#i guess??????? i dunno man

[monty-glasses-roxy]

I don't know when I decided this, but Mangle now calls Roxy 'Littley'. This woman is allergic to calling anyone by their actual fucking name.

[claybooots]

I saw the face of God and He was smiling real big!!!

[hyperfocusfeatures]

nothing could have ever prepared me for the day the walt disney company decided to tell me that charles xavier is canonically a puppy sub

[cleocatrablossy]

The fact that if you smile more in life, your corpse is more likely to hold a slight smile constantly grips my mind whenever I remember Scar “You never know if you’ll wake up in the morning” Goodtimes is constantly smiling. Even before the vex stuff, which could explain it.

Maybe it’s coincidence, maybe he just wants to cut on funeral costs that little bit. Maybe he’s already dead and that’s just how his muscles tightened.

Maybe in the beginning of the infection in the crafting dead he didn’t miraculously survive, maybe all he did was come back.

A smile permanently on his face, a reminder of a life he lost.

[imsodishy]

Billy's got a compass in his chest and it always points him home.

West, to California. To the coast, the beach, the water.

From the moment he first had to escape his house, small and bruised. Alone and so angry. He would plant himself in the sand, fling himself into the ocean. Let it swallow him whole and spit him back out. Wash him out, back onto the sand. Still whole. Clean and salty and softer at the edges, like a worn down bit of sea-glass.

It works all the way out in Indiana, that compass. Still points him west. It's a sustained ache under his ribs now that he can't just let his feet take him home anytime he needs it.

A girl coyly suggests she could show him Lover's Lake sometime and he jumps at the chance, but it's a disappointing spit of water and frozen besides. The compass needle doesn't even wobble in it's heading. His sends his date home disappointed too.

Steve Harrington's got no direction. He's drifting around on the tide like flotsam. Billy shoves him and he stirs up little eddies, fights the current for a once and kicks up a wake that Billy can ride for a minute and breathe deep afterwards like he's coming up for air.

The crash and ebb and flow around each other for months. Billy learns to read the wave pattern, Steve learns to watch for storm patterns.

Steve's got a pool, which is objectively even worse than a lake. Except, when he says so, Steve tackles him around the middle and sinks them both right to the bottom of the deep end fully clothed. Laughs as Billy curses him out for ruining the half pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

They splash and shove and wrestle their way out of their sodden clothes without getting out of the heated water, because March in Hawkins may be warming up, but it's sure as shit not warm yet. Steve calls him a wimp, climbs out in just his briefs, and canon-balls back in.

They tangle together under the water and Steve only lets him up for air when he really needs it.

Steve Harrington must have a lot of extra iron in his blood or something. The needle's been wobbly for a while, and it spins right off it's axis the day Steve hands him a little newspaper wrapped parcel, "Happy birthday," he says, "Made me think of you."

It's an earring, plain gold stud and fine gold chain with a teardrop stone hanging off it. Rough-hewn, softly cloudy blue. Sea-glass.

Billy's adrift, surprised by a riptide.

There's a lodestone hanging on his ear and he can't see his way back to the coast anymore.

[gendercriminals]

Anyways, I cannot fucking understate the psychic damage that is done by transitioning as a trans- masc while being a person of color.

People already didn’t listen to my opinion and boundaries before my voice and body started passing as somewhat male. But as I’ve started to pass, more and more often, my voice and opinions and boundaries are not only ignored; I’m treated as hyper-aggressive/hostile/mean, inagreeable, and stubborn.

Even by my loved ones and friends, they way they treat the words that come out of my mouth or words through text has changed.

When I cannot say “What you said/did hurt me and I need you to own up to that in some actually active way, or at least apologize.”without invoking white tears - when I cannot get upset over boundary crossing and being ignored without invoking anger about my “attitude”… How am I meant to exist safely?

[radiance1]

Something inspired by this post and this song.

Danny blinked as everything around him seemed to pause. Mist escaping past his lips and he looked at the still branch outside of the window.

Hands rested over his shoulders. "My dearest child." Clockwork's spoke from behind him, and Danny stilled. "Won't you join? We can get you out this little predicament binding you by human law."

"No." Danny huffed, resolutely staring out of the window. "I don't want to. You made me try so hard to avoid my bad future, and now you just want me to do something like that?"

"My dear boy," Clockwork flew in front of him, cupping Danny's face in gentle hands. "Your alternate future destroyed this world and as such, the Observants wanted you dead. It would have been unfair for you to be killed for a mere possible future."

Danny scoffed. "You only interfered because you saw a future with me with at your side." Danny scowled, wanting to pull back from Clockwork's hands but found that he couldn't. He scowled a bit more at his body's betrayal, sinking into the touch instead of pulling away.

"I will not lie to you, I had indeed interfered because of such." Clockwork slowly rubbed comforting circles on the boy's cheeks. "But also because you are my child, even if you were then, you would have been eventually. It is a parent's duty to protect their child, is it not?"

Danny wanted to refute that. But the memories of his parent's death at the hands of the GIW for him caused the words to be stuck in his throat. The images of both their and his sister and friend's bodies caused his vision to blur.

He choked down the tears.

"My poor child," Clockwork rested his forehead against Danny's own, a comforting gesture. "To have faced such cruelty at human hands, and for your own human donor to deny you your grief." Clockwork smiled. "Just let us help you, come to our side and we shall make it all go away."

Danny stayed silent for a moment, a small part of himself feeling guilty over wanting Clockwork's touch but a larger part wanting it anyway. "No." Danny breathed out harshly. "They don't deserve to die just because of that."

They don't.

If he says it enough, it'll stay true.

No matter what happens.

Clockwork leaned back, hands falling from his face and Danny had to force himself not to follow the touch as Clockwork circled behind him.

"I am willing to ask as many times as it takes, for you will join us eventually." Danny hated the certainty in the ghost's tone, but couldn't help but push his head into the hand that patted his head. "A piece of advice, however. War is not as patient as I am."

And with those parting words, Clockwork disappeared. Time resuming at once with Danny still sat on his bed. He flopped onto his back, head hitting the pillows as he turned on his side. He stared at his hands silently, before turning one palm up as ice danced up from his palm, slowly taking shape into lifelike versions of his family.

Alive and happy.

A small smile grew on his face he watched. Fighting against living food that Danny had once disliked.

What he wouldn't give to have it all back.

A knock broke him from his starring, and the ice collapsed in his hand.

"Master Danny?" Alfred's voice came from the other side of the door, causing Danny to frown. "Would you be joining us for lunch?"

Danny wanted to say no. He didn't want to interact with anyone in this stupid family.

Danny hated how he couldn't say no without one of them making it into some kind of problem.

So what if he hasn't eaten in a few days? He would live.

Danny sighed, standing up from his bed and silently staring at the door before he got up. He stared at the bracelet on his wrist for a moment as he grabbed onto the doorknob, the one that limited his power extremely, and opened the door.

He stared up at the pleasantly surprised expression on the butler's face, before looking away as he started to lead him towards the kitchen.

[samarecharm]

Love that Ann and Ryuji both love food and bond w Akira over food…something about it is so sweet to me. The ramen shop, the crepes, the hotel buffet, the afternoon diner hangouts, the attic hotpot…Ann making the hotpot suggestion; Ryuji showing u his favorite hole in the wall restaurant…all the thieves enjoying the local restaurants and food in strikers; Akira making the leblanc curry and coffee for teammates, and Akira getting volunteer help to cook restorative food for the team….i just love it alot. I want you to eat bc i want you to be well, i want us both to be well.

[fluffydice]

There’s something so hilarious about Aren being a punk and Kusuo being obsessed with normalcy. Like, Aren’s whole life was spent in a world where uniqueness is an expectation whereas Kusuo would have a genuine meltdown if he were to express himself (depending on his development, obviously). Like:

"You don’t think about ever just…letting yourself dress the way you want?" Kuboyasu asked. "No, never. Why?" Kusuo replied, frowning slightly. The guy shrugged. “Dunno. Is it really all that important?” "Of course it is. There are certain styles of clothing that people associate with different groups. I'm considered a homebody, so wearing comfortable clothes makes sense," Kusuo explained. "Anything deviation from this expectation might attract attention." He could feel himself starting to puff up with pride—he'd had this all figured out since his fifth year. "'S not always a bad thing. Look: say you were to dress up like a punk or something—" "I can't," Kusuo interrupted tightly, nerves slowly creeping through his chest at the thought. "Okay, okay. But imagine that you did, yeah?" At Kusuo’s nod, the other splayed out a hand toward him invitingly. "What’s the worst that would happen?" "Someone would kill me." "Okay then!" Kuboyasu said loudly, snapping his head to the horizon so he didn’t have to look at Kusuo. 'Holy fucking shit, dude, I’ve never met a guy who needed to pop a fucking Xanax more.' Outwardly, he said, "I think you're very normal, Saiki." Kusuo felt himself start to preen again. "Thank you."

[deviousdevilx]

House saw this man and decided he'll be so normal about him. First act of normalcy was to pay his bail because out of hundreds at the medical conference this pretty boy with expressive brown eyes was the most interesting out of the bunch

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

pondering

[cadavercrafts]

hey man how's it going

[front-facing-pokemon]

[0donto1nsanity]

Hello gay people on my phone I bring you more slop

[wellfine]

Hi! I found a repost of your comic 20 year waltz on TikTok and thought you might want to know. Looks like someone reposts it and plugs ai voice acting in to farm engagement. Insultingly enough they spelled you twitter user “Flandleg” (????)

I made sure to credit you in the comments properly but here’s a link to the post (part 1/2 ofc) in case you wanna check it out for yourself

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMhG3YoWF/

Hope your day is going well otherwise!

Hey, thank you (and others) who have come forward to let me know about this. The reality is that I can't do anything about it either, so I prefer not to be reminded. I will say that, of all the times my art has been reposted, this one did actually seem to drive some genuine engagement back to me & my comic download, so there's a silver lining! (I can't imagine the AI voice acting sounding good though...)

The best thing anyone can do if they find my art reposted, and which I really appreciate, is to report it and make sure I'm credited somewhere, because I don't have the energy to get them all myself. Please don't start fights, and please don't feel the need to defend or speak for me - just a simple reply explaining who the artist is and a link back to me goes a long way.

At the end of the day I know that when I post something to the Internet it's inevitable that it will get reposted, so I've made my peace with it. But it's kind of a bummer to be reminded constantly, so I appreciate when people credit me in the replies of reposts that they see ♥♥♥

That said, I picked this message to respond to because WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNN FLANDLEG??? I briefly changed by Twitter handle to 'Flandeg' as a gag with the 🍮 emoji BUT WHERE DID THE LEG COME FROM. WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP TRYING TO PUT LEG IN MY NAME. IS IT SANJI

[viscerat]

i think this would fix him