#i cannot do names for the life of me

[enoe-of-noen]

M!Mc: *came home with a demon child in his arms, a stunned look on his face*

Satan: Uh…who’s that, dear?

M!Mc: …she wouldn’t leave me alone.

Child: …*smiles*

Satan: …why?

Child: Mama and papa didn’t want me anymore. Mc helped get me ice cream.

Satan: *looks over to Mc, bewildered*

M!Mc: I tried to give her to authorities but…

Satan: *sighs* Well, we can’t just keep her, can we?

Child and Mc: …

Satan: No-

Next

[raticalshoez]

i'm having hyperfixation drought so i did what i did best and created a crossover episode

[braisedhoney]

Draw your favorite ghost! Mine's Ember.

“That would be me. Surprise.”

(ayyy flaming hair favs club :D)

[endlesslytired]

to finish this absolute madness I'm dealing with trying to put these together I give you the ones I forgot to add bc I lost them or didn't feel like worked right yet I still like, plus ones that I just had no place for at all. (aka solo topaz stuff)

bonusss, I wrote this very early on into playing hsr and realised this would be really neat to make in the maker. it's not much of a meme but a funny idea on stuff Kafka could have done.

prevus poast:

[vanweezer]

ive been calling them slipkneight. its a work in progress

[existencebringsonlypain]

I find something really interesting about Deltarune, and I want to talk about it.

YOU are canon to Deltarune.

Everything in real life that has ever happened is canon to Deltarune.

You are not playing as the Player, you ARE the Player. And not in an "oh, I need to imagine I'm involved in this for the game to make sense!" way, but in a literal, by the act of playing, you are the Player way.

And that's what kind of makes the game so real- When, instead of playing as a figure, you are the figure, through and through and without having to do anything, it kind of ropes you in, and brings itself out of the realm of fiction while it's at it.

Yes, the game is fiction, and yes, nothing in it is really happening, and the code is written. But when you're a part of the narrative, it becomes very easy to forget that, and so there's very few leaps in logic you need to take in order to make it feel real.

Kris is a video game character, both in reality and in canon. The game isn't fiction, it's reality. In the lore of Deltarune, Deltarune is a video game that you are playing. The exact same is true in reality.

This also leads to something many of us, including me, are guilty of- separating the Player and ourselves. Every instance of Deltarune that has ever been played has a different Player character, because it's a different person. But that gets confusing, so we refer to ourselves, and after time, them, as the Player. As time goes on, it's very easy to feel like your actions aren't your actions, but the Player's, and you're just moving the story along. Even if you haven't done Snowgrave, you can claim that the Player did snowgrave, because plenty of Players did snowgrave. But you didn't, and as such, it's not canon for your Deltarune.

We cannot characterize the Player. We cannot give them a personality seperate from our own. They are you, and you are them. Your actions are your own, and no matter what COULD happen, it doesn't until you make it. The Player is only malicious if you are malicious. The Player is sympathetic if you are sympathetic. If you don't want Kris to suffer, then the Player doesn't want Kris to suffer, and you're not a bad person. Your love is canon.

[laundryandtaxes]

I think that comparisons between access to prescribed stimulants and medications like insulin are categorically inappropriate, and I will personally hand to anyone a card to mock people making that comparison. However, today I called Walgreens to ask whether they'd gotten Adderall in (because I called last Wednesday and they were out of stock, and I know from having experienced this multiple times over multiple months that they get new shipments on Wednesdays) and the woman on the phone told me they were out of the generic (which my prescriber only began prescribing because the name brand was out of stock) and that the name brand would be $326 unconvered, but that my insurance would cover a 5 mg dose, which, due to the laws around schedule 1 substances, means I would have to call my prescriber to have them resend the Rx to the phamracy, but this time for 3x daily 5 mg capsules. And I just said thank you and hung up but inside I was like ma'am, I know it isn't your fault but this is actually exactly what one would cook up if the intention was to torture a person via the process of accessing their stimulant prescription.

[shorlinesorrows]

qpr jean and neil. that's all i'm gonna say.

do you see my vision?

[dipplinduo]

Chapter 6 of Bet You'll Fall in Love With Me is now out, and...

Me, like a week ago: Hey guys due to personal reasons I'mma just write a lil' fluff, not really in an angsty mood for the angsty updates but they'll come soon. :) Also me writing said fluff update:

...THAT BEING SAID, LOL. WHOOPS. Didn't get to a specific scene I was gonna get to...but. It is 10000% going in Chapter 7, and is actually a great way to get to what Chapter 7 is gonna be about. Originally this chapter was named "The Panic" but after reflecting on it I think "The Rain" is better suited. "The Panic" will definitely have some funny romcom vibes featured in Chapter 7. xD

Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to vote on this poll here about upcoming content if you like this fic! :)

[necrotic-nephilim]

Sorry if this might be a rude question but why don’t you just make a seperate account for your nsfw fics?

not rude, it's a valid question! tbh it's a combination of a couple reasons.

i started posting anonymous dead dove batcest fics long before i had the balls to make a tumblr. at first i was content to just leave them unassociated with each other because i didn't really care about them being tied to me. i made this blog to actually show solidarity to my partner who wanted to make a sideblog for Sandman comic stuff so we could cheerlead each other and be brave together, since i've wanted to make a batcest sideblog but i've been nervous about actually having to get it going. (mal ik you're reading this go be brave and actually make your blog so i can cheerlead you damnit-) only did it dawn on me then that i should probably mention the fics i've written on the blog after like, three of them were posted anonymously. and it would've annoyed me to have half of them anonymous and half of them not, because notifications for them would've gone in different places. i could go back and take my fics off anon if i wanted to, but i can't switch the account they're on without taking them down entirely and that'd fuck over people who have them bookmarked already.

which, ties into my second reason, if i made an entire second ao3 account it'd be harder for me to see notifications, reply to stuff, and post things for both accounts because i'd have to constantly switch. and honestly i'd be terrified of accidentally posting on the wrong one on a brain fog day. posting fics is always the most tedious part of writing them for me lol. it's easier for me to stay logged into one account and have all of my stuff in one place for me and just use the anonymous collection when i feel like it. if ao3 pseuds worked like tumblr blogs, where you can't see all my side blogs but i can, i would've used pseuds, but since you can see all pseuds on an ao3, i felt it was a moot point.

and the last reason is i just feel more comfortable being anonymous on ao3 because of the rise in anti culture. on tumblr it's very easy for me to just filter that out and find the people i want to follow and block the people i don't. i don't mind getting hate, on tumblr or on ao3. but i think, for whatever reason you want to blame it on, there's been a massive boom of antis on ao3 who are very entitled about how they read on ao3. i tag extensively, but i just feel safer from getting targeted attacks if everything i write on ao3 isn't attached to one profile. if people like a fic i wrote, want to find more i always link my tumblr in the notes, but if an anti wants to get huffy with me, they can't easily track down my other things. they definitely could if they wanted to, but being anonymous on ao3 just makes me feel more secluded, in a weird way. it's like saying "if you want you can come find me but on here i'm just a weird faceless guy throwing stuff in the void". i've used ao3's anon feature a lot, actually, i used to be a hydra trash party dumpster kid back when that was in it's prime.

i also used to be vaguely popular on a different tumblr blog and my main ao3 and while i think it'd definitely be cool if i got a decent chunk of followers on this blog too, i don't really miss having fanfiction do so well i got targetted hate on all of my fics from the same people, i had my fics stolen, etc. it was really exhausting for me. i have 120+ works on ao3, not counting what's anonymous, and that level of exposure tires me, even when i use my main ao3 to post things that aren't trashy. it's just a weird feeling knowing so many people are subscribed to you on ao3 and what if you post something they won't like because you jumped fandoms again, or you're posting something niche, or you don't think it fills enough fandom tropes to be well-liked. i used to obsessively think like that, and it made me not write the things i wanted to because i cared about numbers. and i don't want to slide back into that hole. writing on anonymous is mostly to remind myself i wrote this for me, and if other people like it, they can come find me, but i don't have to perform like that anymore. if i get a really weird fucked up idea, i can write the really weird fucked up idea. at the end of the day, just makes me more comfortable! but i get it's a super confusing set up from an outsider perspective so, i really don't mind the question, thank you for asking!!

[themyscirah]

It was there, before it was there.

For Hal, it was dreams. Awake and asleep, he would finally fly. There he went farther and faster than his father ever did. Tinged in green, he would touch the stars. But it always ended the same. He was a Jordan, after all. At least the end was warm, like sunlight.

Guy got knocked down a lot. Picked himself back up a lot too. Sometimes went down again right after. Each time though, for a second after, he could only see green.

John heard voices. Sometimes just a few, a council, old and wise-- sometimes more: a town, a city, a planet. They all wanted something. Wanted him to do- to be- ..... something. Well, they could just get in line.

Kyle would know things sometimes. But only sometimes. Moments in between moments. In his dreams, he always knew his father's face. They would smile, and talk, and share a drink. Then his eyes would open, and the blurry photo would return.

Once Simon saw an injured squirrel on the ground. It looked almost dead. He touched it, and it rose up and scurried away. His arm ached. His mother scolded him for using the markers (what markers?) again. He took it as a sign. Courage.

Jessica knew whispers well. They told her that she was a mess. That she was weak, or scared. Sometimes it was her own voice. Sometimes it wasn't. Sometimes, it even told her she was strong. Brave.She always liked those ones the best.

Jo's phone never died. Or rather, never stayed dead. On nights she would stumble in, tired from work, friends, or if she was lucky, the cute girl at the bar, she would leave her nearly-dead phone on her desk, cord forgotten. In the morning though, it would always be ready for her, battery life pulsing green.

It was there, before it was there.

[insipid-drivel]

Friendship and relationships are hard, I'm lonely and can't be loved by anyone, so here's some hard realities and wisdom from someone who's going to die sad and alone inevitably:

Many of you have got to try to put some effort in nurturing your relationships with your friends, or at least more clearly negotiate what your friends can and can't expect from you in the long-term.

Seriously, this whole 0-contact-aside-from-reacting-through-each-other's notes and proclaiming you're ride-or-die about someone for it? Is literally killing me. I've actually been dealing with suicidality because of how impossible it is to stay in touch with, or even on good terms with, people I thought were my friends but ghosted me, and then acted bewildered when I was angry with them for it or didn't acknowledge them as my friend anymore. "You can't be mad at me for not answering your DMs for 7 years! We're friends! I still reblog your reblogs!"

I am absolutely allowed to be angry, and I absolutely can demote you in my mind from "person I thought was a friend" to "mutual that ignores me until they need a dopamine fix or an answer to a specific question".

Months or years of unprompted, unbroken silence is not friendship - acquaintenceship, sure, but not friendship. It's a bad friend that expects love and loyalty by default no matter how long they've been ghosting their friends.

Love and loyalty are like a garden: they require cultivating and a commitment to nurture and grow, or else it gradually withers, and eventually dies. Earning the love and loyalty of a friend and then abandoning the garden of that relationship is how you find yourself locked out of your former friend's garden, or find them lonely, miserable, and exhausted from trying to keep the garden thriving when they themselves have slowly been dying inside because you haven't come back to the garden in years.

You have to learn to reach out and nurture your relationships. If you're autistic or otherwise have problems socializing, there are still some skills that you need to learn to avoid being isolated and friendless at the end of the day. Being autistic with trouble socializing is not an excuse to treat people you call your friends or that you claim to love like hobbies you can leave and come back to whenever you feel like - I learned this the hard way as an autistic person with shit social skills.

You have to negotiate what a friend can expect from you if you're an Outside Cat Friend that only drops in when you have specific reasons to reach out. It can be heartbreaking being the friend left waiting for a reply or a text without knowing the friend you're waiting for is an Outside Cat Friend.

Unless you have already agreed with your friend(s) that it's okay to ghost each other for extensive periods, spontaneously dropping out of contact with someone you've convinced is a good friend to you is really shitty and makes you a shitty friend.

"But I don't have the energy to reach out." Tell them.

"I have a lot going on and don't have time to talk." FUCKING TELL THEM.

"I haven't had anything to talk about." THAT'S WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR.

"I've been too anxious to reach out." SAY THAT. JUST SAY THAT.

"I need a break from social contact for a while, so I don't wanna talk at all really." SAY THAT BEFORE YOU JUST DROP OFF THE END OF THE EARTH.

I've been the Reaching-Out Friend for most of my life, and in the past 5-10 years especially, I haven't been finding a whole lot of strength left to keep tending abandoned gardens that are thriving in name only. I've gotten fed up with self-professed friends that say they love me or view me as a sibling, but ultimately prove themselves to be bystanders when it's my turn to need someone to lean on and help me look after the garden.

Yes, there are absolutely friends you can have that can go years without hearing from you and still pick up where you left off when you do meet up again. They're awesome and worth keeping just as much as any other friends are.

There are also those friends that silently grieve your absence, that reach out to no avail, and wind up leaving the garden to die entirely after salting the soil with their own tears. Those are the friends that you've taken too much from without giving enough of yourself in return, and you've used them up and thrown them away without realizing you've treated someone that cared about you like a tool.

"I'm not the kind of friend that reaches out first."

That's your choice. No matter how you dress it up, when you decide it's time to neglect a friend, you're choosing to neglect them if they aren't prepared for what to expect from a friendship with you. You have the right to do that whenever you want to, but you cannot expect a warm reception with every person you do it to every time you do it. You cannot anticipate full amnesty in advance without full disclosure in advance.

If you're currently thinking of someone you've left sitting on read for a long time right now? It might be time to break your pattern and reach out for once.

Fall together, not apart.

[a-pigeons-soliloquy]

at the request/encouragement/threats of @willgrahamscock lol (I’m joking ofc thank you for giving me courage to post :)), here’s my art of hannibal and will!

plus here’s the original will sketch below the cut because he is cute and I want to share him!:

just look at him!!! I want only the best for him

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[thwackk]

here is my spiderverse oc (ft. a few other important characters) uhmmmm yeah.

the cat is Batman btw

[josecariohca]

.