#it wasn’t even intentional

[valyrie630]

Not me finding the GAYEST tv series even when I’m not looking.

[http40-exe]

okay, doing 10k steps in one go was a terrible idea, now my legs are up my ass 💀

[kunosoura]

Honestly I’m really fortunate the one time I played a celestial warlock we had a cleric NPC I batted my eyelashes at and asked to come along with us that took all the party aggro for not healing enough

[torque-witch]

I opened Facebook. I see a familiar name from the Squishmallow Group.

Megan Keefer.

In my head I said “ahh, it’s Megan Queefer.”

I closed the app.

[hello-kuni]

showed my mom one of my thrown together designs and she said “five nights at freddy’s”…i cant even be mad bc she’s right, that’s exactly what i looked like

[diari0deglierrori]

Oh happy birthday to the man I’ve seen more than any other human being in the past week!

[vesperadreamer]

I’m now in a polycule and I have no clue how I got here other than being charming. I’m not against it, I just originally thought I was monogamous? What even is reality? I mean, the one good thing is 4 sources of income, can probably buy a tiny house and the four of us share a bed. Sleep in a pile or something I dunno.

[moghedien]

Minthara says “in Her name” when you first meet her and she’s following the Absolute but when you recruit her and she expresses that she no longer follows any god, but she still has an intact paladin oath, and she says “in your name” occasionally because she’s no longer Lolth’s paladin or the Absolute’s paladin, she’s your paladin

[stars-obsession-pit]

Danny Phantom was not used to fighting magic users. Ghosts, yes. But humans with powers? No.

So when a cult managed to successfully summon and bind him, he lacked the knowledge of how to stop them.

And they tore him apart.

His core was broken into pieces, each one then implanted into one of the most loyal cult members (or potentially sold off to another person to use…) to grant them a portion of Phantom’s many powers.

However, the cult didn’t entirely know what they were doing either. You see, it turns out that shattering Danny’s core in that manner didn’t truly end him. His soul still persisted, still refused to die even as it was trapped amongst the disparate shards. Though each individual piece lacked the strength of mind or power to affect their hosts, they would gradually forge themselves together anew should they ever be gathered back together.

And after Red Hood killed several of the cult’s members, that process began. Their shards, now freed, transferred to the vigilante, instinctively latching onto his proto-core. Though still not yet whole enough to form a truly conscious fragment of Danny, they are enough to start to nudge Hood in the right direction (bolstered in effectiveness by Jason’s connection to death)

Jason can feel it deep within his soul. There’s something more to this cult’s powers than just normal magic, and he has a growing need to find out what that is. To stop them. To burn them all down and dig their secrets from the ashes.

[senipsenipsenip]

The Pines family sat at the table, quietly eating their breakfast, when Mabel slammed her hands on the table and shouted “KERMIT THE FROG”.

Dipper leapt forward to right his orange juice glass, gathering nearby napkins to sop up the puddle. “What?”

“Kermit the frog! He plays the banjo!”

“Yyyyes?”

Ford raised his hand. “Who’s Kermit the Frog?”

Stan snapped his head up from his plate. “Who’s Kermit the Frog? The Muppets, Pointdexter, you were around for The Muppet Show. They had a movie and everything.”

Ford frowned. “Muppets.”

“Yeah, they’re a riot! There’s this Bear whose got some great puns and this pig who really know how to throw a punch. You’d love it, they’ve even got a scientist!”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of children’s television.”

“Children?!”

Dipper stirred his cereal. “I’m just impressed you remember all that. Yesterday you forgot you were married.”

“That’s because The Muppets are forever!” Mabel exclaimed.

“Wait, Stanley you were married?”

“Yep. Actually, unless I’m forgetting a divorce, I might still be married.”

“You didn’t,” Mabel chirped. “I’d have it on my Romance Chart if you did. You’ve missed a lot of anniversaries.”

“So has he!” Stan argued. “I’m not the only bad husband here!”

Ford spluttered. “Husband?”

Dipper frowned. “I think we’re getting a little too far away from why Mabel screamed Kermit the Frog and knocked my orange juice over.”

Mabel nodded. “Right, so, I was thinking of Mr. McGucket -

“Stanley you have a husband?“

“I was thinking of Mr. McGucket,” Mabel interrupted. “And how he could maybe help around the Shack. And he plays banjo! He could play banjo and people could put money in his lil banjo case like a real musician.”

At the mention of money, Stan leaned forward.

“But like, no one knows banjo music,” Mabel continued. “So I was like, maybe pop hits banjo? But then BOOM! Kermit the Frog! People love that frog. He could play the rainbow song. He’d be a hit!”

“Interesting,” Stan muttered. “Preying on people’s nostalgia to milk them for cash. I love it!”

Ford hummed. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Mabel. Activities like playing musical instruments have been proven to help patients with Alzheimers and dementia. Not that Fiddleford’s condition has the same root cause, but it may prove beneficial to memory recovery.”

“Eugh, don’t ruin this for me.”

“If playing an instrument helps with memory loss, maybe Grunkle Stan should learn an instrument,” Dipper suggested.

“Ooo!” Mabel squealed. “What about guitar? Or the piano? OH!” She clutched Stan’s arm with a fervor. “The triangle!”

Ford grimaced. “Maybe not that one.”

“Sorry, kid. I’m not exactly a music guy,” Stan shrugged out of Mabel’s grasp. “Let’s leave that to the professionals.”

Mabel frowned, but let the topic go.

Ford stood from the table. “Well, I happen to be visiting Fiddleford this afternoon. I can broach the topic and see what he thinks.”

Fiddleford, as it turns out, loved the idea. To the surprise of everyone, Fiddleford admitted that he had always wanted to play in a jugband when he was younger, but could never get over his stage fright enough to audition for the local band. Then he went off to college and then…everything else.

“Maybe I zapped away that scared bit enough to play!” he had cackled, knocking at the side of his head with his knuckles.

It was settled. “Fiddlin’ Fridays at the Mystery Shack with Fiddleford McGucket”. Dipper tried to point out the title didn’t make sense since it was a banjo, not a fiddle. Stan argued that “customers are suckers for alliteration”. The set up was just Fiddleford dragging an old rocking chair onto the porch and opening up his banjo case. Mabel had made a large glittery banner, but it was quickly absconded by Fiddleford’s raccoon.

“Tell your wife to give me back my banner!” Mabel had yelled, chasing the raccoon into the bushes.

“Ex-wife,” Fiddleford sighed sadly. “Apparently I was too emotionally available.”

Ford pulled at his hair. “Did everyone get married without telling me?”

“Excuse me?” A voice piped up. Fiddleford and Ford turned to see a little boy standing at the bottom of the porch. He was dressed in hiking clothes that were obviously new. In the distance, a young woman was unstrapping a baby from its seat in an SUV. Obviously city folk coming to the “wilderness” for the first time.

“Are you a real hillbilly?” The boy asked. Suddenly the door slammed open, Mr. Mystery striding through, eyepatch in place.

“Sure is!” Stan grinned. “Our very own genuine hillbilly just waiting to play you a tune! All you gotta do is put some of your mom’s money in his case there.”

The little boy’s eyes widened, turning around to race towards his mother.

“Stanley,” Ford admonished. “Fiddleford isn’t some show monkey to throw money at.”

“During work hours he is.” Stan turned to Fiddleford. “So, did Mabel teach you that song she was so excited about?”

Fiddleford sat frozen, watching the little boy yank at his mothers pants to try and get her attention, the baby beginning to fuss.

“Well…” Fiddleford cleared his throat. “Some good news and bad news fellas.”

Ford furrowed his brows. “What is it?”

“Good news is, my mind ain’t all broken.” Fiddleford hugged his banjo and turned to look up at Ford. “Bad news is I knows it ‘cause I still got stage fright.”

Stan scoffed. “Stage fright? C’mon it’s one kid and a couple o’ city slickers who would probably think you playing three wrong notes and spitting is ‘authentic’.”

“Stanley, be supportive.”

“I am! Look I’ve been at this job forever. All you gotta do is smile and if something goes wrong, you blame a ghost or something. They eat that up.”

Fiddleford shook his head. “But this is music. If’n I mess up music, ‘specially somethin’ they know. Music is real special to people, I can’t spoil it.”

Ford knelt down next to Fiddleford’s chair. “You don’t have to play that song Fiddleford. You don’t have to play at all.”

Fiddleford looked anxiously between Ford and the family. It seemed the little boy had finally gotten his mother’s attention and was excitedly pointing toward the porch.

“I…” Fiddleford shook his head. “I can’t let the little ‘uns down. ‘Specially not those ones.” As he said this, he gestured with his chin towards the other end of the porch where Dipper and Mabel sat bickering in lawn chairs. Mabel had returned from her raccoon chase covered in twigs and holding a surprisingly docile raccoon. Dipper was leaning away from the pair while trying to convince Mabel to stop feeding it gummy worms before it developed a taste for human food and tried breaking into the Shack.

Ford's gaze drifted to the twins. "Alright," he relented. "But you still don't have to play Mabel's song."

Fiddleford bowed his head.

"Yet!" Ford offered. "Not yet. She'll understand I'm sure."

Fiddleford frowned, looking unconvinced.

"Of course not yet!" Stan interjected. "You can't go playing the grand finale right out of the gate! You gotta warm 'em up first, keep 'em wanting more." Stan slapped his hand on Fiddleford's back. "If you give 'em what they want right away, they won't come back! Hold that one off until tomorrow or...uh...next week. Tease it or something."

Stan had started rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand as he spoke, a tell Ford was quick to recognize. It was the same one he did when he would "begrudgingly" let Mabel choose the movie for movie night or let Dipper rope him into another game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. Covering the most vulnerable part of his body while he let his emotions go soft.

Fiddleford seemed to perk up at Stan's words.

"Well," Fiddleford offered. "I do know some proper jugband music. Only, it don't have the same ring to it without a jug."

"We've got a jug!" Mabel cheered from the other side of the porch. It seemed the raccoon argument had reached enough of a truce that the twins were once again paying attention to the concert. "I used to keep pond water in it, it's in the kitchen!" She hopped off of her chair, lugging the racoon along with her like it was a rather expensive lap cat.

Dipper followed her. "Why did you have a jug of pond water?"

"Because, dummy, if I met a frog prince he would need something in the shack to remind him of home."

"Aren't you supposed to turn him into a person though?"

Whatever Mabel's retort was to be was cut off by the door swinging shut.

"There ya go," Stan grumbled. "You're getting your jug. Just in time too." He gestured toward the SUV. The mother was walking toward the Shack, one hand holding the baby, the other gripping tightly to the little boy's hand. The little boy gripped a few dollars in his fist, eyes alight with excitement.

Fiddleford looked frantic. "I can't sing and play the jug at the same time!" He gripped at his hat, pulling it down over his ears.

Ford sighed. "Then don't play the jug."

"It won't be the same!" Fiddleford shook his head. "A jugband without a jug that's...that's like a body with no heartbeat!"

The door swung open and Mabel emerged with an old ceramic jug.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed. "And it only sort of smells like pond scum."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Ford smiled gently. "It seems Fiddleford can't play both simultaneously."

Mabel frowned. "But it's a jugband. It's in the name!"

"How about we wait another day," Ford offered, patting Fiddleford awkwardly on the back. "Maybe someone in town will join you."

"Oh for Pete's sake, give it to me." Stan snatched the jug out Mabel's hand, sniffing at the top and giving a grimace.

Fiddleford stopped pulling at his hat, peeking out from under the brim. "You'll play?"

Stan grunted. "I'm not missing out on good money just because you have a case of the heebie jeebies. Besides, how hard can it be? It's like blowing on the top of a beer...er...I mean soda bottle."

Dipper crossed his arms. "Grunkle Stan, we know what beer is."

"Not from me you don't."

Mabel squealed. "It's happening! Grunkle Stan is learning an instrument!"

"It's not an instrument, Pumpkin. It's dishware."

"It's a scrapbookortunity!"

Mabel dashed into the house once more, leaving Dipper to grin at their Grunkle Stan.

The family was only a few yards away now. Fiddleford looked between Stan, Ford, and Dipper, and straightened up in his seat.

"Alright. Alright!" He clapped his hands together. "Stanley, you get down here with me, otherwise your feet are gonna get mighty sore from standing." He yanked at Stanley's hand until he sat beside the rocking chair with a grumble.

"Now when I tap my foot," Fiddleford instructed. "You blow on the jug. One short note at a time." Fiddleford tapped his foot in demonstration. "You got that?"

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Gee, I don't know. Seems pretty complicated for the guy without a PhD."

Mabel burst through the door, camera clutched in her hands. "Got it!"

"Excuse me?"

The little boy stood on the porch, approaching the banjo case with far more trepidation than before. Eyes darting between the assembly, he dropped a few dollars in the case.

"Is this enough to play a song?"

Fiddleford didn't bother looking at the money. He turned his gaze to Stanley, who shrugged and raised the jug to his lips.

Fiddleford grinned. "You know ‘Boodle Am Shake’?"

The little boy shook his head.

"Well you're about to!" And with that he was off.

By Fiddleford's standards, it wasn't a horribly complicated tune. Ford had heard him pluck out more complex riffs while waiting for the coffee pot in their dorm room to brew. But Fiddleford was smiling. His shoulders had dropped from around his ears, and he was nodding at the little boy to tap his feet along with him. Ford hid his smile behind his hands as he watched Stanley, eyes focused on Fiddleford's bare foot with as much attention as one would give to diffusing a bomb. Next to him, Mabel was snapping pictures of the pair. Dipper stood on his other side, wearing the small smile he tended to get when feeling introspective. Ford laid his hand on Dipper's shoulder, and Dipper leaned into the touch.

The mother was smiling at her little boy, her baby having finally stopped fussing. Maybe it wasn't the grand attraction Mabel had planned, but Ford thought it was worth far more than those few dollars anyway. Nothing could be worth more than his family standing around him, his closest friend singing again.

I know this song, it don't mean a doggone thing. Just do that good old Charleston swing. When you sing...

[taeiris]

after escaping the upside down, mike and will tend to their wounds in mike’s basement bathroom…

mike is down bad

some things to notice:

- vecnas connection takes over will bit by bit starting on his left arm, reference to @pinkeoni ‘s left arm theory !!!

- another connection thing, separate from vecna’s possession tho- his areas linked to the mind flayer (nape and lower abdomen burn scar) start growing the mind flayer veins !!! i like to think of it as more of wills powers than a negative thing

this is also the art i was referring when i said i would sell my organs if anyone wrote a fic to, so here it is, go crazy, or don’t, but if you do pls tag me

[adhdandcomics]

currently moving and have 2 repack some stuff to keep in boxes for storage space. & this assortment of items is cracking me up

[psuedosugu]

just thinking about vox w/ a famous singer! reader…

cw: themes of stalking and heavy manipulation

gender neutral

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

✮₊ ⊹ || you guys probably met through velvette, she started helping you shoot music videos and things of the sort once your popularity started skyrocketing.

✮₊ ⊹ || and your popularity really did skyrocket, think ice spice.

✮₊ ⊹ || it started with him sponsoring you, asking you to include some voxtech products in one of your music videos.

✮₊ ⊹ || then, he had you on his talk show.

✮₊ ⊹ || after a while, vox started having an interest in you far past business relations.

✮₊ ⊹ || he started stalking you, not just your public socials but even pictures on your camera roll.

✮₊ ⊹ || we see in ep 2 that he can look through tvs and control what they show so im js assuming its the same for all electronic devices.

✮₊ ⊹ || he would watch you through your phone and tv, “just to keep them safe,” he said to himself.

✮₊ ⊹ || you two had more and more partnerships, more and more collaborations, perhaps even your own ‘keeping up with the kardashians’ type tv show.

✮₊ ⊹ || the pubic started speculating on you two’s relations and vox felt a strange sense of happiness and pride in his chest when he saw a post online shipping you two together.

✮₊ ⊹ || val definitely knew what was going on, subtly teasing vox about it every chance he got.

“if you put nearly as much effort as you do ogling at [name] into what we’re trying to do here, imagine the things we could accomplish.”

“wh- i don’t- shut the FUCK up.”

✮₊ ⊹ || vox made subtle moves at you, occasionally flirting with you, it didn’t matter if you flirted back or not, he kept going.

✮₊ ⊹ || flirting escalated to small touches to ur thighs and waist.

✮₊ ⊹ || he slowly coaxed you into a relationship, pretty much lovebombing you, buying you expensive things that you didn’t even need since you were rich already, writing you poems, taking you out on “dates”, ect.

✮₊ ⊹ || he could switch up fast, though, get angry and lash out at you verbally and maybe even slightly physically.

✮₊ ⊹ || he always made sure to apologize after, though, to put the bandaid on the broken bone.

✮₊ ⊹ || you went along with it at first because 1. being seen with him did improve your reputation, 2. he was a strong overlord, it would be hard to escape him, and 3. you genuinely did like him to an extent.

✮₊ ⊹ || he was pushing you into a box, leaving you no options.

✮₊ ⊹ || if you did attempt to leave or even show any sign of wanting to leave him, that would be when the hypnotization began.

✮₊ ⊹ || he didn’t want to do this, he wanted you guys’ relationship to come naturally, but you had practically forced the dude!

✮₊ ⊹ || you weren’t fully under his control, just enough so you wouldn’t leave. you wouldn’t want to leave.

✮₊ ⊹ || you were his trophy, his prize, his, his, his, he almost didn’t even see you as a person.

✮₊ ⊹ || eventually he started presenting you to the public as his too, and its not like you could refuse.

✮₊ ⊹ || you loved him, despite that doubtful feeling in the back of your mind, you loved him.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

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[edwinisms]

it’s actually so wild to me that this fairly quirky YA type show gave both of its main characters deaths that can, in one way or another, solidly be considered hate crimes. they were both flat out murdered as a result of being A) gay and effeminate or B) brown (south asian, specifically) and you could argue whether or not those kids thought of it that way in the moment or whatever but the bottom line is that they would not have been in the situations that killed them if they weren’t of their respective minorities. like legitimately that is a ballsy choice for this kind of netflix show, let alone for the two Main Characters, and i respect it big time

[feotakahari]

I swear I saw this one idiot talk about how Human Domestication Guide is so much better than Omegaverse at handling consent issues. Dude, the average Omegaverse story is a paragon of consent compared to the average Human Domestication Guide. As far as consent goes, HDG is above The Conversion Bureau and below Wild Horses and Pokegirls.

Every bit of Human Domestication Guide fandom drama I hear about makes me think that the root is the Oh Joy Sex Toy problem of mandating a tone that doesn’t let them fully engage with the dark unsavory shit underlying a lot of it, except it’s even worse because it’s their own damn setting instead of discussing external things

[undead-animator]

Some fan art I made a bit ago, but I wasn't super happy with the colors so I touched them up a bit.

Pearl and Rose did not had the healthiest relationship in the world by a wide margin, but I do think the concept was interesting. I liked the complexity of having to move on from a relationship that's been kind of left incomplete, with all these unresolved problems, knowing you'll never get proper closure.

Do not repost without permission.