#she was calling my mother

[gingersnapcookie89]

Although, my friends (there's three of us) and I do cook together. We each have our assigned tasks and that goes relatively well. I only added the "relatively" because two of us *squints @kitsunekage88 * are very accident prone and and it's very likely one of the two of will end up injured, possibly bleeding, by the end of it.

[3liza]

hot autistic adult women are always saying they're doing fine really and everyone is nice to them and they just need to figure out a few little things and then everything will be perfect

[s-aint-elmo]

part 2 of my pining falin agenda aka I STAND WITH MARCILLE THAT DRESS WAS CUNT

part 1

(ID in alt text)

[lyss-sketchbox]

Op please I beg you can we have some content for this Knave Wrio AU ? Like what’s his relationship with Neuvillette ? How did he end up being the Knave ? Is Peruere now the Warden of Meropide ? IS PERUERE SIGEWINNE’S ADOPTIVE MOTHER ??

Now see the interesting here is, and im gonna borrow this quote from @thatonegreyghost because this is making me insane

BECAUSE BESIDES THE BLOOD MOON THING THEY REALLY COULDVE BEEN EACH OTHER

Im making the decision to pass over the blood moon lineage to Wrio since i doubt Arle couldve beaten Crucabena without it. Other than that they were both basically orphans taken into horrific institutes so..............

[deeva-arud]

So, about that one AU that's been marinating in my mind for years

[sunlightdrop]

at last, rapunzel was home, and she finally had a real family. she was a princess worth waiting for.

[evergreen-femme]

i wish i had a mom who wanted me to be her daughter and was excited about it

[starry-bi-sky]

Love and hate can sometimes cross wires - DPXDC Ficlet

She props her up against the far wall, and kneels before her, fingers deceptively gentle against her cheek. Danyal is cold and trembling, her once bronze skin now dull. She meets her other half— self— sister— mother— predecessor’s eyes, and they are still wet. But now they are sharp, focused on Her face.

Danyal takes a shuddering breath, one that wracks itself down her spine. One that She can feel sinking into her — their? — shared soul. “You’re going to kill me.” She says, matter of fact, something like grief choking in her voice, making it shake.

She blinks at Her mother—sister—friend— predecessor, a feeling She knows is horror but thinks is hatred filling up Her lungs. Her cool palm trails kind down to her throat, Her talon fingers wrapping around the fragile skin. With very little effort, She could break her little neck. “Yes.” She murmurs, a sound only the two of them can hear. “I am.“

Her mother-sister-other half— predecessor shudders again, and yet makes no sound. Simply goes limp with acceptance in her arms. She doesn’t bother to even fight; she looks tired. Make it quick, it’s like she says.

I will. She promises, running the gentle padding of Her thumb along her jugular. It’s the only mercy She thinks She’ll ever give. But first…

“Give me a name?”

(Mother— sister— mine—) Danyal stares at Her, confusion parting her slowly paling lips. There’s silence between the two, thickening the air like the rise of an oncoming storm. Hurt and rage begins to toil beneath Her skin. Was the thought of naming Her so abhorrent, that she’d rather not say a thing at all? Her name is nothing?

Before She can take Her anger out, Danyal breathes in sharp. The sound is painful, jarring like jags of broken glass. She raises a hand, her palm — rough and calloused, proof of her fourteen years of life, of hardship — finds Her cheek too. It’s almost loving, the way Danyal swipes her thumb across Her skin, her clammy fingers tucking a strand of hair behind Her ear.

An emotion sweeps across her, boiling and toiling, burning hot and consuming her whole. Thick, bubbling in her throat, curling behind her teeth and under her tongue and tinging her peripherals with spots. An overwhelming emotion.

It must be hatred, she thinks. What other feeling can encompass one so much?

When Danyal breathes out, so with it comes a name; “Layal.”

Danyal always did love the nights.

(If you ask the Mother of Monsters why she killed Danyal al Ghul, she’ll tell you it was because she loved hated her.)

[freaky-flawless]

Headless Headmistress Bloodgood redesign!

I've been wanting to redesign her for a while, in a way that would marry the aspects from each of her designs that I like. I'm pretty happy with how she turned out!

At some point I would like to design some more Monster High teachers and staff, because no matter what gen, that school is struggling.

[will-pilled]

"Being poor is a choice, you can get out of it if you work hard."

I live with 4 people, one of which is a child. I work a full time job. So does another. And the third works two part times.

We have no heating. Our electric keeps getting shut off. We didn't have anything AT ALL to drink for 3 days.

You REALLY fucking think we choose to live like this? You think I want to fucking FREEZE right now as I type? FUCK all the out of touch lucky people saying this shit.

Is it possible to get out of a poor family? Yes. But the majority of the time your area of living is what predicts your wealth.

[revelisms]

Lil' comic of a scene from a fic I haven't gotten around to writing.

(basically Vi and Jinx have reconciled, Silco is alive, and Vi is begrudingly finding herself beginning to look up Silco as a mentor/father figure. She accompanies him on an errand run, one of which winds them up at the old cannery, and emotions bubble up biiig time 🥲)

[galactic-rhea]

Wow you guys won't even let padmé take matters on her own death because it's too selfish because she's a mother and of course she needs to live only for the kids, how dare she die, wow the woman has kids and she's still too sad to keep going wowwowow

Her death could've been written better like almost everything in sw but i honestly think story-wise it works better than 'and then she spend the rest few years of her life depressed and sad in alderaan' it's anticlimatic and frankly that's even more of a disservice to her character, and frankly sadder because it prolongates her suffering but whatever that's not even my point! My point is that padmé chosing to die instead of 'chosing to go on bc she's a mum and all mums are like that' goes against this hyper idealized and flanderized idea of mothers's inmaculate self-sacrificed perfection that give everything for the kids, just let padmé be human goddamnit.

The amounts of stress she went through these last few months, then weeks, AND THEN DAYS?? You have an idea??? No, I actually hope none of us have an idea of that like damn, I just feel so bad for her, it was hell. Her husband choked her, while pregnant, after he murdered hundreds of people, in literal Hell Planet. And then gives birth, and we can assume it was a stress-induced birth because having been choked, and then she dies out of the extreme amount of sadness and loses the will to live, she dies at the exact moment 'anakin' completely dies and full-Vader surges and that actually is meant to show you how the survival of one was key for the other, but that's not motherly enough, that's not what a cool brave strong woman would do, that's not what tiktok-feminism is! Because it's stupid and weak!

The fact that after having to re-take over her own palace, after so many many many assesination attempts since age 14, a literal war, and having been force-choked by Anakin on a planet with toxic air, and giving natural birth, the thing that really killed her was her choice because her heart got broken is actually meaningful for the fairytale-like story, and people are just stuck on how dare she die while having kids, that's so selfish and cold and uncaring, she would be a terrible mother. Ahhhhhhhh, I'm going insane.

[evelynpr]

You ever think about how All Might has two male exes that both have a child with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a big heart?

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[ishdaj]

Finished Subnautica earlier and the brainrot compelled me to draw the Sea Emperor Leviathan as a mermaid. She's so cool I love her so much ;-;

Hopefully the first in a series. Definitely not the last Subnautica art I'll be producing.

Textless version below the cut:

[ugly-anarchist]

What do you mean when you say your gender was reassigned later in life?

Wtf happened

My intersex variation made everyone around me stop treating me like a girl and I was punished relentlessly by everyone if I tried to be feminine

Only when I started identifying as a guy (which was wrong and didn't make me happy) did I start being treated better. And everyone kept saying shit like "oh yeah we already saw you as a man" essentially.

I was put on testosterone literally a few weeks after "coming out" as a man and even when voicing my discomfort about being on it they attempted to coerce me into staying on it

I did not fit into what they saw as female, so they decided that I had to be male to be "normal"