#sugardoodle
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What interesting things have you gotten interested in, in these past few interesting months, my interesting friend
Well, well-well-well-well, welllllll, a few thing-a-ma-bobs. But it's mainly been 4 fandoms that have come and intergrained themselves in my grey matterspace.
Disco Elysium is pretty obvious with some of my recent posts, BUT I've really only gotten 5 or so hours into my first playthrough so far and from what I can guess, it is nowhere near the end for me. I'm gonna try and get back to it sometime soon, but it's just been a case of notyet getting into the mindset to play a deeply written detective-human psychology-political story novel, to the surprise of myself. It's highly enjoyable, don't miscontrue my words, but it's an undertaking.
Speaking of politics, guess which underwater, steampunk, civil war simulator franchise I've played and has shot to the top of favorite games of all time? Yeah, Bioshock 1 and 2 had knocked my socks off with their presentation and story than I had first expected. I knew the games were classics, but I had just thought they wouldn't interest me since I'm kinda lukewarm on the steampunk genre admittedly. But Rapture as a whole had made me engrossed with every inner working and system in the sunken city, not withstanding the competing and aggressive interactions between the personification of political stances called Andrew Ryan, Sofia Lamb, and Frank Fontaine. Lovely games and my heart is sent to every Big Daddy and Little Sister down there, specially Delta.
Oh, and Infinite? ...i-it's fine. Like, I liked looking at the grim alternate history of Columbia (which is another reason Rapture had grabbed me) and I got used to the gameplay and feeling of being akin to Half-Life 2, but the ending kinda fell super flat on me and I wasn't a fan of how they intergrated parallel worlds into the story. And less said about Burial at Sea, I'll give you as many sugardoodles as need be.
Now back to our normal scheduled program, and by normal, I mean bizarre. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. Good segueway, I know. But yeah, Jojo has occupied a lot of brainspace in me too recently, which is rare for an anime to do so for me. But fuck me, did the story grip me by Part 2. I had felt like it had finally start to get it's narrative grip by the time I had seen the Pillar Men emerge to be cool, strong, honorific yet bastard vampire dudes. It may have also been the gay talking and Joseph being iconic. But what sucks about my situation is that I'm not far into Part 3 because I've been watching through it on a friend's behalf and her schedule hasn't aligned for it for the past month, so I'm stuck in a purgatory of waiting to get the full context of scenes through the actual story while I tiptoe around spoilers when watching content made by Jojo fans, and it kills me more when I slowly feel like I'll fucking ADORE Parts 5, 6, and 7 when I get to it! Basille, you bitch (affectionate), WATCH JOJO WITH ME!
Ahem, sorry bout that, let me get to the last thing right quick. Risk of Rain was yet another thing recommended to me by a friend and I've had my fair share of enjoyment playing through both of the games. The first game's style is wonderfully Terraria feeling for a guy that knows that Terraria is not my speed in the slightest, and I had a fair bit in fun in completing the game with every survivor. Risk of Rain 2 has been even more fun but also more infuriating as another result, since I really like the transition into 3d and how the game feels much more smoother to play, but I've grinded myself at trying to beat the game even once after 30+ attempts that it has burned me out even when I get a good run. Maybe it's just because I complete stages too slowly, but I can't help but wanting to complete shit. I've gotten to Mithrix once and have been waiting to taste that wonderful feeling again. And what is another kick in the pants is how RIsk of Rain Returns has released but isn't on consoles beside the Switch and I want it!
Oh, and I don't know if I had said this outright, but I had seen Ultrakill about a year ago and have been still into that, but even moreso now, soooo I guess that counts?
#aynonie moose time#i swear i am adjusted mentally#disco elysium#bioshock#jojo's bizarre adventure#risk of rain#risk of rain 2#really just putting these here to make it more seen i guess
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Since I still can’t figure out how to do normal xkit-style replies with the new tumblr code (if someone’s figured it out, PLEASE tell me) @musicalluna @sugardoodle yes my body would prefer to never be out of doors ever. I don’t have it as bad as I could, though. Apparently some people with this condition are so sensitive to cold they can’t eat anything cold or it’ll produce hives in their throats. Mentioned it to my mom and she said she experiences the same thing, so it’s probably a genetic gift.
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Would someone be allowed, with credit of course, to use that photoshop of Aziraphale holding the diamond Minecraft sword as an icon? That someone is me and my sideblog because it’s the most hilarious thing I’ve seen in my life
yeah go for it!
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Could you please add me to the tag list for ‘when the colors bleed away’? It’s so good, I’m on the edge of my seat and I don’t want to miss the second part!!!
Oh my gosh, yes, of course! Thank you so much! 😊😘
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I saw that you were wanting recs, and I personally am a slut for any Stony fic where there’s angst/whump that reveals how much they care about each other. Have you written anything before where they’re stuck out in like, the absolute wilderness somewhere (Canada?), without even a cabin? I also think it’s ironic when superheroes really struggle against the elements, like something as basic as surviving and yet they barely do it. And speaking of ‘bear’, bear attacks are always perfect angst?
i haven’t, which is probably part of why i’m hankering so bad. it’s like, my original fav (CLASSIC H/C) it doesn’t seem to get written much in this fandom and i NEED IT.
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sugardoodle
I actually have the opposite problem :// when other people draw digitally it looks so easy, but when I try it looks like I did it in MS paint lol
oh the drawing process is less the problem, and more that i can’t use undo and rescale things separately and so on xD it’s tough to get used to drawing digitally! it’s definitely a different feel
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When I was in elementary school and I was like 9, I didn't have any friends who read warriors, so I'd gather groups of people together (even if I didn't know them) and I would give them a brief rundown of how things worked, and then I'd give them all warrior induction ceremonies and after that we'd just larp. Not sure if I was convincing or if battlecats are just that interesting but they were always super into it
that’s actually pretty impressive...like for real. i was far too widely disliked for any of my classmates to listen to me like that LOL
hey hone those leadership skills you’ve got there it’s a huge asset for your future
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I just found your page, and it's awesome! I've wanted a giant Flemish rabbit for some time now, but I don't know much about their care and I kinda gave up when I couldn't find any breeders in my state. Would you happen to have a care sheet? And does anyone have some sort of current registry for Flemish breeders (I'm in Michigan if that helps)?
I don’t really have any info on them, but perhaps one of my followers could help you out :)
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Yashiro mad...
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Marinette: Trust me, the embosser heater will work. I've burnt the snickers out of my finger using it once.
Adrien: Ok, but I'm bringing my hairdryer too.
* ten minutes later*
Adrien: Holy sugardoodle! That hurts!
Marinette: Told ya.
#blonde moment#Victory for susan#My mom burnt her hand#Whoops#marinette dupain cheng#Adrien agreste#miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir#Source: my family#Source: me and my mom#This is legit how we speak#I keep saying snickers for some dang reason#Adrien had a so called#Please dont use blonde moment#I'm a blonde and I hate the phrases blonde moment or dumb blonde#Ima blonde girl and it annoys me#This has gone on to long#These tags and the phrase#Also#Very quick way to end a date with a self respecting smart blonde is by saying blonde moment or using a dumb blonde joke#Unless your a blonde#Then you have a semi pass card#Maybe not on the blonde joke....#That's just offensive j#May I just day many blondes arent even real blondes so there#Oh my gosh#How many dang tags did I leave about blonde jokes!?#U hmmmmmm
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@sugardoodle Most Icies have 2 rear dewclaws, yes. If not, then they’re only single but no at all is a fault in their breed.
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Also sorry to like spam ur inbox at all! And I know your rec thing was leaning towards romance, but irondad spiderson is soooo good, and anything at all with Tony protecting peter like he’s his own kid is absolutely excellent!
yes, agreed. also the team just protecting each other. 100/10
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End of Year Response Meme
I was tagged by @disease-danger-darkness-silence!
Rules: Tag 9 people you would like to know/catch up with.
Last song: I can’t remember if it was Kom Nirk Oun Eiy by Ros Serey Sothea or the 20th anniversary version of Meeting and Parting from the Pokemon OST.
Last movie: It’s a Wonderful Life.
Currently watching: Uhhhhhh... I don’t really watch TV,,, so I guess the best I can say is my 6749834902th rewatch of hbomberguy’s “Sherlock is Garbage and Here’s Why”
Currently reading: I need to start back up again on The Man from the Train and Le trou dans le grillage... but otherwise mostly fic lately.
Currently playing: Pokemon Go is the only game I really play...
Currently craving: ice cream, but I always crave that...
Tagging: @sleepy-ass-cryptid, @trashyshadow, @alternativetrump, @sugardoodle, @athena-inthe-rain, @kaizokuou-ni-naru, @sergle, @prideknights, @13wyvern7
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When the Colors Bleed Away (chapter 2)
I barely had time to write lately, so all my WIPs have suffered as a result. But I’m trying to get back on the proverbial horse here and get my WIP list cleared. Starting with this little guy. Sorry for the long wait, everyone. Hope it ends up worth it.
Link to chapter 1
Tagging @sugardoodle @id-prefer-not-to-thanks @iloveyouthreethousand3000 @tonystanktableforone @irnson @swanheart69 @lo-anlurui @keltainen13 @jazzyswonderland @pandaofthewest @shiskabubble @magicalme92 @geekymoviemom @um-ha-you-thought @catsarecutebutaliens @talesofirondadspiderson @memelovescaps @burningsoulbloodyheart @little-big-mac2 @starbird-16 @jelly-pies @the-poets-muse @fantasticnewt-imagines @trippy-alexissss @lizzie990 @suchatwistedfairytale @smitemewiththyfootwear @misskirkstark @notwhat-i-seemtobe @your-wonderful-stargazer @furiouszombietidalwave @schalabi422 @stonequiet @tonystark5ever
Chapter 2
A familiar whoosh of thrusters cuts through the air above him, filtering through the violent whirlpool of fear and loss that rages within him, slowly but surely dragging him down, down, down. It takes him a moment to register the origins of the sound, the reason for the familiarity of it. And then it finally clicks and he jolts, his arms tightening involuntarily around Mr. Stark’s limp form as the red and gold suit lands beside him with an uncharacteristically heavy, graceless thump.
“F…FRIDAY?”
The suit’s cold blue eyes regard him silently for a brief moment, before it steps closer, an arm extending toward them.
“Let me take him, Peter.” FRIDAY’s normally warm Irish lilt sounds tight somehow, clipped. “Please, while there’s still time.”
And Peter can hear it now, underneath the deafening roar of panic: a faint thump-thump-thump of Mr. Stark’s heart. Faltering, fading…
That sound, that treasured and inexorably dimming proof of Mr. Stark’s ebbing life, is enough to spur him into action. He scrambles to his feet as quickly as he can without jostling the unresponsive man, carefully transfers his precious cargo into FRIDAY’s waiting arms. Watches as the suit straightens out, Mr. Stark’s limp form cradled with utmost gentleness against the metal chest.
“Get in the car, Peter. It’ll take you back to the Tower.”
And he starts violently at the unintentional, cruel echo of Mr. Stark’s earlier words. If only he had listened then. If only he’d done as he was told while Mr. Stark was still safe, instead of making the man stand there and argue with him…
The sound of the suit’s thrusters engaging cuts off the self-recriminating spiral of his thoughts, and he’s left to stare numbly up at the rapidly disappearing streak of red and gold, until it becomes nothing more than a tiny speck in the distance. Only then does he will his legs to move.
***
He spends the ride back to the Tower hunched over in the back seat of Mr. Stark’s car, staring glumly at the expensive black leather of the seat in front of him. The seat Mr. Stark should be sitting in, if he weren’t… if Peter hadn’t… if…
He clenches his teeth on a useless howl of anguish; curls further in on himself.
FRIDAY doesn’t speak to him as she guides the car swiftly through the city streets, and he isn’t sure how to feel about that. He would have preferred if she’d said something, he thinks. Chastised him, perhaps. Yelled at him. Assured him, however falsely, that Mr. Stark was gonna be okay.
But maybe it’s best she doesn’t speak to him. Maybe he doesn’t deserve anything more than her silence. It was his fault, after all, that her creator wasn’t protected when it counted, that he got hurt as badly as he did. How could he expect her to speak to him, to offer him any comfort after that?
The car comes to an abrupt stop, jerking him out of his somber musings, and he looks up, blinking owlishly at his surroundings. The Tower. They were back at the Tower, and how did he not notice that?
“Medical wing, Peter,” FRIDAY’s voice breaks the oppressive silence, bringing his attention back to the confines of the car. “The elevator will take you straight there.”
He doesn’t need more encouragement than that.
***
May is the first person he sees when he steps out of the elevator. She looks frazzled, he notes, her face lined with concern as she paces nervously in front of the darkened windows of the OR. He wonders if the way she holds herself – all stiff and trembling – means she knows something about Tony, if the doctors said anything yet, if Tony’s…
“May?” he calls out, taking a small, hesitant step forward, desperately needing to know but just as terrified of what she might tell him.
She whirls at the sound of his voice, rushes toward him, arms held out in invitation and need. And freezes mid-step, the expression of relief morphing into one of breathless horror.
“Peter…” she gasps out, hands grasping painfully at his shoulders as she stares at some random spot around his midsection before raising her troubled wide-eyed gaze to Peter’s face. “Peter, honey, are you hurt?”
He frowns at her in confusion, mouth opening as he moves to reassure her that he is, in fact, perfectly unharmed. But then he glances down to where May’s gaze was drawn just moments ago and the words of reassurance die on his lips as he sees what it is that has captured his aunt’s attention. Blood, Mr. Stark’s blood. The front of his tee and jeans are soaked with it, stiff and heavy against his body. He shivers, as an unpleasantly cold sensation wraps itself around him, his stomach tightening in a painfully uncomfortable knot.
“I…,” he mumbles, the back of his throat burning with rising bile. “I’m…” And then his throat closes off completely and he tears himself violently out of May’s grasp, her worried calls of his name ignored as he makes a desperate dash for the closest restroom.
Later, as he kneels on the cold tiled floor, hands clutching the edges of the toilet bowl, his stomach twisting with dry violent heaves, May’s stubborn unwavering presence beside him and her cool trembling hand against the back of his neck are the only things that keep him from breaking altogether.
***
“So, you don’t have to worry about that guy anymore, Mr. Stark.”
They said he should talk to him; that it might help, might guide Mr. Stark back to them, help him wake up. So he comes here and he talks. About his classes, about his tests, about the experiment he and Ned have been working on, about the prank MJ pulled on Flash. He apologizes, over and over and over, telling him he meant none of it, that he needs him, always have, always will. He pleads with him to wake up. He talks until his throat is raw, until May comes in to quietly usher him out of the room because it’s time to go home.
He goes. And then comes back again the next day. And the next, and the next. No matter how much he dreads those visits. No matter how much he hates the coldness of that room and its sterile smell, the stubborn awful stillness of Mr. Stark’s body and the steady beeping of the machines surrounding his bed. He comes back and he talks, because he has to hope that it’s gonna work. Because that hope is the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
“FRIDAY tracked his face and the car he was driving when he… when you were attacked. So she hacked into that car’s computer and she made him… He’s gone.” He chews his bottom lip, momentarily unsure. Then shrugs off his uncertainty, brows pulling together in a frown of determination. “I know you’re probably not gonna like it, Mr. Stark, but I’m glad she did it.” His voice turns hard, the fingers of his left hand curling into a fist. “It was the right thing to do. Your bots, your family – we care so much about you, and this guy, he almost took you away from us, and…”
“She did the right thing,” he insists, quieter now, his gaze tracing the slow rise and fall of Mr. Stark’s chest, lingering guiltily on the thick swath of bandages that peeks out from underneath the hospital blanket. “She did. I only wish… I wish I’d done something, too. I should have done something.”
He shakes his head, swallowing past an already familiar steadily building lump. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I’m so, so sorry. For everything. I…”
His eyes burn, and he squeezes them shut. Only to force them open in breathless panic as the same haunting images flash before him in his mind’s eye. Looks frantically at the motionless figure of his mentor, his gaze drawn once more to the man’s bandaged chest – white, all white, no traces of red.
“I can’t sleep, Mr. Stark,” he confesses hoarsely, his hand inching hesitantly toward Mr. Stark’s slack fingers, needing the contact and simultaneously terrified of receiving something he’s sure he doesn’t deserve.
“I can’t sleep, because every time I close my eyes, all I see is blood. Everywhere. S-so… so much of it, and I can’t… I can’t see anything else. It’s like… like all the colors are just gone and it’s just … just red… a-all around me.”
He clings to Mr. Stark’s hand, desperation momentarily overcoming fear. Throws a hopeful glance at the man’s face, feeling that hope crumble once more into despair at the sight of the man’s slack, unresponsive features.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, Mr. Stark. I can’t… I need you to wake up, sir. I need you back. I need…. Please,” he whispers, exhaustion and despair settling deep in his bones, dragging him down. He lets himself sag forward onto the bed, his forehead thumping gently against Mr. Stark’s hand. Feels his eyes droop closed again, whimpering in a pitiful appeal for mercy as the ocean of red encroaches on his vision once more. But he’s too tired, too weak to fight against it anymore, and he gives in, letting his eyes slide closed, a breathless huff of a plea accompanying him to his tortured slumber, “Please, wake up.”
***
His sleep doesn’t last long. It never does these days, the cruel images of Mr. Stark’s bloody lifeless body ripping him unceremoniously out of the latest nightmare.
But something is different this time, he can feel it, even through the residual haze of his haunting dreams. Still, it takes him a moment to register the feel of shaky fingertips carding awkwardly through his hair. But when he does, when he does…
“Mr. Stark!” He sits up with a jolt, a little too quickly if the way the room spins around him is anything to go by. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, because Mr. Stark is awake. Mr. Stark is awake and he’s looking right at him, lips pulled in a wan, pale smile.
“Hey kid…” And there’s a hand lifting weakly toward him. And it’s all the permission Peter needs.
He grabs the proffered hand, presses it with hungry reverence against his cheek. And in the next moment he’s down, draped, blanket-like across Mr. Stark’s chest, as gently, as cautiously as he possibly can, while giving into the overwhelming need to curl himself around the man. Burrows his face into his mentor’s neck
“I missed you,” he breathes out hotly into Mr. Stark’s skin, heedless of the tears that run unchecked down his cheeks. “I missed you so much!”
And heaves a shuddering sob of relief as he feels Mr. Stark’s arm wrap a bit clumsily across his shoulders. “I missed you, too, kiddo. I missed you, too.”
FIN
#tony stark#peter parker#irondad#spiderson#hurt/comfort#angst#all's well that ends well#somethingjustsouthofbrilliance writes
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