#they made me this monster/j

[incubibun]

I can't believe I drew Gametoon Catnap and Hoppy...

Where have I gone with my life...

[tart-miano]

angry that your parody has a degree and you don't, victor

[soupdwelling]

i see this as a personal challenge to continue to twink the monsters despite jonny’s best efforts

[theriverbeyond]

i’m really loving seeing your t updates :,) pls keep it coming !!! say more!!!! what else!!!

AWWW thanks :') this is so sweet. well. I've only told 2 people IRL I've started T and none of them have specifically noticed any changes and also no one who I havent told has made any comments so like, I feel like as much as I DO feel like I'm being hit my a truck (positive) I feel like it's mostly internal?

Which I say as a positive statement honestly. Like the strongest positive force that HRT has given me thus far is internal, but 1) I live in here so that's fine by me and 2) "other people notice/treat me differently" isn't in any of my HRT goals and is in fact perhaps somewhat of an anti-goal. I'm not a dude I'm a dyke, pronouns are contextual (thank u Leslie Fienberg), and I've been varying levels of socially transitioned (for whatever that is worth as a nonbinary person) for... shit, 10 years now? oh my god. time is wild.

anyway I may have lost the plot with this answer but I do feel like I'm the hottest person alive rn (I was aflicted by this condition perhaps 72 hours ago) which is definitely T related and also extremely wild considering, as stated before, I really havent changed at all physically and also my uh, very bad body image track record. So that is extremely fun.... we shall see how it progresses. kill the part of you that wants to be a twink and embrace freedom and joy

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[anxiously-sidequesting]

My recent take has inspired me to make a list of Wizard101's most fuckable spells. I will regret this when I'm elderly.

[thunderblazz]

Sometimes I remember there are actual people who like my ocs and its not just me

[camping-with-monsters]

“Is there something on my face!?”

[mad-hunts]

this morning, i'm thinking about barton being the orange cat in this video and running towards those muses he's romantic with in this scenario

[naggingatlas]

i think people's takes on jev being this like thousand year old creatura are fascinating and fit even my interpretation of his character and place in the story (as like. a representation of the setting at large. an archaic force being shoved into a simulation/loop/machine. cosmis horror kinda shit) but i also think it's 1. funnier 2. scarier 3. more emotionally scarring to imagine him as like. a 30, 40, 50 year old man. just a quirky little guy. he had a childhood, maybe he got picked up by seam as an urchin and they were a travelling magic act and clownery and judy n punch duo and they stole apples from the market and he climbed trees w his little paws before someone made him wear shoes. he was a brash teenager and he played the accordion and kept all of his trinkets in a little chest he used to sleep in. seam made his suits, from his own crayon drawings. he was a middle aged man disenchanted with his work and he sought shelter from the boredom in bothering others. and he ran away so many times and he slept outside and he helped seam make their own beer and mead and they still played the accordion and the hurdy-gurdy together. isn't it scarier to make him a normal man? who turns into what we see? doesn't that hurt more doesn't that make his character even deeper. he was just like you and this means That can happen to you too, grounding stuff like that is like one of the basic rules of horror. and then he just goes to jail they straight up lock a mentally ill guy with all those horrors in the basement - not an old-as-time-itself demon, not a savage beast, but. a man. jevil russian sleep experiment au.

again im not calling anyone out its just an interpretation ive NEVER seen anyone else come up with and i genuinely wonder why and if my other jev readings continue to be weird as fuck to other people

[human-souls-buy-dopamine]

🍆 aubergine-man

Thinking about the anon who told me that ADHD wasn't "an excuse to be lazy" with a ":/" face, like they were fully expecting me to just go "Oh shit it isnt???? Sorry bro 🙁" BAHAHHAHSBDNA

🍊 orange-youglad

oh those ppl piss me OFF...... gonna cut this bc it's long lol

Keep Reading

🍆 aubergine-man

😦 babe thats a whole 5k word essay under that cut r u okay....

🍊 orange-youglad

I eat ableists for breakfast

🍆 aubergine-man

dearest that's. not an answer /lh

🍊 orange-youglad

the continuous screaming of ableists who were unfortunate enough to cross paths with me should be a sufficient answer

🍆 aubergine-man

that's the femur breaker scream /lh

🍊 orange-youglad

bold of you to assume that's all I'll do to ableists /hj

🍆 aubergine-man

/hj??? /HJ????? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HALF JOKING

🍊 orange-youglad

be gay do crime

[bear-cubs-art-things]

Glaishmoz 😎

Oops I drew lots of gay grandpas

[dreamythism]

—— month of the mythical happens on pride month of course these mythical monsters are gay.

[spxcemuses]

@thethiefsden asked: Ö

[ a character I’d consider rping. ] | Always Accepting

" Appears that I'm getting popular again, more people want to see the Homelander back in the public eye. Like I always have been, am I right? Enough to be written about, even! It is a bit difficult, given... the recent charges against defending my son, but. I fight for being a proud parent, for being a protector... for you wonderful people! I show you that true heroism is within all of you, within the values of this amazing country! God bless America! "

Homelander chuckles with an encouraging tone, keeping a smile on his face as he waves towards the cameras. However, his expression was strained, and his eyes...they showed something completely different. Something almost menacing and with an air of superiority. He notices that most of the cameras to the news broadcast had shut off and he sighs, that warm façade breaking just a little bit more as he heads back to meet up with some of Vought's corporate workers.

" Fucking lowlifes... They don't have the foggiest idea of what I have to deal with, they just eat up any cracked-up bullshit I give them. What am I even talking about, I'm not going to have some pathetic nobody write of my glory. She'd never get it exactly right to the perfection I am. "

[delta-piscium]

the concept of writing really is staying a concept

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 51

He didn't care, didn't marvel that he was soon to be airborne on one of those incredible beasts. Didn't care that tomorrow, they would all take on the dark army gathered beyond.

He'd fought in more battles, more wars, than he cared to remember. Tomorrow would be little different, save for the demons they'd slay, rather than men or Fae.

Demons like his former queen, apparently.

He had offered himself to her, had wanted her, or believed he did. And she had laughed at him. He didn't know what it meant. About her, about himself.

He'd thought his darkness, Hellas's gifts, had been drawn to her, that they'd been matched.

Perhaps the dark god had wanted him not to swear fealty to Maeve, but to kill her. To get close enough to do so.

Lorcan didn't adjust his cape against the gust of frigid air off the distant lake. Rather, he leaned into the cold, into the ice on the wind. As if it might rip away the truth.

There was no fear or pity on her face, her black hair gilded by the torches and campfires. Of all of them, she'd mastered the news with little difficulty, stepping up to the desk as if she'd been born on a battlefield.

"I didn't know," he said, voice strained.

Elide knew what he meant. "We have bigger things to worry about anyway."

He took a step toward her. "I didn't know," he said again.

She tipped her head back to study his face and pursed her mouth, a muscle ticking in her jaw. "Do you want me to give you some sort of absolution for it?"

"I served her for nearly five hundred years. Five hundred years, and I just thought her to be immortal and cold."

"That sounds like the definition of a Valg to me."

He bared his teeth. "You live for eons and see what it does to you, Lady."

"I don't see why you're so shocked. Even with her being immortal and cold, you loved her. You must have accepted those traits. What difference does it make what we call her, then?"

"I didn't love her."

"You certainly acted like you did."

Lorcan snarled, "Why is that the point you keep returning to, Elide? Why is it the one thing you cannot let go of?"

"Because I'm trying to understand. How you could come to love a monster."

"Why?" He pushed into her space. She didn't balk one step.

Indeed, her eyes were blazing as she hissed, "Because it will help me understand how I did the same."

Her voice snagged on the last words, and Lorcan stilled as they settled into them. He'd never ... he'd never had anyone who-

"Is it a sickness?" she demanded. "Is it something broken within you?"

"Elide." Her name was a rasp on his lips. Lorcan dared reach a hand for her. But she pulled out of reach. "If you think that because you swore the blood oath to Aelin, it means anything for you and me, you're sorely mistaken. You're immortal-I'm human. Let us not forget that little fact, either."

Lorcan nearly recoiled at the words, their horrible truth. He was five hundred years old He should walk away—he shouldn't be so damned bothered by any of this. And yet Lorcan snarled, "You're jealous. That's what truly eats away at you."

Elide barked a laugh that he'd never heard before, cruel and sharp. "Jealous? Jealous of what? That demon you served?" She squared her shoulders, a wave cresting before it smashed into the shore. "The only thing that I am jealous of, Lorcan, is that she is rid of you."

Lorcan hated that the words landed like a blow. That he had no defenses left where she was concerned. "I'm sorry," he said. "For all of it, Elide." There, he'd said it, and laid it out before her. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

But Elide's face did not warm. "I don't care," she said, turning on her heel. "And I don't care if you walk off that battlefield tomorrow.

"I have never heard Lorcan apologize for anything. Even when Maeve whipped him for a mistake, he did not apologize to her."

"And that means he earns my forgiveness?"

"No. But you have to realize that he swore the blood oath to Aelin for you. For no one else. So he could remain near you. Even knowing well enough that you will have a mortal lifespan."

The birds shifted on their feet, rustling their wings in anticipation of flight. She knew. Had known it the moment he'd knelt before Aelin. Weeks later, Elide hadn't known what to do with it, the knowledge that Lorcan had done this for her. The longing to talk to him, to work with him as they had. She'd hated herself for it. For not trying to hold on to her anger longer.

It was why she'd gone after him tonight.

Not to punish him, but herself. To remind herself of who he'd sold their queen to, how profoundly mistaken she had been.

And her parting line to him ... it was a lie.

A disgusting, hateful lie.

Elide turned to Gavriel again. "I don't—" The Lion was gone. And for the cold flight over the army, then over the sea of darkness spread between it and the ancient city, even that wise voice who had whispered for the entirety of her life had gone quiet.