#(but ... it's something i guess)

[away-ward]

Hey KO, pd said the reason damon named fane.. fane was to honor rika's father since he respected him after realizing her father still wanted to raise him despite his origin. he wasnt named to honor rika but to honor her father.

That's great actually, and it makes sense. Thanks for the clarification.

[your-zipper-is-down]

*Looks at the date* Oh yeah. Guess I'll be writing just drabbles for the UUWeek huh.

[elvendara]

MYSME FICTOBER DAY 5/JUMIN WEEK DAY 1

@mysme-fictober & @juminweek2019

Michael's Edition

5 October 2023—VENUS FLY TRAP Jumin Week--Free Day

Jumin ran a hand through his dark hair, grey eyes flashing like a midnight storm.

“All right then, let’s try this again shall we?” he said irritably.

“I don’t know what the hell you want from me.”

“I want to know where you came from! How…just how are you talking?”

The large Venus Fly Trap simply hung its head and shrugged its leaves. “How am I supposed to fucking know? You’re the one with the big brain, figure it out.”

Jumin gritted his teeth. They’d been at it all night, ever since the last evening when this one plant had begun to grow unexpectedly until it was almost as tall as he was. It had startled him and he’d fell backwards, hitting his head on one of the pots, knocking himself out. When he’d come to, the plant hovered over him and he could swear it had been trying to figure out how to best eat him.

“Do you have to be so vulgar?” he asked.

“I don’t know, do you have to be so fucking stupid?”

“I’ve had enough.” Jumin’s shoulders dropped and he turned to take a long drink from his wine.

“Oh yes, because getting drunk always helps with making decisions.”

“And how exactly would you know what drinking does? You’re less than a day old.” Jumin spat.

“Maybe, but at least I know enough not to dull my wits.”

“What wits? You don’t even have a brain.”

“Are you sure about that? How else can I talk?”

“Then maybe I should check?” Jumin smirked.

“As if! You wouldn’t fucking dare!”

“Oh wouldn’t I? I know you’d eat me given the chance. Given that, I’d think you’d want me to get drunk. I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

The plant shrugged its leaves but said nothing.

“Was it something that I accidentally fed you? No, I’m very meticulous. Maybe there’s something in the water supply, hmm, that could be it, but then, why only you?” he mumbled to himself, thick strands of hair stuck out in every direction, frustration clearly written across his face.

“You know what, go ahead and drink yourself silly, the fermentation will season you up nicely. After all, we both know how this is going to end.” If it could, the Venus fly trap would smirk.

With a sigh Jumin rolled his eyes. There really was only one way this could end, with one of them dead. And it wasn’t going to be him.

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

SHE TOLD ME

[liquidstar]

If my mom sees a significant amount of blood she gets lightheaded, and has fainted on some occasions. Once it happened when we were kids, I wasn't there to witness it but I heard the story from my dad. Basically my brothers, around 7 or 8 at the time, were playing outside while my mom was making their lunch, and she accidentally cut her finger. It wasn't anything serious, but it drew a fair bit of blood and she passed out. My dad saw this and rushed over, but he didn't really know what to do so he just sort of started slapping her to wake her up (not recommended, but he had no idea and panicked)

At that exact moment my brothers both came in from playing, and all they saw was our mom unconscious on the floor and our dad slapping her. So, like, without even saying a word to each other they both just INSTANTLY start whaling on him, like, full blown attack mode to defend our mom. Which obviously didn't help the situation, but she did wake up and everything was fine.

Now our dad says that he's actually really glad they attacked him over what they thought was going on, because it means he raised good boys. And I still think that's true, they're very good boys.

[my-darling-boy]

I was at a bookstore looking through the art section and I saw a spine that said The Camden Town Nudes which was interesting because this didn’t seem like the bookstore where I would ever find something like that and I wanted to have a casual look but like. This also wasn’t exactly the bookstore where you felt like you could look at naked pictures let alone just suggestive paintings of them, it’s a really small shop as well, so I was like right I’ll just take a quick peek, I’m an art student, I love history, maybe I’ll buy it. I looked both ways and saw the shopkeep had left momentarily and no one was about, so I opened it and found it was an entire book featuring nude Edwardian women all painted by Walter Sickert between 1905-1912 and it was actually quite a revolutionary set of paintings for its time given that it featured very raw depictions of working class nude women in dark London instead of the elegant, white bedsheet clad, Demure middle and upper class women usually depicted.

And of course RIGHT as I flip to this lady’s boobs practically taking up an entire double page spread, every customer in a 5 mile radius appeared from around the corners of the shelf including the shopkeep and immediately regressing to a wet, pathetic Edwardian man from 1908, startled, I dropped the large book which caused a giant SLAP on the floor in this already silent store thus causing all patrons to look down at me scrambling on my knees to close a giant book of Edwardian boobs and let me tell you it would not have been nearly as funny had I not immediately felt like some Edwardian local pervert who just tried to sneak a cheeky peek at the erotic book in the bookstore only to drop it dramatically causing a scene, red up to his ears trying to shove it back on the shelf. Like such a casual and normal thing in modern day but looking at Edwardian women suddenly turned it into this egregious act as I apparently became possessed by the spirit of a moustached man in a bowler hat and morning coat going Good Heavens I mustn’t gaze upon these images in public lest the constable haul me away!

[bacchuschucklefuck]

couldnt draw my thang for mid-autumn so treated myself to a calne redesign instead

[chloesimaginationthings]

Springtrap making friends in Dead by Daylight,,

[fexalted]

[quibbs]

just had SO much fun with the fallout tv show... i love you missus okey dokey

[kyri45]

Question: Is Mk trans in this AU?

(By the way, I promise this isn't like some interrogation, like, there's nothing wrong with him NOT being trans in your comic. Just asking is all)

Yes, and OH BOY there’s more (Dadwukong bonding moment)

Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU (PREV / FIRST / NEXT)

Also I hope I haven't offended anyone in anyway, what I mean here's is that he's AFAB, and he looked at the two of them and went "mmh... I mean, they look AMAB but I could be wrong so-" since technically he's biologically a mix of the two. So his question was more of a "why did Nuwa made me AFAB if this is the case." If there's a better way to write the dialouge lemme know.

And with that the “Training Arc 2:Electric Boogaloo” is done! Next part will be coming this Friday, but I’ll post another Q&A post on Wednesday, as well I’ll be drawing the AU live on my Twitch page at 1PM ET!

[femonologue]

Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.

I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.

A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.

"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.

She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"

"What's a tulip?" I ask.

"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."

"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.

I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.

"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.

I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.

It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"

I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.

"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."

I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."

We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.

I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.

By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.

Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.

When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.

After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.

I never see grunge girl again.

That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.

[beebeedibapbeediboop]

He is pathetic and miserable in a hot kind of way

[cait-sith]

Day 12: Core

[novakiart]

something something red thread of fate

[mail-me-a-snail]

one of my favorite things about unmasked spy is that he has such a peculiar hair pattern with his little gray wings. like if he grew a white streak he could be the next administrator.

also engie is here 👍