#Please ask things

[ask-dreambert-and-antasma]

Orange text = Dreambert

Purple text = Antasma

White text = narrator / ooc

Character ref sheets

(this is set a few years after m&l dream team)

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[Asks Opened]

Current ask queue : 10

The story is currently focused on Luigi and Dreambert jsyk

bad news: i have a completely unrelated hyperfixation rn and cant muster up the motivation to continue this, but good news: a new m&l game got announced and this has good chances of getting me back into the m&l madness so WOOHOO

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(if i accept to answer your question, it will be added to the queue, if i don't accept to answer your question, it wont, simple right?)

(the only rule is that you cannot ask inappropriate stuff. Basically anything else is allowed! But please do try to write decently so i can understand what you're saying. Hope we can have fun!)

(if you have questions directed to the account owner, please do so in @noddynods 's ask box. I will also post info about the blog on there)

[ask-returntheark]

Even thought this wasn’t asked for, OOC CONTENT!!

Blood under the cut off!!

Songs are

[galakianexplosion]

☆Chaos coming by from his hiding spot to maybe socialise?!☆

@kirbyoctournament

[sergeant-jasper]

list 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox of the last 10 people who reblogged from you!! get to know your mutuals and followers :D

1.) Writing.

I love, love, love to write (even if most of my works never get finished haha ^^;), and I’ve been doing it since I was pretty young. I realize I’ve not shared like - any of my stuff, but trust 🙏.

2.) Art.

Again, I know I’ve kept myself pretty hidden in this front too, but drawing has also always been a passion of mine. The wip pile there is no less small, I promise.

3.) Animals.

While my favorites are sabertooths (any cat actually) and slugs, I adore pretty much any type of animal really.

4.) Cooking.

Wow I can cook.

Jokes aside, I completed a culinary course my junior year of high school and absolutely did enjoy it (even if the teacher scared me sometimes (I blame the autism personally)). Nowadays I cook dinner every Wednesday for me and my family. It’s always pretty fun, as it gives me and my mom a chance to chat and catch up.

5.) Literally my hyperfixations.

They give me so much happiness, especially when I find others to ramble about. Always a joy when I hop in my friend’s messages and proceed to word vomit on them (they know it’s affectionate, don’t worry <3).

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[gayvampyr]

asking people to be mindful of others when sharing a communal space (especially one you cannot just up and leave from) is not selfish or misanthropic. come on now

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

Yall remember how Texas had that "report an abortion" form that they had to take down after a week?

Well, Missouri has one, only it's for reporting transgender concerns.

Comrades. Friends. Romans. Countrymen. You know what to do.

[oobbbear]

I want to post this here too because I’ve seen it happen a few times

Please understand that there are cultural differences and language differences, if you see this happening let the person clarify what they meant, that person might just not be familiar with words the western side of the internet use

[violetsandshrikes]

this poor woman ended up in hospital because she ate cayenne + cinnamon coated orange (unpeeled) because there’s a health and wellness influencer with millions of views who recommends it for digestion - she burned her oesophagus

i always saw a few really good other additions of similar things on the comments

please be so, so careful taking advice from these people online, as many of them are not formally trained or educated, brand ambassadors, deep in pseudoscientific rabbit holes and unfortunately, there are many out there who struggle with disordered eating habits

(not mentioned here but another one worth noting: i have personally known people who have burned their oesophagus with viral apple cider vinegar shots and drinks. don’t do that. a burned oesophagus is not fun)

[peeperscreeperz]

A compilation of all the mlp fankids pairings I've done so far!

Rarijack, Twijack!

Raritwi and Twipie!

AppleDash and Twidash!

Flutterdash and pinkieshy!

And lastly so far, Rarishy and Fluttercord!

I have 5 more between the mane 6 to do kill me.

[caruliaa]

staff still hasn't given me polls, what should i do?

🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 their moms 69%

🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 their dads 31%

grace image os i get to look at her

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[floofanflurr]

Comic under the cut:

“And all the kids cried out, ‘Please stop, you're scaring me’”

“I can't help this awful energy”

“Goddamn right, you should be scared of me”

-Control by Halsey

(There is no player influence or Chara taking control in this comic… just a scared kid trying to protect themself the only way they know how.)

[catgrandpa]

Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kid’s plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same ol’. Alright, so ‘disturbed’ may be a tad too light of a word, but what’s an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured he’d just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.

Too bad he didn’t account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemetery’s website when he’s feeling particularly lonely.

Plot Removed.

Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Todd’s plot number. Removed? What do they mean ‘removed’? They can’t just remove a plot? That’s a person down there! That’s Robin down there! You can’t Remove Robin!

Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.

Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely it’s a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.

Just a phone call.

In 5 hours.

…

Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.

Well it won’t be the first time he’s snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It can’t even really be considered sneaking out if there’s no one home to catch you.

Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.

Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.

It’s 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading ‘Here Lies Jason Todd’ and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.

This- This doesn’t make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-

Assess the situation.

A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.

Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.

Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.

No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.

Dragging claw marks.

Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.

A trail of dirt.

Something… Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.

Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. He’s going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isn’t the world’s first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.

He’s been walking for 23 minutes and there’s good news and undecided news. Good news: he’s closing in on the target and the trail isn’t taking him out of the way so his trip home won’t be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.

As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Tim’s collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.

In Batman and Robin news? Tim’s unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldn’t have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-

No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.

Hope only brings heartbreak.

What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.

Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.

Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.

Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.

“J-Jason?” It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.

Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.

“Jason. Jason, stop I want to help you.” Still nothing.

“Please, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!”

Why isn’t this working?! Why can’t he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-

“Robin!”

Robin jerks to a stop.

Tim reached out his hand.

“Robin. Robin please, I’m sorry you’re going through this, it’s really scary, I’m really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.”

Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course it’s not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?

Hope only brings heartbreak.

His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.

His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.

“Don’t… scared… Bat… help… Dad… help.”

A relieved sob tears out from Tim’s chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jason’s cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.

“Okay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.”

Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.

[new-revenant]

Twenty something year old Danny becomes a preschool teacher to a class of young meta and liminal kids, he helps to keep the kids calm when they discover their abilities and is genuinely one of the better teachers at the school. He's also a part time member of the Justice League. He's in the middle of a meeting when he gets a call from a freaked out substitute teacher saying one of the kids is stuck halfway through the wall and doesn't know what to do. Danny excuses himself and explains that one of his kids is having a small problem and he'll be right back and then leaves not realizing the chaos he left behind in his wake as the Justice League believe that Phantom has multiple kids and is a single father

I love teacher!Danny AUs, they are always so wacky and fun. And this seems so sweet! I love misunderstanding plots where the misunderstanding is something super simple. And plots where characters think someone is talking about their children children, when they���re actually talking about their students or something. Basically I love this prompt <3

So the JL know Danny is Phantom and stuff, probably are also away that’s he’s a ghost. Danny says that one of his kids is stuck in a wall at school and the substitute teacher is freaking out, so he’s gotta go real quick. Once he leaves one of the members(I’m thinking Flash because…I like him)is like, “Soo…wanna bet on how many kids he has? I’m guessing three-no-four.” The meeting quickly devolves into this conversation, until Batman or someone else steers it back.

After the meeting, rumors spread through the JL about Danny’s kids, and many bets are made. It takes them a while for everyone to figure out that Danny is just a teacher and not a father. Some figure it out faster than others though, but they think it would be funnier if they go along with the father Danny idea. Batman definitely knows what’s going on, he should know what Danny’s job is at the very least. He does consider the fact that maybe he might be a father, but that thought is short lived.

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.