#yall are too creative

[lover-of-mine]

their comprehension skills amaze me sometimes. @/_911bts made a whole ass twitter thread explaining what are different roles actors can have, and one of the loudest of those obsessed Lou stans came to the conclusion that they were right when actually the thread explained the opposite 💀

"So the @/collider article is legit. All of this what your stating makes sense...

[They @ another big BT/Lou account here, I'm not copying the user] that article may have some errors but I feel they did get the tea on Lou upgraded to recurring, we won!!"

then @/_911bts responded stating very respectfully that it's not at all what they were saying with the thread, and clarified that if an actor is getting promoted, there will be no doubt of that because ABC will let us all know. and soon they deleted that tweet (i'm guessing because they didn't want to start a ship war on accident or they didn't want that group of crazy bucktommys getting mad at them).

the point is they are still celebrating something that is not a win. it's not a loss either, it's just nothing. it's embarrassing at this point

anyway i'm not much of a spy (because i hate reading their tweets if i can avoid it) but if I can go by a name then i'm choosing carmen sandiego

Hello my love, welcome 🩷

I saw the explanation, it's close to the one I posted last night, but I didn't know they had replied him about it not meaning anything but they deleted it. It definitely would have started something, they pick fights with the 911news all the time so they're probably protecting their peace, smart decision. The fact that 911bts said that a promotion will be information with no room for debate via Deadline and they were ignoring that bit is so.......

[cosmicphenix]

I have a rottmnt mikey avatar on pony town lol-

MIKEY PONY!

I think Mikey would be absolutely thrilled to be a pony, or i am just thinking into to this a little too much lmao

[celestialalpacaron]

HERES THIS REALLY DUMB IDEA THAT’S BEEN LIVING RENT FREE IN MY HEAD AND I HAD TO SKETCH IT OUT SO FAST AHSJSKAKAKS

YALL know how like…Alastor has his little minion guys as his goons??? My brain said “I wonder what Husk’s minions looked like when he was an overlord….” And I WASSSS gonna give him little bunnies (hahaha magician motive) but they turned out too similar to Alastor’s so WHY NOT GIVE HIM SOME SEVERAL RIGHT (and left) HAND MANS HDJSKSKKSKASJA

Anyways DO WHAT YOU WILL WITH THIS INFORMATION :) 🩷

[dailypokemoncrochet]

[caelanglang]

hi there! I rlly like your fem!skk art and all that and I've seen the drunk fem!dazai art so what if it was switched around and chuuya was the one who was drunk instead? alternatively, what if the og skk duo met their genderbent selves?

i like to think she becomes bolder...

[the-broken-pen]

“I don’t need you.”

It sounded less grounded than the villain had wanted it to. It sounded like something someone had told them to say, and they were just repeating it with half hearted determination. They said it again, “I don’t need you.”

“No,” the hero agreed. They were grinning. “You don’t.”

The villain floundered. They, in all honesty, wanted a fight. To prove something, they supposed. That they really didn’t need the hero. That they weren’t in the wrong, here. “What?”

“I said,” the hero said slowly, and the beginnings of a grin curled at the edges of their mouth. “You don’t need me.”

“I don’t need you,” the villain repeated, and the hero nodded encouragingly. It just made the villain want to hit them.

The hero lounged against the doorframe, halfway in and halfway out of their apartment. And truly, that was the worst bit of it all—the hero wasn’t showing up outside the villain’s house, or driving by the villain’s work to see if they truly looked happier without them. But the villain was.

They wanted to scream, and kick, and throw plates onto the ground.

‘Leave me alone.’

But they couldn’t say that, because the hero had. They had cut contact and blocked numbers and ignored the villain’s car as it went by. Still, the villain felt haunted. As if they would never be clean of the hero, parts of their soul forever dirtied by it all.

The hero’s smile, and the way their voice sounded when they knew the villain would cave to their wishes.

They just wanted the hero to—

“Leave me alone.” It slipped out against their better judgement. From the way the hero’s grin widened, they knew it had been the worst thing they could have said.

“Darling, I have,” the hero said, their tone saccharine. Pitying. “You’re the one outside of my apartment.”

It felt like being burned alive, the frustration of it. The way it rose in their chest but had nowhere to go, leaving them shaking with nothing and everything trapped under their tongue.

“That’s not what I meant and you know that—“

“What, you miss me that bad? I thought you—“

“Shut up,” the villain snapped. The hero raised an eyebrow.

“It’s eating you alive, isn’t it?” They sounded pleased.

“It’s not,” the villain protested.

“I told you, you don’t need me.”

“I know,” the villain grit out.

“But you want me.”

Something in the villain’s brain stalled.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t need me. You never have,” the hero said it like it was a fact. “You want me, though. Even as the sound of my name burns you, and the memory of me rots in your mouth, you’re going to want me.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” The hero’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You can go out to every bar in this city, kiss a hundred people who look like me and get just drunk enough to forget you’re not mine anymore—but you’re never going to stop missing me.”

The hero knew, of course they did, how hard the villain had tried to forget it entirely. The disaster they had become trying to be clean again.

“No matter how many shots you take to block out the memory of me, you’ll always be mine.”

“You’re insane,” the villain finally managed. The hero simply tipped their head to the side in acknowledgement. “That’s not-what’s wrong with you—“

“You’re the one who misses me.”

It stung, deep in the villain’s stomach. It took them too long to remember how to breathe—too long after that to think of what to say.

“If I’m lucky, I won’t ever have to see you again,” their voice quivered, slightly. “But knowing us, the next time we meet it will be in hell.”

The hero laughed and closed the door in their face.

The villain blocked them. Avoided the side of town the worked in. Moved three cities over.

It didn’t matter.

The villain could still feel the hero under their skin.

Later, whenever someone would ask, “Have you ever been haunted?”

The villain would think back to the hero.

And say, “Yes.”

[kyuyua]

Posting some oldish sketchbook things since I haven’t been drawing anything new lately 🙃

[cinnasalmon]

In case you wanted to know what Gale and Astarion look like in my "style" lol (go easy on me ok its my first time drawing them 😳)

For callmesimplyflo on Twitter! ❤💪

[stealingyourbones]

Luke 24:46: “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead.”

Original Art and MANY other versions of my art below

[raineandsky]

The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

tw: guns, death

“Just tell me,” the superhero spits, and the villain laughs in his face.

The hero is free. The hero is free, and nothing the superhero does to the villain can change that. The villain admitted too much whilst the superhero was listening in, and they’ve rectified it. The hero will never have to see him again, and the villain will die here to make sure of it. The superhero has nothing.

“You’re such a piece of shit,” he continues, as if this is a new and particularly heartbreaking insult. “Tell me where they went.”

“Out, I’d presume.” The villain’s face twists into a snarl. “Do you really think we laid out exact plans in the middle of a prison break?”

The door squeals open behind the superhero, and he whips to the entrance with a growl before remembering himself. “What?” is the nicest tone he can manage.

“You, uh,” the guard starts uncertainly. She doesn’t look particularly happy to be the one bringing him news. “You might want to come see our… visitors.”

And with a bark of orders and a step of raw fury, the superhero is gone. The villain is left with only silence for company.

The silence only lasts for a couple of minutes. Gunfire, far off. Running footsteps. The villain swallows nervously and twists their hands testily in their cuffs.

They were prepared to die to keep the hero safe. Kind of. They wouldn’t have liked it, and they’d probably have embarrassed themself by going out crying and begging for mercy, but they would’ve died with the hero’s safety in their hands, and that’s all that would’ve mattered.

This, though. This isn’t the hero. A bullet plinks off the door loudly and the villain flinches. Gunfire sprays closer. They pull at the cuffs a little more desperately. Please, please, just break—

The door is flung open with a strong kick, smashing a hole into the opposite wall. A breath of a whimper escapes their mouth before they can think to stop it. They screw their eyes shut and wait for the feeling of the bullet searing through them. They’re trembling, but they can’t find it in their last moments to care.

There’s no feeling of metal tearing their flesh. No blinding flash of gunfire. Low voices exchange incoherent words. The villain doesn’t want to open their eyes in case the people here are cruelly waiting for them to face their killers. They can’t. They won’t.

Something touches their arm. They flinch a lot harder than they thought they could.

“[Villain],” says a familiar voice. Soft, worried. The touch on their arm solidifies into a gentle hand. “You’re safe now. You’re with us.”

The villain opens their eyes slowly, as if this is a trick they don’t trust. The hero throws them a lopsided smile, genuine and exhausted. This is definitely a trick. The hero isn’t stupid enough to come back.

That doesn’t mean the villain can take their eyes off them, though.

“Let’s get these cuffs off,” the hero continues after a moment. They set their gun on the table to root through their pocket.

“Yes, please get those things off,” says someone from the doorway. Also familiar, less tight than they recognise. “I would like to leave as soon as possible.”

The villain’s gaze snaps to the supervillain, lounging in the entrance with her own handgun pointed into the hallway beyond. The slightest hint of a smile sits at her lips, something the villain hasn’t seen in years.

The hero jabs the end of a knife into the villain’s cuffs, earning a second startled flinch. “Sorry,” they say shortly as the cuffs click open. “I don’t have the key. We’re mostly improvising.”

“You’re telling me,” the supervillain says with a huff of a laugh, and once the villain is on their feet she’s off ahead of them into the corridor.

“Are you okay?” the hero asks as they swipe the gun from the table and set off after her. “Did that bastard… do anything to you?”

Of course he did. That seems to be the superhero’s thing. They don’t want the hero to worry about them any more than they already have, though. The idiot came back.

So they give them a smile that’s blatantly, tragically forced, and simply say, “Nah.”

The hero clearly doesn’t believe that but they’ve no time to question it. The two of them follow the supervillain into the corridor. Round a corner. Up a flight of stairs. The supervillain shoots someone and the top and the villain hates that they flinch at the noise.

The main doors are so close. The three of them waste no time running across the foyer. Something clatters to the floor and the hero yelps. The supervillain and the villain turn to find the superhero behind them, an arm around the hero’s throat and a gun to their temple.

“Now,” he says. His breath is short, panting. “Let’s not be stupid here, hm? Anyone tries anything and I’ll blow their head off.”

The supervillain hesitates. The villain’s stomach clenches with familiar fear. 

The superhero smiles, blood soaked into his teeth and staining his lips. “We’re all going to be good people and allow the law to win, aren’t we?”

The hero wriggles in vain in his grip. “[Superhero], please, you’re not—”

“Shut up,” the superhero spits. “I made you. You really think you’re better than me? You gave criminals information on us, you traitor.”

His grip on them tightens, delighting in the choked gasp that tears from their throat. He’s distracted. 

The villain lurches for the supervillain, earning a surprised yelp and snatching the superhero’s attention. He turns his barrel on them but it doesn’t matter. The villain tucks the supervillain’s gun under their own chin.

“Let go of them,” they say fiercely, “or I swear to god I’ll fucking kill myself.”

The hero’s eyes are wide with horror. “[Villain], no—”

The superhero’s grip on them stops them. His own face is contorted like he’s nothing more than vaguely pissed off. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The villain’s hand is shaking. They can feel that this thing is loaded. Their finger is hovering precariously close to the trigger. “You need me,” they say like it’s obvious. “If I die, you’ll never figure out what all my paperwork says. I’ll die with all that information and you can’t do shit about it.”

The superhero scowls, kind of. It's a much more enraged expression than the villain can put a word to. His gaze flits obviously to the supervillain. “She won’t tell you shit,” the villain continues. “Less than I would, in fact.”

The superhero’s arm loosens slightly on the hero, the reality of his predicament clearly catching up to him. The hero is only looking more grieved by the second.

The villain meets their eye. They let their gaze flick down, hoping to convey a semblance of a plan, to the hero’s abandoned gun on the floor. Back up. The hero’s own gaze follows theirs, almost subdued, and nods ever-so-slightly.

Everything happens so fast. The villain tips their gun down to the superhero. He doesn’t have time to react before they set it off with a deafening clap. He shrieks as the bullet buries into his thigh. His grip on the hero loosens and they burst free from his hold. They scoop their own gun from the floor, kicking the superhero’s out of his hand. 

The supervillain leaps forward to grab the superhero's gun before he can think to snatch it back, and suddenly he’s defenceless, surrounded by three armed people who hate him more than anything in the world.

No one needs to speak to know what the plan is. The superhero’s gaze snaps up at the loud click of a magazine disappearing into the hero’s gun.

A laugh bubbles out of his throat, the sound choked on fear. “[Hero], come on,” he says softly. “You’re not a killer. You’re better than that. You’re better than them.”

The hero glances to the them they’re supposedly better than—the supervillain, paralyzed by fear, scared for herself for also for her own; she who had leapt to her feet when the hero came to her with a way to fix things. She who grieved the whole way here that she couldn’t have saved more of those she cared about so much.

And the villain. The villain, who’d had a perfect opportunity to make themself something to the supervillain and let their humanity win. Who’d let the hero stay as a cruel joke and let them leave as a survivor. Who’d threatened their own life for the hero despite their terror of what lays on the other side.

The hero is no better than them. They don’t want to be.

The gun angles at the superhero in their hands. Defeat doesn’t even seem to cross his mind. Only painfully familiar frustration. “[Hero],” he says a little harsher. “Look at what they’ve made you into. You can be so much more than this.”

The hero sets their jaw and tilts their head up defiantly. “I don't want to be anything more.”

The gunshot rings in their ears. None of them have time to watch the superhero even drop to the floor. No time to mourn—no grace to even think about him. The hero is thankful for that as they burst through the front doors and into freedom. Freedom, freedom, freedom.

The supervillain, free to really grieve her losses. A new superhero will be put in his place, of course, but she can gather the villains around her and rebuild everything she’s lost.

The villain, free of the bindings of the superhero’s torture. Without the supervillain's fears hanging over them. Without their own.

And the hero. Free to live without their puppeteer tugging the strings. Finally free to live.

(last part!)

Taglist:

@runarelle @thiefofthecrowns @morning-star-whump @epiclamer @tekanparadiae @yourslimeologist @greengrassandflowers @subval01

[risetherivermoon]

Part 7 - Sock's Fame Au

Part 7 - A New Perspective

idk what james is on in this one, bare w/ me here

Part 6 <- -> Part 8

- @my-beloved-fandoms @jamofsunshine @okaythisisbecomingaproblem @p-prettyboyzz

[chryblossomjjk]

imagine seokjin comes back and is serious

[flecks-of-stardust]

wholeheartedly and with as much gentleness as possible, i truly think there needs to be more discussion about downpour in the community as it is now. for a variety of reasons.

[cadoodledoodleydoo]

Both haunted & holy. @amevello-blue and @alicat54c are back at it again feeding me with even more found family turtles™️. If you haven't checked out Pawn's Gambit yet on AO3 you're sorely missing out. Please enjoy this slinky little baby. Bardi my love. What a perfect big brother 💕

[licollisa]

And this includes artists who made their AUs centered around a sans or papyrus.

[akaruiakiki]

The bird doctor if he slays (not literally)