#again don't ask

[anotherrosesthatfell]

I forgot what I was drawing... Don't ask

Ig I was drawing e.l.a lily and starcross for day 6 which is Christmas present but- some unfortunate event happens sooooo- I got no motivation to finish it.

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[unholyhymns]

still one of my favorite bits i ever got to commit was pretending not to know who jesus is when a street preacher was evangelizing to me. he was like "do you know who jesus is?" and i had so much time before my next bus and i wanted to know what would happen so i said no. and you know what. he had clearly never been told no to that question before because if i hadn't actually known who jesus was, his baffled and fumbling attempt sure wouldn't have told me. literally reversed the roles. now you get to stand here feeling very uncomfortable and wishing you could be somewhere else because guess what buddy, this is my bus stop, im early (and can catch like five other buses from this exact stop), and im now thoroughly invested in hearing about this mysterious jesus figure. you're locked in here with me. im eating the key as we speak. i will kill us both before i let you out of here.

very highly recommend this bit if you can pull it off and if you have time to kill

[qourmet]

this isn't the first time @cerbykerby had an idea that i've impulsively drawn... rest of the comic under the cut!

[arttsuka]

Perhaps Bill Cipher annoying Stanley or another member of the Pines family. (Or if you feel up to multiple, everyone e within the Pines family. Only if you want to though)

Have you ever seen that one handyman Bill au

[qqueenofhades]

Kamala’s taking absolutely no prisoners tonight!!!! Came right out swinging with how he handled 2020 and didn’t stop dragging him with aaaaaaaaall the receipts!

Look. I have so many better things to do with my limited and finite time on this beautiful planet than to listen to Donald Trump talk about anything, so I did not watch the debate. However, I did peep on twitter and the unanimous consensus is that she is absolutely killing, KILLING HIM:

And like. I knew she would do well, but I didn't think it would be an absolute clean clock KTFO, not least because the media will be desperate to help him clean it up in the next few days. But when the legacy media is desperately trying to figure out how to make "Here's how Kamala's crushing debate win is actually bad for her!!!" work, I'd say that's a very good position to be in.

[corpsentry]

pick your battles

[acid-ixx]

Wouldn’t it be funny if Reader shows just a tiny amount of happiness to any one of the batfam, and the next thing you know they try their best to make Reader to do it again.

Example:

Dick:Makes a silly joke

Reader: Actually smiles and laughs at it

Dick: gloats about it to the fam

The BatFam: practically on all fours chasing after Reader to try and make them laugh

Don’t stress out with your writings (btw love your ‘again & again’ series❤️)

Take your time and don’t forget to drink water🫶🫶🫶

laughter is the best medicine

ft. yan! dick grayson, jason todd, and damian wayne

— masterlist !

more beneath the cut ! fluff ? with a mix of yandereness is my thing hehe. i love this ask sm <3 you guys are being fed well today !!!

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

ugh they're the definition of giving someone an inch and they'll be taking a mile. it would especially be annoying if it were dick on the receiving end of the line. but even if he'd be the one you'd take most precaution to, don't underestimate just how much your opinion holds the most value in the family. so they'll most definitely gloat about their achievement of making you smile or hell, even leaning against their shoulder willingly calls for a celebration.

trust me when i say that living in a stuffy manor already sucks, and they don't exactly like seeing you sulk and merely rot in your bed all day. so like any loving family would do, they'll try their damn best to at least see a quirk of your mouth or that faint glimmer in your that dick oh-so enchantingly talk about.

so it comes to them in the form of a surprise that one day, when your oldest brother accidentally trips over one of your expensive novelty ballpen, instead of nearly shouting at him for breaking one of your favorites, it was the "oomph!" sound his throat makes and his wide eyes when his ass directly landed on the floor that makes you crack into small giggles.

if it weren't for his enhanced hearing, dick would've crossed out your laughter as a hallucination, a product of imagination, something entirely impossible to produce, but no.

he had proven himself wrong.

once he turns back at you, he sees the crinkle of your eyes and your palm trying to cover your shit eating grin. the plump of your cheeks are so accentuated that he forgets the initial embarrassment he feels in the first place, replaced with awe at just how artfully captivating his sibling looks; sitting by

it's like a painting, he wishes it was. he wishes tim would be quick enough to capture the succession of your smiles in the live camera feed.

all because he couldn't believe it. couldn't believe that his baby bird is laughing. they're laughing and they look so mirthful and full of life when doing so.

yes, you're laughing at him, at his stupidity for being unable to detect a mere ballpen despite being trained to locate every known obstacle in a field.

but fuck, he was already raised at a circus to fulfill the role of an acrobat who entertains the crowd. what more could it be if that means he could play the role of a clown for you, his baby bird worth more than a thousand lives, whose laughter is equivalent to the immense euphoria that is filling his entire being?

give him an inch and he'll take an entire mile.

the next day, you'd be greeted with... a lot of peculiar instances within your family. all of which you would laugh at because it's not typical that your family displays mistakes, and you feel a bit better about yourself when their imperfections seem to seep out of their being— or maybe it's just your thoughts eating you up again, because is it just you or did jason, tim, and even damian, manage to at least trigger a reaction out of you?

tim would accidentally end up drinking orange juice right after brushing his teeth. his cringing expression, choked gargling and immense spitting is enough to guarantee a light chuckle from your seated form as you ate your cereal in peace, watching him as he tries to rid of the bitter taste on his tongue. although, bitter as it may, the sweetness and the aching of his tooth overpowers the regret he fills for gulping an entire bottle of orange juice down his throat.

he's so glad that he had set up multiple cameras and recorders at different angles prior to your time spent with him because he just couldn't stop watching your reaction in loop whilst he tried to continue his investigations within gotham's latest crime news. yet no matter how hard he attempts to control himself, his eyes couldn't stop looming over to your form, finding your reaction too incredibly cute to be ignored. yeah, he'll do his duties later. for now, he just needs to... screenshot every single frame of your expressions.

jason isn't much of a joker but when reading you one of your favorite stories, he had managed to mispronounce one of the words so badly that it ruined the narrative of the classical book he was voice acting for you. it was a stupid thing to laugh at, but for a guy like jason, who was an english nerd in his very prime, it would be hilarious— especially when his gothamite accent seeps into his vocabulary; which is very unbefitting for the voice of a character who was a princess that loves to wear frilly, pink dresses.

imagine a man, with a growl that vibrates through his skull, and muscles that bulge through his shirt, voices a princess of all people! his high pitched register for the character was already grating to your ears, but the sudden shift from an airy and girlish to deep and gruff with an added effect of a voice crack at the word "cake" was enough to let you burst out into laughs, your giggles echoing through the comfortable silence of the manor's library. for the first time in a while, you let jason wrap his arms around your shoulder, asking for your input about his tremendous acting skills.

jason never had many moments to cherish within the manor, preferring to stay over and outside of bruce's radar, but god does he love going through the batcave's live feed just to zoom in on your expressions, the grin on your face heavily reminds him of himself, back when he was the oblivious robin with no idea of what was coming to him. yet only now, he swears to protect your smile from never faltering.

damian takes his artistry skills seriously, constantly making a show of bragging to you whenever he has the opportunity to. but this time, he was incredibly pissed at drake for accidentally squeezing all the paint from the tube of oil paints he had stored by the drawers, and it was a shade closest to your skin tone, too; he meant to use that tube of paint for his next portrait of you. so like the petty child he is, damian sets on an hour long routine of drawing tim with monstrous features that screams the opposite of what he sports.

that means he had drawn multiple variants of tim with a hideous, actual bowl cut one. no seriously, his hair was a bowl and the strands that peeked out of it were spaghetti strands. in another drawing, his red robin outfit consists of plucked feathers and an elongated beak for its mask, what seems to be the pocket for the eyes now replaced with cat-like slits that makes the vigilantes expression looker idiotic and downright stupid. yet it felt therapeutic for damian to draw that his brother with what he felt was enough revenge to exact upon drake. that scum deserved a horrendously made portrait of him.

what he didn't expect was that you had stumbled upon his atelier, wanting to cure your boredom by painting a scenery when all of a sudden you had to drop all your equipment from your hands because... what the fuck was damian painting...? why is tim crawling across the floor in one of the portraits...? it takes a second or two for you to register the drawing's very detailed portrayal of a literal bowl cut, your laughter bursting out of the seams because no fucking way did damian actually draw something so hilarious and unserious. if you were anybody else, damian would've kicked your shins so violently you would've required a visit to the hospital. but because it's you... he chooses to sulk in the corner with puffed cheeks and burning ears as you approach the painting with said curiosity of a child and a laughter you can't stifle so easily.

at least it got you to stay in the same room as him for about an hour, with you giving your youngest brother more ideas to make the drawings even more unsettling than they already were, to which damian takes your tips to heart.

after you had eagerly (and shyly) showed the entire family you and damian's shared creation of a monstrosity, tim swears he'll never squeeze a tube of damian's paint anymore.

[taliabhattwrites]

Imo, If AMAB folks can be women, then AFAB folks can definitely be trans women too. And yes, AMAB people can also be cis women, like those who live stealth—though I wouldn’t say that’s the only way to think about it. When it comes to how people treat you, there’s no difference between ''being a trans or cis woman'' and ''being seen as a trans or cis woman.'"

"when it comes to how people treat you"

Do you see where you went wrong?

Do you see how you've artificially limited the scope of the conversation purely to the interpersonal?

Do you see how things might be different if we also accounted for the medico-legal, structural impacts of being trans?

My birth assignment and my current sex being in conflict is the source of a lot of structural issues, compounded by my status as an immigrant, that wouldn't affect someone whose legal designation and sex aligned.

It's really that simple, but I've realized this website has a tendency to only consider social systems and regimes in terms of interactions with others, when that's really the most superficial aspect of oppression.

[thecoolertails]

too many books written by people who don't read books and only read fanfic. to counteract this there should be more fanfic made by people who don't read fanfic and only read books

[ckret2]

Hi! I don't remember if anyone asked this, but do you have any headcanons about Shermie Pines?

Sure, here's the big one.

I've decided to resolve the "if he's the baby then Mabel & Dipper are the product of two generations of 15-year-old parents; if he's older than Stan & Ford and maybe already out of the house then where is he and who's the baby?" problem the most ridiculous way possible:

He IS the baby, but he grew 20 years in 10 years.

I don't mean he's a 10-year-old that looks 20, i mean that for every year he existed, he experienced two years of life. Like at the start of September he entered 1st grade and at the end of next May he exited 2nd grade, and nobody knows how, he didn't jump up a grade during winter break or something, everyone around him clearly remembers him going through nine months of school and then summer break and then another nine months of school, his first and second grade teachers both remember teaching him for a whole school year, but it happened within one year.

Nobody else is affected; they all remember experiencing two years of life with Shermie, but they didn't age two years too. Just him. No one can explain it. It's the darnedest thing.

"But how did this happen." Time magic. "What caused it?" Magic. "Did he experience every year twice?" No just once; the year was twice as long for him. "Then how did he experience two school years instead of one double length school year?" Magic. "How does that even work???" I'm not an expert on time magic.

Caryn told Ford about it, but he was busy with more PhD programs than any human should ever endure and assumed it was some kind of hyperbolic lie to communicate how fast it feels like Shermie's growing, so she's going "this sounds like one of your strange anomalous things you study, isn't this one of those things you study?" and he's like "uh huh that's great mom."

Stan, of course, didn't hear any of this, so the first he learns of it is during a reluctant family reunion soon after he takes over Ford's life and Caryn's like "and over there's your brother Shermie and his wife, I don't know if you've seen him since your master's degree, try to talk to them won't you?" and Stan goes "Shermie?? Isn't he supposed to be twelve, why's he look like a MAN? Whaddaya mean wife??? Is she pregnant????" and Caryn went "😏 I KNEW you were never listening on the phone."

Shermie gradually stopped experiencing life on double time and slowed down to age normally around his mid twenties (well, mid twenties from his perspective; around 13 according to his birth certificate). Filbrick and Caryn sort of agreed that getting married must have helped him "settle down" and they don't really question it.

Ford gets to learn this several hours after he gets home when he finally gets a break long enough to put two and two together and goes "wait, SHERMIE'S grandkids?? But he's barely in his forties, how does he have 12-year-old grandkids" and Stan tells him and Ford goes "You mean Mom was telling the truth?!"

That fall while Shermie's yelling "WHADDAYA MEAN YOU SWITCHED PLACES AND FELL INTO A SPACE PORTAL" Ford's yelling back "CAN I CARBON DATE YOUR FACE"

[buttdumplin]

kyle who very early on realizes that you can't fall asleep to silence, putting the pieces together that first time you walked him through your setup on a late night call. he doesn't mention anything, lets you play it off as this ritual you've put in place, picking a movie to put on every night for weeks on end. he says nothing, only keeps track of how often you change movies, unsurprised that it was an early marvel film that kept you the longest. he hasn't spent the night yet and he knows the exact volume and brightness settings you pick for bedtime. he just waits and listens, matching your pace.

and after months of bedtime calls and snuck-in goodnight messages, kyle is rewarded with a gift, one he recognizes in its entirety. you ask him what you should put on.

a couple of weeks prior, you mentioned the light coming from the tv starting to keep you up, so the timing is perfect

what about a bedtime story?

your knee jerk reaction is to laugh, less at the suggestion and more at the words. that's such a silly thing isn't it? it's something a kid does, something a kid needs. and you don't.

you like my voice, you fall asleep on calls with me all the time

you can't even try to deny that, you know you've both kept score and it doesn't add up in your favor. okay, fine, you'll bite. but what if he doesn't have something to read from? what would it even be about?

do you trust me?

you do. you do.

you're nervous that first night, going through all of the motions of settling while on the phone with him. part of you worries that he'll realize that this is silly and he'll back out. which would be fine, you tell yourself. if it doesn't work, it doesn't work. the remaining part of you is scared it will.

the only light left in the room is the glow from your phone when he starts. his tone is low and deep, a slow steadiness you hear most often when you're in his arms. you don't focus on the words, just the sound of his voice, closing your eyes because when you do, you can almost feel the warmth of his body next to yours. slowly, you relax, softening into the bedding, pillows cocooning you all around. you remember hearing a smile in his voice as your breathing evens out.

the next morning comes in a flash and you find yourself in the exact same position you fell asleep in. you scramble to turn your phone, afraid he's disappeared. but there's a text already waiting for you.

sleep well?

he'd be entirely too proud of himself if he could see the smile on your face, but you can't bring yourself to lowball him. better than you can last remember, you tell him.

good. i have another picked out for tonight

a single night is all it takes for kyle to become your nightly ritual.

as your nightly calls grow longer, you're no longer sure quite when they end. fuck, you can't even keep track of the narrative. he could be telling you the same story over and over and you wouldn't even know. you fall asleep too fast to catch any of the details. and still he calls, every night he can

he even records himself for the nights he can't call, sending you a different story every time he has to leave. that way you both know he's still with you, and he knows you're sleeping well.

[heritageposts]

"dont forget the grand prize: all of palestine! for free!"

and 8 hours of meni mamtera, the song used in the israeli tiktok trend of kidnapping and torturing palestinians in the west bank

the blog itself is such low effort, boomer-brained garbage that it's barely worth mentioning, but i thought it was worth highlighting the names of some of tumblr's 'totally-not-zionist' zionists who thought a 'play for a free palestine' bingo was a fun idea

[egophiliac]

so on the subject of the "Crowley is secretly Revaan/Laverne/Levin/please Twst give us his name" theory, I think my feelings are best summed up as "I don't really buy it, but it's funny". like, in all seriousness, I'm not opposed to it; I have enjoyed the writing in Twst so far and I'm willing to trust that whatever happens will, you know, make sense and not be terrible. but I'm just not really convinced by the current evidence! maybe that'll change once we learn more, we'll see!

with that said, may I propose a few alternate theories about the possible Crowley/Revaan connection:

[remcadll]

Wow crazy how it’s been two months since mha ended. what the hell was that btw

[wanderer-clarisse]

... and he was eager moreover to discover all that he could concerning Mankind. He it was that first met Men in Beleriand and befriended them; and for this reason he was often called by the Eldar Edennil, 'the Friend of Men'. (Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth)

(partially inspired by this)