#safe from duo

[starr-angelofnarnia]

Everyone is talking about Spotify wrapped. But I don't have one. Cuz I have a YouTube music subscription

However, Duo is going to let me live another year, so that's cool

[annamiasworld]

sooo duolingo wrapped is here and now I really want to know what happens if by the end you're not safe from duo???

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I wonder if killer would frequently read dead dove do not eat fanfics or look at that type of graphic art in the ending with color. probably in an attempt to not worry or be a “burden” on color by seeking out stimulating but dangerous unhealthy experiences like im sure he has before

[deadsouls-is-canon]

Reason #521 why Yakuza Deal Souls should be canon - we never got to see Ryuji and Kaoru get to be real deal siblings! This might be the biggest tragedy of Kiwami 2. We only got two minutes of this bond - imagine what we could have gotten if Ryuji lived! In Dead Souls, Ryuji thinks he sees his sister in the crowd of zombies (it isn’t her), and we glean some information about their burgeoning relationship from it:

Think of all the adventures they could have had! All the brother and sister shenanigans! Whole different sides of their characters could have shone through this connection! They could have made fun of Kiryu’s ‘Merica polo together!

[krazy-katie]

Tim, being interrogated: Wait.... what time is it? Random Gotham rogue: uhhh, 12 am? Tim, panicked: Oh shi- Duolingo bird busting in like the kool aid man: It looks like you forgot your Spanish lessons-

[bochedogmeat]

So. Ive been kind of turning this au around in my head like a rotisserie chicken bc i obviously want to keep as many details as possible consistent with canon, but also that is kind of impossible given the massive leaps in technology between mouthwashing’s distant future and. Well. 1917. So what happens is that i figure their platoon is being court-martial’d for something (maybe cowardice/refusal to follow orders? For getting stuck up in the mountain bunker?) and Jimmy suggests blowing up the bunker theyre in so that they would have solid evidence that it wasnt their fault. Curly, still reeling, agrees, not thinking it would go anywhere, but Jimmy nabs the explosives from swansea and goes through with it anyways.

…more ramblings below v

Jimmy, in this au, was aware that Anya is trans before they were even stationed together, and becomes aware that Curly may be an invert (which, historically, means that he is not only queer, but adopts the ‘woman’s role’. This phenomena of inverts being treated more harshly than their more ‘manly’ counterparts is supported by history! Fun fact) while on the Ypres frontline. He is resentful towards Curly because how can a supposed invert, someone whom he has been taught is less than half of the man Jimmy himself is, be such a well-loved leader and well-rounded man? Why is Jimmy so drawn to him? Why does he still respect and even love this ‘man’? What does that say about his own masculinity?

The cognitive dissonance is too much for his weak, spiteful, hateful little pea brain and he feels like he is losing what little control he had over his own masculinity and understanding of the social world to begin with. This leads him to assault anya and, added with the stress of a court-martial, blow the bunker up.

I figure they give Curly what little chloroform they have in the medical kit to keep him asleep until they run out/it starts making him too sick and are forced to start giving him soothing syrup and gin in large doses. Anya and Curly had something of a mutual understanding/budding friendship before the incident, both having had a sense about the other, which makes Curly’s subsequent inaction suck all the more. He understands Anya better than anyone else there, so why didnt he do anything? Anya doesn’t understand, and she never gets to ask. She still takes extreme care in tending his wounds though, and will often go to his bedside and tell him stories/play cards with him (and by that i mean play cards by herself and narrate her strat)

I also figure the whole thing happens over a matter of days as opposed to months because. You know. 1917. But anyways. If anyone wants to talk about this w me/add on to it, any musings are more than welcome!! I love queer and ww1 history :) see tags for more tidbits❤️

[arts-and-drafts]

Wherever You May Go (Hermit!Tommy AU)

Summary; Continuation of ‘Minecraft Championships’, in which TFC discovers a stowaway in his strip mine.

(Title from ‘Follow You’ by Imagine Dragons! I highly recommend reading ‘Minecraft Championships’ first to understand what’s going on! This one has been in the drafts for a WHILE and I had just recently finished it. This won’t be the last iteration of this little storyline! Enjoy!)

((And don’t worry, Come Morning Light is still in progress!))

CWs; Mentions of death, mentions of violence, slight body horror

-

Tubbo didn’t know what he was thinking when he ran through that portal.

He considered himself to be a smart man. He always tried to think rationally, to let logic decide his best move, and let it back up his choices when he did rarely make an emotional decision. Very seldom was he moved by his heart and his heart alone.

That all flew out the window when he heard Tommy scream.

His best friend, who he thought dead, cried out for help. And like the gods themselves puppeted him, Tubbo ran to his aid.

He didn’t bother squashing down the terrible hope rising in his throat, that he was actually hearing his dead best friend’s voice instead of him finally having lost it from stress. Tubbo ran, hope and fear blindingly bright in his chest, shoving any Player in his way aside with little care.

Please. Please. Please.

Tubbo pushed through the last people in his way, and froze.

Tommy.

Tommy was wrapped in the arms of three other players, all comforting him with words Tubbo couldn’t hear. All he could do was stare as his dead best friend smiled, shakily, tears streaming down his face as he answered back.

He barely took into account that the portal back to the Dream SMP was gone. His attention was all on the boy that made up Tubbo’s other half, alive, alive, alive.

The Players surrounding Tommy helped him off the floor, the avian among them draping his great gray wings over the backs of the entire party, shielding their faces from view.

Tubbo made an aborted cry in the back of his throat, jerking forward like his bones and muscles had been replaced with decrepit redstone machines, barely clinging to function.

The group containing Tommy didn’t notice, and seamlessly passed through the portal back to the place Tommy must have been since he die—went missing, the place Tubbo had no idea how to reach to try talk to Tommy again and beg for his forgiveness.

But now the gateway to his best friend was right in front of him.

Tubbo broke into a desperate sprint, throwing himself at the pure-white portal with the desperation of a dying man.

His vision went white, all encompassed by the void between worlds, where he simultaneously existed and didn’t all at once.

And then Tubbo tripped, landing hard on the ground that materialized right under him.

He groaned, his head spinning from the transition of being and not-being and back again.

Tubbo tried to raise a hand to his head, and his entire body lanced through with wrongness that he swiftly recognized to be the work of whitelist magic.

Panic reared its head in Tubbo’s mind, but he shoved it down, his meticulously logical side rising to his aid. With eyes that were becoming increasingly hard to keep open, Tubbo scanned through the lines of code in his communicator screen.

A Player with limited knowledge of how the world operated would not see the code behind the comms, but Tubbo had delved into the magic that made up the fabric of existence since he was small.

Tubbo knew he was on a time crunch. Even the worst-maintained whitelist could discorporate a Player in time, and based on the fact that Tubbo could already feel his atoms destabilizing, this whitelist was very maintained.

Still, he willed himself not to panic, drowning out the instinct roaring in his ears to fight for his life. It would not help him here; there was nothing tangible to fight against.

Tubbo located the string of magic in the code that was tearing him apart, a very powerful enchantment that attacked his being like a white blood cell destroying a virus. It was too powerful to cancel out, so Tubbo didn’t even try; instead, he attempted something he had never done before.

Tubbo mentally reached out to the magic, and embraced it, tangling the data in his veins with the enchantment that was attacking him, knotting them together so tightly that they were indistinguishable.

It was messy, and imprecise, but Tubbo kept a calm mind through the entire process, even as he felt his consciousness beginning to slip into nothingness. He continued to wind himself into the code of this server’s existence, knitting himself into the fabric of reality stitch by excruciating stitch.

Then, all of the sudden, with a SNAP that echoed through Tubbo’s very being, the magic of the whitelist pulled taut, unknotting itself, and Tubbo felt the data in his soul smooth out with it.

Tubbo let out a ragged gasp, his eyes flying open as feeling returned into his limbs. He coughed roughly, scrabbling at the earth underneath him to pull himself off the ground onto his shaking hands and knees. He choked and gasped for breath, willing himself to recover faster from being nearly disintegrated.

He took a minute to just exist, shivering and shaking as he tried to calm his body into functioning again.

Eventually his senses returned to him, and Tubbo raised his eyes.

He looked out to a great ocean, surrounding him on all sides. He was laid upon a cheerfully sunny sandy beach, with a chest to his left and a simple farm of carrots beside it.

There was a handwritten sign beside the chest, displaying the words ‘Take what you need!’ in curly handwriting that made Tubbo’s dyslexia flare up.

Tubbo shakily rose to his feet, and made his way to the chest, opening it to see loaves of bread and a few oak-wood boats inside.

He took a breath, raising his head to glance around at the empty ocean.

This must be the server’s spawn. Tommy nor the other Players he was with were here—which made sense, though it set a deep itch of urgency in Tubbo’s bones. They probably spawned back in their beds after coming through the portal.

Leaving Tubbo stranded alone, with no idea where to go from here.

He inhaled sharply, willing his despair to ebb away into the back of his mind. He summoned his compass from his inventory, glancing down at it before he psyched himself out too much to look.

The needle was still. After spinning uselessly in the SMP for an entire year, it was finally pointing straight and true, towards the boy Tubbo thought dead by cause of his own actions.

Tommy was alive.

Tubbo let out a breath that was between a laugh and a cry.

It wasn’t a dream, a hallucination or a snap of the psyche. Tommy was alive.

Tubbo pushed the bangs out of his eyes, looking up at the direction the needle pointed.

Tommy was just beyond the horizon. He was here all along, wherever ‘here’ was, and now Tubbo was too.

Tubbo grabbed a boat from the chest, and as much bread as he could carry, throwing the wooden item against the water and jumping in as soon as it expanded to size.

I’m coming, Tom.

-

TFC knew his mines like the back of his hand.

They were just as rough and aged as his hand too, but still, he had memorized each one of them. Strip mines that had long been given up on, once the dwarf had run out of torches or ran out of durability on his pickaxes. He had no reason to venture down once he was comfortable with resources, but still, he walked the lengths of his underground tunnels often.

He felt most at home with rock over his head, and he traveled his handmade mines so much that he could recount the route of them all with his eyes closed.

It was how he knew someone had disturbed them, and done so recently.

Now, he was no stranger to the other hermits accidentally breaking into his mines during digging out room for their own projects. The matter was always dealt with amicably, with the offending hermit patching up the tunnels like they were never disturbed and redirecting their dig site out of the way.

However, they never failed to mention it to TFC, even if he wasn’t around at the time of the incident.

So when the dwarf noticed perfectly smooth stone innocuously laid among the walls of one of his strip mines, he knew he was dealing with someone else entirely.

To even the most careful eye, there was no hint of disruption along the mine wall. But that was precisely why TFC noticed it.

Being one arm short, he wasn’t the most graceful with his pickaxe. He carved the rock rough and uneven, making sure there was enough room for him and the torches, but leaving the edges of the tunnel untidy, because it was work to make it look all pretty and he didn’t mind it how it was.

Whoever had squirreled away in his mine, though, thought otherwise. Or perhaps they didn’t even notice the rougher stone, too focused on covering their tracks to care.

TFC hummed to himself as he hobbled down the tunnels, his rough tune echoing off the stone and carrying his voice far into the mine.

He leisurely came to a stop where the stone smoothed out, where he’d been hearing quiet footsteps up until he halted. The owner of said footsteps didn’t make another noise as soon as they registered TFC wasn’t either, a smart move to ensuring they stayed hidden.

Unfortunately, they didn’t account for the sharp hearing of a dwarf, nor said dwarf’s attention to detail.

TFC let the quiet linger for a moment, only sighing when there was no movement to be heard for several minutes.

“Alright,” TFC finally said, keeping his tone light of any accusation. “Who’s down here?”

The someone in the walls, predictably, didn’t reply. TFC cleared his throat.

“C’mon, now. I’m not gonna be mad. Just wanna know who I’m dealing with.” TFC tried again.

The silence continued on. TFC was debating fully sitting against the wall and waiting out the Player, infinitely patient as he was, but then a quiet voice spoke up through the rock.

“You first.” A young voice demanded in clearly false bravado, and TFC chuckled.

“Sure, if that’ll help.” He agreed, making sure his tone wasn’t too rough. “I’m Tinfoil Chef. Everyone calls me TFC.”

The young voice was quiet for a beat.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” They spoke again, that same brave streak hiding their trepidation. TFC raised an eyebrow.

“Tellin’ the truth about my name, or that I ain’t gonna hurt ya?” He countered. The kid in the walls made an aborted noise.

“Cuz the answer is the same for both.” TFC continued, sparing the confusion for the kid. “It’s the truth. I just wanna know who’s in my mines.”

The voice was quiet for a few moments. TFC wondered if he’d have to speak again to keep the conversation going, to assure the kid further that he wasn’t going to do anything to them, but then they finally replied.

“Tubbo.” The kid said quietly, almost incoherent. “I’m Tubbo.”

TFC nodded. “Well, Tubbo, nice to meet ya.” He said. “What’re you doing down here in the walls?”

Tubbo was quiet.

TFC waited.

“I’m hiding.” Tubbo finally answered, sounding a bit sheepish. TFC hummed thoughtfully.

“I see.” He said slowly, thinking through his options. He truthfully wasn’t one to get into other people’s business; he tended to stay out of the server-wide shenanigans, and interacted with the other hermits very rarely. He would be perfectly content to leave his and Tubbo’s conversation there, after he’d gotten the answers he needed.

He had a feeling, though, that this kid shouldn’t be by themself.

“Well,” TFC spoke again, shifting his weight to his good leg. “You don’t have to hide all the way down here.”

“People rarely come around my place.” He continued. “You can hide and be comfortable too, at least.”

Tubbo was quiet, though TFC could practically hear the gears turning in their head.

“Why would you help me?” They asked, a bit abrasively, and TFC was reminded starkly of Tommy.

Huh. If he had a diamond for every kid that unexplainably showed up one day on Hermitcraft, he’d now be two diamonds richer.

“Just…seems like the right thing to do.” TFC answered honestly, shrugging. “I know it ain’t comfortable down here for most other than me.”

There was silence from the kid again.

Then, the stone wall broke, and the tip of an iron sword pointed warningly into the hall, held by a small goat hybrid with lapis-blue eyes.

TFC blinked.

“What are ya planning to do with that, exactly?” TFC asked neutrally, keeping his hands at his sides. The kid’s brows furrowed.

“It’s just insurance,” They said, their young voice firm. “I wouldn’t try anything if I were you.”

TFC blinked again, and then let out a laugh.

The kid’s face twisted to shock and uncertainty, obviously caught off guard by the dwarf’s reaction.

“You can point that thing at me if it’ll make you feel better, kid.” TFC amended. “But I’m not gonna hurt you. You can believe me if you want to.”

And with that, he turned and started walking back down the mine the way he came, his gate just as unhurried. He heard the kid behind him pause and then climb out of the hole in the wall, keeping a steady pace a few blocks behind.

Tubbo paused entirely when they made it to the ladder leading back up to TFC’s house. The dwarf turned back to them and gestured to the ladder.

“It takes me a good year or two to get up there.” TFC joked. “You first.”

Tubbo narrowed his eyes. “Not a chance.” He replied firmly. TFC shrugged.

“Suit yourself.” He answered, and promptly turned his back to the kid again to begin the process of arduously climbing the ladder with only one functioning arm and leg.

After he climbed a few blocks up, he finally heard the ladder creak behind him as the kid started his ascent, and he smiled to himself. Maybe Tubbo would be more inclined to trust him after the agonizing few minutes he’d be stuck behind TFC’s slow-moving butt.

TFC finally pulled himself through the hatch in his house floor, slowly rising to his feet and moving away from the hatch to his chests. He heard Tubbo emerge from the trapdoor soon after, the kid getting to his feet much quicker than the old dwarf and notably keeping his distance.

TFC grabbed some wool and wood from his chests, meandering to his crafting table. Tubbo shifted behind him.

“Where…are we, exactly?” The kid asked, his brave act lowering slightly.

“My very humble abode.” TFC answered, arranging the wool and wood methodically on his crafting table. Tubbo made a noise in his throat.

“No, I mean—what server?” He tried again. TFC collected the bed he constructed and turned back to the kid, holding it out to them with a slight smile.

“Hermitcraft.”

[fatedroses]

Morning stealth mission.

[mo-ok]

What's a Red without their Blue?

Chikyuu Sentai Fiveman

Gaku Hoshikawa & Ken Hoshikawa

[divineordiabolical]

*Zaria walked into the church after almost tripping over air because of course she did. Anyways, she starts calling out*

“Hey, is anyone here? I need help with like… protecting my house from ghosts or something”

(I totally didn’t forget to send this several times nuh-uh)

The heavy oak doors of the church yawned open, their sound a low groan that rippled through the stillness of the sacred space. Anastasia—Asya, as she obliged Zaria to call her—was in the midst of the usual chores she was accustomed, tending to the candles flickering at the altar, a quiet reverence guiding her hands as she tended to the altar’s candles. There was an almost hypnotic quality about the way the flames danced in their glass encasements, flickering with each breath of air that wisped through the stone walls.

It was as she was situating a wick upright, ensuring the flame burned evenly, that she heard the soft creak of the heavy oak doors and the hesitant shuffle of footsteps. The sound drew her from her reverie, and she turned, her gaze sweeping over the dim interior until it settled on the figure standing in the doorway. Oh, Zaria! There was something in the way she lingered just inside the church, as if the weight of whatever had brought her there was too heavy to bear alone. The shape of her, silhouetted in the dim light— small, jagged, and weak, eliciting an almost visceral, raw riposte. Just like her.

Asya’s heart stirred with a gentle concern, and she left the altar behind, her steps light and deliberate as she crossed the nave to meet her friend. “Zaria?” she called softly, her voice carrying the same warmth and quiet strength that had guided Zaria before in her moments of need. “What brings you here? You appear to be—” she hesitated, searching Zaria’s face for the right word that wouldn’t pose offense, “—troubled.”

[bdoubleowo]

New Life series general spoilers and also a bit of personal taste neg (under a read more just in case u don't wanna see it)

me, yesterday: Yeah last life was probably my least favorite of the 3 seasons. I didn't really like the boogeyman mechanic, I thought it disrupted the players relationships in a relatively unsatisfying way. Similarly the extra lives made the deaths feel less dramatic and less important. Some of the most compelling moments were when people resisted this, Scott taking the life penalty, or Etho refusing to abandon Bdubs when he turned red. Frequently people who were red/boogey and became green again didn't face consequences because they were just following the rules of the system. Bdubs boogey kills Tango and its a VERY funny moment because of how Tango reacts, but its mostly brushed aside by the team as a whole, compared to when Cleo held a grudge against BigB for his boogey kill, leading to the absolutely iconic "do me a favor, die for me". 3rd Life I think also benefited from contrast, everyone was very kind and excited at the beginning before id devolved into chaos and bloodshed, whereas everyone was distrustful from the start in LL. So yeah, I'm glad other people like it but really wasn't my cup of tea like 3rd Life was.

Limited Life (same acronym as LL): Boogeyman is back :] and we did extra rounds of it

me: cool

LL: everyone basically has 24 lives

me: sick.

LL: like 10 deaths already on episode one

me: awesome

[hide-your-bugs-away]

WHEN I FIND MAGAZINES WITH THEM ON THE FRONT COVER... IT'S A GOOD DAY... 🥹🐾✨️

[howlsofbloodhounds]

thinking about a certain anonymous confession on the utdr confession blog mostly unable to get behind sans aus where chara is “evil” and i get that completely, but also something new is probably the only time i can get behind “evil” chara is because the au leaves enough open for interpretation and nuance that most of the fandom just doesn’t do anything with or explore anything with

Cause like, chara is hardly completely evil—the remake/timeline of the something new comics making the player more obvious was pretty clear that the player was heavily involved and that killer wasn’t the only one effected.

it leaves room to wonder about Chara got where they are in something new—so manipulative, apathetic, desensitized, cruel, controlling and possessive while still acknowledging they are just as child trapped in the same game that killer/sans is no matter how much they might’ve tried to resist or fight back or protect themself or make themselves the biggest nuisance around.

there’s enough interpretation, moments we don’t see, to wonder about the nature of killer and Chara’s relationship. It’s not a stretch to think that once upon a time they were genuinely partners. Not equals, because Chara’s the most Determined and therefore in control, but for the longest time they only had eachother. only the other was real. it’s interesting to explore but many don’t

[thechosenanubis]

do you ever think about " the Osirian's need to keep the Chosen One safe" mentality and how it could affect Eddie's mental state? Because I do.

All the time.

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

this is such an indulgent au I made for myself that's not even related to selfshipping but i love to imagine the dexholders in a filipino school setting where some of the kids are part of the class officers and this is definitely based on my irl experiences with my old class when I was elementary to... freshman. <3

[aria0fgold]

Jokid in the brain again, I remember jokid and proceed to think bout it in the next hour. I wanna write so much for em but all the ideas are a mess in the brain that I gotta wait until one or two collides and explode into something I can write. Now I have a new idea floating around and that's Akiren on a date with Kaito and later discovering that Oh, Kaito is SCARED of fishes. And is now making it his mission to keep all the fishes away from Kaito, the supposed aquarium date in the future has been immediately changed. Time for a zoo date.