florvaine
HAMILTON WROTE THE OTHER 51!!!
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came on here to say that i am taking x reader requests for various animes such as:
mha/bnha
bluelock
haikyuu!
death note
tokyo ghoul
chainsaw man
future diary
and im open to watching other animes to write for other characters! really board atm, thought id try work on my new years resolution.
ask box is in my blog in my bio :P
#x reader#fanfiction#mha x reader#bnha x reader#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia x reader#haikyu x reader#haikyuu x reader#death note x reader#tokyo ghoul x reader#chainsaw man x reader#anime x reader#future diary x reader#requests are open
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Qsmp twitter rn:
Qsmp is dead
Cancel Quackity
All the CCs hate each other
I hope they start a new SMP without Quackity
Don't buy merch
Boycott qsmp
Don't watch any streamers ever
I hate qsmp. I will never support it ever again. I will never buy merch or talk to anyone that likes the server whatsoever
Qsmp tumblr:
Here's my favourite fanart with credits to the artist who is tagged and linked below
Here's a fic I've been working on. It's 20,000 words
Let's all share our best memories of qsmp
I miss the eggs but I'm glad things are getting sorted out behind the scenes
Who wants to be mutuals? I have a list of all my main CCs and cubitos
I'm so excited for qsmp's future
Is it clear I hate twitter? 😭 thank you qsmpblr for being so wholesome <33
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Some writers: *meticulously plan out every plot point and the tone and meanings before they start writing*
Me:
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finished playing sally face. what just happened.
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trying to write more folklore-y fic atm but the themes i had written in my notes before everyone started being exposed for being horrible people, i feel as if its very insensitive to post a fic with said themes so it might be a while until i begin posting fics again. not to be dramatic but im losing all interest in writing atm with all of this.
anyways SUPPORT VICTIMS!
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suggested reads before: andis' initial post, punz' response, andis' response to punz
in regards to my previous post, punz has posted a response to andi. in his words, it seems as if both sides of the relationship had little understanding and mutual miscommunication, and that their relationship was quite toxic.
however andi has posted another blog on her tumblr (linked above) in response to his twitter post. this is now a more 'he said, she said' situation and when it becomes that, it comes to the supporters of each of them to choose who they want to stand with. of course, with my ideals, i will stand with andi.
i would also like to clear up some things i mentioned before too; when i say 'youve already picked a side', i say this in terms of my own beliefs. when it comes to accusations, i believe you should be on the victims side during the time you are waiting for a response of the second party and then - with your own judgement - decide from there whether you still stand with the victim or not. i realise now that my wording was off and i failed to mention key parts of this belief.
if in the future SOLID proof comes out against any of them, i will re-evaulate my thoughts and respond how i see fit.
dropping the professionalism for a sec, but george deadass said 'im responding tonight' and just didnt (as far as im aware). he says hes 'gathering evidence', and with the actions hes faced agaisnt im sure hes shitting himself. alongisde his actions towards caiti, he now has to talk about his comments towards andi too. lets hope its not as ai-generated as wilburs.
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tbh im losing my will to write bc all the cc's that i used to watch/did watch have been revealed to be terrible people that no part of me can support.
this is gonna be a bit of a rant of everything i stand on during this
support, send love and stand with shelby, alice, caiti, lexie, em, andi, moonzy and others taking a stand and finally showing the true colours of these 'men'.
at the same time support, send love and stand with others that came out/were forced to talk about their experiences with this topic before such as cellbit, jack and niki.
also show love for those standing up with the victims and supporting them no matter what - aimsy, billzo, max, ranboo, harry, etc. etc.
NOBODY who supports people like wilbur, illumina, george, sapnap, dream, punz, draggie and other 'influencers' who use their platforms for these horrific actions is welcome on my blog. i do not care if youre 'waiting for a response' - you have picked a side by doing that, whether you'd like to hear that or not, and it is not the victims.
these 'men' are R4PISTS, ENABLERS, ABUS3RS, R4CISTS and GLORIFIED N0NC3S.
THIS ISNT DRAMA. the things these 'men' are saying theyve been revealed of doing - not accused, accused means 'claiming someone has done something wrong' - in this situation it is FACTUAL.
the experiences these women have gone through do not deserve to be watered down to just 'internet drama' or 'twitter drama'.
these 'men' have done ILLEGAL ACTS and deserve to rot behind bars for getting off on the manipulation, abuse and exploitation of these women, and i hope they get the justice they deserve for their actions.
a common thread between the majority of these cases is the theme of consent and alcohol. seems like the british attackers werent there for the tea video. the moment someone has alcohol in their bloodstream, they cannot consent. whether they have had one drink or 20, or if both parties are drunk, there is not consent. if there is not a clear, uncoerced, uninfulenced and solid 'yes' then there is not consent and it is assault/r4pe.
this is not my opinion, this is THE LAW.
it is not your fault if you 'couldnt tell'. with wilbur, yes, he frequently used the 'tragic artist' role in his songs, but at the time it was said BY HIM to be a character, this is supported by his e-girl trilogy and the fact he said himself he was PLAYING an incel character.
he is a manipulator, and the rest of the 'men' are liars too. they all sat behind screens showing a version of themselves best suited to gathering fame, and didnt feel bad about flipping completely when the streams or cameras turned off.
HOWEVER, it is YOUR FAULT if you still support the 'men'. people saying 'he saved me' or 'he wouldnt do this' - MOTHERFUCKER HE JUST DID?? HELLO?? yes, it can be hard letting go of someone/something you loved, but it has to be done. i didnt want to get rid of a barbie when i was younger because playing with it made me happy, but i did anyways and guess what? i got over it. you do not know these 'men'. YOU ARE NOT LOSING A REAL LIFE FRIEND, YOU ARE LOSING A TOXIC, PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP.
for the (few) people who might see this and go 'whyre you so pressed' - i have experienced my own trauma in the past and that is all i will say, i do not owe it to you to go into full miniscule detail about what happened.
hearing all the people i grew up watching doing the same things that i have and still am effected by today makes me feel sick, that isnt a metaphor either, it brings up bad memories and makes it even harder to detatch yourself from these situations.
these 'men' have done irreversible actions. whilst it may have given them a sick minute of pleasure, it has haunted and traumatised these women for the rest of their lives. they are only 'apologising' or 'addressing' their actions because they do not want to lose their platforms. since the start their fans have only been a number, and the second that number drops they get all panicky and try do all the damage control they can.
DO NOT SUPPORT THESE 'MEN'.
SUPPORT THE VICTIMS.
caiti
shelby
alice
lexie
em
andi
moonzy
i think im done with my rant. more might have to be added idk tho. bye bye
#fuck these 'men'#rant post#serious post#shelby shubble#moonzy#em#alice#caitibugzz#lexie#andi#hope they rot
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Quackity is a very good person and you can see it in his words and the things he does. The QSMP is full of genuine love, made by someone that want to change something, that want to change people's life.
People have to stop thinking he has to do everything they want to, have to stop thinking he has to react just like they want him to. It doesn't make sense.
Alex is a person, he's a human being. He suffers and cries, he has feelings and I'm so tired of people wanting a robot that act the way they want to. If you don't accept him as a person with defects so why are you here? It's truly hard to understand.
He's young, so he's learning. Learning what to do, what to don't do.
We should remember we're watching, following, loving from distance a human being. He makes mistakes, he doesn't pleases everyone, he suffers, he loves, he cries, he get sad, tired, happy and the most important, he's able to listen, to understand and to be better, a better person and a better leader of QSMP.
People give a lot of hate because they're full of it. That's too bad, I'm glad I'm not like this, but I hope they can get better one day.
I hope from the bottom of my heart that Alex gets better aswell, he doesn't deserve to receive hate, he's trying.
Let's give love and support to him <3
And of course, let's seek peace, love and the path of the truth for our lives!
I hope God bless him, tho
🤍🕊
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Thinking about the surge of people who are ok with staying on the island if it means being with their loved ones. Thinking about how if the feds weren’t in the picture the island would be a place of healing and happiness for so many. Thinking about how eventually leaving isnt a choice, it’s a necessity for survival, especially for the eggs.
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Mercy, my Dearest. | Q!Quackity
q!quackity/d!quackity x fem!reader
genre: angst-ish, general.
warnings: blood, gore, implied murder/suicide, implied torture, many names for (y/n).
notes: this is a chapter from a qsmp x fem!oc thing i was going to post on AO3, but i wasn’t 100% sure on if i was gonna finish the whole story and decided not to post it. of course, if enough people ask i can cross-post to AO3, or keep posting here! just thought id post it rather than letting it just rot away lol ❤️
Quackity had been having reoccurring lucid dreams. Or nightmares.
It typically begins in an entirely different world. One where he's stood beside a man on a podium, the two of them in black suits and ties. Every time Quackity glanced up to try to distinguish who he was, the man's face held no features. Just a blank expanse of skin fitted over a skull. Even with the censorship to his face, the man's curling ram horns were the most recognisable thing about him. The man stood with such confidence, such suave that Quackity was sure he'd fall for whatever he was preaching if he could hear him.
Once he gathered himself, Quackity would look into the crowd of people below them. He'd make eye contact with people who furrowed brows and held burning pools of hatred in their eyes as they looked up at him and the man. They're lined in wonky rows of deepslate chairs, cushioned by black velvet seats, some of them didn't sit, opting to stand for whatever reason they had.
When the man beside him is speaking, saying words muddled to make phrases, the crowd's face contort into looks of despair and disbelief. Quackity could never hear the words clearly, a few minor ones coming out in echoes like he was in a cavern or void, but other than that the only noise made was mumbles from the other people and the man behind the microphone - and his voice, of course.
It doesn't matter what he does to try to wake up - pinch himself, drown himself, scream, exit the stage, jump off headfirst, push the man off in the middle of his speech, slamming his own or someone else's head into the stone floor, using the (blunt) stone sword in his inventory to carve his heart out - no matter what, he'd always end up here.
It would always come back to this.
"You lost yourself again," The girl reshuffles the cards, bringing him back into whatever reality he was currently in, "What's wrong?"
They're in a room: polished, spruce plank floors, an elegant chandelier hanging from nothing above the poker table they were sitting at, and stone brick walls that towered higher than his eyes could see. The scarlett velour cover of the dark oak table contrasts the slight darkness luring in the corners of the room. Two dark oak chairs with dark red cushions sat opposite one another at the heads of the betting table. There was a crystal glass beside him with a sphere of ice in it, whisky poured a fingernail away from the rim, and a wine glass that was half-full with some kind of concoction that changed every time he returned here. This time it seemed as if she had red wine, though it looked a little too viscous and left an orange tint on the rim when she'd placed it back down. Last time she had what seemed to be liquid gold, swirling the shimmering liquid as if to lure him in.
The woman has never disclosed her real name, saying she went by many in her life. Bia, Asteria, Nemesis, Medusa and Andarta and others. She had (s/c) skin that glittered silver in the candlelight from the chandelier, and the tips of her fingers looked as if they had been dipped in soot, yet almost seemed transparent. She wore the skull of a Nightmare Stalker, a horrifying creature that followed its targets at night under cover of invisibility with two white, glowing dots for eyes. Her (h/c) hair has a thick strand of pure white, root to tip, at the front of her head. She always has it pulled back into a half-up, half-down style, a loose strand or two dangling in front of the skull. The deep eye sockets from the skull hide hers' in a cast of shadow, every time Quackity has to look into them he is unnerved by the void where her eyes should be seen, pinpricks pass along his nerves and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
She's always in the same clothing, a dark navy sequin dress with a slit that runs up her left thigh and silver, polished heels with light beige undersides. Silver jewellery decorated her wrists as bangles, on her neck pearls hung from dainty chains like rain droplets on her collarbones. A band of gold the width of his thumbnail wrapped around her upper arm like a snake. Hoops and gems dangled from her ears in a delicate dance of wealth. She wore two rings on her ring fingers: on her left was a silver band with a considerably big emerald tucked into it, and on her right hand a golden ring with a diamond the same size.
Every time she has the full deck of cards in front of her and never dished them out to play. She'd sit there and mix and fiddle with the flimsy sheets of card, tapping them with long, sharp, sparkly champagne-coloured nails.
She flickered through them again, his eyes immediately redirecting to look at the cardistry she executed.
"Nothing's wrong," He replies, his voice uneven. He can tell his words didn't convince her. At least they created some kind of comfort for himself.
The woman slides the cards facing upwards into a slightly curved semicircle in front of her, "I'm not stupid. You're thinking about something or someone?" The cards flip over methodically so the backs are facing up again as she moves her hand underneath them.
Quackity swallows the lump forming in his throat - the one she'd slit before. As much as the woman claims to be on his side, to want to help him, he cannot bring his mind to trust her. His heart says differently. He knows it does from the way it calms whenever he notices he's sat opposite her. It's a sense of familiarity, like seeing an old friend that moved away decades ago and reconnecting: at the same time it panics the man.
Because this was not someone he knew. Quackity knows little to nothing about this woman. Not her name, not where she came from, not how she keeps appearing and having full conversations with him in his dreams. He has never seen this woman a day in his life.
Whoever 'Bia' or 'Andarta' or 'Phoebe' was, was unknown. She was not someone he recognised. She was not something he should recognise.
His hands furl and unfurl underneath the table, "I'm just confused. Who are you, like, actually?"
"I believe you're asking the wrong questions, Alexis."
Quackity almost flinches at the name. His lips parted slightly as he drew in a breath of air so cold he feared it would freeze his lungs. The feeling of disturbance and disbelief filters through him from his brain, his hands clenching so hard that red crescents appear on his calloused palms. Everything seems to move, the room spins and the chandelier sways in a way that the black-haired man feared would send it crashing down on the table.
His heart acts as a fastening beat, blood circling his ears like a sickening backing track, "How…"
It panicked him when she knew his alias, the one that hovered over his head like a half-transparent halo. How did she know his actual name, the one he kept so close to his chest, in a chest under lock and key? He hadn't told anyone his real name, yet the woman opposite him seemed to know every little detail about him, from the bold headline to the fine print at the bottom. It was as if she had built him herself. Knew everything about him from his biggest, truest fear to his favourite plant.
The woman smiles underneath the shadow of the skull. The chains - decorated in silver charms and tumbled gems - that ran from the ends of the horns from the skull to the inside of the eye sockets clinked during the movement of her tilting her head upwards. She collects the cards in a pile in front of her all facing the same way. Downwards.
"Who are you?" He presses with more demand, hands pressed into the table, "Surely I'd remember you if you were…"
She stops all movement and Quackity feels as if he's said something wrong. The air chills and the tension grows, much like the tension in her shoulders as she reers her head back slightly. The vignette that crowded in the corners of the rooms seemed to darken and close in on the table, making the room seem smaller.
'Bia' takes a breath of cold in, her voice even as she speaks, "If I was important?"
"I wasn't the one who said it." The man shrugged and lowered his gaze to the fabric of the table, not daring to look at her after such a belittling comment.
And when he falls short of being able to scan her face for prominent emotions, he hides the chill that locked his hands into tight fists.
"I thought you would've changed, this new version of yourself you're so proud of," She places the cards into a pile before her, "But I think I was wrong."
Quackity's face sours and he goes to speak, but is cut off when she swiftly stands from her seat, sending it flying backwards to scrape against the floor. Her nails scrape against the wood of the table as she rounds it, stepping closer and closer with her heels clicking in a rhythm that he recognised.
His heart stuns as he catches sight of two glowing dots in the middle of her shadowed eye sockets, trained on him like a pair of trained snipers. His heart began beating faster than before, yet he felt as if his blood had run so cold it froze over. He didn't want to die again. Not to her. Not after the last time she dragged it on for so long.
"No, no, no. No, please, there has to be another way!" Quackity trips over himself clambering off the chair, his hands clammy as he presses himself into the corner of the room, "Please!"
She doesn't respond, the two dots stare back at him. He catches his reflection in her freshly polished netherite blade, the handle obsidian and trimmed with amethyst.
The man can only pray she makes it quick this time.
#*{ ‘. florawrites<3#angst#x reader#fanfiction#quackity x reader#quackity x you#qsmp#qsmp x reader#qsmp quackity#dsmp quackity#fem reader#dsmp#c!quackity#q!quackity#q!quackity x reader#c!quackity x reader#female reader#x yn
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i love how whenever shubble spoke about her past abusive relationship everyone just jumped to conclusions that it was wilbur some people make me giggle.
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"Please don't abandon me" POMMEEEEE
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acau warping home and landing in the middle of a surprise party for him/quackity’s desperate attempts to get anybody to date him. the face of polite confusion
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my priority is that my blog has dark backgrounds & accents for all the people that read at night 🙏🏻🙏🏻
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