#i'll stop writing tags now

[ramblesbiab]

hazbin hotel is so weird to me.

When I was an edgy, newly queer teenager and the pilot came out, it was literally fucking everything to me. I rewatched it on a near daily basis. I thought every joke landed, that the animation was amazing, and I had a weird sense of pride that a YouTuber could produce something as amazing as a 30 minute, high quality animation.

Then a few years passed as I watched Helluva Boss excitedly every time it came out. I thought it was great, for a while. Then over time, I was semi-conscious of a decline in quality, that finally set in around when season 2 came out. I stopped watching at that point because I was so bored of it, I missed what it could've been, what it used to be.

At that point, I started seeing more information about the actual Hazbin Hotel show coming soon. On it's own it would have been strange, the lack of excitement about what was my entire personality at one point. Then I started seeing how a lot of accounts on here who I respect and look up to talk about the show.

The true scope of the issues with the show really set in at that point. How unoriginal and childish the jokes were. How their was barely an audience anywhere for it because it didn't know what it was trying to be. It was clear to me that something I once idolized is a wreck.

Then, one of my closest friends with media opinions I heavily respect starts watching the show and talking about how great it is. It's hard to describe the level of whiplash I felt. It felt like I was missing something, y'know? Like there was an inside joke I didn't understand, how could anyone like the bad show. It's bad.

I... still haven't watched the show. I don't have means to watch it except pirating and I genuinely don't feel like putting in the effort to pirate it. Honestly, the greater point of this post is just like - how bad I am at forming my own opinions, because I feel a constant need to be with the crowd.

I know that's a problem. It shouldn't matter how people I respect feel about the show, because if I enjoy it and it's not genuinely problematic, then there's nothing wrong with that. So maybe I would like the show. Maybe I'm in the small audience which I've repeatedly seen referred to as dumb, overly edgy, etc. And maybe I don't want to admit that because I'm hoping I'm not in the minority.

Anyway, that's the end of this long post. Have a nice day.

[ingravinoveritas]

Earlier this year, a new blog was started here on Tumblr with the aim and intention of harassing a group of fans in the GO fandom. I previously made a post addressing this, as I was the initial target of this blog (whose original handle was a dupe of my own Tumblr handle).

I had hoped not to have a reason to revisit this particular subject, but given recent disturbing comments made by both this blog and its followers, and a post written by @nightgoodomens describing the situation from their perspective, I feel compelled to make a post of my own, to talk about what I have experienced and continue to experience at the hands of these individuals.

By now, some of you may be familiar with the blog in question. In my prior post, I did not mention this blog's name publicly, and I have no intention of doing so at this time, either. Yet I think it's important to be clear about what this blog's specific intentions were, which were made evident by its original creator on Twitter at the end of May:

It was only a few days after writing this tweet that the author did exactly this, and created this main blog. I feel that this has somehow become obscured over time, as given the negative response that this blog's initial posts engendered, the original creator apparently retired from the blog and gave the reins to someone else, and the blog's focus soon pivoted to defending Georgia and Anna. Prior to this, however, the blog began publishing Anons attacking me, including one that seemed to be threatening to doxx me:

What particularly perplexed me was seeing a gradual distortion of my own words and writing here on Tumblr, as well as people buying into it so readily. I also noticed one particular blog that became friendly with this main blog--they've changed handles a number of times, but at the time they were known as michaelsheendaily (then michaelsheensource, then thesheenantbergs). For months prior, they talked specifically about how awful the things I/others were saying about Georgia and Anna, and then seemingly joined forces with this main blog.

…Yet one year ago this very month, that same person (michaelsheendaily/thesheenantbergs) felt similarly to many of us and had sent me an Ask wanting to know if I thought Anna was being abusive to Michael. This Ask was sent from their (at the time, now deleted) main blog, but they helpfully DMed me from michaelsheendaily to make sure I had seen their question:

I answered this question (as I try to do with every Ask/Anon I get) straightforwardly and honestly, and firmly said "No" in response, as well as how serious it is to accuse someone of abuse, and that it is not up to any of us to try and break up a relationship, as Michael has people he can turn to if he needs to do so. I have also previously defended Georgia on my blog (and provided rationales and examples for why my perspective has gradually shifted over time), but it seems that the people harassing me have conveniently chosen to ignore all of this/have never looked at my blog beyond a cursory glance.

As this main blog continued its posting, and despite having Anons turned off, I began to receive a number of hateful Asks, which culminated with another blog suddenly coming into being about a month after these initial incidents. This blog claimed to be Michael Sheen (using a handle of his from Facebook), and published this despicably homophobic and noticeably un-Michael-like post:

The aforementioned main blog immediately drew attention to this post, and claimed that they had "proof" of this being the real Michael:

It soon became apparent that this blog was a fake, and despite its prior insistence that it could possibly be him, the main blog backtracked quickly as more people pointed out how obviously this was not Michael. Yet even the notion that someone would think this was acceptable--to pretend to be Michael, to (poorly) attempt an approximation of his writing style, all for the sake of attacking one person, and despite the fact that we know Michael already has a Tumblr that he hasn’t posted on in years--is just absurd beyond words.

But clearly this ill-conceived post inspired others, as only a week after this post appeared (and subsequently disappeared, along with the blog itself), I received an Ask from yet another recently-created blog of someone claiming to know Michael personally, saying that he would "destroy" me:

Which brings me to the present day, and how these themes have presented themselves yet again, in an even more unpleasant fashion.

Over the last four months, this main blog and its followers have continued to obsessively read my blog (despite how very easy it would be to simply block me) and screenshotted my posts in order to add their own vile commentary. I have not wanted to draw attention to any of this, but one particular instance has now made me change my mind.

I've recently talked on my blog about my upcoming trip to London, where I will be seeing David in Macbeth. A few days ago, it was brought to my attention that the main blog screenshotted one of my posts--which was a reblog of a video of David with Jodie Whittaker--along with my tags talking about the way David was sitting. One of the blog's followers commented this in response, and subsequently received a reply from the OP:

The "daggers" commenter currently runs several blogs dedicated to worshiping/defending Georgia and Anna (at least one of which is run in tandem with the original creator of the main blog). Numerous accusations have been levied at me and others from these blogs, one of the most outrageous of which is homophobia...yet this is their response to me simply saying David might not be 100% straight, and which eerily echoes the tone of the post from "Michael" three months ago. And while there are a lot of things about the last few months that have rankled me, nothing does so more than the hypocrisy I have witnessed, such as this.

The thing is, though, that when I saw these comments, all I could honestly think of was how sad I felt.

Because here I am, just days away from going on my trip--a trip I have been so anxiously awaiting, that is my first non-work trip in a very, very long time--and now the thought of, "Could someone try to attack me?" has crossed my mind. Yet my sadness is less for myself and more for the person who thinks it is acceptable to wish or even encourage violence against another human being. My sadness is that this person feels so unsafe or discontent in their own life--a feeling I know all too well--that their chosen course of action is to make someone else feel unsafe. To assuage their own sense of powerlessness by going after someone they perceive as having power.

My sadness is at these people being so sure that the celebrities they are a fan of would agree with them, yet needing/wanting those people to act in a way that aligns with who they want Michael and David to be, rather than who they actually are. I know that the Michael and David I became a fan of are two of the kindest, most intelligent, warmest men you could imagine, and that there is no part of me that wants or needs them to scream at or dislike the same people I do for the sake of my own self-serving purposes.

To that end, I have also been distressed by the apparent frenzy that was recently generated in the form of a "rallying cry" against myself and others in this group of fans facing ongoing harassment. But what I've tended to see as a response to said frenzy is some variation of, "People are saying these terrible things. I haven't actually seen any of these posts/comments, but it must be terrible, so I'll block this person/people." I am no stranger to fandom chatter/gossip, but every time I hear something, my first impulse is always to find the receipts. To learn more information what is being claimed so that I can make up my own mind. And that is the very same ethos I have espoused on my blog for years, because I would much rather people think for themselves than "fall in line" because they are being told to do so/threatened with being "cancelled" if they don't.

So if you want to find out something about my opinions or takes, it is all here on my blog. Everything going back five years since I joined the GO fandom, tagged and catalogued. I have not privated anything or deleted anything, nor do I have multiple blogs or side blogs--just this one. And if after reading what I actually have to say you still want to block me, you are certainly welcome to do so. I would just much rather you block me because of the truth, not because of someone else's personal vendetta and agenda.

To say that dealing with all of this for months on end has been surreal and stressful is a profound understatement. Especially because I have never once engaged with this blog, never replied to any posts of theirs, nor sent them an Anon or made threats of any kind (despite receiving numerous threats myself). Nor have I replied to the multiple incendiary Asks and DMs I have repeatedly received from the blog's original creator.

Again, I have not wanted to draw any further attention to these people, but the staggering awfulness of the most recent comments finally made me feel that enough is enough. I truly shudder to think what the response would be if someone made a similarly threatening comment toward these individuals...yet it's somehow completely fine to say these things about me. To make me and others into the "villain" that you need us to be to justify saying these heinous things in the first place. And while these individuals and anyone else are free to dislike me and to express their dislike in a public forum to their heart's content, that freedom of expression ends where my right to not feel that my personal safety is in jeopardy begins. A line that should never have been crossed has been crossed, and we as a fandom and as human beings are much the worse off for it.

No one should ever have to feel this way. Not even these people. And by talking about all of this and bringing these incidents into the light, my hope is that no one else ever will.

[mbirnsings-71]

Struggled with today's art but I have to draw Scar Daily or I implode basically- also Ren for @pup-pee because I have to practice drawing him and Martyn after all-

Also I think Non-dog hybrid Ren is cursed but like it's what we're working with here we're balling-

[quick-otp-prompts]

First and Last Sentences, Fic Prompt

"For you, I would take actions unbeknownst to me, and have realizations of which were once thought of as inconceivable."

"Your love is a key that unlocks all doors."

[fidgetspringer-art]

Anyone want some angst? Cause I found some random angst laying around. With the bonus of Martin and Gabe interacting for the first time.

It’s 7am when Gabriel gets the call. The one he’s spent the last ten years dreading, knowing full well that sooner or later it would inevitably come.

-

Gabriel walks through the halls of the large hospital in a daze. Trying his best to follow the directions given by the nurse down at the front desk.

He pauses outside of what is supposed to be Noah’s room, staring at the door. His hand shakes when it comes up to twist the handle.

The figure in the bed at the far end of the room wouldn’t be recognizable if not for the fact that Gabriel could pick Noah out of a crowd with his eyes closed.

His face is so swollen and bruised Gabriel doesn’t think he could open his eyes even if he’d been awake to try.

His lip is split in several places, blood hastily wiped away.

His knuckles must be busted too, if the bandages covering his hands are any indication.

Gabriel sinks down into one of the free chairs in the room. There are two beds in here, separated by a thin curtain. The other bed is empty. Maybe just because it happens to not be needed right now, or maybe intentionally left as such, considering Noah’s case is likely a police matter.

Just a few more hits short of being a murder case.

Gabriel reaches out and rests his hand on Noah’s chest. Feeling the slow and steady beat of his heart against his palm. Just to remind himself that Noah is still alive.

In the countless times he’s imagined getting that call in the past, he’s never once imagined Noah still breathing at the end of it. It just hadn’t seemed likely.

But he’s here. Lungs inflating in his chest, rising up to meet the gentle touch of Gabriel's hand.

Noah is going to survive this, just like he’s survived everything else he’s put himself through. There is no other option.

Gabriel just hopes he won’t be too changed for it.

Gabriel sits with him for a few hours. Just watching him rest. Hands never leaving him for long.

He thinks about the last time Noah was at the studio. How happy and carefree he’d seemed. Gabriel had known from the moment he’d turned up, exactly where he’d come from, could always tell when he’d been spending time with his cowboy.

Gabriel blinks. Martin.

Unlocking Noah’s phone is an easy matter. There are no secrets between them, not even pin codes. The phone is thankfully accounted for in the plastic bag holding Noah’s small collection of items.

Gabriel steps out into the hallway to make the call, he’s not sure why. It’s not like Noah is going to hear him. But he needs a moment to himself anyway. Needs to take a breath.

Finding the right name in the contact list isn’t an issue, there aren’t that many names in there, but actually hitting the call button is harder than Gabriel was expecting.

He rips the band-aid off and brings the phone up to his ear. Cracked screen rough against his cheek.

It rings for a long time, long enough to have him second guessing himself. He’s almost sure no one is going to pick up when finally the line connects.

“Noah?” It’s urgent. Scared. “Noah, where are you, what's wrong?”

Gabriel’s chest aches. He can hear himself in Martin’s voice. Knows that if Noah called him out of the blue like this he’s be saying exactly the same words. Knows that he too would be fearing the worst.

“Noah! Talk to me.”

Gabriel shakes himself. Shuts his eyes. “Martin Hart?”

“No.” Martin’s breath leaves him with the word. “No, no, no, no, please-”

“He’s alive.” Gabriel is quick to clarify. “He’s alive.”

He can practically feel the relief in the silence across the line. He opens his mouth to continue, but no words come out. Martin’s fear for Noah’s life has rocked him. To know that someone else cares as much about Noah as Gabriel does- it’s stunned him.

“But he’s hurt?” Martin asks, finally breaking the silence between them.

Gabriel nods before he realizes Martin’s can’t see him. “He’s-” He swallows. “He’s unconscious. Broken a few bones too. They don’t know how long he’ll be out for, or if he’ll be himself when he wakes up, or-” His voice cracks. He hadn’t realized he was crying, but his cheeks are suddenly wet. “Can you-” He’s not really sure what he’s asking for, just knows that this is too much, even for him.

“I’m on my way, Gabriel.” Martin says, he must have assumed who was calling, there aren’t that many people in Noah’s life, after all. “You keep him company, yeah? I’ll be there as soon as I can, just tell me where you are.”

Gabriel rattles off the address. It’s a six hour drive from wherever Martin is, apparently. The thought of sitting in that hospital room alone for six more hours is enough to have Gabriel feeling sick.

He listens to Martin move around on the other end of the line, likely getting some things together before he heads out. The sound is soothing, less lonely, but then Martin tells him he has to hang up, that he only owns a landline, and Gabriel swallows down his dread and lets him go.

A nurse stops by a few hours later to check Noah’s vitals and to make sure he’s comfortable.

Gabriel watches her work with a numb sort of detachment. She’s humming and chatting, seemingly to the both of them, about nothing in particular, and Gabriel doesn’t bother answering her. He just gives her a tight smile when she comes to give him a pat on the shoulder before she leaves.

He can’t help the way he keeps checking his watch. He’s subconsciously counting down the hours until Martin gets here. He feels childish. Like he’s a kid waiting for an adult to come help them through a situation they can’t handle on their own.

He doesn’t even know this guy. Yet he sort of does. Noah is always talking about him, about his farm and his animals and the way Martin cooks for him. Real, actual food when Noah rarely gets to have anything besides junk food.

He remembers how distrustful he’d been towards this Martin guy when Noah had first told him about him. He'd imagined some older creep, manipulative and taking advantage of a young man desperate for his own place in the world.

He’d expected Martin to try to pin Noah down. Or to use him and discard him when he got too much. Wouldn’t have been the first time. But it’s been four years now, since Noah first met him. And every time Noah finds his way back to Gabriel’s studio after having spent time with the guy. He’s happy. Happier than Gabriel ever gets to see him.

Gabriel can always tell when Noah is leaving him to go stay with Martin too, even if he doesn’t let on that that’s where he’s headed. There’s an excitement to him that is unmistakable. Like he can’t wait to let his bike eat up the miles between them.

Of course there are times when Noah comes to him in a bad mood. They have their fights, every now and then. Mostly it’s Noah’s fault, but even so, Gabriel always feels a twinge of anger directed at Martin too, even if it’s almost never warranted. He just can’t help it.

With almost an hour left on the clock, there’s a timid knock on the door.

Gabriel doesn’t bother calling out or standing to open it, and he doesn’t have to, because only seconds later a tall, weathered man steps into the room.

He looks so much like your stereotypical cowboy it almost makes Gabriel want to laugh.

He’s wearing a red plaid shirt with an old work jacket pulled over it. He’s clutching a brown hat to his chest, just as dusty with red dirt as his well worn jeans and boots.

He freezes in the door, eyes going wide at the sight of Noah on the bed. He looks like he’s been physically stuck by the image.

Gabriel wonders then, how often Noah comes to him with bruises on his face. If he reserves that privilege for Gabriel alone, or if it’s just as common of an occurrence for Martin as it is for him.

“Hey.” Gabriel says, his voice comes out hoarse, raspy with disuse.

Martin doesn’t startle exactly, but he snaps out of his shock enough to look over. He blinks. “You Gabriel?” His voice is deep. He almost sounds stern, except Gabriel can tell he isn’t trying to be.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “You speed all the way here or what?” He has to have been, to have gotten here this early.

Martin just shrugs. He slips out of his jacket and pulls up a chair, sitting next to Gabriel, facing the bed. He stares at Noah for a long time, silent.

“He woken up at all?”

Gabriel sighs. He reaches over and places his hand back on Noah’s bandaged one. “Not yet. They don’t know how long he’ll need. Something about the swelling on his brain going down first.”

Martin nods. “Do you know what happened?”

He knows Martin must have drawn the same conclusions as him. That he must have assumed Noah had a wreck until he saw his injuries. The way they don’t line up with those of an accident.

“Not really. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Thought he was out your way.”

“He was. Left a few days ago, said he was heading this way but, you know-”

Gabriel does know. Noah has always been bad at keeping him in the loop. He knows he’s even worse about doing so for Martin. “Thank you for coming, by the way.”

Martin smiles at him, and for a second he understands why Noah was drawn to him in the first place. He has a warmth to him, a steadiness that is sorely lacking from Noah’s life. He feels like a rock, sitting beside Gabriel like this, even as he’s clearly going through a lot in his own head, he projects an outward calmness that does a lot to soothe Gabriel’s worries.

“Thank you for calling me. I’m grateful for you letting me know. God knows he’d never call me himself.”

Gabriel huffs. Doesn’t he know it.

“I figured he’d want you close, when he wakes up, even if he would never admit to wanting either of us here.”

The cowboy deflates. “I hope so. I hope I’m not overstepping, I never quite know where I stand in all this.”

Gabriel feels a stab of sadness for the man. He clearly cares so much about Noah, and true to form, Noah is making loving him as difficult a choice as possible.

“He would want you here. I know he would.” It doesn’t feel like enough, so he adds. “He never stops talking about you, you know.”

Martin looks over, eyebrows raised. “That true?”

Gabriel nods. “I think I could name every single one of your chickens by now.”

That makes Martin chuckle. Deep and hearty. “He loves those birds.”

“He sure does.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, just the beeping of the machines filling the room. It’s getting later in the day now. The little bit of sunlight hitting the far wall through the curtains is golden against the stark white of the walls.

Gabriel sighs. The sound drawing Martin’s attention. “I need to go see if I can track down his bike before it gets stolen, if it hasn’t been already.” He stands up, wishing he had thought to bring a jacket with him. “Call me if anything changes, yeah?”

He gives Martin the pin code to Noah’s phone and shows him how to find his name in the contact list. It’s obvious the guy has never held a smartphone before, but he figures it out quickly.

“Go.” He says, when Gabriel hesitates in the doorway. “That bike is his whole damn life.”

And isn’t that the truth.

Gabriel spends the next two hours scouring the streets of the downtown area for any sign of the bike.

He knows from the nurses where abouts Noah was found, but it was down a back-alley in an industrial area. Far from the usual kind of place Noah might haunt. And not an easy area to get a motorcycle into. He opts to rule out the more likely places first before trying his luck there.

He checks the streets around every single bar and pub and club he can find, peering into alleys and side streets with no luck.

Next he checks the local motel parking lots. No bike.

Every time he sees a parked motorcycle on the street his heart skips a beat. But it's never Noah's.

He’s about ready to give up and head back to the hospital when he decides to finally go look at the area Noah was found in. He just feels the need to see it for himself. Like maybe it will clear things up somehow. Give him some answers.

Finding the exact alleyway isn’t hard.

There’s police tape all around it. It’s a full on crime scene.

Gabriel doesn’t go beyond the tape. Scared to disturb anything that might be important to finding whoever did this to him. Even if he knows the investigation will inevitably end up closed before anything comes up. It’s not worth the resources. Not for some homeless biker with a track record of petty crime and picking fights.

Standing at the mouth of the alley, leaning over the tape, Gabriel looks down into the darkness between the old buildings.

He doesn’t even need to bring his phone’s flashlight up to see the pool of blood on the ground.

There’s a pallet by the wall that’s splintered, like something impacted it. Fell on it maybe, or was pushed. Between it and the pool of blood lays a rusty old steel pipe.

It paints a picture well enough.

Gabriel turns away before he makes himself sick. He knows he should head back to the hospital, but he can’t bring himself to go just yet. He feels like a failure, both for not having found the bike, but also for not doing more to prevent this from happening in the first place.

He should have been a better friend. Should have talked Noah out of this kind of lifestyle, kept him safe.

Not that it would have done anything except push Noah further away from him.

He walks down towards where he knows the river will be. The old docks are silent around him. The only sound the humming of the lights illuminating the area, and the occasional seagull looking for a place to hunker down for the night.

He’s getting dangerously cold. He’s been walking around for hours, having left his car back at the hospital so he could ride the bike back if he found it. Now it’s looking like he’ll be walking back too. He’s not dressed for this. He should go before-

He almost doesn’t see it.

He’s following the river back into town when he passes underneath a bridge. The rumble of traffic above him loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

It’s pure chance that he glances up and into the darkness underneath the cover of the overhanging structure.

It’s Tansy.

She’s tucked up against a massive support beam, half covered by Noah’s trusty old tent haphazardly pitched against her side on the asphalt.

Noah’s things are all there, by some miracle. His backpack is hidden inside the tent along with his helmet, and upon closer inspection, his saddle bags are untouched.

Gabriel shakes his head at Noah’s luck. It’s always a theme with him, luck. He seems to have endless amounts of it, always working in his favor. Even now, stuck in a hospital bed with injuries bordering on incompatible with life, yet he’s facing decent odds, if the doctors are to be believed.

Pure luck, they’d said, that he wasn’t worse off.

Gabriel swallows down the bile in his throat and starts taking the tent down to pack it away.

Noah’s keys feel good in his hand when he pulls them out of his pocket, and he feels a surge of pride and relief when he turns it in the ignition and kicks the bike to life.

Tansy starts up just as willingly as she always does.

Gabriel lets her idle while he puts Noah’s helmet on. It’s far too tight on him, and he can already tell he’s going to have a banging headache by the time he makes it back to the hospital.

“Did you find her?” Martin asks as soon as Gabriel comes through the door. He’s sitting in Gabriel’s chair now, pushed up close to Noah’s side.

Gabriel holds the helmet up in answer. “Pure luck. But I did, in the end.”

“Good. Here, I’ll-” He goes to stand up, but Gabriel stops him.

“Sit. It’s alright. I’ve been with him all day.” Martin looks unsure, but he nods and sits back down. The way he takes Noah’s injured hand in his own is so achingly tender Gabriel has to look away to keep himself from letting his already worn thin walls crumble.

He’s exhausted, emotionally and physically drained, but he can do this. He can hold it together for a while longer.

[katabay]

L'APPEL DU VIDE

okay so. jack! jack. what a collection of guys. the overlap between jack and the beanstalk and jack the giant killer, though. that sure is something! sometimes king arthur is there, which always takes me by surprise.

this. specifically. is an idea I've been kicking around. jack and the beanstalk is not a story I've ever enjoyed, as a kid it was probably my least favorite to read. as an adult, I was INTENSELY fascinated by reading j.g. ballard's the drowned giant. I think about it frequently, and somewhere during a re read of it, I ended up revisiting jack.

combining different versions of jack into one character is not a new concept, but it IS a fun one! the version I've been assembling together plays less with the fun elements of a jack story (and adjacent folklore stories), and focuses more on the potential for tragic elements with the addition of the usual grim and jagged narrative edges that I personally enjoy.

jack with the backstory of the devil and the three golden hairs, only jack doesn't find love, he's TIRED, all he wants to do is go home, but there isn't a home to go back to. what is the point of being born lucky if this is what it gets you? jack the giant killer, only he doesn't want to kill giants, jack who saw a body of a giant when he was a small child and cannot bring himself to do as a king commands. jack, who climbs up the beanstalk and stops halfway to look down. etc.

to go back to the drowned giant real quick, both to set the tone about jack seeing the body of a giant as a youth, and also because I've been haunted and obsessed with this excerpt of it ever since I read it:

J. G. Ballard, The Drowned Giant

anyway! this was originally like, a two illustration concept to get out of my system. however. I'm halfway through outlining a narrative. so. maybe it will also be several illustrations and also comic.

[wonderlandsakura]

Ok for some reason my brain is hyper focusing on Johnlock again like I won't regret it 2-3 business days from now when I come out of it with 5 new open AO3 tabs (out of my already 156 open AO3 tabs not counting other unfinished/unread fic/fic I've not caught up on, full disclosure) for fic that I probably won't finish reading and/or while being unable to find the. Very Specific. fic I want to read and just having like an open half-filtered tab... But Anyway.

Here's a Very Rare Johnlock Post from me lol

Imagine after all the seasons are over and Johnlock are old and have finally talked about their feelings and properly, actually, gotten officially together

(and subsequently gotten married in like 2 months cause Sherlock filled out the paperwork while John was not actually at home and then actually having a discussion about it when John finds out it happened cause Sherlock casually mentions it and actually agrees after Sherlock mentions (read: steamrolls over him, anxiously) them practically already being married by common law and just officialising it for the tax benefits... they only have a proper wedding, maybe on their/an anniversary when Mrs Hudson finds out probably 6 months later or sth and complains,, but I've gone on a tangent again)

Anyway Rosie is a teenager, with after-school activities and a phone.

I'm just imagining Sherlock dragging John out on a murder case (read: date) and deciding to feed him midway through (like always, tbh,, sth sth that post about feeding the depressed man that tends to forget to eat but I digress)

So Rosie gets a text and a voicemail from the two of them (cause Sherlock prefers to text and tell me John is not the sort to leave voicemails, like he would have put it on the voicemail machine if they had one he's so old man sometimes)

And it goes something like:

[Text from Papa]

Ragù Bolognese, Angelo's, 7pm. Hugs. -SH

[Voicemail from Dad]

"Hi honey, it's Dad.

Sorry we won't be able to make it to dinner with you, your father's got a case and you know how he gets...

Anyway, Mrs Hudson is going out tonight remember, so your Papa is booking the usual table at Angelo's for you... You still like the Spaghetti Bolognese right?

Don't worry about us, we'll eat before we get home. And the reservation is at 7, so don't be late. This will probably take a while so don't wait up either and go straight to bed young lady, you hear me?

Anyway I've got to go, loveyoubye."

Anyway I think it would be very cute, like they love and care about her, even if they're old men who laugh at crime scenes and whose ideal date is trying to catch a murderer together, and they show it by taking a moment to make sure she's fed with her favorite food even when they're busy solving crime, so yeah.

[necrotic-nephilim]

so. now that my accidental hiatus is over and i've rattled myself free of the grave, i just want to give a general update on this blog and where i'm at with it. because i do love this blog and want to post, but when i made this blog, the intention of it was canon-based metas and discussions around DC that were often ship-focused, but also just generally my opinions on the fandom. and of course i enjoy rolling around in the filth and having a lot of sexual/dead dove posts on main, but it did overwhelm me a bit when that became my entire blog and i got more asks than i could keep up with.

so in the future, i think i'm going to stagger how fast i answer asks and try to find a healthy mix of my own metas, dead dove shipposting, and whatever else i want to put here. and while i don't want to close asks because i invite discourse my way, i do have to say i will be much slower to answering them. sometimes we will be whores on main, sometimes we will be analyzing this fandom and it's source material on main. who is to say. but either way, we're back and no one can get rid of me.

[triglycercule]

horror is so BLESSED he's the only one out of the murder time trio that has actual good people trying to influence his story 💔💔 dust and killer were both driven to INSANITY because of the choices of their respective humans but horror??? every time without FAIL the polls for horrortale's plotline have always ended in a good place for aliza (either by bettering her relationships/reputation or for her to just. not DIE)

horrortale's potential alternate timelines my beLOVEd🙏🙏 they're SO lucky that we're being kind and benevolent hehe (≧ω≦) now where are the aus based off the possible different outcomes that could've happened in horrortale HUH???? (like how aliza couldve killed toriel or chosen horror's puzzle or gone with undyne to the core........)

[can-of-slorgs]

I'm personally blaming @starbiology and everyone who has reblogged or commented the other piece for this.

Bonus comic featuring my grundo:

[evilmagician430]

mabeline/jonah wolf in my 2020s timeskip au! read my tags for more information about her

[mbirnsings-71]

You know when you have a fanfic idea, have it all nice and plotted out and everything, but haven't written it yet, yet specific scenes are stuck in your brain already? Yeah that's me. and my artist curse is that I had to draw the scene or I was gonna implode! So you guys get zero context except this is for my wedding planner au-

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

when I want to write something self indulgent to give me all the angsty and cuddly hurt/comfort feels but I can't because I end up feeling guilty because I'm seeking after feels that I feel in an inappropriate place because my mom told me one time when I was 15 that I shouldn't search that out or it's probably sexual sin but it confuses me because ALL the feels happen that way for me even if it's entirely platonic and nonsexual and so I don't know if it's okay to want to write to that because apparently all pleasure of any sort, even over platonic stories, is sexual or comes with a possibly probably sexual feeling and I also am having a hard time figuring out what's genuine conviction from God and what's just my anxiety/OCD/perfectionism/fear of failure

[leviiackrman]

Might as well have the salt before the sweet; so here is Rin's Finished Timeline!

Tag list (ask to be added or removed): @carrionsflower @statichvm @risingsh0t @simonxriley @tommyarashikage @kanos @confidentandgood @unholymilf @florbelles @thedeadthree @shellibisshe @roofgeese @aezyrraeshh @faerune @tekehu @jackiesarch @minaharkers @sergeiravenov @carlosoliveiraa @rosenfey @greenecreek @queennymeria @heroofpenamstan @tethrras @jamessunderlandgf @d-esmond @solasan @bigbywlf @delzinrowe @fenharel @imogenkol

[greypetrel]

Tagged by @idolsgf to take this quiz, thank you so much Mary!! <3

@ndostairlyrium you can laugh at me being purple even in tests about reading. (Also you're tagged Ali). I do looooooove reading people playing with structures and themes and mixing genres up!

I'd like to add, because I'm a nitpicker and I didn't take one of the best exams I did on the subject on this exact topic not. RUSSIAN futurism, not the Italian one. Italian futurists were f*scists and their philosophy is wrongly mixed with the russian/Ukrainian ones (which for once didn't want to enter museums and destroy everything like fucking Marinetti and Boccioni. I'd STRONGLY suggest you read The One and a Half-eyed Archer by Benedikt Konstantinovič Livšic. Also an Ukrainian!).

Tagging: @salsedine @buridanshorse @dreadfutures @inquisimer @star--nymph @deerna @zencetera @rowanisawriter and YOU who are reading

[post-punk-revival]

In the spirit of growing out of ways this site is weird about psychotic people that are seemingly innocuous but still undeniably ableist if you think about it for 10 seconds, can we leave "and is X in the room with us right now" in 2024 too