#lemme know if i missed one

[goodnquiet]

"We have no need for a coward who refuses to fight and still pretends to be a warrior."

[royalarchivist]

Quackity: These past days I've been in many calls, and I'm not done yet. I've spoken to a lot of people and creators. I've read your comments and I'm well aware of what needs to be done to carry out this project. I want to tell you all, beforehand, that for me the team's well-being is fundamental. I'm very involved in this topic to sort it out and I want to make that very clear. I want to tell you something... I want to tell you all that the administrative staff responsible for so much harm to the project has been fired. Specifically, those who made decisions without my permission, affecting the administrative and financial area of the project. Consequently, after this, I was in charge of doing a financial analysis that's carrying out for the QSMP.

Guys, to be really honest, it was not going to last. Therefore, I've had to make deep drastic structural changes that have lead me to reduce the performance of the server down to the most essential, and this is in order to ensure the well being of everyone involved in it. Having said this, I want to give a very important update: I want to let you all know that the QSMP will have to slow down temporarily. This is to ensure this new structure adapts to the project, because it's a restructuring that's taking place. I'm letting you know, and I reiterate, there are no voluntary positions inside the QSMP.

At the moment, there will not be any more individual update accounts of all 5 existing languages in the project. In any case, during this transition, there's going to be a temporal absence of all Eggs and NPCs. I know these are difficult changes, and I repeat, it's temporary until we adjust to these new conditions that will improve the performance of this new structure that's being made from scratch, both in the administrative and financial part. I'd like to reintegrate people fro the QSMP as time goes by if a financial viability can be found for the project Taking advantage of this update to tell you guys that within the changes of the server as it is, creators will have full control of their lore and stories. The team will not intervene in the way that it was being done. Moreover, efforts will be made to change the competitive dynamics inside the game so as to ease up the game style for the creators. Like I'm saying, all of these changes, and more, are being carrying out to have the project as best as possible, and they're being done little by little. This is a whole new structure that will ensure the best continuity and experience for the creators, the community and the team behind.

Guys, I want to make very clear that this is restructuring process, and again, it's not a fast one. The server being open does not mean everything's perfect, I understand that very well. Conversations will keep taking place, communication will continue and the constant improvement of the project as well. I ask, please, for everyone's patience and understanding regarding all changes. Please do wait for official announcements since a lot of incomplete and incorrect information is being spread. I want to tell you all something- if you don't trust in these changes or have many doubts about it, and don't want to consume any more of the project's content, I understand 100%. I have a personal commitment with the QSMP and I will work until it functions in the way it is supposed to do.

Lastly, I want to let you know that it was being worked on for months on finalizing the integration of Korean creators to the QSMP. For that reason, tomorrow we will be welcoming the new Korean creators of the QSMP, of course, taking into account all the changes I've just mentioned. I hope you can give the new Korean members warm welcome to the project. And as you know, their schedules are earlier. For everyone who would like to watch, they will be joining at 11am Mexico time and at 9am US time. Basically, I wanted to give that update regarding everything that's being done within the project. Again, thank you for your patience and understanding- these are necessary changes and I'm glad they're being done now. And many more things will keep being adjusted.

via @QuackitySubs

[0l-unreliable]

originally a style study, did not stay that way.

Close-ups under the cut

[alchemistc]

Catie's Big Ass bucktommy fic rec (Part One)

So I'm not gonna lie, I have most of these fics priv. bookmarked because I HAVEN'T COMMENTED ON THEM YET AND I FEEL REALLY GUILTY ABOUT THAT. But more than one anon has asked for this and it tickles me pink that y'all like my writing enough to trust in my recs. So. Please, please, be better than I am and make sure to kudos and comment if you enjoy any of these works.

(Guys, there are SO MANY amazing writers in this fandom. So many truly breathtaking fics already. I got two hours into this and realized I was going to need to split this into parts because I have too many things to say about each of these and I want to do them all justice.)

Writers you can trust in:

@rcmclachlan /ao3 : I will sing RC's praises to the moon and back. There is something about the way RC injects humor into the tiniest of lines that makes me want to scream into a pillow until I pass out. You will see more than one of RC's fics in this list.

@kirkaut /ao3: kirkaut is the reason I jumped on this bandwagon. The unhinged spiral into LFJr obsession and the prevalence of well thought out meta and incredibly hot fic drew me in. If you are not following kirkaut, change that now.

@26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat / catfud_ohplease on ao3: Devastating prose. The ability to turn a theme on a dime and STAB YOU IN THE HEART with it. Mac owns my whole soul when it comes to really scratching that itch behind my eyelids for thematic imagery and really creative ideas for fic that aren't just run-of-the-mill smut/angst/fluff.

@devirnis / ao3: Ali only has one bucktommy fic up on ao3 but it is devine and I love it. Ali is also the only writer who has tempted me into reading buddie. This is not an indictment on buddie fandom or buddie fic writers in general, I just tend to be a one ship kinda gal and I don't really dive into fic for a ship I don't vibe with. Ali's writing has made me reconsider this position.

@beefcakekinard / thingbe on ao3: The domesticity. Literally just reread one of Rose's fics this morning and HAD to comment on it again because it made me want to fling myself to Jupiter.

(This is not a comprehensive list, but I just realized how many fics I have already bookmarked for bucktommy and I'm already under a readmore.)

Fics that make my brain go brrrr:

only fools rush in - somnum365 ( @firehose118)

Tommy lets Buck set the pace. Buck is ready for something.

Super hot and all about checking in. I've got a thing for discovering sex with a partner starting out with frottage and this delivers. The characterizations are so great.

Colin Firth Thinks You're Hot - IDontGoHereEither (@herrmannhalsteadproduction)

Buck is late for a special date night with Tommy, but he still stops to help a stranger stuck on the side of the road. Luckily, that stranger is about to help HIM.

Cute as fuck with a super fun guest star. Who doesn't want Mr. Darcy to think your boyfriend is hot?

sad girl poetic thursday night - screamlet

Date night menu: pasta primavera and emotional unpacking.

There's something about the pacing of this that sent me into a tailspin. The stream of consciousness that actually bleeds from the dialogue into the action and vice versa. Hng.

I Was Only Falling In Love - Princessfbi (@princessfbi)

Tommy in crisis mode.

There's a moment in this fic where Eddie has to pull Tommy back from the precipice of something and it lives entirely rent free in my head, forever and ever amen. The firefam taking care of Buck by taking care of Tommy.

let me count the ways - ashesandhalefire

Buck and Tommy in the aftermath of a good evening are chattier than they probably reasonably should be

There is something about this fic that feels like the witching hour is upon you, like you could live in this little pocket world Buck and Tommy have created for themselves forever. The dialogue is fantastic, and the way they communicate with each other is just *chefs kiss*

let's make it cinematic - kirkaut

Tommy helps Buck deal with some of his impotent rage in the face of the Gerrard of it all.

Listen, I do not have a praise kink. This kinda makes me wish I did.

"[...]Everything is.” He circles a finger around in the air. “It’s very spinny.” - this line of dialogue came for my fucking throat.

Sick with it - Mellow_Yellow

what if in an alternate universe babyslut Buck joined the 118 when Tommy was still in his closeted asshole era and they had a torrid affair??

The way this is a little fucked up. The way the characterizations aren't exactly familiar because they haven't aged into what we know them as in current canon. The way you can see in every broken line and every stutter step that Tommy is falling for Evan and has No Fucking Idea what to do with that. Ugh. Best Met Earlier AU I've ever read.

He blinked as Tommy walked by, eyes sliding closed again before he left. He felt a light touch on the top of his head but figured he was imagining it. He couldn’t think of anyone at the 118 who would touch him that carefully. - just absolutely fucking end me they're so good/bad for each other

A Full Body Workout - Persiflager

Tommy and Buck spend a day trying to distract Eddie from the *gestures vaguely* all of it.

The way this is so quiet in the way it shows you how Tommy and Buck care for each other. The way they are down bad but still so hyperaware of the pace they've set, the things they've talked about. The way they take care of their friend here. I'm obsessed with the tone of this one. Also, as a general theme, nothing draws me in more than well thought out dialogue, and this one has some fucking GREAT dialogue.

Your love is better than ice cream - Cecily_v, liminalmemories

An alternative meet-cute, where-in Tommy doesn’t know the 118 and decides Buck is worth it anyway. Buck is confused but figures some things out.

There is so much I love about this AU. How they meet. How their relationship progresses. How it feels glacially slow in comparison to the canon storyline but also how in character they both are. The foundation of their love in this fic is downright eatable.

just couldn't fall til we met - thingbe (@beefcakekinard)

Buck and Tommy spend a quiet morning in together.

This is the one that crossed my dash earlier today and made me eat fucking glass on reread. The closeness. The way they're both so tactile. The blink and you'll miss it hints at a life being built together. Eating this UP every time I read it.

The Premium Twunk Appreciation Society, President: Tommy Kinard - everythingremainsconnected

5 times Tommy almost faints like a Victorian maiden at the sight of Buck’s flesh, and 1 time he can do something about it.

“Hey,” Evan said, shoving Eddie out of the way and filling the screen with his playful glare, “organise bro time on your own time, I’m on the phone with– with Tommy.”

“With who?” Eddie repeated. Tommy didn’t need to see his face to hear the fondness in the mocking. “Who’s on the phone? I didn’t quite catch that.”

- They are so stupid about each other in this fic, please read it and watch steam blow out your ears at how sweet and hot and down bad for each other they are.

desire (i want to turn into you) - chthonicheart

The first time Buck’s really able to bury his face between a man’s tits, he nearly cries.

pwp but with a whole heaping of character study. HOT.

rule four (you were only waiting for this moment to arise) - middyblue (daisyblaine) [@middyblue]

Tommy has doubts.

There is a general mood to this piece that feels heavy in a way I can't quite explain. There was a weight on my chest all the way through this in the BEST way possible. The way Tommy navigates his mind and struggles to trust the little slice of peace he and Buck have carved out is just mindbogglingly beautiful.

Come Fly The Friendly Skies - RC_McLachlan (@rcmclachlan)

Buck meets their rescue mission's would-be pilot and is extremely normal about it.

"Throttling is what I'm gonna do to you if you don't shut up and let the nice man steal a helicopter for us,"

WHEN I TELL YOU I AM INCANDESCENT WITH RAGE over how funny and insightful this fic is.

Every characterization is picture perfect.

Maddie gives great hugs, but she's so small; if she had this guy's build and could basically fold Buck into her like an old blanket, they'd have to pry him out of her arms with the jaws of life.

In the back of Buck's mind, in a place he hasn't discovered, he's already picked out a venue and chosen his centerpieces. He's mentally putting together seating arrangements. This line of Buck's thoughts on Tommy Kinard told me so.

Please read this and join me in trying to destroy RC with my mind (lovingly).

little by little - MediaWhore

Buck & Tommy, during and after the wedding.

There is something so soft and gentle about this fic. The way Tommy just gives in to the exhaustion and props himself up against Buck because he knows he'll be able to take the weight (he wants to take the weight and Tommy knows it). The quiet flirting, the way they take care of one another. The jumpscare of Marge and Phil and how this fic is right at the edges of exploring that but Buck has me important priorities.

“It was badly done,” - the way this is so in character for Ma Buckley and the way it made me want to SHAKE HER TIL HER TENDONS SHATTERED AND SHE CRUMBLED LIKE A SATISFYING CASINO IMPLOSION

Soft and heartbreaking and mending all at once.

while you arranged flowers - newtkelly

Buck’s got a wedding date, but as far as today goes, he’s also got a regular one.

The way I want to wrap this Buck up tenderly and hide him from the people in his life who DON'T DESERVE HIS AFFECTION, HIS LOVE, HIS JOY.

The non-urgency of this, the absolute too-much-too-soon he's dealing with in his own mind while he grapples with the reality of seizing a second chance with both hands and getting to explore himself within the confines of a very lovely, very sweet and kind, VERY HOT man he wants to get on his knees for.

Beautiful prose, excellent dialogue, an insightful character study.

[orbital-inclination]

Horrortale Sans fandom flavors I’ve noticed Bastard TM - the most problematic fave TM - "my axe is my buddy. I never leave without him.” - nasty - all the mental illnesses - would feel perfectly at home in a campy horror movie, frankly - morbid sense of humor

the Puppy - scary on the outside, big softie on the inside - friend shaped - trying so hard not to relapse - it’s PTSD time baby! - frequently depicted with short term memory loss - either his motif is “lonely hunter in the woods” or “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and I took that personally” and sometimes it’s both.

Yandere lite - obsessive, possessive and permissive - all the mental illnesses X2 - red flags buT HE LOVES YOU - he loves you so much - gives off so many kicked puppy vibes - just wants attention :(

[sad-leon]

i dont have a clever caption for this one

[angelyuji]

Can you write a itty bitty drabble of our old decomposing man being a yandere (rick sanchez) 🙏🦭

hello my friend. sad news, i was gonna write some noncon with this but also its been so long since u sent me this and i feel bad for taking so long

tw // kidnapping, yandere, rick sanchez, physical abuse, implied noncon

yandere rick c-137 sanchez x gn!reader

in every universe, rick can’t make (y/n) stay. in one, they die. in another, they break up. in the next, they never meet. rick C-137 won’t let what happened to them happen to his (y/n).

you couldn’t breathe, sprinting through the woods. something had exploded in the house, bringing the security down for only a few minutes, but you saw your opportunity and took it. when beth wasn’t looking, you booked it out the back door. you heard her yelling for… him and your legs moved faster. you had finally gotten out, climbed over the brick wall surrounding the house, and ran. you can hear rick scream out your name in rage as you get farther away.

you had gotten to the woods by the time you run out of steam. you collapse against a tree, and rain start to tap against the leaves. the cold drops of rain and the wet dirt beneath you helps cool you down as you catch your breath. you think out your next steps, mumbling to yourself. “no cops, mr. nimbus would help rick. no doctor, rick would get an… alert…. shit.” the tracker rick planted in your skin flashes in your head. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” you crawl around, looking for a something sharp. the rain gets worse, thunder and lightning booming in the sky. ‘i’ve been here too long.’ you get up to keep moving when you hear a flash.

“all done running, (y/n)?” rick’s voice comes from behind you, amused. your heart stops and you turn to face him. rick laughs in your face with one look at you, “j-jesus christ, baby. all that just to get caught…. again.” he grins.

“fuck you.” you seethe.

rick burps, “so feisty,” he laughs, “let’s play a game. i’ll give you a 30 second head start and to help you even more, i won’t look at your tracker or use anything to find you, just p-plain old rick. i’ll give you t-ten minutes to keep away and when i catch you in less than 10, i’m going to make sure you never even think of leaving my side.”

“what if i win?” you stare rick down.

he laughs, “you won’t.” he steps closer to you, “you should start running.”

you take off away from him, going deeper into the woods. you can hear rick’s maniacal laughter echo behind you as you run. you couldn’t breathe, panic setting in. you take as many confusing turns as possible, trying to throw off rick as long as possible. the sun had set and the rain stopped. you slow to a stop, hearing silence. you lean against a tree and message your burning legs.

“did i win?” you say, relief settle into your bones and you close your eyes.

“no, baby, y-you didn’t.” rick’s hand wraps around your throat and slams your back into the tree. you choke and your vision blurs as rick’s manic grin comes into view. “s-sweet, stupid (y/n),” he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back. the tears start to fall quicker as pain rockets through your body. he leans in, leaving a trail of wet kisses up your neck before whispering into your ear, “it’s time for my reward.”

[crispycreambacon]

[Image Description in the Alt Text]

Ever wondered what happened to the puppets stuck in the Wondrium Arena?

So did the Professor and his meat shield/bestie westie, Ryan. Instead of waiting for an answer, they planned to get the puppets out of there. They even argued with God over it, or rather the Professor did since Ryan was too mentally out-of-it from the absolute absurdity of this situation.

And what did God give to them in return for winning the argument? A bus. To drive to the Wondrium Arena with. ‘Cause what better way to rescue a bunch of dead puppets than crashing a bus into their purgatory?

— ☆ —

I'm happy to announce the release of my first AO3 fanfic: Seatbelts, Everyone!

As you can see from the blurb above, it's a one-shot crackfic about the Professor and Ryan rescuing the puppets in the Wondrium Arena by crashing a bus into it. 'Cause why not?!

This fic has it all! We got:

Ryan learning how to drive a bus via WikiHow!

God being the absolute worst!

Silly puppet interactions!

Existential crises occuring throughout the fic!

An honestly heart-warming ending?

Y'all the line between silly jesting and sincere genuineness is so blurry in this fic. So if that all sounds like a jam of a time, you can read the fic via clicking here! Or clicking the title. Or searching up "Seatbelts, Everyone!" by crispycreambacon on AO3.

Thank you so much for checking it out! And even if you don't, I hope you enjoyed the comic. May you all have a fantabulous day!

[foster-the-moths]

an old tmc comic i started all the way back in december and never finished. its about adam's perspective on his friendship with jonah (this made a bit after vol 4, way before the diary entries). this was my first time attempting a comic, so it's a bit all over the place, but it was a fun experiment :]

[cokoweee]

Drops this and runs far far away 🏃‍♀️💨

Tw for suicidal thoughts and attempt

~

Donatello woke up in the medbay. An IV was hooked to his vein, shifting slightly as he flexed his arm. He groaned, rubbing a hand against the top of his head. A fine layer of fuzz brushed over his fingertips.

Was he growing hair? That was… bizarre. He was pretty sure that hadn’t been there yesterday. But then again, he’d been pretty much catatonic for nearly a month. He ran his fingers through the fuzz once more just to be sure. Sure enough, a thin layer covered his head.

There were more pressing matters though. Like how on earth had his twin appeared to him last night? He had no idea how any of the Hamato ghost stuff worked. He could search for his dads scrolls.

Or

He could join his brothers.

It was a perfect idea. He would see them again and then he would be ok. He would feel whole. There was no one here to miss him anyway.

He stood up quietly, careful not to disturb the sleeping goat in the corner as he unhooked himself from the IV. He softly padded his way to the medicine cabinet, face set in a grim determination. He reached inside and snagged the first thing he saw.

A bottle of ibuprofen? Perfect.

A stolen bottle of Norco? Even better.

He grabbed both and reached to the side to take a small daisy cup and fill it with water. He took another daisy cup and opened the bottles. Slowly emptying both, painstakingly taking the effort to make no noise, he swirled the pills around the cup with his finger.

He stared at it blankly. The cup was nearly full, but not quite. Was he really going to do this? He reached up again to grab a large bottle of NyQuill as well as a few unlabeled bottles. He emptied the water cup and filled it to the brim with the ni quill before topping off the drug cocktail cup with a healthy dose of pain meds.

He moved the cup in his hand, listening to the sound it made. Would it be the last he ever heard? Falling asleep to never wake up again? Or would he die slowly and painfully like his brothers had, listening to himself take his last breath?

He raised his eyes to the sleeping figure in the corner. A twinge if something aches in his chest as he watches the alchemist's chest rise and fall. He was going to single handedly leave him without a family.

But it was better this way. Better to be out of his hair than to live as a disappointment. He tipped both cups in his mouth at once, swallowing quickly and headed back to his cot.

He expected to feel something. But he just felt numb. There was no remorse, no guilt, no regret. He’d expected at least one of those. He’d never wanted to die before the invasion. But he had no one -nothing- to live for.

Voices hissed around him. They were not his own. He shook slightly as they screamed at him to wake up Drax. He didn’t want to. He wanted to see his brothers. He didn’t want to deal with this.

The room took on a hazy edge. Colors shifted together as his lungs sluggishly forced air in and out. It felt like something was pressing down on his chest, keeping him from breathing. His stomach hurt. He didn’t really like that part. The haze shifted slowly to darkness, covering his vision completely.

His heart raced. He could still feel things. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

He panicked. His lungs hurt. He didn’t want to hurt. He just wanted to see his brother. He just-

“What did you do to yourself boy?” Draxum spoke with a hushed voice, a clear urgency behind it.

When he gave no answer, he was forced on his side. A tube stuck down his throat. He gagged, but Draxum forced the tube further. He still couldn’t breathe.

Fat tears leaked from his closed eyes. He didn’t want to die like this. But he didn’t want to live like this either.

Sounds floated around him as he laid there, tears leaking pathetically from his face. He shook violently, whether it was from the tube in his throat or his crying he had no clue. He messed up.

The tube was pulled from his mouth. He gagged again, heaving slightly, but nothing came up.

“You don’t have anything in your stomach right now.” Draxum explained slowly. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

His eyelids fluttered open after a beat. He looked up shakily to see Draxum staring at him in disbelief. He looked away, his face heating in shame. What was he supposed to do now? Tell him thank you? It wouldn’t be genuine. A part of him wanted to wait for him to go to bed and find another way- an easier way- to see his brothers, one Draxum couldn’t save him from. Another part of him wished he had never even attempted to do this. He knew his brothers would be upset if they knew he had tried.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth. He meant to tell him thank you anyway. But a small warbled chirp came out instead. Childish and fearful. He chirped again, unable to find his words. Draxum just looked at him, a pitiful expression on his face. He warbled another chirp, letting it fall into a sob that raked his entire body.

Draxum pulled him close, sheltering his body from the rest of the medbay. He bleated a soft melody back to him, his hand rubbing circles over his bare shell. He didn’t want to dwell on the fact that someone was here caring for him. Loving him and making sure that he was ok. That he was wrong in his assumption that no one cared. That there was someone that cared about him. That wanted him safe.

He was exhausted. He slumped against his fathers chest, tears mixing with his exposed fur and clung to him. He let himself be rocked back and forth gently as he fell asleep.

He would find an easier way to see his brothers.

~

Donatello shuffled his feet over the floor, a blanket wrapped around him like a cape. He needed this, he reminded himself.

He’d tried everything. Listening to music louder than his own thoughts. But somehow his own head was louder than anything his speakers could produce. He still put it on though, focusing on that instead of the whispers in his head.

He’d welded his brother's rooms shut so he wouldn’t think about how they would stay empty forever. But now he had nothing left of his brothers. Not to mention, he was a danger to the only person who still cared about him he had left.

He needed a way to stop it.

He stopped outside the spare train car Draxum had been using for the past week. He needed this, he reminded himself.

Draxum had cleared the house of anything he could use to harm himself. Knives disappeared from the kitchen, the bathroom and med bay had been raided for any leftover medications. He was out of options.

He dragged his feet across the floor as he walked in. The alchemist was at his desk, mixing together a tincture for him. He wondered if it was the one to help him to sleep at night, or the one that would knock him out when he had another inevitable episode. He hoped it wasn’t the second, he had a fix for that.

“Yes? What would you like?” He murmured, not looking up from his work.

“I have a way to stop the episodes.”

Draxum’s head rose from the desk, his face painting a clear picture of his doubt.

He shuffled on his feet again, pulling the blueprints from beneath the blanket and handing them wordlessly to the goat. He took them quickly and frowned as his eyes skimmed the page.

“You’re joking right? This isn’t sustainable in any way.”

He shook his head. “I almost blew up the house the other day.” He countered quickly. “And the week before I fried everything within a mile radius of me. And- and the week before that I- I, ya know. I need a way to control it and now I have it.”

“It’s inhumane is what it is.”

“Oh, and when have you ever cared about being humane?”

“I will not attach a shocking device to my only living son.” He said firmly, planting his hoof to the floor.

He could have said a lot of things at that moment. That he was not his son. That Draxum was not his father. That he had tried to kill him on multiple occasions. That the only reason he was even here was because his dad seemed to have a fond spot for him. But he didn’t. He needed a way to make it work.

“There has to be something else you could do. Something else you want?” He questioned slowly.

“I want my brothers back.” He spat. “I want my dad and sister back. But I can’t have that can I?” He growled, ignoring the flash of fear in the alchemist's face as his ninpo flared protectively.

“You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to have the voices of your dead family in your head. You don’t get what it’s like to never have that stop. You don’t get what it’s like to see them only to have them disappear. You don’t get what it’s like to lose control of yourself, the-the one thing that still connects you to your family still. To know that you can’t control it.

“I need it.” He quavered, not caring that he was practically begging. “I can’t live like this anymore. I feel like I’m going insane and I don’t -I don’t know any other way to fix it. What do I need to do to convince you? I’ll do anything. Anything.”

The goat stared at him as he sank to the ground, curling the blanket around himself and tightening into a ball. He had that stupid pitting look on his face again. It made him want to throw things. He wasn’t a child. He knew what he was doing, he didn’t have to be treated like a fragile little doll.

“Lower the voltage and set a limit.” He responded after a beat.

“Of course yeah yeah I’ll do that.” He breathed, letting some of the tension fall from his body. “It’s a yes then?”

“Only because I believe it will help you in the long run.” He said, running a hand over his face.

~

Donnie opened his eyes. His face was pressed against the smooth surface of the chair Draxum had used. It was wildly uncomfortable. He moved a hand to push himself up blinking slowly.

His back felt stiff. He sat up to stretch when a hand pushed him back down.

“Let’s take it slow, yeah?”

The hand moved to his bottom of his back, another reaching for his hand. He accepted the hand and carefully sat up. Something twinged in his shell and he stretched. He hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

He sat for a moment, eyes raking over the room. Other than the occasional shuffle from his goat father, there was no sound. His head was silent. There were no voices telling him what to do, what to think. A laugh bubbled up from his chest.

It was quiet.

~

I love taking source material and blowing it way out of proportion

Anyway that’s all for this so, au revoir

-writing anon 🤡

I still have to edit the not angsty fic

AT THIS POINT U WRITIMG THE PARTS I CANT AHDHEHAYAHFHWOAHDHW

Tw/cw will DEFINETLY be put but AUGHH RAAUUGHGARARARARARARARRA

Part 2

[inkedhorror]

yeesh... been a while since i posted art. hey chat

reblogs much appreciated tyvm

killer -> rahafwabas

nightmare & dream/dreamtale -> jokublog

[jimmyclueless]

whimpering shaking sobbing drops this sniffles runs away

[symbiotic-slime]

comparing malevolent and venom (or: why private eyes and symbrock are the same ship in different fonts)

spoilers ahead for the venom movies, various venom comics, and s1 of malevolent!!

Arthur is a PI, Eddie is an investigative journalist. Both of them ran into their body mates through their investigations (specifically movies!Eddie, comics!Eddie does not share this origin)

The Entity takes the name John through experiences with Arthur. When Arthur is in a coma for a month, the nurses don’t know his name and refer to him as John Doe. The Entity notices this and finds solace in it. When Arthur wakes, the Entity tells Arthur to refer to him as John. In the Venom comics, their collective name “Venom” came from Eddie being deranged about losing his job as a reporter. He tells Peter to call them Venom, because that’s what he’s paid to write at the shitty tabloids he’s employed at.

(from Amazing Spider-Man #300 [1963])

Though the Venom Symbiote has a name from its home world, many characters throughout the comics refer to it as Venom, implying they kept the name Eddie gave them.

In episode 9, John and Arthur argue until they give each other the silent treatment, leading to them getting caught by the police because John did not warn him there were officers. After realizing they need to work together, John and Arthur escape from the officers (and the supernatural lake monster). Towards the end of that episode, John tells Arthur that “you and I are one, and I need to begin to see us as one.” In Venom: Let There Be Carnage, Venom and Eddie have a rather dramatic break up that ends with them separating from each other. Eddie then gets arrested and brought in as a suspect in Cletus Kassidy’s escape. Venom, in Anne’s body, comes back and breaks Eddie out of police custody. After some apologies from Eddie (though if you ask me Venom also should’ve been apologizing but alas) they bond with each other again. Later through the power of love symbiosis, Venom and Eddie acting as one are able to defeat Carnage.

In episode 12, it’s revealed that John is a fragment of The King In Yellow. The cult gives the King the ability to fully realize itself and take over Arthur’s body, but the King is unable to. The part of itself, John, has become so entangled with Arthur that it cannot fully erase Arthur from itself. In the Venom 2018-2021 run (I know, I’m drawing on Cates. i cannot believe I’m using him to prove a point), the King in Black, Knull, is trying to take over Earth. It corrupts symbiotes, makes them nothing more than servants for it. Knull was unable to corrupt the Venom symbiote specifically because it could not burn the light (Eddie) out of it.

(from Venom 2018 issue 3; 5)

Other smaller similarities between Malevolent and Venom (some of which I only noticed because I’m insane):

guy named Eddie

Arthur chokes someone out while not in control of his left hand (episode 2); Venom chokes Dan after taking control of Eddie’s left hand (Venom 2018).

both John and Arthur and Eddie and Venom bicker like old married couples

Arthur and movies!Eddie are just,,,, such pathetic wet cats of men

[themyscirah]

Amanda... I miss her.

But I don't trust a single person to write her other than Ostrander/Yale. Like I don't trust them to do it right. Because like it's easy to write her being shady and manipulative and involved in secret government conspiracies. That's what she does. But it feels so hollow once you've seen her character in the way Ostrander describes it. Like she is a woman who is desperate and trying to do what she thinks is right. She has found a place of power (as a fat Black woman in the 1980s) and is doing anything she can to fight and hold onto it as powerful and ambitious men try and steal it from her. So she doubles down. She doubles down on the shady deals and the broken promises and the violence and she destroys her enemies, and loses a part of her soul in the process. And then some other ambitious politician rises up and the process repeats itself over and over and over again as each time she loses more of her morality and more of her soul and more of the respect her colleagues had for her. In place of that she gains more power, she gains fear, and an even more badass reputation. Until by the end of the book the villains begin to understand/sympathize with her more than the heroes ever will. Like THAT is who Amanda Waller is. It may happen subtly, it may happen over a longer period of time but that descent is a critical part of her character! She is a tragic character! And I feel like every perception of Suicide Squad I've seen outside of the original has her as this static villainous snapshot which is just untrue to her core imo. Like she is not a hero. But she is also not JUST a villain. She is a highly flawed character who is always descending farther and farther into villainy as she is led there by what she believes is right.

[lucientheartisticfox]

at some point i'm gonna just make a full collection of everything originsmcrp on ao3 just so that it's easier for people to find stuff in the future. note if i do this i won't be including any explicit fics but other than that i'll include everything i can find

edit: for whatever reason it is NOT showing up in tags but i did do this! check the reblogs of this post for the post with the link!

edit 2: BIG NEWS! Origins of Olympus and Fairy Tail Origins now have their own fandom tags!!!!

[ell-arts]

Baby Tears

He didn't understand.

The mute mutterings, the mourning eyes, the cold tears.

The black suits and gowns, the tolling chapel's bell, or the sadness on his aunt's face.

All this grief and heartache.

It confused him. His young, naïve, 7-year-old mind couldn't understand it at all.

Couldn't understand the weight and meaning of the funeral.

Or the not-funeral. The adults sometimes called it a memorial. Not that he knew the difference.

He's heard the people speak. Heard them whisper and mourn. Listened with only half an ear to the priest's honourings.

Words of empathy overlapped. A hymn of condolences, speeches, and formal utterances.

Above the lull and sway of confusing words, only one phrase had stuck to him.

"Missing and never found."

The service ended, and friends and family stuck around for one last vigil.

Little blue eyes searched the crowd, looking for the familiar face of his aunt. A man held his little hand, a friend of theirs, keeping him from wandering off.

He spotted his aunt back over at the memorial, littered with photos and candles. He nearly didn't recognise her usually chipper face behind the mask of thinly veiled tears.

The yellow boy tugged at the man's hand, wanting to go over to her. Blue eyes looked up when the man didn't budge.

"I'm sorry, little lad," the green man intoned, the sadness in his own voice muffled by the rain. "Your auntie just needs some space."

The boy's only response was a saddened pout, gazing over at his aunt again. At her despondent figure, kneeling above a picture of two faces he could hardly recognise anymore.

"Auntie Spheria," the little boy murmured that evening back at their home.

"When are they coming back?"

She had gone numb, frozen in her step. Halfway from reaching for the pan in the cupboard, dinner barely prepared.

In her limp silence, she didn't answer him. Couldn't answer him from behind the fresh look of heartbreak on her face.

The little boy's face fell. He had made her sad again.

Little feet trudged over to her side, and the young orb tucked himself under his aunt's arm, wrapping his arms around her waist. Giving comfort, while also seeking comfort.

The kitchen held its breath. A dreary silence.

A warm hand tucked the little boy closer, holding him as though to protect him from the weight of his unanswered questions. His aunt swallowed a sob.

He won't understand. The little boy wouldn't understand for a very long time.

That his mother and father have been missing for years.

And may never come back.