#it could have been good!

[sandushengshou]

Addams Family Values (1993) dir. Barry Sonnenfeld

[stemmmm]

he likes to play gatsby

[panthermouthh]

“Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?”

[mangozic]

archivist be upon ye

[chloesimaginationthings]

The Mikes and Vanessas celebrate 10 years of FNAF!

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt I good omens but i've never watched it

i've never seen good omens but it's all over my tumblr dash so this is what I've gathered can someone please confirm if i've got it right

there's a demon named crowley

there's a biblically inaccurate angel named aziraphale but like it's very sexy when the demon calls him 'angel'

the demon and angel have been married for 6000 years and they still keep looking at each other all sappily

Neil Gaiman is somehow involved, I think he's the writer but also he's on tumblr (uh, @neil-gaiman) and people keep questioning if he's real

is neil gaiman like a fandom inside joke why is everyone asking if he's real

there actors are called michael and david and amazon prime thought they were the same

there is a bookstore and crowley is sad

they kiss and it is very nice and desperate and crowley says we could have been us. i have no context for this. someone is going to heaven i think.

there is a god, i'm not sure if they're good or evil though

the demon wears sunglasses

it's a comedy but for some reason everyone's crying after whatever the last season was, are you guys okay

things are on fire

they are very gay

there was a book and at one point they switch bodies

more fire and crowley screaming

they are called ineffable husbands i dont know what that means

they fight crime or they do crime or they fight crime by doing crime i really cannot remember which

gay

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny goes to a new School

So! When Danny got expelled from his High School, it wasn't really a big Suprise. He had missed for too many days or just walked out in the middle of Class, and his grades were lower than anyone else in the school. It was just a matter of time really.

When confronted by his Parents, he had just claimed that it was the constant ghost attacks getting to him (not a total lie) and that he was sorry.

Well, his parents tried to help.

After hearing about his supposed Fear of Ghosts, they decided that it was a good idea for him to go to school somewhere outside of Amity Park, so he could focus on his Schoolwork and not be distracted by the constant Attacks.

Of course no School wanted to accept a problem student like Danny, so they were forced to look into alternative schools to find one that would accept him. And they did! So they had Danny pack his bags, promise to call regularly, and shipped him off to his new School.

HIVE Academy.

[thebaldursmouthgazette]

I’m sure Dumat being defeated the same year andraste was born means nothing

I’m sure this has nothing to do with the fact that andrastes mother was part of a tribe who helped the grey wardens fight and defeat dumat the same year she was born, meaning that she could have been a fetus affected by the taint in the proximity of a dying arch demon

And the fact that nobody knows which grey warden killed dumat, as seven wardens died from injuries from his death throes, and therefore we cannot actually identify a warden who absorbed his soul, means nothing

And I’m sure it is a complete coincidence that andraste had dreams and visions of the being later referred to as the maker her whole life, and behaved strangely, talking about hearing lost voices and seeing strange auras. That absolutely doesn’t sound like anyone else we know

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

Donna Noble really got in the TARDIS and on trip number ONE like ONLY the FIRST trip she was like we are going to change history to save a single family because that is how it should work so that is how it does and then on trip number TWO on the SECOND trip she was like we are going to destroy an entire culture of slavery because it is right I don't care if we're two people and then on the THIRD trip she was like I am going to be unbelievably brave to save my home and everyone I love and then on the FOURTH trip she was like no living breathing thinking creature is less than a person and how dare you try to dehumanise someone like that how dare you not give her a name and the list GOES ON this woman NEVER MISSED there goes one of the kindest bravest most constant women you might ever meet and she's a temp from Chiswick

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Fic Idea where Fiddleford helps Stan rebuild the portal, but Stan finds out that Fiddleford has a wife and he's like

"You have a WIFE?? That DIDN'T marry you to steal your car and money???? What are you DOING here???"

"Yeah, well.... She's better off thinking I'm dead somewhere....."

"A WIFE. That LOVES you. Get outta here and go explain yourself, Idiot!!"

"She and our son shouldn't have to deal with--"

"YOUR SON???!!?!!??"

Anyways, so Stan helps Fiddleford reach out and explain himself to his wife, but expresses that he wants to keep being in Gravity Falls, so his wife and kid go to live with them in The Shack instead.

Blah blah blah, bonding happens, Stan bags Fiddleford AND his wife and becomes a step dad, God bless 🙏

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 61-64)

* I-I don't think we were talking about the same thing...

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[dollypopup]

the absolute unbearable cruelty that the writers foisted upon Cressida

a woman taught from the beginning in her home, by her own mother, that she cannot trust any other women, who finally, FINALLY felt she had a friend- who didn't care for her much at all. a woman who grew up in a house that is more akin to a mausoleum, a woman dressed up as a doll and made to masquerade and sing and dance for the attention of a half decent man, never to be considered seriously. a woman who is foisted onto a man old enough to be her grandfather, who wants 4 children from her, and intends to keep her locked up in his estate with at most 1 social outing a month, who didn't believe in listening to music, or art.

a woman who goes to the only person she ever considered a friend, saying 'I need to save myself. Run with me. Write with me. Help me.' only for that friend to turn her back on her, and talked ill of her for the rest of her time in her society. a woman who tried to claw her way out of a horrible circumstance, only to be told she's too stupid to do so. a woman who's mother wrote the article that insulted her friend's family, an article she still regretted. a woman who tried to save herself and was then sent off to an aunt even less warm than the circumstances she'd grown up in.

what was Cressida meant to do? she had no one to turn to, and when she tried, she was turned away. she had no options left to her, she exhausted all of them. yes, blackmailing Penelope was harsh, but I would have done almost anything to save myself from sexual assault at the hands of a husband old enough to be my father twice over who was clearly intending on mistreating me, especially if I was dropped by the only person I ever considered a friend.

Cressida's story is so fucking tragic. My heart cracked clean in half for her

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Ghouls night out

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[jenanigans1207]

What I wanted so badly was for Mary to learn about her boys from Cas. Like that night where Cas finds her when she can’t sleep and she expresses that she just doesn’t know anything about her sons since she missed so much?? All I wanted was for Cas to sit down with her at the table and just start telling her about them. Basic stuff at first: their favorite foods, their sleeping habits, the stuff he’s just observed by being their passenger for years.

And then I want him to say something totally Cas, like “Dean always wears more layers but that’s because his body naturally runs two degrees colder than Sam’s. But that’s normal for him and not indicative of any illness, so it’s nothing to worry about.”

And as they talk, it starts to get a little deeper, and Cas tells her more. He tells her about what she missed, about all the horrible things that happened to her sons and how they coped; how it changed them. And he tells her about Sam, he does, but really it ends up being all about Dean.

He’ll tell her about how Dean clenches his fists when he’s upset, even as he tries to keep his face impassive. About how Dean drums his fingers on the steering wheel when he’s anxious. He’ll tell her about Dean’s nightmares, about the ways he’s chosen to cope. He’ll tell her how to know when to approach Dean and when to give him space, how to gently acknowledge what he’s feeling without pushing him too far.

And with every word he says, Mary’s curious head tilt from when she’d seen them hug in reunion turns into a bone deep type of certainty. Because Cas is telling her things that only someone who paid special attention would notice. He’s telling her things that only someone very, very close to her son’s heart would know.

Cas will tell her the cliff notes of what they’ve been through; will tell her how the whole world looked to Dean and he rose to the occasion over and over again. He’ll tell her about Dean’s doubts in himself and then vehemently declare them as wrong and explain, at length, why. He will tell her about the people Dean has loved— the people who loved him like he was their own— and lost. He will tell her about Bobby, Ellen, Jody, Donna, and Charlie. He’ll tell her about Claire, too, and how Dean stepped up.

And the whole time, Mary will have this realization that oh, she may not have been around to guide and protect her sons, but there was always someone there to care for them and support them when they needed it. She will realize that she and John may have left them, but they were never alone.

But more than that, there was someone there for Dean. Someone picking Dean over and over again while Dean picked Sam, or the world, over himself. There was someone fighting for Dean when he wasn’t fighting for himself. There was someone who saw Dean, and loved him unconditionally.

Sitting across from her, at the asscrack of dawn, filling her in on all the things she missed was every mother’s dream: someone who loved her child with the kind of devotion that would break the world. And from the sounds of the stories she was being told, it did break the world. Someone whose love is entirely untainted and comes without any strings attached.

It’s so clear to her as she listens to Cas talk that Cas loves Dean with no expectations. That loving Dean is something he just does, like he doesn’t know how not to love Dean, like the possibility of not loving him never occurred to Cas. He loves Dean in a way that Mary knows can and will soothe Dean’s sharp edges and battered heart. He loves Dean in the kind of pure way that tells Mary that it will continue to endure and overcome everything without ever diminishing, even the littlest amount.

Mary, through tears, will tell Cas how she always told Dean that there were angels watching over him. And before Cas can make some comment about Dean being the Righteous Man and the interest of most of Heaven, she will place a hand over his and give him a motherly look that will convey all the things she’s not sure how to say— and the things she’s not sure Cas is ready to hear yet. And Cas will flush and look away, mumbling about how her son is very special to him.

And when she pulls him into a hug and murmurs thank yous into his shoulder, she will be comforted in the knowledge that her sons turned out to be wonderful men, and that they managed to stay together through everything. She will be comforted to know that no matter what happens, no matter her shortcomings as she tries to fill a role she never meant to leave, Sam will have Dean and Dean will have Cas.

And this time, when Cas tells her that she belongs here, she will believe him. And she will tell him that he belongs here, too.

And when Dean wakes up a few hours later and wanders in to find Mary and Cas still chatting over the table, he’ll be surprised— but pleased— to find Mary looking more at ease. He’ll be pleased when she gives him a warm hug and pats him on the cheek and tell him with all the sincerity that only a mother can muster that she’s glad that he met Castiel. And when Dean agrees, a little confused, Mary will just smile at him.

“I always said I’d like a third son.” She says, “so give him a reason to take our last name, won’t you?”

And Dean will splutter and turn fifteen shades of red as he steadfastly doesn’t look at Cas but mumbles something that suggests he’s not against the idea at all.

And Mary will laugh again and wink at an equally red Cas before heading towards the kitchen like “Cas said waffles are your favorite, so I hope you’re hungry!”