#makes a brief cameo

[14dayswithyou]

Hi, Howdy! Hey! I really love your novel!! I got a little confused by the 4 day, may maybe you help me please? who is it? why we got the bad end staying the night in Ren’s apartment and he disappear of the home screen? I can’t understand “unset memory” game, sorry if I wrote smth wrong or smth sounds rude, I swear that I didn’t mean it if happened, I’m really a fan of the novel, I’ve been playing the game since day 1 or 2 I guess, probably day 1, english isn’t my first language, but I tried lol

⌞♥⌝ I hope you don't mind me answering these as bullet points!! ^^

"It" will be revealed later in the game! So I won't reveal too much right now.

You can only get the Dead End in Day 4 by staying at Ren's apartment — the rest of your choices before that don't matter. I'd also pay closer attention to the black smoke and Ren's reaction towards it!

Ren disappears from the home screen because he promised to help the player out (and stop them from getting the Dead End again). Try replaying the game again from the beginning for a surprise!

"Unsent Memories" was another visual novel (initially being written by @10chimes / @unsentmemory, though the project has since been dropped and handed back to me /pos) and is set in the same universe as 14 Days With You. Its storyline and characters are completely separate from 14DWY, so you don't have to worry about them while playing 14DWY.

[nocofamilyau]

not related to noco at all but what is katie and sadie’s relationship like now?

pretty good all things considered! while they're both married to two sweet guys and have separate families (none of their kids are other td characters, unfortunately...) they're still really close, and still live next to each other at that same beach town they grew up in, now both running that successful 80s themed ice cream business they've been dreaming of! its safe to say they probably suffered the least on Total Drama, only leaving with a couple of minor scars, good god were they lucky..

[lord-squiggletits]

Could he really?

Are you really, really sure Pharma could have just run away or asked to be transferred?

Is it really that easy to stand up to the DJD?

It's almost as if Delphi being on the same planet as the DJD's base (something that was common knowledge and that Prowl didn't care about when stationing Pharma and an ex-Decepticon ward manager right next to them) means that there was no escape from the DJD.

It's almost as if isolating victims and keeping them from calling them for help is explicitly part of the DJD's modus operandi.

It's almost as if psychological warfare is just as much of a weapon in Tarn's hands as physical torture/killing is.

It's almost as if being a victim of the DJD is considered a fate worse than death.

Kind of weird how it is that in the same issue that the DJD are established as a terrifying threat, the same issue where Drift is compassionately asked if he's scared of being so close to the DJD, is the same issue where Pharma gets framed as a selfish madman for doing what he thought he had to to survive.

Dying of the Light came about 30 issues too late to vindicate Pharma and make it understandable why he did what he did. But even so, it's still really annoying how Pharma is the one and only victim of the DJD who gets called selfish and cowardly for doing what he thought was his only option to escape blackmail or death.

No one on the Lost Light, much less Ratchet himself, had any problem with considering Drift to be "on their side" even after millions of years as a member of the mass murdering Decepticons. And Ratchet had plenty of compassion to spare for Drift to ask him if he was scared of the DJD. Absolutely no sympathy to be had for Pharma, though; he's just a terrible doctor and Autobot who deserved everything that came to him. Murdering patients was just because he was an organ harvester working for the DJD, not because everyone at Delphi (including an ex-Decepticon who would be on the DJD's list) and himself was under threat of death by horrific torture.

Honestly I don't even think the unfortunate implications/unfairness were intended, at this point I just think that Pharma was simply intended to be a "mad doctor" character trope + token evil villain Autobot to add variety to the rogues gallery so like. The fact that the characters treat him like shit was just meant to be a narrative signal "look how much this guy sucks and is just so evil not even the good guy Autobots like him."

[skywillow28022]

You be the moon, I'll be the earth

And when we burst start over, oh darling.

Begin again, begin again, begin again.

Basically a trailer/prologue for the Old Cycle Au. Still struggling with how to draw MK's hair down

[kineema]

intermission dump

[loveandleases]

The first of the Halloween shorts with Kara and Isaac is available over on Patreon for Penthouse Tier. It will be available for Studio-Suite Tier on the 18th. You can find it here on Patreon.

[nigft]

worked very hard on this one

[thatonebipotato]

hmmm more gay people. there's quite a few images so I'm popping them under a cut :P

umm cw for shirtless people and also scars ^^

this is a common occurrence. Steph should really stop accepting their invites

Bernard is saying the stupidest shit you've ever heard. Tim is absolutely enamored anyway.

Tim's seen it a thousand times and he's never over it

this is how I sleep so this is how they sleep too. bc i said so

[ssomepersonn]

pathetic little wyrm man

[kordbot]

it took like 10 minutes for beltboy to completely take over my brain so have some doodles I made when in a lisa craze yesterday ft. my oc stalker and @hackingmachine 's oc patches !

[giantchasm]

Sussy plays Pokemon Sun and Moon and has a normal time about it. 

In the end her team is a Decidueye, an Alolan Muk, a Minior, a Metagross, a Porygon-Z, and a Salamence that she somehow caught at level 9 on Route 3 out of sheer force of will. 

(Seriously, though. Why was 2016 such a weird year for second-party Nintendo games? They did some thinking with portals and a BUNCH of fictional families suffered for it)

[nguyenfinity]

I’ve had @spixi ‘s street art shuffle stuck in my head for days and I sat down at my laptop and went into drawing frenzy autopilot—

Kohaku I kinda came up with on the fly but I had a very specific pose in mind for Hiyori; the outfits are mostly white ‘cause I think the stage would have a lot of paint/graffiti on it so white outfits would stand out more!

I think it could be like a fun spring festival/spray paint exhibition or somethin like that?? spixi I don’t know if this is what you were thinking of at all but I just really vibed with it

Bonus comic on how Kohaku got his alt hairstyle:

[hoeheaven]

WIP #??? Teaser from my upcoming comic of out of time ⚡️

[realitybitesyouknowit]

Chapters: 96/96 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harry Potter & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Harry Potter, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts, Sirius Black/Stephen Strange Characters: Harry Potter, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, Sirius Black, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes, Gwen Stacy (The Amazing Spider-Man), Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Pietro Maximoff Additional Tags: Post-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Post-Avengers (2012), Parent Tony Stark, Abused Harry Potter, Family Shenanigans, Good Parent Tony Stark, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Protective Tony Stark, Sirius Black is a good godfather, Fluff, Angst and Feels, Slow Burn, Harry Potter is Tony Stark's Child, Peter Parker Played By Andrew Garfield, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Creator chose not to use archive warnings - Freeform, which is a warning in itself, Complete Summary:

With Voldemort back, Harry returned to the Dursley house, and Sirius imprisoned ‘living’ at Grimmauld Place, Sirius decides to go check on his godson.

And when he doesn’t like what he finds at Number Four Privet Drive, Sirius decides to do something else- tell Harry a fifteen year old secret and send him off the the United States to meet his biological father.

[code31-onthedancefloor]

you know what im just putting it in a separate post. this is my own ulixes backstory - content warning for parental+familial abuse/neglect.

Another stupid mistake.

Ulixes had forgotten to wash and put away the dishes. This had the immediate effect of enraging his father - who was hitherto consumed in a bad mood - and the expulsion of Ulixes from the family home for the night. Moronic of himself, Ulixes thought, to provoke him so thoughtlessly. Muffled in the kitchen and its yellowing white tiles with that awful, guttural shout, until Ulixes turned and ran - ran out the back door, to where his father would not follow under the siren call of another pyrholidon from the fridge. 

And so he sat, looking up at the house and the pale sky above it. An entire wooden thing slumping dauntless before him. It rotted and shook and groaned through stormy nights, as if aware of its absurd and depressing existence. Embarrassed by the silence of its residents. Apathetic to the omen of another hard winter. On the little porch around the back that nobody ever used - where it wouldn’t dampen his trousers - Ulixes wondered into the thrice-unread pages of his book: why doesn’t it just fall? 

Yet, the clocks kept turning, and the mice wouldn’t stop running through the pantry. Little scampering-scratching in the walls beside his bed. The pigeons that nested in the chimney each Summer. Ulixes Bücher, tucked away where no-one would try to find him. Empty pantries. Cold bed. Crumbling chimney. Ulixes, tucking himself away. That was the way of things. That was how nature was slowly reclaiming the Bücher household. Day by day. Night by night. 

Especially those long, long nights which were as black as pitch and twice as humid. Where he as a little boy would toss and turn and dream of the entire wretched house collapsing. In those dreams, he would wake up in the morning, surrounded by and buried in rubble - the mounted deer head, the ripped clothes, the four-poster bed in his parent’s room, the fine china that was never used - and Ulixes, sole survivor, a tiny dot in the wreckage, emerging. Fifteen tumbling steps to the left, and he would happen upon the remains of the family jewels. In this childish fantasy, Ulixes would sell the jewels and move far, far away. It didn’t matter where. The house just needed to fall. So why didn’t it? 

In a fit of frustration, he snapped his book shut. Wind tousled his hair as he meandered through the overgrown garden: through the long furs of grass - the deadnettle, which his older brothers would pick the flowers off to jokingly whip at him - past the old pine trees, all the way to the back. Here, a shed almost as old as the house itself stands vigil against the elements. A slightly brighter shade of wood, still dulled by years of use and disuse. A musky hint of rainy evenings past, warping the walls. Windowless. 

And no lock, of course - nobody would just let themselves into here, not in the East. Not where you were picked off the street and sent back across the canal for the most minor of public infractions. Except, nobody in the Bücher household has repeatedly accessed this little hovel either. Perhaps since his grandfather, as far as Ulixes knows. He did woodwork, or something to that effect, in his spare time. Back when they employed house-servants, this place could possibly have gone over the rusting equipment with a dust-rag. Now, all the erstwhile sawdust has simply blown away; a blessing for the jacket on Ulixes’ back which is quickly going to become a mattress under the dented, discoloured workbench - one of the only things nailed to the floor. 

He doesn’t know how many hours his grandfather spent here. By all accounts, he was a silent old man, praised by Ulixes’ siblings for scoring a once-in-a-lifetime engineering commission from a previously blossoming city. In fact, the Bücher household seem to have a thing for dying before Ulixes ever meets them. Apart from those who still remain in the house, he knows of one cousin who moved away to Jamrock, never to be heard of again. Every other member is locked in an eternal, poisonous game of one-upmanship over dinner, concerning wage brackets and managerial positions. Quoting the spiteful rants of his oldest brother - there used to be openings. And now there aren’t. Honest, skilled workers like he are forced back across the canal for work, where the jobs are cheap and the turnover is cheaper. His Aunt, spitting into a wine glass about mingling with the lower people, how the trickle-down up-swing has faded, how stagnancy has strangled her aspiration of a nice car and the subsequent respect that would blossom on everyone’s faces when she turns up in that. 

They have made it abundantly clear that whatever blessed the Bücher family three generations ago is never doubling back. The repairs the home direly needs will never be happening. Even if they did, the resounding result would simply be putting a plaster on a stab-wound. It doesn’t matter how much junk his father sells to put him through a return-on-investment education. So, why doesn’t the house fall? 

He breathes the afternoon light, perched in the doorframe; leaning. In contrast to the opulence of his grandparents’ tailor-made mansion, the shed is a utilitarian thing. Cuboid and sturdy, with its thick walls and insulated door - telling the tale of a person who would be complained away from the porch by neighbours or would not be dissuaded from partaking in outdoor hobbies in Winter. A floor softened by work boots. Flecks of paint and glue and oil staining in intervals. The whisper of pine needles reverberating around. So much wood, he thinks, like a little hole in a tree. A bird’s nest, from which he is watching the grey bulb of the sky grow dimmer and dimmer. Until the trees and the too-tall fence and the grasses turn into a shadow-puppet show. Until all Ulixes can hear is the wind. Until Ulixes can no longer read his book - only able to see a vague outline of his hands, and the stars still somehow shining through the city smog. Until he whistles, and the air stops whistling that jaunty little tune back into his ears, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. That is when he shuts the door to the shed. 

It is warm, Ulixes’ little nest. Thrumming with that insulation, that warp-curved geometry. It does something comforting to your brain, such like a reinforcing example does for a belief you already hold. He parts his chapped lips, and pushes his tongue to the back of his throat. A little click of sound is released. A pushing of a particularly satisfying button - or the trigger pulled on an empty gun-barrel? 

The click bounces off the walls. It is an instantaneous cacophony, finished in less than a second. But it reels back his mind from wandering back to earlier, where the dishes were stacked and dirty and his father’s face was… 

Click. Click. Click. 

Echo. Echo. It never fails. Nothing is used against him, here - where no one will look for him. 

Ulixes opens his book to the middle before resting his head on it. He knows by experience the floor will mercifully not hurt his body come morning. A jacket, brown, coming apart at the seams, slung over his thin frame. 

Tonight, he dreams again of the house falling down. The wind; terrible and exacting, will extricate the foundations from the tumour of Revachol East and tumble it in a chef-swirl across the street. Miraculously, it would ignore The Shed, just as Ulixes would awake the next day to ruins, only to completely disregard its contents in favour of walking into the encroaching Pale. As if there was something in there for him. In there, where the air whistles back at him. 

[theslowhipster]

I think I'm a Pretty Good:tm: Liar?(Inspired by The People's Joker, kinda (not really)) // Queer Trans Ramblings

I want to write something long and beautiful about my thoughts, but I don't know how it's going to come across. (its definitely long though)

Ever since I started living as myself (and for myself), I've been thinking a lot about art that I've created in the past. How I was a happy kid, but underneath all of that I was angry and upset. Content to be the person everyone expected me to be, but never myself. For example, in 5th grade I wrote a short fantasy story using deadname as my self insert. I never felt any closeness to that name, no one ever really called me by it so I thought that was why it felt wrong. But even for the end of the story I couldn't find any happiness for him.

It wasn't a violent end, and it wasn't even his fault. The carelessness of the dragon he trusted with his life flew too high and he could no longer breathe. I remember my teacher at the time showed concern that something was wrong. Most 9 year olds don't write a story where they are the main character, horrible things happen to them, everything is described as awkward and nonsensical, and then they die. But my parents saw their "son" trying really hard to be happy for them and the consensus was "Garnet's just like that."

There feels like there were so many of those moments, too. "Oh no, Garnet's struggling in school, and she thinks it's because she might have ADHD. Let's get her tested," (slightly paraphrased and with different pronouns, obv.) But, once the only people asked were my parents and teachers who I was told later all said some variant on "yeah she could have it, but she's happy and well adjusted." And obviously I don't blame any of them, I was lying about who I was to make the people I cared about most love me.

I was so desperate to be the person they thought I was when I started to come out about my sexual preferences I did it out of anger to hurt my parents. We never really talked about it after the fact, but I know from talking to one of my sisters that they never really believed it. (Jokes on them, I'm a happily married pansexual in a lesbian relationship now). And this anger stayed with me, this frustration that I couldn't put my finger on. I think its what really soured our whole relationship in my teenage years.

When I left for college I was so happy and excited, I could redefine who I was, for myself this time. But after about 6 months, I started feeling trapped all over again and stopped going to classes. I was still trying to be "Garnet" the son that my parents loved and it was destroying me. Eventually, my behavior got me kicked out of school because I had failed literally every single class I was in for two quarters in a row. Because I missed the freedom that being myself gave me, I was determined to earn that back. So I moved back home, and started going to community college with the goal of being myself. That was the first time since probably Elementary school that I had gotten perfect grades.

Eventually I was able to transfer back to university, and reconnected with my at-the-time girlfriend (now wife <3) and started taking classes for an entirely different degree than the one I had originally intended, thinking this would be what fixed me. The following academic year I got an apartment off campus and got serious about my education. I had done it, I'd become the right version of me. Or at least I thought I had.

I ended up making (what I thought was) a friend during my studies; we were in the same major, liked all the same things, and they felt punk and queer as could be. Exactly the kind of community I had tried to build in high school. We'd talk for hours about nerd culture, the darker sides of the internet, and they introduced me to a deeper queer community and furry shit in a way that made all of it way more approachable than in the past. Like the dragon in the story I'd written almost a decade earlier, because of them I was able to see everything from a new perspective that felt more authentic.

But like any dragon, being around them is harmful to your health. While they were (knowingly or not) pushing me to be my most authentic self, they were also trying to separate me from my girlfriend. Verbally abusing them in what I now assume was a desperate attempt to have me all to themselves (something I saw them do to others and thought nothing of it because we were friends and I thought there was no way they'd do that to me). Eventually, they brought me "high" enough that I started to see some of the cracks in myself. How I was still not happy, even though I had everything I thought I'd ever want. Eventually I came out to them as questioning my gender, and they were very supportive; but before I could figure out exactly what it was we stopped being friends and I found out everything that they had been doing behind my back.

We had finally reached the end of [REDACTED]'s story, he was blacking out due to lack of oxygen. The same end I had predicted 14 years prior, lifted up by someone he trusted to the point where he was so changed he was dead. And you would think that it is would be a sad ending, but he was never a happy person and honestly? I think this was the best ending he could've gotten.

Thankfully I still had other friends around me who could act as a pseudo parachute in this metaphor. [REDACTED] had died, and Jemma came back in his place. But also, she was there the whole time. When I was writing the story, I always knew that this wasn't the end of that character. I had always lied to myself and said that he survived it, that he only blacked out and eventually came to. But I think that deep down, I knew that this was a metaphor for becoming who I was always meant to be. That sometimes we have to destroy the parts of us that aren't really ourselves in order to be happy.

My story still isn't over, but at least now I feel like myself, and I know why everything felt wrong. I still have some things I need to work out, but at least I know why social settings are so hard and I know why I hated looking at myself in the mirror (before a few days ago, the last time I remember seeing someone I recognized as myself in the mirror was when I was six years old). I also now know why I fall so hard and so fast with so many people all at once, and have a loving wife who supports me in exploring that. I don't think I would have any of this though, unless [REDACTED] had died and I took his place.