#accepted: apps

[idyllicbby]

Mel Medarda they could never make me hate you

[queenharumiura]

2024 Akira Amano 'The Characters' Exhibition bonus 'Selfie-style' cards.

[ID: Official art of multiple characters from the manga and anime Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

They're all drawn as if taking a selfie, most of them smiling and/or doing a peace sign or another playful gesture with their hand.

Reborn, Colonnello, Viper and Fon are in their cursed forms, with Viper pulling their hood down, trying to hide more of their face.

Gokudera waves at us, with "Vongola Famiglia" written on his palm and the Vongola's emblem drawn on it too. Lambo is in his Ten Years Later version, Tsuna's shown both in his normal state and in Hyper Dying Will mode, Basil is in Hyper Dying Will mode too and Chrome's wearing cat ears.

Squalo and Xanxus are scowling. /End ID]

ID courtesy of @hopeswriting.

[yourlocalabomination]

Ted doodles except it’s specifcially Ted from the TGWDLM poster sold at the CC shows.

(Aforementioned poster below- Original artwork is by @ Magicalnarwhal on Insta)

[nemo-bros]

i think lots of people do not realize how long it takes to set up aac (low tech or high tech)

low tech requires lots of printing and cutting and laminating and hole punching and more cutting etc

and high tech requires hours of sitting with device and customizing not just settings but words, folders, layout etc

[octopiopa]

they were everything to me during my rewatch of s1

so much wasted potential . . .

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Weredoll: Alone

It all started with that toy. I know it had to.

I only touched it for a few seconds. God, I should've known. That pull, that imperceptible radiance, of course it was magic. But it just looked so... pretty. I didn't think twice, I just wanted a closer look, and I could feel the jolt through my system as soon as I curled my fingers around it. Magic.

It's the same feeling that was in the seashells that made my best friend a mermaid all those years ago, damning her to the sea. The same feeling as the fae that spirited away my mother's name.

Yes, they looked happy. But I always knew better. You can't abandon your humanity, you just... can't. You shouldn't be able to, you shouldn't want to. It's just wrong.

I spent the whole day frantic. Combing through forums and blogs, staring down at the listings for dubiously reliable books. If nothing happened in the moment, the only conclusions were a crawling slow-burn transformation that would take me piece by agonizing piece, or... something conditional.

The door to my room was locked. My bed was pushed out from the wall and put in the way of the door, just in case. Now all I can do is sit at my computer desk, eyes trapped in the corner of my laptop.

11:59. Any moment now I would find what fate I was cursed to. I'd spent long enough wracked by anxiety, the humanity in my soul clung to my body in terror. Now, there was nothing but a silent, helpless anticipation.

12:00.

I flinch as the number changes. I pat my body down, trying to find any hints to my curse. But I can't find anything. Everything as it should be. Warm to the touch, but not hot. Just enough give before skin squishes against bone.

I wanted to feel relief, but the confirmation just brought on a defeated emptiness. A sighing, accepting resignation to the alternative, or a confused...

...it's spreading. The emptiness. It isn't just emotional. There is a visceral feeling of removal slowly expanding from my body.

I tried to stand. My hand was on my stomach, like I was trying to feel the thing eating me from the inside. I feel the void overtake my gut, leaving me with a hollow and cavernous lack. There was no sense of hunger, my body failing to cry out with need as it should with an empty stomach. The feeling instead slotted into place, as if I was designed for it.

I try and walk to the mirror. Everything's off. My limbs are too heavy and my torso is too light. I lift my shirt up, and see the beginnings of a seam. There's a small indent that traces around the base of my ribs. Exactly like a ball jointed doll.

I feel sick. I feel faint. But more than anything, I feel empty.

I stumble to the bed and collapse. I can't keep myself upright, I can't muster the will. Fuck, this is really happening, isn't it? I don't care if it's just for the night. I don't want to let go, I can't. Being a person is all I've ever known. How could I not be scared?

My hands fumble along my side. I can feel myself hardening, the texture changing as I move upwards. The seam's already deepened, god knows how far, letting my rigid body—

A violent shudder overtakes me. I cough involuntarily. It's reached my heart.

I can't take my hand off it. The other desperately grabs my hair, trying to ground me, as I feel my heartbeat get weaker and weaker. I try breathing harder, invoking my anxieties, anything to speed it back up, but it's mere seconds until it shuts down completely.

It feels... uncomfortable. Just uncomfortable. All my panic is forced. A cognitive understanding that I really should be terrified, that my heart stopping is something every person needs to fear, but the emptiness swallows all that away. There's a passive, almost reassuring understanding. I'm unharmed, and it's not permanent.

This shouldn't be good. It just shouldn't, right? This isn't the absence of life, it isn't an emptiness that destroys. It's tranquility, it's cleanliness, it's alleviation. I know this is part of the curse, but I just feel so... at ease. Any negative feeling I try to summon is just swallowed by the emptiness, tidied up and put away.

Oh yes, the transformation. It seems it's spread quite far while I was distracted. Down my thighs and up to my neck. I move my hands up to my shoulders, knowing my first joints are going to grow in any minute.

No, no. I can't let it take me. I refused to be reduced to a thing to be ordered around, some heartless construct that only exists for others. There has to be something. I can make my heart beat again, I have to, or I'll die, right? I make a fist and start pounding on my chest as hard as I can... only being met with a dull, hollow thud as the plastic dents into the emptiness inside me. There's nothing in there to start anymore.

Okay. This can still be salvaged. It's just a body, and while it may change, I'm still a human inside. I won't let that be taken from me, I just need to... a suctioning feeling settles in. My skin, just at my shoulder, feels... loose. Ill-fitting.

With a single jerking motion, I reach up and grab at my shoulder, bloodlessly tearing away my skin like it's a thick and heavy tissue paper. Underneath the scraps left behind is the beginnings of a ball joint. It's much too round, the indents where the mechanics let me move just beginning to burrow. It's as if my joints are trying to pop out of their place in my sockets, held in by the firm suggestion of an artificial material. I can already feel my muscle sinew being digested.

I need to be upset, I need to. This is an existential terror in the most literal form, a destruction of all that I am. But all change is death, sacrifice. You cannot become one thing without destroying another. It's rather beautiful to bloom... no, please, no. I refuse to accept such a fate laying down, no matter how much the curse tries to ease me.

I suppose if it can swallow my gut feelings and quell the uneasiness in my heart, it won't be long until it starts to harden this one's brain, leaving it with... leaving it. It. This one.

No. Not now, not ever. If this one can't trust its feelings, and if its starting to lose its cognition, it needs to rely on its behaviour. It will remain human, in one form or another.

Dolls like to clean, to keep things orderly and convenient for others. This one just needs to rip its bed apart! It tears at the corners of its covering, tossing its pillows across the room as it tangles its sheets into a useless mess. There, a bed no doll would be proud of. It tasks a moment to bask in the joy of a completed task.

A sickening pop. It turns back to the mirror and sees its joints as they should be. Perfect round attachments, manufactured just right to allow it mobility. All that remains are its shins and its hands. It's running out of time.

This one tries to walk back to its laptop, and is immediately distracted by its walk. No longer is there the looming clumsy tumbling from its discordant changes. There's an effortless elegance, a refinement of movement and intention. It feels rather pleasing to present itself in such a formal manner. Before the transformation began, it wouldn't have considered such a thing, finding much more comfort in more casual poses and movements. It feels silly to derive such comfort from informality now. Good dolls are-

This one freezes, taken aback by its thoughts. Good dolls are polite and dignified. It's a mantra, a commandment, a colloquialism. A reflexive proverb, as if it were so baked into cultural DNA as to be self-evident. Of course that is how a good doll is to act, it would be silly to pretend otherwise. That... doesn't have to imply anything about this one, it's still a person. This one returns to its task.

12:04. It feels as if it should have been much longer. Becoming felt so fundamentally altering it's bizarre to picture it as taking only 5 minutes, even if that is what this one's research confirmed to it prior. Oh well, it can't be helped. Good dolls are punctual, after all.

There has to be something it can do, something to keep the final throes of the transformation at bay. Dolls are meant to act, and... well, that's not entirely true, is it? Dolls are also meant to be still. To be posed, a beautiful decoration, dressed in the finest outfits...

This one finds its brain... shutting off. Floating away. This is no mere emptiness; it's a trance. A blissful, wonderful stillness. No concern for thoughts, no feelings beyond a gentle calm.

As it sees the clock change, it blinks itself back to awareness. Ah, so that was stillness. This one understands why other dolls find it so enrapturing. It will gladly return to it once it has finished all it has to do.

But first, it looks down at its body. Everything is stiff and rigid, the only movement being allowed by the segments through its hardened skin. Its behaviour has been overhauled, now much more prim and proper, only breaking its posture to help its self-examination.

Of course, this one thinks like a good doll as well. It desires to serve and obey another, and in their absence, it will simply busy itself with chores, doing all it can to help like a good doll. It seems its readings were correct, and the transformation has finished.

Well, that was quite the experience. This one prepares to reflect on it... in the morning, once it's a person. In the meantime, it elegantly walks back to its bed and begins to tidy up, the much more pertinent task.

[ambriel-angstwitch]

Say hello to the final edit I was able to make with CapCut

Literally right after I downloaded it to my phone I got this message

[guzhufuren]

Wooyoung diD AEGYO???!!!?!!! AFTER MONTHS OF NONE????! i'm throwing a fucking PARTY and popping CHAMPAGNE which fucking logbook is it, is it in the recent one?? or some other???? help help urgent HELP

[southern-reach]

“can you pay?”

no i cannot

[theoryofwhatnow]

sharing this here because it’s been two minutes and tiktok is all ready restricting it from fyps…

the quality is also ruined both here and on tt as well but if you want to see it uncompressed it’s also here on my instagram.

[handweavers]

i've truly lost count of how many jobs and what jobs i've applied to i've been casting a wide net from "jobs in my field that a graduate from my program would conceivably be hired to do" and "seasonal part time job stocking shelves at retail store" and hearing literally nothing back and if i do hear anything it's a rejection email. i've been on welfare since like april and my assigned worker doesn't even bother messaging me anymore to ask how the job search is going because she knows what the answer is lmfao

[call-me-copycat]

Just trying to scroll through the "Aizawa x Reader" tag and I had to leave angry because someone used the tag to complain about shipping (-᷅_-᷄)

Not only that but they were making fun of someone's fic... The amount of disrespect, I'm fuming (。-`ω´-)

It was one of those ships that one would consider immoral or taboo, your typical "Deku x Aizawa" authors. This person decided to screenshot the authors fic and complain and call it gross and then called the MHA fandom toxic...

How old were they? 18. My age. I feel as though I've seen that behavior back in middle school, but not as an adult.

I'm going to make a complaint post later on, sorry about that (·︿· `)

[artsy-the-little-pink-pencil]

EMILY!! this is bad! @/stone_toss just mocked a trans girl's death on twitter! block that bastard on Twitter, he's a Nazi and a horrible person, and should never be trusted!

Yep he sure is a horrible person, just like you Randy…

[daftpatience]

I'm gonna be at sfusummerfest today but I'm not tabling (boo) so I get to cosplay (yay)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

annoying that you kinda need to let your mind rest / read books and reconnect with nature and music in between writing fics … what happened to the grind

[villainvirus]

limbus company fanart from the past 11 months or so