#I guess you could say

[ananinidraws]

Miscelanious doodles of Off the Hook

[interestingturnofthetables]

Backrooms Fiddlesix AU? Anyone??

Where ~30y/o Ford and Fidds get stuck in the backrooms and slowly go crazy!! (og backrooms. None of these ‘levels’ or monsters or whatever)

More details under the cut, (It sorta got away from me so now I guess I'm writing a backrooms AU fic)

With no one else for company, they both start going a bit mad just looking at the same yellow tinged wallpaper for miles and miles in every direction. After a good few weeks months of being stuck in this place, they’ve made a little camp site set up in one corner of a particularly large hallway that neither of them stray too far from for fear of losing the only person they have for the time being here.

One night (day? Who knows. It’s not like there are any windows) when Ford has gotten to sleep, he has a dream where he meets a particularly cheerful yellow triangle; and what a nice break from the hollow melancholic monotony that’s become so commonplace over the past few months this little guy is. So it’s an extra great surprise when he starts to hear that same cheerful almost physically warming voice in his wake too! He finally has someone else to talk to! Won’t Fidds be just ecstatic to know they’re not as alone as they thought? But maybe it’d be nice to keep this a secret, just for a bit. After all, it’s been so long since Ford has had anything that’s just his. For months now, everything they have they’ve shared for the sake of surviving in this neverchanging hell. It’d be nice to have somethingone just for himself. Just a few more days. Then he’ll tell his friend. Just a few days longer…

Fiddleford has started to notice a strange change in his companion in the past couple of weeks. Sure, over the months they’d slowly become more reserved, both attempting to come to grips with the reality of their situation. They’d begun to run out of fresh conversation topics; their silences growing more and more stretched by the day. But Ford isn’t silent. More and more often Fidds has come back to their home (yes, home. That’s what our little staked out hallway has become to us. At least, he thinks it’s ‘us’) after his usual walk up and down the marked halls only to hear his partner talking just beyond the walls.

At first he didn’t think much of it. Just Ford trying to pass the time, fill the eerie, stale silence of the air, mumbling to himself maybe some memories of his childhood. Lord knows Fidds has done the same recently, why else would he insist on so many walks alone?

As the days go on, he starts to catch full sentences as he nears home. Sometimes even small bits of soft laughter. Gosh, he hasn’t heard that sound since probably week 2 of this prison! It never lasts, however. Without fail, just before Fidds steps around the corner of their hallway, Ford falls silent; almost as eerily as their constant surroundings. He’s begun to grow worried about his friend.

There have been a few times recently when —and Fiddleford isn’t proud to admit this — on his way back home, he’d be sure to stay extra quiet, lingering right next to the wall, trying to catch some longer glimpses of his partner’s conversations (because that is what they are he’s realised. Excited, if not frantic, muttering followed by stretches of silence that somehow seem so different from their own; like Ford is hanging onto every unheard word, before jumping back to action with his own follow up remark). Who is he talking to? Fidds is yet to ask him this, of course. He fears the answer will only prove his suspicions; his only friend, only company, the only other person in this repetitive hellhole, is succumbing to madness. And Fiddleford dreads the thought of what would become of either of them then.

The one-sided conversations started off fine enough. He’s often heard Ford waxing poetic about a summer night’s breeze, constellations he once spent hours gazing at, or the dreams he had has of sailing the world one day. A couple of times he’s even caught Ford recounting old stories from college; these are often accompanied by a warm, hearty chuckle. Fiddleford has found himself smiling an awful lot more frequently whenever his partner would bring those memories up.

As the weeks continued, Fiddleford’s concern continues to grow heavier. The soft muttering which once had him holding his breath to make out, had turned to a perfectly regular volume as if speaking to someone across from him in a private room. It’s as if Ford wanted him to hear. But of course, that couldn’t be true. Because as soon as he’d round the corner of their home his partner would cease his speech (sometimes mid word!), immediately seeming on edge; so unlike the sound of his jovial voice not seconds before. He seems… jumpy… Scared… Secretive. Like he’s trying to hide this from Fiddleford. Obviously, he is. But why? They’d agreed to not keep things from each other. For both their sake's. They’re all the other has anymore. Why would he feel the need to hide from him? Does he know of Fiddleford’s concern for his mental state and wishes to not worry him more? If that’s the case, his progressively failing efforts are not doing him any favours.

Eventually it stops being a secret. They’ll be sitting together quietly, serving their food, and Ford would just… Speak. A completely nonsensical sentence with no prior context. And if Fiddleford didn’t know any better he’d assume he were the one going mad.

“Whas’at”

“Hm? Oh nothing, nothing… sorry.”

And what is he meant to say to that? It’s okay? It most certainly ain’t okay!

Even as Fiddleford feels himself losing it over the prospect of losing his only friend to this… sickness, he doesn’t bring it up. Ford certainly doesn’t seem as jumpy whenever he shows up in his line of sight anymore. So, Fidds rationalises, it must be okay. It has to be.

Until it’s definitely not. Until Fiddleford hears a half conversation on his walk home that makes his bones freeze, and his skin crawl with with the whispers of bad bad bad.

He’s not unused to hearing Ford speak of himself with his… — Fiddleford’s never put a name to it — but never like this. He’s never heard Ford question the 'necessity' of having him around. The 'usefulness' of his only true companion in this lonely world they’ve found themselves in for… how long now? (They’d drawn up a calendar on the wall at home, yet he can’t seem to recall the last time he’d cared to check it) Surely about a year at this point. Without the other, they’d both certainly have gone mad in this time. Maybe to an extent they already have. No. They have gone mad. It’s no matter of ‘maybe’. This isolation. This loss of time. These dang hollering overheard conversations! At least Fidds is still sane enough to recognise the signs. They need each other. He’s been stupid to let his partner fall this far into the horror of his head alone.

From now on his partner can’t hide this from him. He needs help. And by god is he gonna get it.

***

This has basically turned into a rough fic prologue. I have more planned that I’m not bothered to write out at the moment. I might fancy it up and post it to ao3 later too. If you bothered to read all this tho, thanks, please talk to me about it. It’s driving me insane thinking about them!!

[jtl-fics]

Good Wednesday Ash 🙃

I would like to kindly request some TBD 🤍

(PS. maybe it's already been said but what does TBD stand for? Classic abbreviation or something super mysterious like Smithy? 😅)

5/15/24 WIP Wednesday (Open) | TBD

Andrew turns back to his place and looks at the half-unpacked boxes and furniture. He dismissed it and made his way to the kitchen grabbing a frozen pizza and turning on his oven.

He has a quiet dinner by himself not bothering to unpack anything as he watches mindless reality TV before he goes up to his room. He rolls his eyes seeing his bed made.

He pulls back the covers his room filled with unpacked boxes and goes to sleep.

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[aquilacalvitium]

Being a man is good actually

Being a trans man is good actually

Being a demi-boy is good actually

Being a masculine-aligned person is good actually

Being masculine in any way shape or form is good actually

Loving masculine people is good actually

Loving men is good actually

Men are good actually

---

This post is for my fellow mascs and men who are made to feel lesser because of toxic masculinity or the "joke" of "hurr durr I like men because I make bad choices"

Please do not clown on or derail this post

---

[dave-me0wstaine]

MY GOD THE SPIT THING HAS GOT ME GOING INFUCKINSANE I LOVE YOUR BRAIN YOUR THOUGHTS ARE PERFECT. im also saying this anonymously cause im not tryna be recognised :3

tysm!!! <333 it was a random thought that i only had like 10 minutes to write out but i definitely want to elaborate on the concept. like i feel it’d get out of hand, like you’d be opening your mouth for his spit in public and instead of getting embarrassed he’d just smirk and tell you to wait until he got you home. or if he’s jealous and/or drunk he would just straight up. spit in your mouth. doesn’t matter if people are around, if you want it, he’s giving it to you.

i need to be euthanized methinks

[shopofsomewhatwonders]

Bro I don't think the Gummigoo fans are gonna like this one...

[kay-jaye]

i’d like to thank good omens for putting me back on hozier and mitski

[husk-not-whiskers]

𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭?

@mielles-lounge

♥️♠️♦️♣️ 🂱 ╰ ─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─ ╯ 🂱 ♣️♦️♠️♥️

It was a late night, chitter chatter and soft laughter echoed from the bar and throughout the hotel. One drink after another. The pair had definitely had far too much to drink.

How could one keep track of how many drinks they were having. When they were in such company.

Time whisked on, whisky after whisky, joke after joke. Husk was not in his right of mind. 𝐈𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝’𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

❝ … ᴹⁱᵐⁱ… ❞

It escaped his mouth as nothing more than a soft whisper.

He looked at her. 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃. His drunken gaze 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 her every moment. Then, he let it go.

The cat’s eyes lazily drooped down several times. Once Mielle seemed to return the action, letting her eyes close and open slowly towards the cat infront of her, Husk’s lips parted once more.

His paw hovered over hers

❝ ᶜᵃⁿ ⁱ ? ❞

𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐓 // 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇 // Husk leaned forward

His face brushed against hers, slightly rubbing his scent into hers. And hers into his. Their aromas mixing into one, just before their lips did the same.

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 they were connected. Mouths interlocked in a drunken passion.

It started soft and delicate, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 mixed with her 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 drinks of prior. Quickly it 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 with 𝐅��𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐑. His paws that once rested on hers, now pressed against her soft cheeks. Hers pulled onto his shoulders.

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 they were all that mattered.

I had a lot of fun writing this! I think that Husk would really hate himself for having any kind of relationship that wasn’t fully consensual, ofc! I don’t really take this as canon, however I am totally fine with role playing romantic relationships ^^

But seriously I had so much fun!!! I wanted to try and replicate @/spiderslvts writing style a little bc I really enjoy the way they write. Plus! This was just a one off so I do what I want.

[sillygoofynerd]

when Wild Blue Yonder started I jokingly said to my family "hey look it's amongus in real life" because it was a space ship and I make bad jokes. but you know what. I don't think I was that wrong in the end.

[tstain-is-an-idiot]

An encounter with his strangely sugary friends

A dream or a nightmare? It all depends…

And out he pulled a cassette

"This is normal", muttered Sad Sack, without sweat

But soon he wished he'd never spoken

Because the cassette was pulled wide open

And he stood there, his mouth agape

As Hi-Fi began devouring the tape

This is Hi-Fi as he appears in Sad Sack's dream. As soon as I got the idea for this AU, I'd already decided that he'd be based on liquorice. At first, his design was mostly made up of just red and black, but then I remembered that liquorice allsorts exist, so I added the yellow. And now he has bee trousers! The tape in audio/video cassettes resembles those rolls of black liquorice you can get, so I kind of ran with that idea when designing him. Bertie Bassett also helped!

[sundriedsanctum]

Gerard Way (ARFARKAJDJSKWKDK)

[izzy140105]

Brit Smith the absolute icon that you are!!

[shadelorde]

1, 6 and 7 for the choose violence ask game

1. the character everyone gets wrong

I was going to say Raava and Vaatu, but unfortunately I think that doesn’t count because I’m comparing to my own convoluted headcanons, not canon. Although I think they’d be far more interesting if Raava was treated as an unreliable narrator and LoK explored more on Vaatu’s impact on the seasons past 2.

As far as fandom vs canon, I’d say Azula. I find the two popular stances on her are either that she’s inherently evil and deserves the awful ending she had, or that she’s an innocent cinnamon roll who did nothing wrong. I find both stances to be pretty ableist-because one demonizes her, especially with the kind of language and arguments those fans use, and the other infantilizes her. I think she’s a far more complex character than that.

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

I have to say that most popular ships in the AtLA fandom have really insufferable fanbases (except sukka, which I find to be really chill), but Zutara fans bother me the most.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because of how the fandom acts about them?

Hmmm I must say Zuko, unfortunately </3. I do love him still but his fanon self is incredibly out of character-I fear he suffers HARDCORE infantilization from his fans. Either that, or people treat him like he’s an irredeemable shitbag and redemption arcs are Bad actually in retaliation to the first fans. So I guess I don’t hate Zuko, but I dread all conversation about him.

[hellverse]

lessons in growing up

[amidoobles]

Watermelon Whale Shark

*cough* ignore the inaccurate whale shark anatomy *cough*

@fluffysheeps recently made some watermelon whale shark plushies and they've been living in my head rent-free since.

This illustration was a practice using water-based ink. I made a similar work for inktober last year and wanted to redo the idea. I also added some watercolor to make the whale sharks pop. I want one of those whale sharks so bad man.

Also completely random but I found out how to use the "keep reading" thing on Tumblr - only took like six months.

[kazanskys-mitchell]

resisting the urge to say “work is awful” every time i’m there. it’s impossible not to say it