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#unless you get a good one
dancingdreamer · 8 months
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Crime of the century!
Girl forced to read academic papers for her degree rather than being snuggled up in bed reading fanfic.
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mwagneto · 1 year
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sorry idk but the way the world is so fast and the people in it still want it to be faster is sooo annoying to me. people groaning while standing in line for 3 minutes people being mad the train ride is gonna take 2 hours people complaining that the bus is a few minutes late people being angry that construction work is taking months even though it used to take decades. don't you see the world is already so so so fast in every single aspect can't you understand that being mad will do nothing and just make your mood worse. enjoy the moments of stillness you're given. just stand in line and look at the people around you. sit on the train and watch the scenery. you'll get there.
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writeouswriter · 2 months
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People sorting ao3 solely by stats and only clicking on fics with a certain amount of kudos or comments, you will not survive the winter, nor the summer, nor at all, *brings out knife,* run
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koshercosplay · 3 months
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Neil gaiman is a Zionist :(
this is so funny because if you google "neil gaiman zionist" nearly all of the links are to unsourced tumblr posts or responses to a single tweet from 2015 that just acknowledges Israel's existence
I see gaiman has once again committed the heinous crime of Being Jewish When Israel Is In The News
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bruciemilf · 1 year
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One of my biggest pet peeves is the justice league being labelled as " The Avengers of DC" and its like. No? The avengers are law enforcement. The Justice League are volunteers
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justaz · 1 month
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arthur (prince of camelot) still has to study under a tutor bc yknow uther wants him to be very intelligent before becoming king or something bc its super important idk idc anyways merlin is doing chores in his chambers while arthur is squinting at a book and merlin eventually caves and asks him what he’s reading and arthur gruffly explains that its a collection of stories from greece that make absolutely no sense so merlin asks him to read them outloud to him. arthur of course teases him and calls him an idiot and asks how he could possibly help but does as he’s asked and reads the stories to merlin as he does his chores. merlin (being crushed under the weight of destiny and tormented by the prophecies that kilgharrah spews) understands the stories almost immediately and gets all excited and starts rambling about them with arthur. arthur is glad to have someone who understands so he can give something that reflects a hint of understanding to his tutor who accepts it and moves onto the next unit of education.
the thing is, arthur finds more stories in camelot’s library and brings them up to his room to read them aloud to merlin under the guise of completing his studies but really he just wants to watch as merlin’s eyes gleam when he understands whats happening and listen to him ramble on and on about them bc he’s gay. the stories stick with merlin though and he realizes that they’re cautionary tales, that the heroes who were told too much of their future doomed themself to fulfill them - that them fighting the prophecies led to their completion. merlin takes it to heart and gives a big “fuck you” to kilgharrah before forging his own fate and helping morgana with her magic and handing out an olive branch to mordred and now everyone can live happily and peacefully in an albion teeming with magic.
#merlin and arthur are of course at each others side in the end#merlin is curled up with arthur in their bed and says a silent thank you to his king for saving him#arthur returns the sentiment wholeheartedly#bbc merlin#merlin emrys#arthur pendragon#merthur#fic idea#fanfic#fanfiction#headcanon#hc#head canon#merthur prompt#i have my own hc of fate vs destiny in bbc merlin and i like to incorporate that into everything i write#but then i realize that not everyone thinks that way lmao#i like to think that destiny is unavoidable. merlin and arthur are destined to form albion and lead it together#i think fate is like a fragile version of destiny#i think most people are tied to fate and will follow what they are fated to do unless those who arent tied down by fate change course#like i hc that seers are able to see the potential future of what is to happen should they not interfere#and the goddess leaves it up to them to choose. so like seers arent tied down by fate and can change the course of history#since merlin is literally magic incarnate i also think he isnt tied down by fate and can act to change things#kilgharrah told merlin the prophecy that would result in the dragon getting free and ending the pendragon line#and since merlin never got close w like any druids or magic users. no one told him the inner workings of fate vs destiny#so he listened to the dragons warnings dooming him to fulfill the prophecy that brought about one of the worst possible futures#bc the dragon was salty about his whole species being eradicated by uther and vowed to destroy the pendragon line#omg im ranting okay post over thank you and good night
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months
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Gearing up for the stat boosts
MDZS Disco Elysium AU Part 3 (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4)
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anewp0tat0 · 1 year
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it's finally time for a very late Valentines Day! :D right on the dot as always
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is it love? is it belief? is it obsession? who knows. and we probably never will. but we're celebrating it anyway.
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luck-of-the-drawings · 2 months
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"And soda; runs off into the street..." "...and soda... is totally okay!"
#jrwi fanart#jrwi show#jrwi suckening#cw blood#something something cracking open a boy w the cold ones#IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES I MISSED I SWWWEAR TO JEBEDIAH. IF I STARE AT THIS ANYMORE IM GONNA DIE IT NEEDS TO BE DONE#ALSO RRRAAAHAHHHGHGH CAN I JUST TAKEA SECOND TO SCREEAAMM ABT HOW MUCH I LOVE SODA AND EMIZEL.. LIKE THERYE SO CUTE....#THEY ARE HOMIES THAT KISS EACHOTHR GOODNIGHT. THEY CARE SO MUCH FOR EACHOTHER. SODA LOVES SODA AND SODA LOVES YOU#do u guys remember how willing he was to share blood w his vampire bestie. like cmon. remember when emizel memorized sodas Soda Schedule.#LIKE CMON.... they just have eachothers backs so much. ouhhh my god... ANYWAY SO THE ART HUH. I FEEL LIKE I SCRAMBLED W IT FOR A WHILE#DRAWIN IS HARD..... i think i did well in the end tho.. i like the lil heart beat effects. and i hope i made soda look Suffieciently Scared#i ALSO had fun w the teeth. i however did not have fun w the walls. if i had more drugs i mightve done every brick in more detail#but i didnt WANNA!!!! this will suffice.I HOPE IT FLOWS WELL&THAT ITS CLEAR... IVE STARED AT IT SO LONG IT IS NOW VISUAL SOUP. HELP!!!#i want my comics to have more Pauses and Space and Thought and Momence. i feel like normally they go so fast. but THIS time#i think i did good.... huuoouhhhh.... comics are HARD art is HARD but i am HARDER. or something. OH YEAH I HAVE MORE ART THINGS#soda was RLY HARD FOR ME TO DRAW FOR A MINUTE..but i like where his design is now. i wanted his hair to be curly swirly.like soda fizz#i THINK thats all my thoughts for now. if u have thoughts u should spill them in the tags i looooove reading tttaaggsss#have a goodnight i gotta go to work soon. maybe. unless the casinos power goes out AGAIN. OR SEOMTHING... UUGHHH MY SCHEDULE IS IN SHAMBLES#I THOUGHT I WAS WORKIN 3 DAYS INA ROW SO I RENTED A WHOLE DAMN HOTEL BC THE JOB PLACE IS FAR AWAY.. I HAD TO CANCEL THE WHOLE RESERVATOn#annd im MMMMAD ABOUT IT!!! like ill get over it ofc BUT IM PEEVED!!!! IM INCONVIENIENCED AND GENTLY AGGRIVATED. BUT OVERALL FINE.#hope yalls weekend goes well. sleep well. if u get the chance to.
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sandeewithtwoe · 7 months
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The unknown
Inktobertale Day 21! Ink is cosplaying as Wirt from Over the Garden Wall. It was either that or Elsa from Frozen
Ink belongs to comyet/myebi
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yardsards · 19 days
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i needed to express a sentiment in the creative stylings of @dunmeshiminimumwage
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#eliot posts#dunme#delicious in dungeon#dungeon meshi#sorry to put toshiro in the roll of shitty job interviewer lmao#but he was the best fit for ''guy that wants me to read their mind''#laios being my internal monologue here#i was on my THIRD interview of the day i was Dying#tho since the prev two interviews i had were for similar positions and told me their salaries outright at least i could use that number#(though tbh my work persona is more of a kabru. my customer service voice is unparalleled)#(at my first job even my coworkers thought i was sooo cheerful til i got too comfy and casually made a joke abt wanting to asphyxiate on a#plastic shopping bag like a sea turtle. in front of my sweet elderly coworker. oops!)#(also this job was during quarantine and after weeks of working together i took my mask off in front of one coworker for the first time#and she called like half the department over from their registers to look at how pretty i was??? prettyboy powers unmatched ig)#(also my first interview today went SO well i charmed that interviewer so good despite my lack of qualifications)#(she even complimented my social skills and said i seemed like the type who could get along well and make good conversation with anyone!)#(which is important bc i was interviewing for an elder care position. also old people especially tend to think i am a Delightful Young Lad)#(unless i accidentally make a morbid joke around them ig lmaooo. or. well. some of them like those too. but not that one coworker lol)#(if only that skill transferred over to actually making friends irl. my autistic ass has so few close irl connections)#(i hope my exceedingly short list of character references does not prevent me from getting hired)#AND ALSO my first job asked the same wage question and i said twelve dollars#and they were like all our new employees start at 7.75#the union insists that we pay all new employees a whopping 50 cents above min wage. (we'd pay less if we could)#like dawg why did you ask that then??? if my answer did not matter at all???
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monpalace · 1 year
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ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, fierce deity/reader.
content .. the boys (separately) with a reader who feeds them well, and the fruits of their loving labor.
warnings .. unedited. no pronouns used (you/your). reader is implied to have more meat on their bones (vaguely). reader is in their housespouse era and they aren't even married (legally). non-graphic vomit and forgetting to eat mentioned (link). link and fierce deity are taller than reader. fierce deity is named aram for writings sake. reader is implied to be a god of sorts (fierce deity). fierce deity is literally my oc at this point.
notes .. my schnookums thought they could have big cheeks and get away from me? my cutie patooties thought that i wouldn't write about them eating right? my pookie bears thought that i wouldn't fulfill my duties as their #1? my baby faced sweethearts thought i wouldn't spend 2hrs looking for pictures like those? my favorite white boys? my honeybuns? my hollywood stars? my sugarpies?
i'll eat them. omnom
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LINK has always been rather thin. That was especially the case when he was a child. Something about a Kokiri child's diet not fitting what a Hylian needed always kept him frail.
When you both were children, he had quickly gotten used to you plucking his arm when it was idle to compare his lack of fat to your surplus.
(He never minded. He always looked forward to being reminded why he put one foot in front of the other every day during his fight against Ganon, or repeated cycle after cycle when it came to Majora.)
(Funnily enough, you had always made fun of him for being shorter than you as a child as well. You always mentioned he needed to drink more milk and eat more cuccos so he'd one day pass you.)
It was when you were able to cook more than simple meals and wouldn't risk burning down your cottage that you would invite (force) Link over more often than you already have.
Link had always tried to limit his visits to when he absolutely needed to. Free food, bed, shelter, care, supplies, clothes, bathes (the list was endless), and whatnot were always appreciated, but he never wanted to become to comfortable lest he wake up one day (or night. Or afternoon. His internal clock was always ruined when it came to sleeping at your cabin) and decide not return to the world outside.
He does his best to turn down any seconds, or thirds, or fourths, or fifths, and so on you may offer him when he does stay long enough for you to finish whatever extravagant meal you made just for him.
Past experiences often make him sick (with trauma or physically) and result in him vomiting his food, but there's always more from you to replace what he had just eaten and the meal before (if he remembered to eat it).
What he can't finish at the table (or on the sofa, or in the bed), he takes with him when he leaves. Link is respectful in all meanings of the word and hates to leave anything to waste.
When it comes to thanks, he either finds ways to help around your cottage or brings back items from new regions for you to cook. Whether it be repairing the busted bathroom door you've been complaining about before fixing your water faucet so the pressure is what you want it to be, or bringing back a spice the Gorons specialize in you've mentioned wanting to try, Link typically feels his gifts fall lackluster when compared to your treatment of him.
(He trusts your skill and creativity enough to know you won't poison him on accident. He never brings back any recipes or instructions either if it's not a dangerous material.)
(He's always excited to try whatever new dish you've concocted, so his only condition is that you wait for his return to cook whatever it is he brought you. "A celebration, of sorts," he calls it.)
A look in a lone puddle had told him his cheeks had gotten fatter. He supposes he now understands why he was refused entry into one of the pubs when he had to retrieve Malon and Cremia's uncle.
He had noticed that the details of his arms were less visible through his shirts when a Goron had pinched one,— not in the same way you did when you were younger— he had mentioned that he had an amount of muscle and fat to be proud of before asking him to join a tournament. Any attempts prior to were quickly shut down.
During a day of horseback archery with the Gerudo, the sweltering sun had gotten to him enough that he had to remove his tunic and the shirt underneath to feel some sort of relief. One of the women who were training him took a look at his stomach and nodded approvingly, mentioning that he should praise his soon-to-be spouse for feeding him so well.
The last nail in the coffin came when he was riding Epona into Castle Town. His tunic felt uncomfortably small and his tights (curse those damned tights) felt as thought they were stretched more across the expanse of his thighs than they usually were.
He's back in your cottage when he finally vocalizes his thoughts, preferring you to any other tailor or seamstress in the country. "I've gotten to big for my clothes," he either sighs or signs to you while eating. His gaze held a thousand yards in them, idly watching his clothes move with the wind.
The tunic, hat, tights, boots hang outside the window on a string connected to your shed. They had to be washed after a (admittedly well-planned— even if they don't think) ambush by a hoard of chu-chus.
You throw a hazy look to them before returning to the bowl you were tirelessly mixing. You were making dinner, he thinks, or maybe it was in preparation for the big breakfast you were making with the variety of bread from the Gerudo he brought back.
You'd already given him a large snack earlier.
The thought makes him look down at the plate in his lap. Every spot of it was filled and piled with bread, and eggs, and meats, and jams. He couldn't see the white bottom of it even as he pushed and prodded around.
He takes a bite of it gratefully.
"I saw you before you left not even three days ago. You fit everything fine enough to me." At some point you had stopped stirring and held the bowl out to him. Link grabs something off the plate and dips it in without a thought, eating it before responding with a hum of approval. "I can make adjustments to then, if you'd like."
You leave the bowl with him before attending to something on the stove.
"Please," he responds, halfway through another bite of the (what he now recognized as) Gerudo bread and cocoa dip you had made. "Different pants would be nice, though. It'd be a nice excuse to finally get rid of those tights." Both tasted sweet by themselves, he realized, but left a calmer aftertaste that he'd like to savor.
"You've always hated the tights," you hum in response, moving from the stove to the coolers that he'd built you after bringing you a large fish that only lived in Zora's Domain. "What would you want to move on to now? Leggings? Shorts?"
Link watches you remove a pitcher from one of the coolers. He isn't sure how long it's been in there (he doesn't even remember watching you make it), but he assumes you took some ice out so the pink liquid wouldn't freeze over into complete ice.
He watches you try to take a cup from one of the cupboards, watching you struggle to grab his favorite one from the higher shelves.
He stands from the chair sat just outside the kitchen (he liked to watch you cook when you had the time), placing the bowl and plate on one of the many cleared counters (you liked to clean as you worked), and grabs the cup for you.
Link lowers his head with his hand when he hands the cup off, head resting upon the crown of yours as he watches you pour the pink liquid into it, idle arms wrapping around your waist as he makes some slick comment about eating enough milk and cuccos for your liking.
You don't elbow him in the stomach like you might have when you were younger and he doesn't hold the cup above your head teasingly like when he was younger to (— then again, he had to climb a counter to get it out of your reach.)
Instead, you wordlessly pass the cup back to him and he wordlessly drinks it despite not knowing what it was.
He likes it, as he does all your works, and notes how it was both sweet and sour. A taste that fills both his childhood need for sweet all the time and his older palate's need for other tastes.
Handing the cup back, Link tilts his head so he can press a kiss to your crown. "Anything you'd think I'd look good in," he finally responds, the flavor of the moment leaving a tooth-achingly sweet taste on his tongue.
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ARAM is often humbled in your abode.
He may have acted arrogant to others in his younger years and horrifyingly aloof now that he's a more seasoned god, but he never failed to (willingly) crumble to his knees when in your presence during either times of his life.
He had no need for the sustenance mortals require, prayers and whispers of his name were always good enough for him, but he'd kiss the ground you walk on if it meant you'd bless him with another food you've created (he already does).
Aram is the provider to your fire-lit home, an arrangement the two have been living by for as long as he can remember.
He is the sword to your shield. The arrow to your quiver. The moon to ever burning sun (which he did create for you, after all). The wound for your gauze. The life to your world— and one cannot live peacefully without the other.
Your food had quickly become an addiction to Aram. He'd eat as much as often as he could, giving little response to when questioned why he loves it so much.
("Because it comes from your hands," he once explained hours later when you were sleeping. "Your hands, that create all. That nourish all it touches and replenishes all that is extinct. I am your antithesis, and I must destroy that which I love."
(You never had the heart to ask again.)
He has enough sense to slow his eating around you. One concerned comment about him choking was enough for him to indulge in needless your wishes, but a question regarding its taste had him eating like a mortal.
His relationship with food prior to getting hooked onto yours was brief and filled with obligation. He never ate to feel full, only to make the people he was fighting with shut up and leave him out of whatever conversation they were having.
It never lingered in his stomach like a warm fireplace that others had described it as. It never made him warm and filled with love. It never gave him the energy he needed to keep fighting.
It just went through his digestive tract (why did he even have one?) and disappeared like an heavy smog finally dispersed by a strong gust of wind before he had to fight again.
When a war was over, you always came. You took the battle-shaken soldiers away when it was their time and healed their ailments if they were able to withstand everything. You went through war-stricken cities and set everything as they should have been. You feed and clothe and bandage and sew and reunite and Aram isn't sure why he lingered.
He's seen the effects of what you can do long after you've left. He knows of the good you're capable of doing just as much as he knows the bad he can cause.
He craves your touch when he sees it at its peak. He indulges himself when he sees it first-hand.
Aram understands what the soldiers mean when you beckon him closer and offer him food, uncaring of how he stands tall above all else.
The soup warms his insides. The flavor resides on his tongue hours after he's finished it. His energy, though far from depleted, had made him feel as though he were a youngling again.
He craves more.
The addiction to your presence and your food (and subsequently, you) had started then. It's an event he could easily recall when asked, one he would happily recount to you if you ever forgot where his devotion to you started.
Meeting after a war or battle had become frequent enough that he had finally learned your name; not some silly alias those who followed you often referred to you as. He felt like one of those lovesick children soldiers talk about, tripping over himself and his words.
He's curious to you, an admirer more than a stalker, fortunately. When he wasn't on the battlefront, he was always hovering around as you worked, busying his hands with whatever task you've given him after noticing his lack of mortality.
You treated him well; doing so even after the era of wars were long gone and he was seldom needed. You cared for him as though he were one of the many wounded soldiers with no family to return to once all was done and said— and to an extent, he was.
He's eating when you bring attention to his softer thigh.
You were reading to him, a romantic thriller that held as much of his attention that your captivating voice did. His gaze focused heavily on you, watching as you lick your lips after each page, how your eyes rake over the page to ensure the tone you speak the next sentence in is correct. He notes how you shift less often, how he doesn't have to move you further up his lap so you can lean against his stomach.
"It's not as painful to sit on you anymore." Aram doesn't think that line was in the book, but he doesn't mention it. It dawns that you were talking to him when you look up, using your finger as a bookmark as you closed the book around it. "Have you gained weight?"
He's a big man; it's a fact he's known since the beginning of his existence. He has large arms, muscles well know for how he snatched prey up to bring back to you. His height made it a simple feat to reach into the trees and capture any avian you wanted to experiment with that night. His legs that would stomp on any fish swimming downstream during a day at the lake you suggested.
He was sculpted by the Goddesses themselves. If they hadn't meant for his body to change along with his lifestyle, they wouldn't have designed him to dough.
(He'd never be ashamed in the fact either. He was contented knowing he had someone to dote over him constantly; a sentiment he had gained after recalling a conversation with wedded soldiers.)
(Also, the prospect of defacing what the Goddesses had long since disgraced was exciting, in a way.)
Aram doesn't look at himself, already well-acquainted with his body as his brow raises in amusement. "You feed me well, My Grace," he responds with a peck on your temple, "I would hope to become more comfortable for your pleasure." He refused to stop eating as he indulged you in conversation, the leg you sat on jumping once in place of his busy hands.
You hum that sweet, quiet hum of yours that Aram has come to associate with your contentedness (he aimed to hear to several tomes every day). Removing yourself from his lap, discarding the novel to the side as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks. "It suits you. You look healthy. Happy."
"Did I look ill before?"
You don't fluster as you might have like in your younger years. He's honored to have grown alongside you, reminiscent of the older couples you've both watched and escorted when he was still an active god.
The same filling feeling your food gives him fills his heart. The lingering sense of peace that he felt since meeting you dancing through his body when your thumbs rub the apples of his cheeks, the softest and fondest gaze anyone's ever given him in your eyes.
"No," you answer in a quiet voice only he'd be able to hear. "Never. You've always looked perfect."
And Aram has never been more thankful that he separated himself from the Goddesses as he preens under your touch. Never been more thankful that he lingered after the war was done. Never been more thankful that he had readjusted his psyche to more readily accept your gifts and affection.
He frees a hand to cradle to back of your head, a threat to all that aren't you, and brings you beneath his chin in a protective gesture. "As have you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "And as you always will be."
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scintillyyy · 12 days
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anyways. i don't like arthur brown. i find him rather loathsome on several levels. however. arthur brown is genuinely my barometer on "do you truly believe in the idea of restorative justice or are you going to laugh, cheer for, and heartily cosign when steph gets all dolled up to go beat him up in prison while a prison guard smiles and turns a blind eye to a prisoner under his care getting hurt because said prisoner 'deserves it'".
because listen. arthur brown is awful. he's caused a lot of harm--to steph, to crystal, to gotham. and that's the point. the point is that he can be an absolutely heinous example of a human being & he still deserves basic rights to dignity, safety, and respect despite that. there are no exceptions. there's no "well, this horrible person actually deserves x for doing y". there's no personal revenge for harms caused. it's not about just desserts. there's no "well, she should get to hurt him. as a treat". there's no cheering on a prison guard who looks the other way gleefully while a criminal gets "punished/harmed" because he "deserves it".
anyways. i'm not saying steph should forgive him personally. that's not what it's about--she's entitled to never forgive him, to cut him out of her life. the restorative justice he's entitled to is not contigent on her forgiveness.
and like. frankly, i do think arthur deserves to be in prison, because he's clearly an ongoing danger to society and should be removed from it for the public's safety. but steph's not entitled to perform her own personal retribution because despite the fact that he's awful, he's still entitled to basic human dignity & safety from those who are charged with watching over him as he pays his debt to society (can we NOT cheer for prison guards to exert their authority over inmates and sit back allow punitive punishment to the humans they're tasked with watching over). and her behavior of going to beat up a criminal for her personal retribution for the harms he's caused her is not a good thing, or something to be lauded as #goals #yasqueenbeathisass. honestly, dixon wrote her doing that with the same amount of glee that conservatives get when they talk about prisoners killing other prisoners who "deserve it" in their mind.
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front-facing-pokemon · 4 months
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blighted-lights · 2 months
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do you ship ravage and drift? you draw them a lot and they're always so touchy lol
nah. they're really touchy amicas, tho. probably because im always touchy with my friends and it just kinda rubs off on my art. ravage is my Me character so i do end up giving him traits i have. one of those is being touchy with people he cares about 🤷‍♂️. he's especially touchy with drift as when they were grouped together in the dead end (which is where they met in my brain), ravage spent a lot of hours curled up in drift's car alt with laserbeak and buzzsaw for shelter. that touchy aspect never really left their dynamic.
and besides,
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drift/deadlock's candle has always been lit for someone else.
(plus an extra doodle of them)
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Hi, I hope you don't mind this message, and idk if anyone else has told you, but there's this troll going around on Tumblr named @/freethepuppet. They claim to be “fighting for justice in the puppet industry”, but really they're just sending hateful and threatening messages to Welcome Home and My Friendly Neighborhood artists/fans.
I myself have receive multiple death threats from this person, and they have sent threats to many of my friends over the matter, some of which are minors.
Because of this issue, I have decided to keep myself and my friends anonymous, especially considering the fact that @/freethepuppet intends to send threats to PartyCoffin himself, along with the creator behind My Friendly Neighborhood.
I just wanted to warn you about this person, so that you can block and report them, as well has tell others in the community about the troll. If you decide to ignore this, then that's fair and I respect your decision.
In any case, I hope you and your friends stay safe. Best of luck!!
blocked! thanks for letting me know! to add on to this, a little advice for everyone:
Don't Engage With This Person At All!
Don't Look At Their Stuff, Don't Respond To Messages, Don't @ Them Or Give Them The Time Of Day. Just Go Block Them And Let Them Exhaust Their Own Hate
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