her lips having a mind of their own. You pressed your forehead against hers and closed your eyes tightly. “Nat, that was..” You weren’t sure what you were going to say honestly. How can you describe a kiss that nearly stopped your heart? “A long time coming?” You let out a breathless laugh and grin. 

God how long had it been since you were this happy? Never? “I promised myself Y/N, up in that cockpit when I had escaped the dogfight with my life, that the minute I saw you I would tell you how I felt. That I’ve loved you for a really long time, I just didn’t notice until it was too late.” Your unfocused and dazed eyes caught hers at that, “It was never too late Nat, I’ve loved you for a really long time too.” Her eyes started to water and you realized just how much time you’ve wasted thinking that she just saw you as a friend. Suddenly you were kissing again. This time it was mixed with tears and smiles but you could care less because it still tasted sweeter than cherry wine.

#phoenix x reader #phoenix #natasha trace #natasha #top gun maverick #girls who kiss girls #lesbianlove #saphic #girlswholovegirls

[dyke-a-saur-writes]

(I ADORE tumblr because only on here have i had a user dm me to rave about a comment i left on their junker queen post and then after a long exchange on here exchange discords with me so we can rave about her writing)

(I like Twitter because we can have a similar-ish experience, but it stays in the replies and stops after 7+ tweets)

Anyways, STOP SAYING JQ AND MAD MAGGIE ARE THE SAME. They may have similar aesthetics and designs but wildly different arcs.

As previously explained, Mad Maggie is Māori New Zealander, which is super specific to her story and informs her character greatly. Junker Queen is a tan Australian with her skin color having very little influence on her story outside of showing she’s been in the sun a lot. (Personally I head-canon her as a mixed First Nations woman but that’s neither here nor there).

Both characters have their own writing flaws and virtues but that’s more a reflection of the writing team and there’s gold if you know where to look.

Mad Maggie is amazing. I’ve seen fans write her off as “crazy for the sake of crazy”. Which is just… so wrong?

Margarita Kohere’s madness is a duly faceted. She holds real, burning rage at the occupation of her homeland, and the one person who claimed to stand by her who left to seek his own dreams of glory. And her mental state is reflective of the trauma she’s endured from said occupation. She’s had to be tough as nails and even bloodthirsty to secure the autonomy and freedom of her people and do things that are morally dubious. She isn’t deranged for shits and giggles, she’s traumatized and aggressive to achieve what she views as liberation in a system determined to paint her as a villain as they takeover her home and brutalize her people. It’s there for a reason and integral to who she is.

On Junker Queen’s end she’s so cool. But there’s fans who write her off as a “dumb jock muscle mommy” which is also so wrong?! Like where are you people getting these?

(It’s the voice lines, I blame the voice lines)

Odessa Stone is aggressive yes, and her voice lines in game seem somewhat childish, but not even those reflect an unintelligent she-brute. The tough-as-nails attitude, similar to Maggie, is a product of her environment. In the Wastelands, might makes right and keeping your place in that hierarchy relies on having a level of physical superiority that can be enforced. She learned this lesson young being kicked out her home at a very young age and (presumably) losing her entire family to the radiated desert sands. Someone like that grows to understand how valuable power and the numbers to back it up is. Especially in her WL short, she is shown to be intelligent, empathetic, and a team player. The people of Junkertown lover her for a reason. She spared the lives of the former king’s lackeys and even took a hit to the face for one of them. In the art at the end, she’s shown to bring not only order, but stability and prosperity to Junkertown. She doesn’t hold herself apart from the other junkers but exercises her authority when/where its needed. She’s shown to have a great knack and intelligence for battle (as seen in her LoJQ short and the WL short) where she’s taken on a ridiculous amount of rogue omnics and slaughtered them, while utilizing non-lethal force against her human opponents in the reckoning. She’s not even remotely stupid or particularly bloodthirsty and the throwaway line about making widows and not eating her veggies got y’all fucked up.

(Honestly a bigger part of the problem is overwatch not letting their “heroes” kill in their shorts, and she’d been allowed to, she’d have been consistent at the very least from short to game but i digress.)

Overall, they not the same, neither of them suck, and they’d probably be besties if they knew each other irl. PERIOD.

#wifey #og post #mad Maggie #junker queen #Odessa stone #Margaret Kohere #apex legends #overwatch 2 #blizzard #character exploration #video games #muscle mommy #mad Maggie is MĀORI AND HER INDIGENEITY ACTIVELY INFORMS HER STORY #odessa is NOT BLOODTHIRSTY JUST LIKES VIOLENCE AND WAS RAISED IN AN ENVIRONMENT WHERE THAT’S THE NORM

[salt-volk]

Saw the post about "other sites" and I'm feeling ~salty~, so lemme give some context for where the bar is with pet sites to y'all. Maybe you've seen ads, maybe you tried playing it and quit because the tutorial is its own circle of hell, maybe you're a blessed person who has never heard of it: Sylestia. It's run by one (1) man. He codes the entire site, has exactly 0 help - by choice. People have literally offered to help him with coding stuff *for free* and he refuses to let anyone touch his precious code.  His ex girlfriend (yes you read that right) is supposedly the other admin - she barely ever shows up, posts games/events that are full of errors, once vanished in the middle of running a game, and has personally insulted players before because they dared offer feedback on one of her ugly ass designs. There is exactly one artist for avatar items and one for pets - one other artist is listed in the credits but it's unclear what regular work, if any, they do for the site. Over 200 different avatar items are released per year, and new pet traits debut anywhere between 4-8 times per year, AND the site is in the (glacially slow) process of redoing all the art for various species. The site is at least 98% RNG by volume - including items you pay premium currency for. Retired items? RNG only. Getting pets? RNG. Getting items period? RNG. And the RNG is also awful - people are constantly having to literally beg for rates to be adjusted.  Plenty of features for events are also just. straight up gambling - you can pay solid chunks of premium currency and walk away with items that are literally worth nothing. You think DV is grindy? Sylestia not only practically requires you to spend a full workday glued to it - including events that basically require you to literally not sleep for several days - the site owner is actively making new content to further encourage ridiculous amounts of grinding. Why? Because he's worried that older players will be bored without new content - so instead of fixing any of the old content on the site, or the site itself which is a mess, he makes new content that ALSO doesn't work.  As of December, the site will be in its ELEVENTH YEAR IN BETA. So when I say "not fixing old content", I'm not talking like, a couple glitches or iffy art. I'm talking *half the site is completely incompatible with the other half*.  And all of that my friends, is still somehow not the source of my salt.  Someone pointed out to the site owner that one of his avatar items was, perhaps, a bit racist. It was (I should say is, it's still on the site :) ) a stereotypical native american dress, CLEARLY based off of the stupid Pocahontas movie, titled "Pow Wow Costume". It was released with a Pilgrim costume in the site's early years. Pretty not great, yeah? Multiple people complained, provided him sources explaining why "Maybe don't keep this on here, maybe this isn't great".  He, is white. He responded by saying he a) would not remove it, b) did not think it was offensive, c) what about the Christmas items or St. Patrick's day items the site has aren't those the same, and d) he actually visited a reservation once so he knows it's OK to have those items, and e) native players should actually be HAPPY to have those items because it was to iNcLuDE tHeM.  I am not joking.  The site has 0 acknowledgement of pride month, not a banner, not an announcement, no items, no anything - it DOES however have an entire festival for the American Fourth of July holiday. The owner claims he doesn't like to have political things on his site, make of that what you will.  The owner also issued a mass ban on a bunch of people because they said some rude shit (about the racist items, the rng, his refusal to get coding help, general issues taking feedback, etc.) in a private, off-site discord server. How did he know what they said? Why, he asked some players in the server to *spy on the others for him*.   He edited time stamps out and published a bunch of the screenshots from this private server, out of context and who knows if they were edited, and threw a public tantrum about how the players were harassing him and secretly planning to destroy the site… by bitching in a private discord.  So yeah. Not excusing Anji's behavior, but happy to show y'all exactly how much worse it could be LMAO. 

#submission

[nerves-nebula]

Sounds insane but.....Nerd Shit gets to being an addiction. Miniature and Model painting? I had someone literally waiting outside my store before i even went in for opening bc he needed new paints for a project. TTRPGs? Playing them is a blast, and being like, biweekly stories make you always eager for the next one. Making your own is honestly kind of addictive because you obsess over it and when your players hit those storybeats perfectly or gush about your work, honestly its so great. Im not even gonna go into dice collection.

But, if like, that kind of nerd shit sounds like its not your thing, not into playing pretend, i get it. however... id then say Crocheting, knitting or weaving. Again, ridiculous, right? I have seen the lenghts people go to for certain shades and tints of yarn. I know how much gets sunk into that stuff. The amount of knitted critters and crosheted projects will be unending.

I know these are Lame Answers, but...The sheer amount of addicts and ex-addicts that love nerd shit is way higher than people expect. A lot of folks use it as a way to cope when you cant/are trying not to get into anything hard.

I can’t do ttrpgs I’m too anxious I’ve tried and I never do it right. Can’t roleplay for shit, unfortunately. My sisters a huge craft fiend, I tried to learn crochet from her once and it did not go well.

As for your other suggestions, idk. Generally im kind of already into nerd shit? (My main focus rn is my tmnt iteration) and I’ve been obsessed with art & stories my entire life. I really can’t pick up another artistic hobby rn, I’m already behind on my bookbinding & hand lettering practice and I make a weekly comic and if I forget to stretch my hands for one day the pain will be unbearable.

#nnstuff #ask

[bitterarcs]

Reno. Was. Down. BAD. Kids and adults were treated as pariahs, croaking left and right, and the prodigal son and president Rufus ShinRa was afflicted by the sickness, however Reno — shit, he missed late night bar crawls and spending well-earned gil on the most ridiculous things. When sleep eluded the Turk, he missed luxurious trips to Midgar's premiere spa more than ever. Deep tissue massages, cleaning out the stock of gold label alcohol at adjacent bars, and taking a casual stroll by the HoneyBee Inn to amuse the girls with a charming smile and some generous gil.

For how much credit the entire world gave the Lifestream, Reno continued to think very sparingly of it. Couldn't it just fix all the shit going on, or, better yet, wouldn't it punish those who had fucked Gaia over time and time again? Some saw the president of the collapsed ShinRa as getting his new due, but there were thousands of former employees and a few handfuls of loyal Turks who remained unaffected by the geostigma. Reno supposed the Lifestream did not have conscious thought . . except for the time it saved the earth . . or had that been instinct?

Deep thought was not offered to the way the world worked, only that he, his Turks, and the boss man were shit out of luck. It was the end of an era for ShinRa, though the remaining Turks and Rufus claimed it to be the beginning of a new era. The hope people clung to when control was out of their hands — Reno was capable of understanding now. There were two things the redhead knew in life: how to be a ruthless kid and how to be a successful Turk. Clawing his way to the top as a child led him to the elite and coveted position among the Turks, but what was there after becoming a Turk?

Reno knew nothing else, and Reno wanted nothing else. The Turks who, in truth, were more civilian than actual Turks had built up lives for themselves far before the fall of the electric company. As for Rude, Elena, and Tseng, they, too, had nothing else. All of them heard the bitter remarks and snickers from the public . . the Turks were just playing pretend. Reno did not give much thought to it, because frankly deep and meaningful thoughts did not look good on him. He did what he did best, and wasn't that just part of the shit show that was life?

Luxuries aside, easy to jest about, the redheaded Turk missed the international missions of utmost importance, the state of the art equipment produced by ShinRa engineers, the feeling of power and importance on a global scale. He felt as though he had been knocked down the totem pole by many degrees. Did his comrades feel the same way as well? When inebriated, Reno attempted to pick his partner's brain over the matter, yet neither of them seemed too intent traversing down a rabbit hole of self-exploration and pity.

Perhaps the universe had heard him ( again, he didn't exactly believe in such a sentience ), perhaps Rufus grew tired of his Turks running around like errand boys and girl instead of putting their training to use. Just attending an exceptionally formal meeting in the meager home roused renewed energy within Reno, and the details which followed also excited him. Something different? Something actually new? There were no files to push around and no screen to project pertinent information; there was only memory. There was a name Verona and the rumours which surfaced to the front of his mind.

Apparently the half Turks had caught wind about her whereabouts; rumours they had followed until they found the woman themselves but had not approached. Rufus was already considering getting in leagues with the ex-AVALANCHE members, was he really contemplating extending a hand towards another ShinRa betrayer? The answer, of course, was yes. Reno and Rude were tasked to the mission, and mixed feelings spewed freely from the redhead's mouth during the trip. A meager amount of gil, rudimentary supplies, basically living out of a van . . . yeah, it was totally like the old days.

Reno wanted action, right? He certainly received it. He ceased complaining after the fourth day of travel as worry and paranoia mounted. Rude had heard the rumours too, but he offered little input whether or not he believed it. He knew his bald partner like the back of his hand didn't fail to notice the new level of tension on the fifth day of travel. They arrived at the coordinates provided by the other guys, and the van pulled up slowly as if to advertise their friendly presence.

Donning their Turk issued suits, both Reno and Rude exited the van at the same time and though his bald partner was head and shoulders taller than he, both men kept the same pace to the front of the home. Reno wished to whisper something snarky but dreaded the possibility it would be heard and taken badly. Wild thoughts kept bottled. Rude wore his black sunglasses, but the redhead as able to decipher the expression beneath as both men exchanged glances. Reno won, so the larger Turk knocked on the door with a gloved hand. Two steady beats, and then . . they waited.

starter for @strywoven

#[ ⁰⁰⁷ ; a little bit of reno to spice up life ] #strywoven #[ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ; ffvii ac ]

[violets-arepurple]

Im having a terrible day so here's some soukoku headcanons (some of these are ooc so pretend its in the futre and they've kind of got their shit together)

They have really nicknames for eachother that don't leave the house as they are both some what shy about their relationship in front of other people

Dazai calls Chuuya sunshine and Chuu

Chuuya calls Dazai doll and 'samu

You can pry Chuuya using Dazai given name in private from my cold dead hands I don't care

Chuuyas the big spoon so Dazai can have a break from watching his back even if it's only literally

Dazai also lays on his chest

Basically Dazai is being held a majority of the time

They ask eachothers opinion on work stuff, usually to do with new criminal groups causing problems

Dazai knows Chuuyas favourite wines and makes sure he never runs out, if theres a bottle drank there's one to replace it within the day

He does the same when one of Chuuyas favourite authors publishes a new book

Chuuya takes his bandages of before they go to sleep (non-sexual intimacy is important to me)

It took them a long time to get to the point of Dazai even thinking about taking them of himself but they're there now

Every sunday evening they have a bath together and sit in comfortable silence

Chuuya really enjoys spoiling Dazai he will often buy him nice suits and take him somewhere fancy on a date, partly to show him of and partly to try and show Dazai his worth

Other times he gets the best quality ingredients (usually crab) and makes him really nice bento boxes to take to work

They also go to art exhibitions together a laugh at modern art, its very romantic

Chuuya has a lot of issues in regards to the arahabaki situation so anytime he feels like he's not himself and his gloves aren't grounding him as much as usual he go's and holds Dazais hand

If Dazais having a particularly bad day he stays at home with Chuuya because he knows he doesn't have to force any facial expressions and can just chill

(Kunikida leaves him alone when Chuuyas the one to call in)

Whilst both of them still have a ridiculous amount of issues they help eachother feel a little bit better

They have matching pyjama sets (idk why I just think its cute)

Because Chuuyas hench he sometimes just carries Dazai around

If he thinks Dazai is working himself to hard or not taking care of himself Chuuya will just pick him up and take him somewhere else

Dazai eventually learns how to cook and makes dinner since Chuuya gets home later

Or he puts it in the fridge if Chuuyas on an overnight mission

Dazai is comfortable showing negative emotions around Chuuya

And Chuuyas comfortable letting his guard down around Dazai

You know that soft thing were people kiss the top of eachothers heads, they do that

Chuuya for all his roughness is really gentle with Dazai when they're at home and can relax

Dazai makes an effort to be honest with Chuuya about his intentions and feeling

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #skk #bsd headcanons #soukoku

[ben-the-hyena]

''puss in boots 2 made strange world its bitch proving ppl dont want stories where the conflict is intergenerational trauma but really just want classic villains'' that's such a ridiculous take, you can't compare the two

strange world was given barely any promotion by disney, that's why it's not popular and why so many ppl dont even know it exists. meanwhile puss in boots 2 had 1) a shit ton of promotion 2) it comes from a loooong franchise, shrek, and is a SEQUEL so obviously it was more anticipated and popular. so if you're basing that claim on popularity and reactions then....idk maybe compare it to encanto which was actually extremely popular ??

and like, pretending ppl just want classical villains is just incorrect- many do, but have you seen the amount of ppl who were happy about movies like encanto, turning red, and strange world utilizing different themes (intergenerational trauma, capitalism, metaphors to climate change and how people react to it in malicious ways, etc) instead of having a classical villain?

idk i just feel like you're getting unnecesarilly pressed about this. why are you so upset about great movies talking about real issues and focusing on that instead of focusing on a mad scientist trying to destroy the world or whatever

Because enough with movies especially cartoon movies that HAVE to be deep and psychological all the way with the antagonist who is actually a misunderstood baby and everybody needs to go to a therapist, it used to be fresh now it is overdone and unoriginal and moralizing everywhere it feels like watching a therapist session not a movie. And Disney has been doing that for a decade now and no magter how that shit called Encanto was popular it did not help much its company since it is losing in popularity a financial say and even already looking at a new strategy. However Puss in Boots ? It HAS psychology and a deep message, BUT it is also FUN with an ACTUAL FUN villain and doesn't believe itself pretentious, original and smarter than thou, they do have a redeemable villain yeah but is she really a villain, to be fair ? I repeat, Jack however makes that Disney trend to be "more realistic and smarter by having ALL our movies metaphorical without pazzaz anymore or it wouldn't be realistic in a magic world" its bitch. People want variety. People want something fresh. It was alright to have a few times a free therapy session through a character, but not all the time, now give actual entertainment or if you do give therapy give it with fun and not just "boohoo sowwy I was absolutely awful but I have an excuse" and "I HAVE TO RELATE TO ABSOLUTELY EVERY CHARACTER OR THIS MOVIE SUCKS" every fucking movie. Some people love fictional assholes for what they are or character who are drasrically different and go watch movies for adventures, and don't need to be reminded everytime of real life issues ALL. THE. TIME. Both kinds of movies can and MUST co exist, it must not be JUST one and not the other (it used to suck to have just evil villains and when Disney started to make redeemable deep ones who are not truly villains but miscommunication or situation are it was super fresh and welcome, to me too), and Disney has kept doing only one these days whereas Dreamworks has done BOTH in ONE movie which is a genius move and which is why despite all its promotion which sure did help (and let us be honest : I remember not a lot were thrilled by the trailer because it had Perrito pass as an annoying sidekick, some purists didn't like the animation and art change and some thought it was an unnecessary cashgrab sequel), it also had success because we both know promotion doesn't mean everything and a lot of movies were good or bad surprises throughout history. People are tired, people want to relax and people want novelty (which is ironically older)

#ask #anon #moi #movie #strange world #puss in boots

[ufonaut]

You seriously are judgemental of people for not liking soulless corporate shit that turned Great Darkness from Swamp Thing into Crisis Big Bad and is a way for new gen to have their big moment before fully putting them to sidelines? Come on.

that's my fucking point, it's not soulless corporate shit any more than the original crisis on infinite earths or zero hour: crisis in time were. you think those were made with no concern whatsoever for the books they might sell or the way they might rejuvenate a stagnant universe?

an indescribable boom of miniseries followed crisis, look at the ridiculous amount of new titles between '86 - '88 (longbow hunters, the demon, doctor fate, the phantom stranger, the crimson avenger, underworld, slash maraud, wild dog, blackhawk, power girl, peacemaker, etc etc without naming even half of them) and that's not even counting things like batman: year one that existed solely to establish the post-crisis origins of dc's bestsellers or any of the ongoings affected by the crisis or started as a result of it.

similarly, and take it from someone who owns every piece of zero hour promo material and has spent weeks painstakingly going through every solicitation of 1994, zero hour: crisis in time had quite literally over 80 (eighty!) tie-ins and an entire month after its finale dedicated to promoting the seven entirely new titles born from it.

and they're both generally acknowledged as some of dc's absolute heights! it's a formula that works with varying amounts of success, that's true, but you can't possibly compare stuff like dark nights: metal that's created solely for the purpose of selling merch while still framing the jl trinity as its main characters (how about bruce's entire black lantern arc for no reason whatsoever? diana using the helmet of fate? because they're mr scott snyder's specialest little perfect soldiers, right?) and playing around with violence & gore for the sake of violence & gore... to dark crisis' meticulous set up starting with infinite frontier (2021) #0-6 and slowly making its way through justice league incarnate #1-5 and beyond. you just can't.

it's idiotic to claim dark crisis is a platform for the next gen to have their big moment and nothing afterwards when it's bringing back legacy characters who haven't had the spotlight in decades -- oh, excuse me, did you forget alan scott & todd rice were main characters in infinite frontier? did you forget the jsa will be main characters in dark crisis starting with #3? how about cameron chase or cameos from forgotten 90s heroes like jared stevens/fate? or villains like hank henshaw? -- and that's counting pariah and the great darkness, who seem to be mutually poisoning each other towards this ultimate end in what's frankly some utterly compelling writing. hell, even joshua williamson talking about how he brought kyle rayner back because there were no other plans for him post-seemingly-dying-in-space in green lantern 2021 says a whole lot about the care dark crisis is handling its cast with and the genuine love for the medium going into this. you know that whole recent debate about writers who don't read or whatever it was? you can tell every single person involved in this latest crisis does read and does love comics as an art form. it's exciting! it's legitimately going back and looking at the original crisis and at zero hour in ways no modern event has dared! it's a book about legacy that actually understands its subject matter!

and you know what? even if it was all about the next gen getting their big moment, i would still welcome it because i'm sick to death of batman, superman and wonder woman and i'm sick to death of the universe revolving around them. why don't you want to see levi kamei deal with the great darkness like alec holland once had before him? why wouldn't this generation be given the same chance previous ones had?

i can see you've never once bothered to look at any of the behind the scenes discussions that have gone into dark crisis, and that's fine, but it doesn't make you any less of an idiot to come here with empty talking points everyone's passing around like a game of telephone because they saw a meme on twitter. i think dark crisis (on infinite earths) is one of the best things that could've ever happened to modern dc and disliking the fact that it approaches comics the way they had in the eighties and nineties simply means you don't understand comics or have no real love for them.

(x)

#dark crisis #dark crisis on infinite earths #jsa #justice society of america #green lantern #kyle rayner #swamp thing #pariah #the great darkness #asks #anon

[mikelogan]

I have a lot of thoughts…

These idiots have consumed my every waking thought for the last 7ish years and I will never be free. Please enjoy this masterpiece, a true work of art if I may be so bold. These particular couples are the ones in my massive Ben x Perry fic that I never shut up about, but the characters’ sexualities and preferences would be pretty much the same regardless of who they’re with.

Ben: Knew he didn’t just like girls in late middle school/early high school. Luckily, had a supportive family and a terrifying and fiercely protective sister. Had just as many boyfriends as he did girlfriends and don’t even get me started on the France trip the summer after his senior year.

Perry: Realized in high school that he didn’t really factor in gender when it came to who he was attracted to. Was closeted until he moved away from home as his father was verbally and physically abusive. Doesn’t use labels.

JD: Knew he was bi before he figured out he was trans, so probably similar to Ben in that it would have been late middle school or early high school. Came out as trans when he was 16 and went on T in his senior year. Didn’t tell Turk until Turk accidentally walked in on JD giving himself an injection and then it all just sort of came out.

Turk: Bestie. Please. So much internalized homophobia to work through here. JD helps a lot in that regard and they start dating in med school after meeting and becoming best friends in their first year of college. It’s something he struggles with for a while and often overcompensates with ridiculous displays of masculinity. Still doesn’t really refer to himself as gay to others, even though it’s what feels best for him. What really matters is that he’s with JD.

Carla: Doesn’t know or come out until after she starts at Sacred Heart. When Jordan goes through postpartum depression after being Ben and Perry’s surrogate, Carla is the first one to notice something is wrong. Carla has become close with Perry and Ben by that point and Jordan is at the hospital fairly frequently between board meetings and terrorizing her brother-in-law. Jordan ends up leaning on Carla pretty hard during postpartum and Carla sees that softer side of Jordan that she tries so hard to hide. Carla panics because she’s never felt this way about another woman before (*cough* comp het *cough*), and she goes to Perry for help to decipher all of what she’s feeling. Looking back, it’s pretty easy to realize that she did have big gay feelings before, but she’d never realized what they were, let alone acted on them.

Jordan: Does not give one singular shit. She likes hot people. She sleeps with hot people. She tops and she doms. Queen shit.

Elliot: Similar to Carla re: comp het and also just a massive amount of repression growing up in Connecticut. Is anyone surprised? Absolutely not. Has a lot of unlearning to do when it comes to preconceived notions about gender and sexuality and also sex in general. Absolute pillow princess. Queen of opening mouth, inserting foot.

Molly: TRANS LESBIAN who, despite her best efforts, falls for the repressed girl from New England. What can she say, the emotional issues always draw her in.

#scrubs #scrubs thoughts #ramblings #I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS OKAY #Ben x Perry #JTurk #Carla x Jordan #Elliot x molly #Ben Sullivan #perry cox #john Dorian #Chris Turk #Carla Espinosa #jordan Sullivan #Elliot Reid #molly clock #trans jd

[writingforatwistedworld]

It may be because of "astrology girlies 🧿✨🔮" that star signs have such reputation. Your sun does not say much about your personality, you need a whole birthchart, and even with that, you need an insane amount of knowledge to try and be like "ha! I can see through you!" Astrology is not a science, is an art, and like any other art, it can not be measured within reason, some people are just like their birth charts says, some are not. I believe there is truth to it, but it's a personal belief, and my main point here, is that most people who care that much about astrology are the ones that don't know shit about it 💀.

You need to know math, astronomy, and have a good intuition to read a chart accurately, is such a complex skill to dominate and you can still fail because people move through phases and they learn new things and forget others, and evolve, and then hit rock bottom again.

I'm sorry you were treated that way, because whether you decide to believe or not, Scorpio is a beautiful star sign with a great amount of good qualities. (It's okay if you don't really believe in it, just letting you know that saying scorpio is abusive it's just dumb)

Sorry if I kinda took this opportunity to rant, but I needed to get this off my chest. Death to all astrology girlies

Referring to this.

Ohhh a expert (might sound like I mean it in a ridiculing way but I don't. Promise.)

I mean, you just showed that no matter how much you believe in something other is still no need to go after others because they believe in something else. I didn't even know that you needed to understand maths for this but it also tells me that the subject is much deeper than what that those two thought it was.

Keep it up anon! I wish you to have a lot of fun with it! Just make sure you don't turn out like those two.

[butch-bakugo]

"likes do nothing!" " Don't like my art if you won't reblog it!" I garentee you just lost at least 5 followers, made someone feel guilty for putting their reblog in their queue and are killing any traction than you thought you'd gain.

Listen. I'm an artist, a struggling one at that, but I still can not for the life of me find the source of audacity for some artists on Tumblr. First off! Lets dispell the myth that " likes don't do anything". Tumblr LITTERALLY has a feature that lets you see content similar to the things you've liked. You've probably turned it off but it's still there! Many people still have it on! Not to mention that the more likes something has, the more likely it is to appear at the top of its respective tag so yes, likes are doing something.

Second off: you are not entitled to your follower's followers. You are not entitled to your follower's blog space. Your not entitled to their podium and you arnt entitled to their attention. The amount of you who act like because someone liked your art and wants to see more of it, your entitled to their all their time, energy and attention is ridiculous. I do not owe anyone my platform. I don't owe you jack shit. No one dose!

What so many of these Tumblr artists who put little banners at the bottom of their art that say " reblogs > likes!!" Want amounts to.... Well... free labor. They are demanding that their following do this cool thing called networking and billboarding. Basically, they are demanding that because your receiving their content for free( despite them not understanding that free doesn't include litterally anything other than being free. No favors attached. Also no one is demanding that they give up their content for free, that was their choice.) you owe it to them to share them on your platform. To give them more exposure and talk about them to your friends so they get more followers and more attention. Did you know that that counts as labor? That being a networker and billboard is a paid gig?

Like I'm sorry no, your art isn't entitled to my platform because I choose to consume your free content. This is literally no different from people parroting and guilting their friends into buying an overpriced amazon-bought molded resin ashtray for fifty dollars so you can say you "supported your friend's small business." You don't wanna be a capitalist pig now do you?

If you have to guilt your followers to get attention to your art, your art isn't good enough to be shared and honestly? Your probably an entitled brat. Your also building up an unimaginable resentment in your following that will eventually kill your oldest supporters and scare away new ones. Whenever I see an artist I supported going on tirade after tirade about how people are liking their content but no one is reblogging it and how we clearly want their art to die and don't support them despite them producing art only for a small fandom and their art getting 300+ likes and 50 reblogs, I just look down on you like your a fucking toddler on the floor crying about not getting a third popsicle. Your so childish and entitled, you can't even enjoy the attention and support you are receiving, why the hell would I wanna give you more?

Some of you need to remember to appreciate that your even getting attention at all. Your certainly not entitled to it and you certainly arnt using it for good. Your whining and crying that we aren't petting your head and whipeing your ass. Get it together. Your not Picasso. Your not da Vinci. Your making five nights at Freddy's fan art. Your drawing YouTubers as plants. Your writing deku fanfiction. This isn't your magnum opus and you arnt entitled to the attention it would recieve.

It was your choice and your gambit to spend 300+ hours on that marvel x sonic cross over movie poster, you can't cry when the chips fall and you only get three likes. Its one thing to love your audience and it's another to try and dictate them. Sorry but your not convincing and the crowd is leaving. Learn to be better.

#levi speaks #im not saying an artist should have to give out their art for free or be pressured into bending their interests to the following they gain #i am however saying that your following is not your army or your employees #they dont work for you they can leave at any time and for any reason including none at all #as someone whose had art be super successful and fall flat on its face its hard #BUT #i have never nor will ever blame my audience or tell them they arnt supporting me enough #its not their job to #it was my choice to take the chance and spend hours not theirs #same as its your choice #if you find yourself upset for the lack of likes and support you receive #its narcissistic to blame the 300 people around you for your actions instead of yourself

[ihavenothingtodo10220]

thats what i mean wnd its like with every new interest id have in something i dont want to fully commit bc its just going to make me want to spend spend spend on it be it kpop, some random clothing brand or idfk a bag or some other accesories. heck even tarot has become ridiculous in that there is an overconsumption of card productions bc apparently ppl cant just make do with a small amount and even if someone new was going to get into tarot they wouldnt know which card deck to buy bc theres simply, too many. i find that even with youtube as societies main form of entertainment, its almost too much to watch to browse i dont know what videos i want to watch half the time its just junky videos that people use other people for money and baiting people into buying more junky items :(

for exampke i used to watch a really lovely guy who did nice drawings of his explroring slowly he became less about drawings and more about promoting his art haul supplies most of which he was sent for free and he was always saying to his followers oh but look such and such an item is so so great buy it bc he said so (not in those words but thats what they imply). them the same hypocrite uploaded a nother video titled something like maybe he has too many art supplies and it was like draws full of unused unopened supplies some of it very expensive like caran d'ache expensive, then when i commented that i bought the travel palette that ppl were raving about i realise it was just a trick of the algorithim telling folk to need it in thier lives cause the items the youtubers have wouldnt make no difference to their drawings and it didnt even try to improve mine so i stopped watching his channel and many others who have sadly turned into the consumerism route. its not just america thats lost its plot, its every country sadly.

Exactly. Everyone’s just losing it, tbh. Everyone’s just hyper fixating on shit and for the people who have a lick of success that becomes money and power and fame, and frankly they stop caring about the people on the bottom of the ladder who’re contributing to it. And this is coming from someone with major hyperfixations who pours my heart and soul into shit only to either get burnt out or find something else and shifting all my attention to it and then the cycle continues. But at least my hyperfixations don’t directly harm or even really impact others like most of those youtuber’s are. Honestly, it’s just getting sad ATP. It feels like we were making so much progress then everything just went downhill again. Even with things such as laws that give people more freedom and rights being overturned. Like it’s just sad atp.