#but i've been thinking about this a lot

[thesweetnessofspring]

Gregor truly has such great parents. They've taught him how to be responsible, curious, intelligent, respectful, kind, caring, and selfless. It's what's made him the warrior in all of the prophecies, more than being a rager. Gregor doesn't really want to be a rager, except for when it comes to defending himself and others. Gregor's family is poor and don't have much, and so Gregor is giving to his sisters so that they will have enough to eat. He's constantly remembering things that his parents have told him before, whether that's practical information or how to behave. And he listens to them, remembering advice they'd given him before, and when he does, things get better. And as they are both alive, sick but alive, he is secure in knowing that he has two adults who love him in his corner.

Which makes Pearlpelt's backstory all the more tragic. He's the great white rat and as such as the potential to lead the rats, to bring peace. But he suffered at the hands of his father. He was taught violence when his father killed his littermates. He was encouraged to gorge on his mother's milk without those littermates to share with, teaching him selfishness and lacking regulation. He watched his mother and father fight to the death, reinforcing the danger of the world and leaving him without the love or guidance of his mother, who so clearly adored and loved him. Ripred and the other rats who acted as Pearlpelt's guardians were given a pup who had already been greatly scarred by his early years, lacking in regulation and attachment. It's no wonder they couldn't figure out how to handle him. And he doesn't know how to handle himself, reducing himself to sucking and biting on his tail to attempt to curb his own mounting anguish.

Gregor, warrior and rager, could have ended up as Pearlpelt did--lacking in control and unsure of who truly loves him--without his parents. And Pearlpelt, the Bane, could have ended up like Gregor--compassionate and seeking peace over violence--had his parents been more like Gregor's.

[lionheartedmusings]

honestly idk why the ccs still even use twitter? like i swear, just... leave. delete the app, find other places to read what the community has to say. idk, i totally understand being sensitive to backlash especially when it's undeserved, but my guys, my gals, my friends... leave. stop engaging with what's awful to you. please, i beg.

[jessmalia]

(Originally wrote all this in the tags but I ran out so I'm writing it in the reblog, I hope I'm not being imposing)

Yeah, I mean, Walker was a really good and interesting secondary antagonist, but what the Thunderbolts* writers failed to realize, is that you can't make him into a sympathetic protagonist (I specify sympathetic because writing him in an actual anti-hero role would work) without doing some serious redemptive work first. That shot of him standing with the bloody Captain America shield is by many fucking miles the single best shot in the entire MCU — it is such a powerful image rich with symbolism that I was thinking about it for weeks after I first saw it — but it is totally undermined by what Thunderbolts* did with him. In TFATWS, Walker was clearly supposed to be a case study in what would happen if a "perfect soldier" was picked to be Captain America instead of a "good man", like Steve. And the conclusion to that case study was that it could only end badly. All that talk Zemo did about how the desire to take the super serum is inherently tied to supremacist ideals and that whoever takes it will inevitably be going down the road of radicalisation (with a clear few exceptions) and then showing Walker doing just that, only for him to become an official Avenger before Sam in Thunderbolts*, is not only insulting and racist, but just bad storytelling. It shows a terrible understanding of what role the character has played previously and what role the character is suited to play in the future. I mean, are we forgetting about his dismissal of of Karli's cause? His perpetuating of the military's propaganda? His micro-aggressions against the Dora Milaje?

I mean, just in comparing him to the other Thunderbolts, he stands out like a sore fucking thumb! Bucky, Yelena and Ava are all victims of human experimentation and were used as weapons against their will. Bucky and Yelena were both mind-controlled and Ava is a disabled woman of color who was neglected by her country. Bob is a depressed addict who grew up with abusive alcoholic parents. Alexei is the only other one who wasn't an exploited victim, but he had his redemption in Black Widow when he helped take down the Red Room (and no, Walker giving up on his revenge to help Sam and Bucky in the final episode of TFATWS does not work as redemption in the same way, both cause it's a way smaller act, and cause it does not address any of his key underlying flaws, like the ones listed at the end of the previous paragraph). And in Thunderbolts*, Alexei is actively taking a father role in Yelena's life while Walker lost his son because he neglected him.

It's exemplified in the scene where Walker brags about his high school football days and Yelena brings up her own failed football team (I'm European so don't tell me I'm calling the sport by the wrong name) and calls his story pointless. John Walker is a white and athletic American man who grew up with a perfect life as the popular star football player of his "back-to-back-to-back champions" high school football team. A stark contrast to Steve Rogers, who was a short and skinny son of Irish immigrants in 1940s Brooklyn who no girl ever gave the time of day. The boy who had asthma and a million other health problems, but still never backed down from a fight even though he lost every single one of them, simply because he didn't like bullies. The perfect moment to compare the difference between these two men is, in my opinion, this one:

Bucky: Just cause you carry that shield, it doesn't mean you're Captain America. Walker: Look, I've done the work, okay? Bucky: You ever jump on top of a grenade? Walker: Yeah. Actually, I have. Four times. It's a thing I do with a helmet. It's a reinforced helmet. It's a long story, but any–

John Walker jumped on top of a grenade because he knew how to stop it without getting hurt, shielding it with a reinforced helmet. Steve Rogers jumped on top of a grenade despite fully believing he would get hurt, shielding it with his own body. John Walker exercised military training and Steve Rogers didn't hesitate to sacrifice his own life so that others wouldn't be hurt. That is what makes Walker the perfect soldier and Steve a good man.

In Thunderbolts*, Walker is in the same situation as Ava and Yelena, but he did not get there in the same way as Ava and Yelena. As perviously stated, they are both victims, outsiders their whole lives because of who they are. John Walker is the epitome of privilege who lost his status because of his own actions, because of a murder that, let's be honest, would've 100% been covered up by the US government had it happened while stationed out in war, not out on the street where dozens of civilians recorded it. This is his worst action that, unlike the rest of the Thunderbolts, he was 100% responsible for. It was then his own ego and inability to let go of the past that lost him his wife and son. Bucky even said something along the lines of "You made your choices" when it's brought up. So you simply cannot put him in the same story and give him the same treatment as all these other characters whose circumstances are so incredibly different from his.

All this said, it's not like I think Walker is evil. There's a reason I called him an antagonist and not a villain earlier. I think it's important to read his sentiment in the first gif as genuine. There was definitely a way to incorporate his character into further instalments and even redeem him if they wanted to. But I also believe that the MCU isn't capable of or allowed the kind of nuanced writing that would require.

THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER 1.02 - The Star Spangled Man, 1.04 - The Whole World is Watching, 1.05 - Truth

[thunderc1an]

who are you?

[pigeon-princess]

“There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.”

I've had this vision in my mind for ages so I finally decided to take a stab at drawing a cover for one of my favourite novels⚡

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

Physically? I am sitting in my bedroom. Mentally? Spiritually? I AM DEAD ON THE FLOOR!!!!! THESE TWO HAVE KILLED ME!!!!

(Another drawing! This was originally attempt #1 at drawing stan, and then fiddleford just showed up. Kinda feels like them five minutes after the above acting like nothing happened though, so it works sdjkgkjfshj)

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[bi-writes]

the new baby you take care of is the cutest baby you've ever met. (a lil dubcon, baby trapping, 18+)

he has a big head with a tuff of little blond waves, and he has the brightest brown eyes in the entire world. he smiles at every face you make at him, and he takes a bottle like a champ and will nap for hours as long as you're quiet.

his father has a strict schedule set for him. when you met that big man for the very first time, you were speechless. your teeth had clacked together with how fast you tried to close your gawking mouth, but it was impossible not to with how much he towered over you, nearly touching the top of the doorway.

he is methodical, down to every minute. tacked onto the fridge, he had shown you his son's current schedule, which he emphasized with a dead glare must be followed to a T.

two feedings in the morning followed by a nap. another feeding. a longer nap. another feeding. another nap. all separated in increments of 45 minutes, with instructions on how to use the bottle warmer and how to measure the formula.

his son does not cry. his father had told you, if he cries, y'r doin' somethin' wrong. and he was right. the baby only cried when he was hungry, and he would fall into a dead sleep as soon as you gave him a bottle.

it's odd, to take care of someone else's baby. especially this man's. there's no woman in the house, as far as you can tell. the whole house is decorated very minimally, cozy and in shades of warm greens and cool blues and browns. there are no heeled boots by the door or pretty fur coats, and whenever you pass by his bedroom, only one side of his bed ever looks lived-in. there are no pictures on the walls, no makeup in the bathroom drawers, and no pads or tampons under the sink.

just a big, unfeeling man and his big, adorable baby.

but you think that your actions to get this big, unfeeling man to like you are starting to have the wrong kind of implications.

it starts with dinner. you start to make it, using the ingredients from his fridge to make stews and buttery mashed potatoes and roasted veggies. the image of you stirring a pot with his baby on your hip has not left him, and whenever you don't have some kind of meal cooking when he gets home, you answer to someone curt, annoyed, and cold, even to the touch.

then it's the decorating. you thought his couch was a little bare, so now there's a few throw blankets laying across the back of it. there's a vase of pretty tulips on the coffee table. you're growing herbs on the windowsill, little pots of thyme and rosemary and basil. you leave house shoes by the door now, and even when you're not there, he sees those fuzzy pink slippers in the foyer, and he can't help the way he chubs up just seeing them when you're not around.

you start to bring some extra changes of clothes. after the baby spit up on you more than once in a day, you bring a duffel bag with you once a week with extra changes of clothes. he snarls when he sees your clothes in one of his drawers; pretty black panties and matching bras, all laid out under your lounge wear right next to his fucking socks.

the toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. the multi-colored chapsticks in the drawers. tampons and pads organized in the cabinet, your moisturizer next to his shaving cream. he smacks his fist against the wall when he sees the finished package of your birth control in the trash because wot the fuck are y'doing taking those things when y'know i want another--

he can see you in the baby monitor. swaying in the dark of his son's room, the baby's head on your chest as you rock him softly. you're singing a little, a gentle hum to soothe him enough that his eyes start closing. he groans a little when he sees your eyes shut as you kiss his son on the forehead, cooing at him as you pat his little back and tell him to have sweet dreams.

you're making brownies when he comes home that night. his son is seated in his high chair, clapping his hands, and you're smiling at him and cooing in that baby voice you do as you take the warm brownies out of the oven. when you see him emerge from the darkness of his living room, you smile at him, taking off the oven mitts.

"hi, simon," you say softly, and his pupils dilate when you slip a hand over his son's head to soothe him. "i made some dessert, hope that's okay. thought you might wanna try my new recipe."

simon comes into the kitchen as you take his baby out of his high chair. you hoist him up against your hip, and when simon comes closer, you giggle as tilts his head to the side and stares down at you both. you tilt your head back a little, blinking up at him, and the flutter of your lashes is enough to have him rock hard in his cargos as his hands curl into frustrated fists at his sides.

"i'm gonna put him down for bed, it's a little late," you tell him. you hoist his son up a little higher on your hip, picking up his little chubby arm and waving up at simon. "say goodnight, daddy."

simon grins under his mask at the soft lilt of your voice. you try not to squeak when one of his big hands slides around your waist to hold you at your back, and he bends down to kiss his son's forehead through his mask.

"goodnight, my boy."

you try not to linger on the idea that he may have grabbed your ass as you walked away. no, his arms are just so long, they grazed you while you passed by him.

the baby always goes down nice and easy. one bottle later, with a full stomach, he's rubbing his little eyes and fussing in your arms as he tries to fall asleep. he's a mover, simon's little one--always grasping around with his arms and flopping onto his side in the bed. oftentimes, after a nap, he's facing the opposite direction and on the other end of the crib when you come to get him.

so you shouldn't be surprised when as he's falling asleep, his little grubby hands reach for you and pull.

your eyes widen when you hear the pop of buttons. you look down, gasping, when you see his son has grabbed onto the front of your blouse and pulled the first few buttons out. they clatter onto the floor in a mess, and you're not able to see where they go with it so dark in his room.

"oh, god!"

you try to be gentle as you set the baby down in his crib. he immediately sticks his thumb in his mouth with his head lolling to the side, and you try to pick up anything you step on as you hurry out of the room, trying to hold your shirt together.

it's useless. you're standing there in the hallway, hastily shutting the baby's room closed, tits out at eight in the evening.

"tha' why he so good ta ya, mama?"

your eyes bug out of your head when you see simon there. he's standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes are focused on your poor open blouse. the bra you're wearing leaves nothing to the imagination--just mesh with underwire, and when simon comes closer, there's virtually nothing separating you when he reaches up with that gloved hand and cups one breast, thumb smoothing over your nipple before he tugs on it gently.

"wha--simon--"

"thinks y'r his mum, pretty tits out like tha'," simon hisses. "'f ya wanted it so bad, why didn't ya just say?"

"simon--"

he tsks, using both hands this time to grip your blouse by the edges and tug it down your arms. it falls around your elbows, and he takes the straps of your bra with it, until it's pooled around your waist and your tits fall free.

"fuckin' hell," he breathes, and your lips part gently as he hikes up his mask and spits on your nipples before sucking them into his mouth. "mmmph..."

you arch your back as he rips the rest of the buttons off with one smooth tug. your blouse falls, and your bra follows it, until you're in nothing but your skirt, backing up into the darkness of his bedroom as he kicks the door shut. you scramble to get him back on top of you when your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you're laying down--grabbing around his shoulders as you try to guide his mouth back to your breasts where he can suckle on them with that filthy mouth of his.

"knew it--" he rasps. "fuck, i knew it--"

your eyes squeeze shut when he ruts his hips against yours. your panties are ruined, slick wet and digging uncomfortably into your folds, but the scratch of simon's jeans have your back bowing at a hard angle, your fingers sliding between your bodies as you reach for his zipper. you gasp when you feel him under your hand, straining against denim, the girth of him tying your stomach in hard knots as you think about what it'll take to get you open enough for him to slip in.

"keepin' me fat," simon murmurs. "holdin' my baby like tha', wot did ya think was goin' ta happen, eh?"

"h-huh?"

"'m gonna make you fat, too, swee'eart," he says, smoothing his hand over your tummy. "saw those little pills in y'r bag. it won't take today, but we'll try again tomorrow, yeah?"

you're drooling as he fucks you. your hips are hiked up, your skirt flipped up as his thighs smack against your ass. you're not privy to the way the fat of you shakes every time he's buried to the hilt, but simon appreciates it, tongue out as he watches you push back against him to try and get yourself filled quicker. he traces your spine with his fingers, leaning over you as he watches your fingers dig into his dark sheets and grip for dear life as he gives it to you fast and deep. it's a mess of wet between you, and you know the bed underneath you will be soaked by the time he's done with you, but you can't think about that when the very thing you've been wanting since the day you met him is so close, so within reach.

you haven't taken a single one of those pills since the first week you met that fat, beautiful baby. maybe simon didn't take too close a look at the dated little pills in your bag and in the bin, the little calendar you used to mark rotting away in a forgotten pocket, gathering dust.

when simon comes, your mouth is filled with saliva, and you gurgle between barely-lucid giggles as your hips sink into the mattress. he's saying something, but you don't hear it. instead you reach down with your fingers and stuff them inside, trying to gather as much of his cum and keep it. when simon tries to cum in your mouth later, you nearly bite his dick off.

how dare he try and waste it?

[katsinspats]

Tragic: Guy you based your entire villain backstory on doesn't even remember you

[skull-pun]

Literally my biggest problem with the current state of things.

Atrocities and corruption are just met with a "eh" and that is just insane to me.

Like, have people always been this way? I really don't think they have, it really does feel like Trump and the pandemic caused the vast majority of people to become apathetic to the most inhumane shit.

Also we don't talk enough about how actually fucked up it is to have a generation of kids who have instant access to porn and gore and how that may have a negative impact on shit like empathy.

I grew up with best gore, I've seen some horrible shit, and I can tell you that it has definitely desensitised me.

But whenever you try to address the issue you just get called a boomer or a pussy or you get accused of trying to censor the Internet, like, what? No.

I'm not trying to censor the Internet I just don't think kids should have access to videos of factory workers being turned inside out.

*sigh* Idk man

[maskenjager]

Stay your pretty eyes on course

[chxrrylungs]

how long are you willing to keep that promise?

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (page 101-104)

* Why would Dr. Alphys be there?

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

HEYYYYYYY JUST WANTED TO MENTION THAT @sunny-knight helped me do some of the lineart for these pages, specifically page 3!

They might keep helping me from now on! :D I'll be sure to mention them down here when that happens

Check out their stuff!

[brontesauruses]

"People as things, that's where it starts."

Carpe Jugulum (Discworld #23) - Terry Pratchett

Going Postal (Discworld #32) - Terry Pratchett

[springbon-t-art]

"…Yes! You see? What a thrill! What a rush!

That was YOU!

The button described you!..."

ৎ˚₊✩‧₊〽️💬🎙️🖥️🕒🪣✨ ₊✩‧₊˚౨

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL

[jeans-marrow]

It also bothers me how aspecs have been conditioned to not take up space. If you do anything more serious than a vent joke, you're being dramatic and faking oppression. If you demand to be taken seriously in the conversation, you're being childish and annoying. If you speak up about the role that erasing aspec identities plays in the preservation of heteronormativity, you're an idiot. If you implore to be heard in talks about queer issues, you're wasting resources and being ridiculous. Our points of view are thrown aside, we're only tolerable if we're harmless and let others advocate for us, and god forbid we ask our supposed allies to deconstruct their biases, cuz then we're mean and know nothing about the world. It's exhausting.