#i am high as fuck sorry guys

[live-from-flaturn]

I know “ol’ man Mile” is actively Horny On Main whenever he logs into his Twitter, and good for him...

But if I were Barcode I would be so much worse. Absolutely such an enormous shit-stirrer. I would actively exist as a problem 25/8, for sure. 

Like, our communal son is out here living the Sold To One Direction life in the best way possible - and good for him. He is being way more graceful and humble about it than I could ever be. If that were me??? Writing my own wattpad fics and making my friends comment on them for sure.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

have i mentioned how great cats are. there's a lil guy in my house and when i lay my head on her side she starts purring so hard <3 and ten seconds later she will try to open my wrist with her teeth <3 truly the best <3

[strandsofgold]

me internally whenever astarion talks about the rite of profane ascension, knowing full well that i won't help him do it in the end:

[oceanwithouthermoon]

https://x.com/d3kutism/status/1741579841764475157?s=46

it should be illegal to be this fucking stupid so loudly and confidently omg..

mfs on the internet preach about "media literacy" yet they completely gloss over the fact that the only damn things that kusuo "canonically" is are a tsundere, an unreliable narrator, and a fucking liar LMFAOOO.. babe thats like basic reading comprehension, im sorry..

EDIT: it should go without saying not to send a person hate just because of a silly post like this one(+i dont have any reach anyway so im sure it wouldnt happen, but i wanna say this nonetheless lol) but i would just like to say that i just checked and realized that this person is 15 years old, so like... yeah, too young to be arguing with grown people on the internet. dont take this too serious or send this person hate pls lol..

[blueskittlesart]

i feel like im back in public high school

[fluffypotatey]

The first seconds before wukong opens his mouth to scold him, I bet It was a spiritual experience for mac. Seeing wukong "alive", waiting for him, beautiful.

If wukong hadn't ruined the moment, bet macaque would have hugged him and started crying and saying he missed him. But wukong did, and macaque walls instantly rose up

oh god yeah

they were so close— SO CLOSE!!!!! so close to reaching actual good and honest communication that may have left them with something more in the future and then it gets ruined by their own inability to say what they mean to say lmaooooo

[adarkermiserablecrow]

It's so interesting to me how differently the two 'sides' of this ship war can spin the same scene. I've read posts about the armchair/couch scene from both sides of the aisle and let me tell you, if I didn't know it was the same scene I would not have easily guessed

[solar-halos]

ok the sotr news has been really affecting me and i think it honestly might have to do w the weather 😭😭 like no way would i be in this bad of a mood if it was actually sunny outside

[battle-subway-ghost]

Unraveling.

// Please read the tags beforehand, <3

Paris leaned against the tree trunk, making a desperate attempt at catching his breath. He had been running for- He didn't know, probably hours? He checked the time with his phone, but it still read 3:27 A.M. Same as it had been for probably hours- He didn't know. he couldn't tell… He checked the battery icon at the top- it was nearly dead. The signal may have read "SOS," but he had already tried multiple times to call for help. Nothing.

He wasn't about to try again- Something about the definition of insanity… and instead he put his phone back into his pocket, properly shutting it off to try to conserve what little battery was left. Paris had the urge to sit down for a little while; the muscles on his legs burned, and he was completely exhausted from running for so long. Stupid choice- he knew it wasn't a good idea to run around in the fog like a headless Torchic while he was already lost, but every time he considered standing still and waiting for this stupid, stupid fog to fade, he thought back to…

That. He shuddered, trying to focus on anything else besides that voice- his own voice, feeling a familiar chill crawl up his spine as he started to grow tense again. He could just imagine approaching footsteps- those hollow eyes, the-

He felt something seeping onto his hand, and cried out in surprise as he immediately moved away from the tree, trying to shake off the…

Black ink. Leaking out from the tree like sap. Paris stared at his hand, feeling his head pound at the sight of the stuff… He did his best to wipe it off of his hand, though he didn't have much besides his own clothes to do so. Still- it was better than nothing, at this point.

…He wasted no time getting on the move again, wandering further into the fog, trying to listen closely for any odd noises or disturbances. He couldn't trust his eyes anymore, as the fog had grown so thick that he could barely see past the length of his arm. Paris tread carefully, avoiding tripping on any loose roots or branches on the forest floor. How big was this forest, anyways? Surely he would've found his way out by now.

Then again, this wasn't the same place he had entered however long ago now. He wasn't sure how, but he just knew. He just had to keep walking now, he wasn't even sure if this would get him out, but he couldn't stay still. Not right now.

Paris stopped in his tracks as he heard a twig snap to his left. He turned immediately, nearly giving himself whiplash with how quickly he moved. He instinctively backed away, already tensing up to run-

And there it was.

A Thievul. the Thievul. That damned thing, staring back at him with those hollow, white eyes.

At last.

Paris charged at him, pursuing him as he turned tail and fled. The Thievul was swift, but he was determined to catch him, maybe if he did, it'd put an end to this torment. He wove through the trees with a precision Paris couldn't quite match, as he seemed to blend in with the fog at times- like he was about to fade into it. Paris pressed on, despite the burning in his lungs and the stiffness in his legs.

He finally got close enough to where he could tackle that thing, grabbing him with his hands-

Only to grasp at nothing but air.

Paris hit the ground, falling face first into the dew-covered grass. It took him a moment to recoup and process what happened, as he scrambled to get up, looking around for the Thievul. He was nowhere to be found, as if he vanished into thin air. The fog was starting to clear up a bit, and from what Paris could tell, he had been lead to a clearing in the woods.

He was fuming. He had gone here for nothing! Nothing at all! Revenge- Or even just closure, simply gone! Like that! No fanfare- no anything.

He yanked at his hair, yelling out of pure rage. Rage at the thievul, at himself for allowing it to escape, frustration over this entire stupid situation and this stupid fog and this stupid forest and EVERYTHING-

He stopped after a few moments passed, and finally opening his eyes, watery from the threat of crying. He looked up, seeing- black… patches? He blinked a few times, trying to clear up the blurriness in his eyes. Surely-

No. His eyes weren't playing tricks on him. The fog had receeded at an unnaturally fast rate, but… There was darkness. the inky-black dark of the ink, starting to spread through tears in the scenery, almost. He could feel the panic building in his chest, attempting to run the other way, only to find that the ground underneath him was starting to fade into the same black ink that was beginning to surround him. Paris screamed, trying to pull himself out, only to find that every time he put his foot down he simply got dragged deeper into the inky abyss. He could feel the substance clinging to his skin, unnaturally warm, almost pulsating… like breathing-

Something painful tugged against him, finally prompting him to glance down. his arms- the muscles were starting to twitch and twist unnaturally, his skin shifting around to compensate for the changes underneath. It was agonizing, muscles beginning to stretch and tear, before attempting to mend themselves again.

He howled in agony, nearly collapsing into the ink entirely, barely able to steady himself. it burned. His right arm in particular was getting the worst of it, the sensation similar to what he imagined it'd feel like having your arm ripped off.

…And much to his horror, it was actually hanging loose when he checked. the skin peeled away like wet cardstock paper, revealing red thread coiling around the remnants of the arm, as well torn ligaments and muscles trying to keep everything together- to no avail. It broke apart entirely, and fell into the ink below, slowly sinking down. There was no blood, instead, frayed and torn red thread hung down from what was left.

Paris collapsed- finally, into the ink. It was a miracle he had even been able to stay standing for so long, given that it seemed like he could fall apart like bad paper mache at any second now. He sputtered and coughed as he accidentally breathed in the ink, trying to pull his head back up. He couldn't breathe- it clung to him like tar, pulling him down further- further into the abyss.

Everything was falling apart. the trees falling apart like flayed seams- unraveling before his eyes, leaving nothing behind besides the pitch black abyss.

His head finally sank underneath. The last thing he saw was the bright red string- cutting through the dark abyss as it drifted upwards.

He shut his eyes, and the searing pain melted away.

Silence, at last.

[ex0rin]

i can't wait for all of you to not care about this au i'm writing very out of order where only one other person knows the entire chain of events and what it means 😅 on the bright side it's entirely for smut reasons, just had to wedge some vague plot in there for explanations sake

[bulbabutt]

i think if someone asked me what reboot was about id just say "the world's most complicated polycule"

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

heya, i have to wake up in three hours but! here's another lil human au snippet! ft. lightly implied Laughingstock! disclaimer i am so so tired so don't come at me for typos or strangely worded sentences or missing info <3

~

Before heading home, Eddie swings by a charming little store he’s been to once or twice before. He usually goes to the chain store by his house, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the hustle and bustle and the endless aisles. This little store is quiet, nice, and strangely has everything anyone could need. 

The lot is mostly empty at this hour, so Eddie claims a spot right at the front. As with the other times, the windows are littered with displays and stickers - half off on this, sale on that. Eddie enters Howdy’s Place with the chime of the door’s shopkeeper’s bell. He’ll get what he needs and get out, quick and easy and peacefu-

Boisterous laughter slams into Eddie like a hammer, so sudden that he jumps in place. An employee stocking cans nearby glances weirdly at him. Eddie clears his throat and hurries into the nearest aisle as the laughter tapers off. The silence barely lasts a second before loud chatter starts up. It’s too fast and muffled for Eddie to understand, but he can pick out two distinct voices - one deep, one less so but still decidedly masculine. 

Eddie tries to tune it out as he gathers what he needs. Toothpaste, some paper towels, shampoo. For the hell of it, he nabs a box of classic bran muffins from the spacious food section. He lingers for a moment, enjoying how far-away the conversation seems at the other corner of the store. Unfortunately, theft is illegal, so Eddie is forced to move towards the noise.

A strange thing about the store - it’s a combination general store, antique shop, and diner, complete with a miniature gift shop separating the two. One long checkout counter stretches from the open store area, behind the gift shop, and into the diner, where the conversation is coming from. An interesting setup, but an understandable one. It allows anyone behind the counter to move fluidly between customers and sections.

As Eddie approaches, the conversation becomes slightly clearer. 

“-said, no wonder you didn’t get her number!” the deeper voice barks, and the two dissolve into that almost-too-loud laughter again. 

As it tapers off, the other voice says, “Sounds like a real charmer! But really, you oughta be careful, Barn. One of these days someone’s gonna throw a right hook at ya.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. A transatlantic accent? He hasn’t heard that anywhere outside of real old movies and a queen he once knew. It sounds natural too, like the man was born to sound like he belongs on a 1920s radio show. It nudges something in the back of Eddie’s mind. He’s started to get really sick of that nudge.

“Oh, this guy did.”

“No kidding? I don’t see a shiner.”

“Well, yeah. I went left.”

Both of them laugh again, and Eddie feels a tiny tug at the corner of his mouth. That wasn’t funny enough to garner an actual laugh in his opinion, but it wasn’t unfunny. 

Eddie steps up to the counter and quietly puts his acquired items on it, not wanting to interrupt. He chances a glance to the side - walking space in front of the counter’s length lets him see right down into the diner.

A large man with dyed-blue hair and an interesting fashion sense is at the bar, talking to an employee leaning against the other side. The employee doesn’t really catch Eddie’s gaze, but the other man… Eddie swears he’s seen him before. He studies him from the corner of his eye, not wanting to be rude but unable to mind his business. 

“Our bouncer didn’t even get a chance at the action - the idiot knocked himself out tryin’ a second swing!” The customer says. His deep voice, wavering with humor, only adds to the sense of familiarity. Metal glints in his right ear. Eddie knows this man from somewhere.

The employee shakes his head, tutting. His busy hands polish a vintage pitcher. “I swear, you get all the crazies.”

“Makes for a good story, though.” The customer takes a sip from his tall milkshake and scoffs. “Though if it wasn’t all well-ending, amusing bull, I doubt I’d be so tolerant.”

Minutes drag by as the two keep talking. Eddie goes from patiently waiting to awkwardly trying to get the employees attention. If only there was someone else behind the counter, but the only other staff member is elsewhere, likely still stocking shelves. 

The two men are too absorbed in their little world, even though both are facing Eddie’s way. The customer has both elbows on the counter, one of them bent to prop up his chin. The employee has his hip leaned against the edge as they chat. They’re obviously very familiar with each other, and clearly deeply enjoy each other's company. 

Still - and Eddie is sorry to say, but it’s bad customer service. He’s not in a rush, but he’d still like to be on his way home. He could be fishing out the complex keys right now. He checks his phone - he’s been here for nearly fifteen minutes. Picking out the items took less than five. 

Eddie sighs, staring at the various cigarette packs displayed behind the counter. He’s never seen the appeal in smoking, but as the laughter starts up again, he almost wishes he did. He’s going to treat himself to a very long shower once he gets home. 

The store’s other employee walks behind the counter, carrying a box. Eddie lights up. Finally - she pointedly clears her throat and heads into the back. 

The constant conversation stalls for the barest moment, and he looks over. The customer grins at him for a second - lord he’s handsome - before turning that grin towards his friend.

“You’re losin’ your touch, Howds,” he teases, bringing his shake straw to his lips.

“I resent that statement. You’re just distracting.”

“Lil’ me? Distracting? C’mon, you can just tell me I’m pretty to my face. I’ll take it like a champ, I swear!”

“Ha, good try.” The employee sets the pitcher down and starts to mosey in Eddie’s direction. “Your ego is big enough for the both of us as is. One more compliment and your head’ll pop like a balloon.”

“Well, given that most balloons don’t really pop, they just kinda deflate slowly-”

“Sorry for the wait!” the employee says loudly in a glaringly obvious customer service tone. He stops in front of Eddie with a cardboard smile. At the other end of the counter, the familiar man snickers and hides his grin behind his drink. “I trust you found everything you did - and didn’t! - need.”

Eddie just stares up at him for a moment. At six-one, Eddie hasn’t felt small in a very long time. He usually stands at least a full inch above other people. This employee - Howdy, his name tag states - has several more on him.

“Uh, y-yes, I uh, I did,” Eddie stammers, glancing at his items. 

“Wonderful! And again, my sincerest apologies for the delay. My friend makes a game out of keeping me from my job.” Howdy shoots his ‘friend’ a glare with enough heat in it to make an ice cube sweat. 

“No worries.”

Howdy scans the items at an almost frightening speed. Beep, into a paper bag. Beep, in. Beep, beep - “Oh, no.”

“What?” Eddie says, dread plucking at his ribs as Howdy holds the bran muffins and shakes his head. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

“Indeed there is! You’re making a mistake with these. They’re absolutely horrible, I tell ya - and bad for you, too!” Howdy tuts and puts the box to the side. “No, no, you don’t want those.”

“I… don’t?”

“Not if you knew better! Lucky for you, I’m here to set you straight. What you need is-” he snaps his fingers, “Barnaby, be a pal and-”

“Already on it,” ‘Barnaby’ says, appearing next to Eddie.

If Eddie weren’t already paralyzed, he’d jump right out of his skin from how Barnaby towers over him. He has to be a scant inch or so shorter than Howdy, but he still makes Eddie feel tiny. Unfortunately, Barnaby is even more handsome up close. 

“Here ya go.” Barnaby hands a plastic container to Howdy and taps it, smiling lazily down at Eddie. “I’d take his advice on this one. Those bran-named muffins may sound fancy, but they’re pretty crumby! You want muffins of quality. Real breadwinners!

Eddie can’t help a soft laugh. “Breadwinners, heh, that’s a good one.”

“Are you selling these or am I?” Howdy says, raising a bushy eyebrow. 

“Hey, I’m just doin’ what you asked! I’m bein’ a pal.”

“And I - I’m sorry," Eddie interjects, "but you’re awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Eh, I’ve been around, but uh… you ever been to [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE]?”

Howdy clears his throat. “I’m trying to make a sale here, Barn. You can flirt on your own dime when you’re not costing me mine.”

“Didja know your nose gets redder when you’re jealous?”

Howdy rolls his eyes and shoves Barnaby in the diner’s direction. Barnaby goes with a hearty snicker. Despite the joke, Eddie thinks it has some merit as Howdy scans the final item and rings him up, considerably frostier than before.

Belatedly, Eddie realizes that he didn’t actually agree to the different muffins. Too late now. “Say, what kind of muffins are those?”

“Poppyseed-lemon.”

Eddie relaxes - that is a lot better than boring bran. “Y’know, my mother loved poppyseed-lemon muffins.”

“Did she now,” Howdy drawls.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! If baking was so much as mentioned, she’d jump right on houndin’ us to whip some up for her, or send us to go buy some. We’d never even get a taste! They’d be gone the moment they hit the air, I tell ya.” Eddie chuckles. “Took me a while to understand what all the fuss is about, but man was she right. They are good!”

“Uh-huh. Well, we have a fresh batch delivered every morning. They’re not the same type every time, mind you, but I can promise that they’re all of the highest quality.”

“Breadwinners, right?” Eddie jokes. Howdy doesn’t blink, but Barnaby snorts. He’ll take it. “I might have to come by more often, if that’s the case! Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Mhm, have a good day.” Howdy hands him the bag and strides away without a glance. The dismissal is clear as day. “Say, Barn, did you hear about the racket one of those cult crackpots stirred up at our dear friend’s tearoom?”

Eddie doesn’t catch the tail-end of the sentence as he hurries away, but he frowns. Cult? What cult? There’s a cult? He certainly didn’t hear of one before moving here, and none of his background checks had turned up anything of the sort. He hopes it was just a figure of speech. 

The door chimes again as Eddie leaves. It isn’t until he’s in his car that the embarrassment of that whole exchange catches up with him. If he had a nickel for every time he’d made a fool of himself in front of a gorgeous, strangely familiar man, he’d have three nickels. At the rate he’s going, he’ll either be rich, or he’ll have to move. 

Eddie subtly tries to peek around the store’s window displays from the safety of his car. He catches a scant glimpse of blue hair - come to think of it, it’s a similar shade to Wally’s. But where Wally’s had, to Eddie’s memory, been uniformly dyed right down to his eyebrows, Barnaby’s rich brown roots were obvious. His beard and eyebrows weren’t dyed, either. 

As Eddie relaxes back into his seat, he re-reads at the store’s name. The color drains from his face and he barely restrains himself from slamming his forehead against the steering wheel.

Oh, of course. Of course he made a fool of himself in front of the owner. Eddie can never come back here again. And it was such a nice store…

[fandomsoda]

Being an extremely sapphic person in the utmv fandom is kind of weird because I often feel out of place amongst people going crazy over masc characters who I just physically cannot see any appeal in.

Like what do y’all mean Fell, Horror, and Nightmare are hot??? Just in their base appearances??? Like yeah they can be and they can be visually interesting, but y’all think they’re THE hottest characters this fandom has to offer? I just do not get it. Where is the appeal.

[todayisafridaynight]

tl reminded me of daigo alone at the bar after mine's death its high time i go to bed now

[devilsskettle]

i feel like i’ve been WAITING for the other shoe to drop wrt people’s opinions about watcher for this very reason. not that i think the reaction is completely not understandable but the greater the parasocial relationship, the greater the fallout as soon as public opinion shifts. you don’t have a relationship with these people they’re just content creators, chill

[deeisace]

..