#answer anything

[chloesimaginationthings]

Why did William get FNAF springlocked? Is he stupid?

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[charnellecatastrophe]

What's the best part of waking up?

[halogalopaghost]

TIL that you can assign an AO3 next of kin to control your account in case of your death???

[writers-potion]

Writing Character Accents in Fiction

Hey there, thanks for the question! I speak English as a second language; most English speakers I encounter aren’t native (yes, including fictional people); thus, this is a concern I’ve explored personally when I write. 

I think the core principle regarding accent writing is this: it shouldn’t be distracting. 

For the same reasons why Stephen King prescribes the basic dialogue tag “said” rather than fancier alternatives like “whispered”, “shouted” or “screeched”, dialogue must be first and foremost easy to read. It must flow like a real conversation – the pace and tone are a lot more important than how specific words are being pronounced by the character. 

Focus on what effect the accent has:

Using adjectives to describe their voice in general. Different types of English (American, British, Australian, etc.) will give off a different vibe, also partly dependent on how your character speaks in general:

Lilting: Having a smooth rise and falling quality; sing-song like. Welsh accent is often described as singing. 

Posh: from a high social class. This is the term generally used to describe the upper-class British accent.

Nasal: this happens when the sound goes through somebody’s nose when they’re speaking. North American accents are more nasal than, say, British pronunciations. 

Brash: harsh, loud, indicative of sounding a little rude. 

Slur: speaking indistinctly; words merging into one another.

Using metaphors.

Her voice was cotton and fluffy clouds. 

When he spoke, the ‘r’s scratched the insides of his throat. 

Mentioning their accent with a brief example(s). 

“Would you like to drink some wine?” she said, though her Indian accent gave extra vibration to her ‘w’s and ‘r’s, making the words sound more like ‘vould you like to drrrink some vine’.

“I want some chocolate.” His syllables were choppy and ‘l’s rather flat, saying ‘cho-ko-lit’. 

Some Tips:

Don’t phonically spell out everything. Perhaps give a few examples in the beginning, but stick to standard English spellings. 

Pay attention to word choice, slang, and colloquialisms. 

An Australian person would say “tram”, not “trolley; “runners” instead of “sneakers”

A Canadian may refer to a “fire hall” – what Americans call a firehouse or fire station

If your character comes from a non-Enligsh background:

Use vocabulary from other languages. 

“What time was the exam, ah? Two o’clock? Jiayou!” → putting “ah” or “la” at the end of sentences + Jiayou means “break a leg” in Singlish. 

“I can’t believe that 4-year-olds have their own SNS accounts now.” → “SNS” is short for “social networking service”, a term used to refer to social media in Korea. This would a subtle difference – even though it isn’t technically Korean at all!

Transpose grammar from different languages. 

For example, in French, plural nouns take plural adjectives (whereas in English, you would speak of ‘white cars’, not ‘whites cars’).

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[sakuravalelp]

Phantom letters - DPXDC PROMPT

The bats wake up one day to the internet going crazy; people around the world were getting letters from they're diseased loved ones. The reactions are mixed, from people being outraged for the "prank" to people crying in melancholy at getting closure.

All the letters have something in common: They're closed with a green sealing wax that had an stylize DP and the name Phantom beneath it. Posts about the cards were using the # Phantom Letters.

The bats are discussing the viral posts in the cave when Alfred comes holding a basket filled with letters, announcing they were left at the doors. The letters had the sealing wax that they recognize from the posts. Checking the cameras they can see how they glitch before the basket appears.

Alfred starts to distribute the letters that had only one destinatary. Letters from each Thomas and Martha to both Bruce and Alfred. Letters from each John and Mary to Dick. A letter from Catherine to Jason. A letter from the Drake's to Tim, and another one to Bruce.

Once they had calmed down enough from the shock, Alfred proceeded to read the shared recipients. From Thomas and Martha to "The grandchildren we never got to meet." From John and Mary to "the family that took our little Robin in." Letters from Catherine to "My little boys family." The letters were directed to people the deceased didn't get to meet.

As much as the mere existence of the letters tugged at their hearts, they decided to not read them until they verified that the handwriting actually belong to the ones it claimed. They checked each letter, and in the end confirmed the letters were in fact from they're lost love ones.

After much discussion, each person makes the decision to read they're own letters later in private, and they proceed to read the ones that shared recipients out loud. The letter mentioned specifics like names and events that the deceased shouldn't have been able to know, including they're vigilante abilities, which had them pause each time to panic a bit. But what was more interested were certain pieces of the letters that mentioned a Prince Phantom.

"Prince Phantom said to don't mention things past our death, but it wasn't a command, so we're hoping this won't be much of a problem." - John and Mary

"I still can't believe Prince Phantom is letting us do this, but I'm so glad." - Catherine

It finally paints the mystery in a more concerning light when at the end of Thomas and Martha's letter there is a call for help.

"We're sorry for ending the letter on a serious tone, but seeing the kind of job you all get involved in, we wanted to ask: Could you please help Prince Phantom? Phantom had asked us to not give information about this, but he's so young, and has already been hurt so much. Please, check on Amity Park, Illinois."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Meanwhile, team Phantom has decided that they needed to get the news about the GIW out of Amity and ask for help. Two problems:

the GIW blocks any technological attempt made.

People might be afraid to learn that ghosts exist and side with the GIW.

As a way to deal with the public image, Phantom opens a possibility that the death have never had:

"All afterlives are open to write letters to their love ones that are still alive today. Nothing that includes threats, and don't go talking about the anti-ecto acts or Amity Park yet, we're trying to ease people into our existence first. Also, I know you all check on your love ones when the veil is thin, but please keep the things you shouldn't know out of the letters if possible. If you want your letter to be sent in the first batch, make sure to deliver your letter before the week ends."

Letters are a good way to reconnect people with the death, they aren't digital, and the GIW won't be able to intercept letters if they're send through inter-dimensional portals. Two birds in one shot.

[abnormalpsychology]

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

Homer!Odysseus and Epic!Odysseus would try to kill each other if they ever met

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 345

Let it be known that none of them actually expected the idiots’ of the week’s ritual to work. The summoning hadn’t worked for literal centuries- everyone knew it had been sealed away, presumably forever!

(Of course they had no way to know that in the Infinite Realms actually used the term forever as a measurement of time, what with how time itself wasn’t particularly linear within. And to beings that could hypothetically live for eternity? Forever was a nice vacation time really) 

So maybe they hadn’t been exactly focused on stopping the ritual as much as they could of been, and by the time they realized it was working, well, it’d been a bit too late then. So yes, mistakes had perhaps in fact, been made. 

First had come the chill, the cold of the ground as your body was lowered down, the cold of your blood dripping from your living corpse. Then came the shadows, the darkness creeping along their vision as their soul slipped from their body. Followed by boiling heat, flames scorching through their flesh and tearing from their chests like a blade piercing their hearts. 

The form that emerged was massive, a cloak dripping crimson fluttering in the wind of an unseen battlefield, verdant flames licking at the air and causing the surrounding shadows to writhe. A dark growl echoed through the building, the stone below them shaking while deathly green eyes glowered down at the living with utter contempt. 

“Do any of you imbeciles know how long it takes to get ghostlings to sleep-” 

[arsenicflame]

Bonus round! Do you use a queue tag?

[frogs-in3-hills]

hi does anyone else think about april throwing herself over leo to shield him in the shredder strikes back despite having no weapons no way to defend herself and probably assuming she was going to die. does anyone think about that all the time. every day. uncontrollably

[ID: Digital fanart of Ninja Turtles 2003 depicting a scene from The Shredder Strikes Back part 2. April kneels over an injured Leo, cradling his head and looking back over her shoulder to snarl viciously at the camera, though there is obvious fear in her eyes. Her hair has partially fallen out of her bun, the loose strands sticking to her face with sweat. She has a cut on her cheek. Only a portion of Leo’s face can be seen from behind her shoulder. He looks up at her with a sad, pained expression. He has a swollen, bloody shiner on his cheek in addition to other cuts and bruises on the rest of his body. They are on the wooden floor of a dark attic. End ID.]

[chloesimaginationthings]

Is Michael Afton gay or European in FNAF?…

[canisalbus]

Ok ok hear me out: it could end in tragedy,, AND have a happy ending. The attempt(s) on Machete’s life force him to flee, he doesn’t even have the chance to find Vasco. Cue gay longing for at least a few years while Machete despairs over the loss of his love, his life, his status. He and Vasco only reunite (again) in their later years. Their relationship is forever flavored with loss and loneliness, but that only means they savor every moment that much more

I also I would like to see them as old men. Vasco would be so droopy :)

You gave me such old dog brainworms.

[ghelgheli]

Could we say that rejecting afab transfemininity is a form of bioessentialism because this rejection is based the sex assigned at birth of this category ? Isn't this like rejecting amab people from womanhood for the same reason ?

this only makes sense if you believe that "transfemininity" was a freely-made, vibes-based gender category with no prior anchor in the world. bioessentialism requires prescription by the accused bioessentialist; it requires that your imagined bioessentialist (me) decide post-hoc that certain biological claims about a person determine whether they can be transfeminine or not. if transfemininity was just a set of expressions, forms of behaviour and labelling, a particular aura or whatever, it would be indefensible to gatekeep people from it based on assignment. but that's not what transfemininity is.

transfemininity as a term developed to describe a category of gendered subjectivity in response to transmisogyny. the transfeminine isn't just a particular appearance or set of labels—transfemininity is anchored to the way transmisogyny shapes the subject-formation of those people who are subjected to it. like being a trans woman, being transfeminine is a politicized positionality determined thru cisnormativity and its reflex, transmisogyny. and the logic of transmisogyny operates precisely thru birth assignment.

here is a second clarification: birth assignment is not a biological fact about someone. birth assignment itself is a bioessentialist social action done to someone in the maintenance of hegemonic sexgender. the corrective machinery of gender then sets its normative expectations in accordance with ASAB, and metes out its punishment likewise. and transmisogyny is the specific genre of punishment reserved for those who have betrayed the expectations of being coercively assigned male at birth: the class of failed men who become an underclass of failed women because they cannot even perform the kinds of reproductive labour expected of women "proper". the transfeminine is a subject formed in response to this experience: a gendered category that coagulated against the stream of transmisogyny. it was not an invention ex nihilo, but political development.

so when I reject "afab transfemininity", I am not engaging in prescription. I am just describing transmisogyny, and deducing what must therefore be true of transfemininity. to call this bioessentialist would be a category mistake. take it up with the instruments of transmisogyny. the bioessentialism sits much deeper than a trans lesbian saying no—and your comparison to transmisogyny itself rejecting trans womanhood is, to be honest, absurd.

[rs-hawk]

do you have any tentacle stuff? im thinking maybe an ursula-style octopus merman bf

I don’t have anything tentacle like that but it does sound interesting so-

You always loved the beach so when you were able to book an Air BNB with a private beach, you were ecstatic. Finally you could relax on the sandy ground without anyone bothering you or worrying about having to move.

As you settled onto your towel with nothing on (because everyone hates tan lines, right?), you didn’t notice the curious eyes watching you from the deep waters. When you slipped a swimsuit on, just in case, and plunged into the cool waves, you didn’t realize that there was something just out of sight with his hungry gaze fixed on you. That would change the next day, however.

The next morning, you took off at dawn to the beach. You set everything up, eagerly waiting for the sun to finish rising. In awe, you watched the sunrise the same way that the creature that was creeping up from the depths was watching you. As soon as you’re in the water, tentacles were wrapping around your ankles, your waist. Puckers leaving soft pink marks all over your skin.

“Oh!” you squeak, lifting your legs to look what’s all over you. You gently touch the tentacle around your waist, confused but curious. “What’s this then?”

“Hello,” the octo-man said as he slowly broke the water’s surface. It seemed like he was nervous.

“Hello,” you echoed, looking at him with a tilted head.

He reached out to touch you, and a chill snaked down your back. His hand felt so squishy but also velvety. Kind of like the tentacles. In seconds, his lips were on yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth as if staking a claim.

Your body reacted on its own, curling into his, wrapping your arms around him. In seconds, he dragged you to a small partially underwater cave just a little ways off the shore. The merman set you on a shelf of the cave, leaving you only up to your knees in the water.

“My little trinket,” he muttered as he began to tease your cunt over your swimsuit bottom.

You whimpered softly, bucking your hips slightly against the sucker that was now attached to your clit with only the thin fabric between. He smirked at your obvious need. The tentacle itches away from you before another joined it to strip your bottoms. Your cunt was already getting slick, much to his excitement. His tentacles wrapped around your body, teasing you, prodding you.

Suckers found your sensitive nipples, and another found it’s way back to your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. Your cunt was throbbing, nearly dripping. “Fuck,” you moaned, arching more against his tentacles.

That was all it took for him. His largest tentacle began to push into your cunt, stretching you wide. You whimpered and moaned as he slowly stretched you out, your cunt gripping it as each inch pushed deeper and deeper into you. Another pushed into your mouth, down your throat. You gagged as you were stretched to what you thought was your limit. Then, your lover, his eyes half lidded as he groped and touched your soft human body, began to lift you slightly. His six other tentacles wrapped around you, helping lift you off the shelf. You didn’t think much of it, blissed out and on the edge of orgasm.

Just as suddenly as he lifted you, he unwound one of his tentacles from your waist, pushing it inside of your ass. You cried out against the tentacle in your mouth, but barely anything came out. He laid you down, unwinding another tentacle and shoving it into your already stretched cunt. Soon enough none where holding you as you were laid out on the shelf, your feet only in the water. A sucker was back on your clit, teasing you until you finally pulsed around the tentacles inside of you, drawing them in closer.

“There we go. That’s a good trinket,” he huffed, his sloppy kisses lining your neck.

He pushed his largest tentacle so deeply inside of you that you were certain it was in your womb. A bulge in your stomach seemed to confirm it. He panted as he came, the hot liquid a stark contrast to how cool he felt. Your eyes rolled back in your head, pathetic little whines pushing against the tentacle in your mouth.

The largest tentacle withdrew, dribbling a white liquid. However, the smaller one stayed inside, as if keeping you plugged. The tentacle in your mouth finally let you breath, withdrawing to lazily wrap around your chest. The only one actively thrusting into you now was the one in your ass, slowly and deliberately timing the thrusts to the sucking of the sucker still on your clit.

You don’t know how long you lay there, moaning and begging the merman to keep going, but by the time his cum is leaking out of you and multiple loads have been dumped into your little human womb, it’s sunrise again.