#(I'm not a fan of demonic stuff...)

[bread-is-my-life]

I'm an advocate for Stainmight. I love them so much and have been trying to convince others just how much sense they make as a ship. Stain would absolutely do anything for Toshi. He'd reform himself and become the best version of himself if Toshi asked it of him.

They deserve the world 🥹😭

HI HI NICE TO MEET YA!!! :3 You are so real for that... Also HE ABSOLUTELY WOULD!!!

Also let me give you those weird school doodles of em :3 ignore how their height makes no sense in every pic and other mistakes lol I did those instead of studying ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ I PROMISE THAT I WILL COOK SMTH SOON!!!

(btw on the second pic Toshi forgot his scarf and Stain forced him to wear his but then they just decided to share it :D I might redraw it later and fix all the mistakes like Toshi's height LMAO)

ANYWAYS I LOVE ALL STAINMIGHT SHIPPERS GUYS PLEASE I WANT TO HUG YOU ALL AND SHAKE YOUR HANDS AND AND *explodes*

[batsplat]

if more people knew Herstory (aka 2004 season and sete&vale) so many questions wrt 2015 season(mostly “why would vale….”) would immediately be answered addfghjk like guysssss guyssssss

it is kinda funny that there's a simple cheat code out there to understanding most of valentino's career but it's just about long enough ago that most people simply... ignore it. like there's a three year span that more or less tells you what you need to know about him. it's like you say! pretty much every possible "why would vale..." secretly has a straightforward answer, and 9/10 it's something that was established in 2003 to 2005. simple as

if anything it's almost annoying because it's too easy. the 2004/2015 stuff in particular is incredibly funny. oh, so you say you have a controversial last lap at assen where valentino beat a rival in direct combat and said rival reacted surprisingly poorly, making valentino reevaluate his relationship with the rival? might that tell you something about how a seed of suspicion once sown can remain dormant for months until valentino is given cause to revisit it? valentino quite literally says in his biography that he could never have hated biaggi because he wasn't a friend and didn't have the power to hurt him... the sepang pressers thing is genuinely just silly, I know this is mainly a function of when they happen in the calendar but what a bizarre coincidence. 2015 is like a slightly more opaque funhouse mirror version of 2004 - but so many of the major beats are virtually identical. which means you've got a season Out There where a younger less experienced less guarded less cynical valentino basically walks you through his internal processes so you get a really good handle of what his deal is. he's piecing together his identity as a competitor going forwards in real time - and then in 2015 he just reminds you of what exactly that identity involves. it's a reaffirmation and not a departure... he's not that inscrutable after all, in the end

[lady-of-the-spirit]

What would fix Jiang Yanli's character: getting to know her opinions on anything, having any importance outside of her brothers, her dying to be significant and not just for her brothers' pain, getting even just one scene from her perspective

What would not fix Jiang Yanli's character: simply giving her a sword/zidian and calling it a day

[pestercide]

New creature just dropped

[creative-hanyou-girl]

Nothing like eating InuYasha's favorite food while watching InuYasha on a cold night🥰❤

[yourleastfavoriteplaguerat]

tagged for spoilers

oh great so you're telling me that a young girl neglected by her parents and drugged to the gills since childhood goes into the fucking wilderness and runs out of those meds and is in a stressful situation and starts hallucinating/having delusions/being a vessel for some entity??? and all she does is do some silly little rituals and do group therapy techniques and everyone starts feeding into her delusions and then they kill & eat someone in her name when she's like decomfuckingposing in the attic and then she's gaslit into thinking she was involved, that she was at fault, because her off the lifelong meds psychosis "started" all of this and now she's their jesus even though she told them that if she died they should eat her all she ever wanted to do was fucking help them to give them hope and now she's elevated into something not-lottie, she's twisted into a prophet, she's not their teammate or another teenage girl she's the messiah and all of this is her fault

then they get rescued and she's shipped off to a psych ward and shock therapied and no one checks in on her and who gives a fuck really, they're out of the wilderness, lottie can't do anything for them anymore, and she becomes the scapegoat for all of their fucked up deeds and desires and she's already gaslit to hell and back over this

then she starts a silly little commune full of other 'broken' people just vibing and having a home and safety and she's helping people like she always wanted to do before the yellowjackets took her good intentions and warped them and told her that she warped them and then one of her friends is going to kill themselves so she takes her and brings her to the commune to try and heal her, to help her, to undo the damage she never meant to wrought, and then boom all of her alive old teammates are here dragging their own shit and trauma with them acting like she's the devil incarnate to shoulder their guilt and now she's hearing about their various crimes and triggered into a psychotic break when she was doing good before this and now that friend she tried to save is dead and she's in another fucking mental institution because no one wants to deal with lottie even though she's the 'monster' they created (lowkey in their minds) and now the silly little commune's fucked and her followers are probably wondering if any of it was ever real and all lottie wanted to do was help to provide hope all she did was care

oh but sure, she's the problem

like what the actual fuck?

[error-dark]

Finished this yesterday. This took me a month to work on.

[happi-tree]

your eyes look like coming home

On their two-week journey back from Earth, the protective paladin watches over his sleeping friends. As it turns out, though, he's not the only one having trouble getting some shut-eye.

Title from "Everything Has Changed" by Taylor Swift (yes, that one)

*waves* Hello dndads fandom! Enjoy some post episode-23 taylor/link (taylink? swiftli?) softness bc they deserve it 💗💗💗 ft. my part-demon trait hcs for Taylor and a nonzero amount of unintentional foreshadowing!

Lincoln had always been an early riser - more out of self-imposed obligation than anything else, really - but lately, he’s been finding himself staying up later and later, unable to rest. The concept of sleep itself is like a dream he can’t quite grasp, reminiscent of the firefly-golden flickers of memories that are not his. 

Gossamer and effervescent and magical and horrible, they sear themselves into the backs of his eyelids even now, miniature sunbursts in the darkness (and all of those metaphors in English class make sense now that he’s actually seen a sun) filling his senses with too-hot-too-bright-too-much. Every time he closes his eyes, the flashes linger like so much of its static in the back of his mind, always present like the undulating black not-sky of his true homeland, always watching like the red-black eye that gazed blinkingly upon his entire childhood. 

And this is all too much for Link to deal with, and he can’t change the past no matter how it haunts him, and he can’t command its all-seeing form to turn away, so he sits quietly in the middle row of the Pussywagon and watches with bloodshot eyes as his companions slumber. 

If he’s awake, at least he can look out for his friends. 

He can look at Scary and take comfort in her even, deep breaths and her ramrod, borderline vampiric posture as she mutters in her sleep, her nightcap slightly askew atop disheveled black-magenta hair. He grimaces to himself a bit as she grumbles incoherently - Link doesn’t trust this Willy guy one bit, but after these past weeks, he’s just glad to see her sleeping peacefully. Glad that her chest rises and falls with each breath, glad that her typical sneer has faded at the corners, rounding out her face into something younger, more like the girl that used to lead the varsity soccer team.

If Link’s still conscious, he can look at Normal and breathe a quiet sigh of relief that he’s not thrashing in his sleep anymore, every cell in his body begging for its presence to get out of his head as he dreams. Even still, silent tears stream down his acne-ridden cheeks, face contorted into an anguished mask so unlike his enthusiastic smiles, and Lincoln finds himself mumbling words of comfort on instinct. He feels the now-familiar twinge of magic siphoning from between his cells and coalescing into an invisible, intangible something that smooths the furrows between Normal’s brows, eases the tension of his jaw as the boy exhales more steadily than before.

If Link can force his eyes to stay open, he can look at his father, now more childlike and more intensely violent than he has ever known him. He had fallen asleep at the wheel (and Link is eternally grateful that this cat-bus can drive itself), smartphone abandoned on his lap playing the low-volume, tinny Fortnite theme on its dim screen. He snores annoyingly loudly, and Link is hit with a pang of homesick-nostalgic-bitterness at the sound. Link gingerly reaches across to shut off the device and has to shake off the innocent, desperate part of himself that wants to cuddle up next to his dad and feel safe in his warm embrace. (That ship has long since passed, now. The only protection Link has is the safety he makes for himself.)

If Link refuses to sleep, he can look at Hermie, who has graciously taken the passenger seat next to his dad. He’s been through a lot of unnecessary trouble for their little group, and despite his initial misgivings, Link can’t help but worry for him, especially given the more recent revelations about his parentage. Hermie twitches in his sleep, hissing when the worn upholstered seat rubs too harshly on his partially-healed burns. Link’s going to have to see about healing those the rest of the way soon - maybe Normal can help with that, too, since he seems to have a soft spot for the guy. A conversation for the morning (or what amounts to it in the void), definitely. 

If Link just stays awake, he can look at Taylor, who -

“Hey,” a familiar, nasally voice calls out from the purple-tinted not-quite-darkness, accompanied by a crooked smile that looks several shades thinner than usual. 

Oh. Taylor’s still awake. 

Carefully, Link shuffles across the seat toward Taylor’s prone form. A singular eye is cracked open, glowing amber like a yellowed headlight. It’s a different hue of gold than the shades from the church, Link thinks, a soft, pretty color, and then wonders why he thinks that. Must be the lack of sleep.

“Hi,” Link says, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible.

“You’re trying to stay awake, aren’t ya?” 

“Someone’s been working on their perception, I see,” Link replies in lieu of a direct response, and it earns him a quiet huff of laughter. It’s such a childlike sound, like a secret shared at the sleepovers they had as much younger kids, and it makes Link ache for something that none of them can ever get back. 

“You look exhausted, man,” Taylor says, and both of his eyes are open now, molten-honey sclera fixated directly on Link. 

“Says you,” he retorts, taking in the bags beneath those lamplight eyes, the way Taylor’s knees press against the seat in front of them. “You don’t even have a blanket, dude, no wonder you can’t sleep. You must be freezing. Here, let me -”

“No!” Taylor says, the sudden volume making Link freeze as he holds up the edge of a thermal blanket (it’s actually Taylor’s, one of many the boy had stashed in his “go bag”) for his friend. 

“I mean, nah, man,” Taylor repeats, quieter. “I run pretty warm usually - ‘s why I gave my blanket to Scary. I actually, uh, overheat a lot? And Mom and I could never figure out wh-” and Link watches realization cross Taylor’s face in tandem with his own. 

“Oh,” Taylor says, a soft, broken syllable as he looks down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. “Oh. That tracks, I guess.”

His eyes shift upward, easy to track in the dark, and something in Link’s body language forces a half-laugh out of Taylor.

“It’s, uh, pretty cool, actually! Another power to add to my main character repertoire. Living furnace, baby! Perks of being half-demon,” Taylor cracks a grin, and it’s a bit wobbly around the edges. 

If Link was to put Taylor’s typically unshakeable confidence on a scale of, say, one to twenty, he’d probably give it a solid six. 

“Speaking of, how are you dealing with, uh, all of that?” Link offers hesitantly, briefly looking down at the way Taylor’s hands clench-unclench-clench.

“Pfft, all of what? The fact that my dad’s a kickass demon and now the government’s after me? Just a typical day in the life of a cool shounen protag like me!” Taylor jerks a thumb toward himself in emphasis, slightly-sharp teeth glinting in the purple-tinted dark. 

“If you say so,” Link says, uncertain. “It’s just, I meant to check in with you earlier, but between all of the… well…” Link makes some stupid, aborted gesture with his hands that does absolutely nothing to convey all of the mind-bending shit they’ve seen since the FBI. 

“You worry a lot, don’t you, big guy?” Taylor mutters, forcing Link to look up from fidgeting with the hem of his tattered Ho Topic shirt. 

“I mean, aren’t you worried?” Link responds. “It’s just - a few weeks ago, the biggest thing I had to worry about was getting on varsity next season, and now the fate of the world is at stake? And we could die at any moment? And I don’t even know my own dad anymore? We’re just - fuck, we’re just kids. We shouldn’t have to deal with… everything. Of course I’m worried, and I’m stressed, and I don’t know what we’re-!”

“Woah, woah, woah, dude,” Taylor says, waving his hands in a lowering sort of motion, and Link hadn’t realized how loud his voice had gotten.

“Sorry,” he squeaks, voice cracking pathetically.

“All good, my man,” Taylor reassures, and he must’ve scooted closer to Link without him noticing, because -

“Wow, you really do run warm,” Link says, almost to himself. “You’re like a tiny space heater.”

“I - I’m not that tiny!” Taylor splutters, temperature briefly spiking even warmer. “Some of us haven’t hit our growth spurt yet, mister tall-dark-and-handsome!”

“I - wh-” Link hopes his complexion hides the heat in his cheeks, because he’d hardly call himself handsome.

Taylor just scoffs. “Unbelievable. I know being all sheltered is like, your whole thing, but you’re really pretty, dude, you gotta know that. Like, prime shoujo love interest material, here!” He sounds genuinely exasperated that he has to spell this out, and then his pupils constrict comically (kind of like a cat’s, Link notes. It’s pretty cute), and he blurts, “In like, a totally platonic no-homo kind of way, uh. Yeah. Heh.”

“Oh,” Link says, because how the hell is he supposed to respond to that?

And then, because he apparently likes shooting himself in the foot, he says “Did you know that your eyes glow in the dark? They look pretty cool.”

“I’m always c- wait, really?!” Taylor nearly falls over in his attempt to pull his phone from one of his many, many pockets, only to pull a face at whatever he sees.

“Damn, guess they don’t show up on camera that well,” he mumbles. “Lame.”

“The white parts are like, this warm, pretty coppery-amber color,” Link tells him, only half-aware of what he’s saying. “Like honey. Or apple juice. And it’s kinda faint, but they glow like Christmas lights, or like, candles or something. They suit you,” he says, voice low, and he realizes that he’s much closer to Taylor’s face than he had been thirty seconds ago. “Uh. I mean. They look cool. Yeah.”

Open mouth, insert foot. At least he hadn’t said that Taylor’s eyes remind him of home or something ridiculous like that. Jesus Christ. 

“Didn’t know we had another poet in the bus with us,” Taylor says after a moment of stunned silence. “Not gonna lie, that was kinda fruity, dude,” he teases, nudging an elbow to his ribs.

Link’s stomach briefly drops, and then he remembers the pink-purple-blue striped pin on the jacket Taylor always wears, and Link lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Says the guy who called me handsome,” he deflects.

“Hey, I said no homo! What’s your excuse?”

“I’m wearing socks,” Link counters.

And Taylor laughs, sudden and sharp and incandescent for the briefest of moments before he claps a hand over his mouth to stifle it.

It’s stupidly contagious, and Link bites down on his grinning lips to suppress any sound, his shoulders shaking with the effort. 

He really likes Taylor’s laugh, Link realizes. He should get that sound to happen more often.

Eventually, Taylor pulls his hand away from his mouth, and Link is greeted with a smile - a real, genuine smile, not one of those fake smirks he uses like a shield, but something open and unguarded, matching the warmth in those shining eyes. 

The temperature spikes again from beside him, and Link’s eyes dart away from curling lips and flashing teeth in concern. “You alright, man?”

“Yup!” Taylor chirps, wobbly and high-pitched. Link decides not to comment on the voice crack. His eyes dart around a bit, and then he asks, “Uh, got enough blanket there, man?”

“Wha- oh,” Link says, looking down at the way that his feet and the majority of his shins peek out from the borrowed rectangle of fabric. “Most blankets don’t really uh… account for taller people. ‘M used to it.”

“Tch. Not if I have anything to say about it,” Taylor murmurs.

“Seriously, dude, it’s fi-” suddenly, it feels like Link’s holding the sun again, except this warmth doesn’t burn him and it’s also person-sized. Because Taylor is pressed up bodily against him, a line of soothing heat from shoulder to knee. 

“Uh.” 

Taylor leans away the slightest of millimeters, and Link has to stop himself from leaning with him. 

“Oh, I totally should’ve asked if you were okay with that, man, I just thought that since-”

“You’re fine, Taylor,” Link says, and he finds that he truly means it. “Just surprised me, is all.”

“Really?” Taylor asks. “Not too weird or like, awkward for you?”

“I mean, we’re both wearing socks, aren’t we?” Link jokes. “It feels pretty nice, actually.”

“Well c’mon, then, get some of this hot half-demon bod!” Taylor says, winking as he pulls one of Link’s arms across his shoulders. 

“Mmkay,” Link mutters, the comforting supernatural heat already beginning to lull him to sleep. He turns onto his side, curling subconsciously around Taylor’s warmth, and if he was any less exhausted he might’ve realized that he was practically spooning his smaller friend. As it is, though, he pulls Taylor closer to his chest and rests his chin atop greasy black hair with a quiet “Thanks.”

And as the warmth spreads through his body, his dreams are colored with a blessedly warmer shade of gold.

[xhanisai]

i will never not find it funny that a lot of chainsaw man fans are also miraculous fans and vice versa

[huskirl]

Y'all don't understand the horror I felt as I drew Velvette and had it ever so slowly dawn on me that every single POC except for Husk in Hazbin has gray skin 😭😭

[gh-0-stcup]

New concept: a souled!Dru who's like. actually pretty okay with it.

[spring-lxcked]

realized i've never actually discussed that my will and my henry (because they are absolutely connected unless i'm writing with someone else's portrayal of either) met in university and hit it off pretty quickly because of their similar interests (+ william's major being henry's minor)

[creamecream]

A more proper Hazbin style doodle, featuring Penelope.

[littleeyesofpallas]

Isekai PARTY CRASHERS ~Oshi no Maou ni Shoukansareta no de BLACK Tsutome no STRESS wo Uchiwamome de Hassan shimasu.~[異世界パーティークラッシャーズ ～推しの魔王に召喚されたのでブラック勤めのストレスを内輪揉めで発散します。～]: Otherworld PARTY CRASHERS ~Because I was Summoned by my Favorite DemonLord the STRESS of BLACK Work shows as internal drama~

[dragonpikachu]

List of old Gravity Falls things

because fans today probably don't know about all the batshit stuff that used to happen, here's some of the stuff I remember in no particular order:

People theorizing Robbie was a zombie

People also theorizing Gompers was connected to Bill because his eyes looked like that

Mystery trio

That time when Dipper got possessed by Bill, he stuck Dipper's arm in a silverware draw and then there was an avalanche of fan art with forks stuck in the poor kid's arm

The fact people guessed Stan had a twin actual years before the reveal, somehow even getting the name Stanley right, and then it turns out the names were swapped (there's so much old fan art calling Ford "Stanley", how could we have known)

All the crossover art with Over the Garden Wall

The fact Tad Strange's name was leaked and people came up with an entirely made up story about who he was, thinking he was some kind of weird shape demon like Bill, only for him to be a small 8 second gag character

When "Not What He Seems" can out and Stan's quote of "The Author of the Journals, my brother" somehow became a meme

When Steven Universe ended and somehow we got a bunch of fan art of him working at the Mystery Shack

That time "A Tale of Two Stans", the Steven Universe episode "Cry for Help" and the FNAF 4 trailer were all released on the same day, July 13, 2015

This:

I know there's other shit I'm forgetting so feel free to add some if you know any

[zephyrchama]

Dark Past

A common demon on the street caught your eye. You slowed, almost to a halt, just to gaze at them. They paid you no mind at all. You were two strangers with no connection in the middle of a crowded street. As they passed, you turned your neck for one final glance before continuing on.

The seven demons you were walking with noticed your little stare. Some of them exchanged quizzical looks. None of them had ever seen that random demon before. They didn't look special. Leviathan paused in his tracks to glare daggers of envy at the stranger, cursing them in his mind for stealing your attention.

"Someone you know?" Satan asked. It was hard to hear him over Mammon shouting, "Who was that?"

"What?" You fixed your eyes on them, confused by the sudden outburst. Beelzebub tenderly placed a hand on your back and guided you around some uneven pavement.

"Who was that demon you were staring at?" Belphegor asked.

"I wasn't staring at anyone."

"Yes, you were." Lucifer didn't question you, but he crossed his arms expectantly. His brothers would do all the work of wrestling an answer out of you for him.

"I saw you rubberneck so hard, I thought you were going to chase after them!" Asmodeus must have been exaggerating. You only glanced at that demon for a second max, or so you believed.

You didn't think it was a big deal, and brushed the incident off with, "they just reminded me of something." You hoped that would suffice as an answer. It did not.

"And what would that be?" Satan sounded like a courtroom interrogator trying to corner a lying defendant.

At some point, the eight of you had come to a stop in front of a closed and shuttered business, letting the foot traffic flow around you. The seven of them boxed you in and blocked your view of the rest of the street, circling you like a pack of hungry sharks. You waved your hands at the ridiculous bunch.

"I was just looking! What's it matter to you guys?"

Mammon got right up in your face. "I'm in charge of protectin' you! I can't be lettin' you stare at every chump lookin' to take advantage of ya!"

Asmodeus pulled him aside, claiming, "you should just look at me! I'm the only demon you'll never get tired of staring at." He gave you a wink of fan service that would have sent anyone else into a lustful fervor.

"I... also... don't want you looking at other people," Leviathan mumbled while lacking the courage to look you in the eye. His hand fidgeted with the bottom of his jacket.

"There are many dangers in the Devildom. You know that we have a responsibility to keep you safe, both as an exchange student and as someone very dear to us." Lucifer always had a way with words.

"So, who was that?" Beelzebub asked. He was followed up by Belphegor wondering, "do you know them?"

"No! They just..." You took a deep breath before your admission. "Ok. They look like the demon I would pretend to be when I was a kid."

There it was, the truth. Out in the open. There was a long beat of silence.

Belphegor was the first to go "huh?"

Leviathan caught on quickly. "Like, a demonsona? You had a demonsona?"

"It's something a lot of human kids do," you hurried to explain. "On playgrounds and stuff. When we're little we imagine we're secretly vampires and demons and cool monsters. It's fun but we grow out of it, usually."

Belphegor tried to clarify. "So you pretended you were a demon, and that you looked like the one who just walked by?"

You swear you heard Lucifer snort, trying to hold back his laughter.

"That is sooooooooo cute!" Asmodeus did not hold back. He started cracking up, his high-pitched laughter ringing around the street, and wiped a tear from his eye. "So, for years you played pretend demon?"

"Want me to go get them and ask for their picture?" Beelzebub offered. "I can catch up pretty quickly.

"No!" The offer was mortifying. "Lets just go, we have to finish our errands."

"You had a demonsona," Leviathan repeated with a smile and a chuckle. "That is kind of cute."

"Why somebody like that loser? Why not imagine someone cooler, like me?" Mammon flexed his wings in a show of vanity, as if he could make child-you change their mind.

"I didn't know you then, Mammon. I was, like, ten. All demons were cool."

"That's funny. Humans are so silly," Belphegor chimed.

"I was a child!" You spun to look at Belphegor, sticking an accusatory finger in his face. "You don't get to make fun of me, seeing as you pretended to be human when we met. You're thousands of years old! Act your age!"

"Ok, but I can do that because I'm a demon." Belphegor explained. He ran a hand through his hair, making his horns briefly disappear. "It's what we do."

"Yeah, it's different for us," Satan agreed.

Lucifer cleared his throat and stated, "I imagine we should continue this conversation while walking, now that we have an answer. Unless you lot want to spend all night on the street." He took a step back and gestured down the road in the direction you all were headed.

Sensing an escape from this topic, you nudged your way through the wall of demon brothers and followed after Lucifer, hoping to leave this memory behind. One by one, everyone else followed suit.

Leviathan sped up to match his pace to yours. Once the group was back on track and you thought the conversation was in the past, he asked, "so did you imagine having any cool powers?"