#it turned out nice so like whatever

[kami-scribbles]

the man behind the slaughter, what a scamp

[front-facing-pokemon]

[separatist-apologist]

I cut your username out of this post because I don't want to unintentionally direct anyone over to you. I do believe you're sorry, and I also believe you didn't intend for any of the things that transpired TO transpire.

I want to answer this, though, because I genuinely believe a LOT of the people who logged out last night to flame the fic are on this website watching, and I want to speak directly to them. I'll never know who they are, and thats unfortunate because to me, it looks like a lot of other people are content to let you be thrown under the bus while taking no accountability for their actions.

I want to share this comment FROM the fic writer who responded to me when I left a comment this morning both condemning the actions of fellow gwynriel/eluciens and encouraging her to continue writing. Look at what she said. She had a mini-breakdown because a small but obnoxiously loud group of people took it upon themselves to not just leave unkind, unnecessary feedback, but to start whole threads about it, take it to other platforms, and otherwise talk shit because a story had *checks notes* conflict.

The fic is tagged: slowburn, eventual romance, AND the elain x azriel relationship. She did her due diligence as far as what she owes people- ya'll don't read tags and engage with the story like it was written specifically FOR you. First of all- it was written for ME. But lets pretend it wasn't, because I think the only reason people are backtracking is because I took offense. You shouldn't do this to ANYONE.

EVER!!!!

And I see a lot of ya'll writing your first fics and your comments are always something to the flavor of "be kind, I'm new/nervous/worried" and then you turn around and do this stuff to other writers like you're OWED your very specific vision of what these characters are, should be, or should act like.

This happens TOO OFTEN in this ship, and frankly, I'm tired of it. You guys will turn on people writing in your own ship if it doesn't adhere to YOUR specific, NARROW vision of "canon" (FANON) and wholesale bully people out, and whats left? A bunch of chronically online assholes whining that no one wants to draw art, write fic, or participate because they're afraid of you. Ya'll act like this is some moral crusade and if you ship the "right" thing, you can't possibly be a bully.

But its just bullying, dressed up as passion for the ship.

This isn't directed at you, OP- I'm talking to the other people who are letting you fall on this sword, who are absolutely watching this, who participated, and will likely to continue acting like this. But they'll be the first to scream and sob when another anonymous blog pops up to talk the same shit, and there will no irony or awareness around any of it. This is the culture some of you have created. Shocking you get it back in ten fold.

[birdricks]

i love you (but i never had a choice)

[almond-tofu-chan]

the crossover of the century! cure feenie and cure trixie! ofc feat. molly as mofurun

bonus naven as headmaster kochou. and also a very confused rick who somehow got roped into being felice? ?

[yourgfdgirlfriend]

it’s a little funny to me how you all think I’m this super cool popular person when in reality I do shit like staying in on a friday night with tea and a nice audiobook knitting a little vest for the stuffed animal of the guy I’m currently dating lol

[flickerintwilights]

on the road to hell

[whaliiwatching]

don’t talk to him ever again

—

based off this by riibbon on tiktok

[lost-in-fandoms]

¹⁷⁾ a carabiner heavy with keys❤️

hello friend, I want you to know that this prompt stumped me for quite a while, I just didn't know how to spin it? I started thinking about keys -> doors -> many doors, and I had a zookeeper AU in my brain, but also a college student x security guard AU kind of thing, but in the end I went for this. I did take some liberties on the carabiner part.

Max is being guided towards the last row of cells when they bring him in.

He's being held up by two guards, one more behind them carrying an extra torch, head hanging low like he's not fully aware, curls drooping in front of his face in a disheveled mess.

"Ah, yes," the warden says with a smirk, stepping over to open one of the closed doors, "our little thief!"

The cell is dark and damp, with a hole in the middle of the floor and a wooden slab against the wall as a bed, and even from where he's standing in the corridor, Max can feel how oppressive the small space is, air heavy and stale.

The guards throw the man in without much care, ignoring the way he slumps on the floor, unmoving, but the warden chuckles, coming closer to poke him with the tip of his boot.

"Not so smug now, are you?" he taunts.

Max forces himself not to react as he pokes the thief again, trying to keep his face as impassible as the other guards, watching as the guy tries to twist away, moaning pathetically.

"Who is he?" he asks, voice flat and uninterested. His fingers are tightly closed around the ring of keys the warden had passed him earlier, a copy of the one hanging from his belt.

"Just a rat, sneaking around the castle's treasury for far too long." The warden crouches down, grabbing the man's hair and pulling it back, revealing his bruised face. "The guys had a bit of fun, it seems."

The thief opens one swollen eye to look up at him, and for a second Max thinks his face is twisting in pain, but then realises he's smiling, all blood-stained teeth.

"Touching is 5 gold pieces, sweetheart," he rasps out, before spitting at the warden.

Max can't help but flinch when the guy's head hits the floor, but he steels himself for the kick he sees coming, forcing himself to not look away, even as the poor man coughs and gasps on the floor.

"Vermin," the warden grunts, hitting him again for good measure, before finally stepping away. "Hope you've had your taste of fresh air, because this is the last you're going to get."

The thief doesn't answer, curling up more tightly on the floor, his gasps the last thing Max hears before the door closes with a heavy thud.

--

Max walks down the corridor, trying to remind himself that he has every right to be here, and it would be more suspicious if he sneaked around, The keys jingle at his waist, and the sound itself is enough to make him feel vaguely nauseous, especially as he hears the sounds from inside the cells die down as he walks by, replaced by terrified silence.

Despite his intentions, his steps grow quieter as he walks deeper into the prison, approaching the last rows, and by the time he's in front of the thief's cell his breathing is almost inaudible too, the clinking of his keys the only sound announcing his presence.

He takes a breath before opening the door, checking the end of the corridor just in case someone decided to take a stroll down this way before the actual guards change. It's not illegal what he's doing, not yet at least, but technically he's not supposed to open this door, the meager food they've been throwing being passed through the hatch at the bottom.

The first click of the lock sounds too loud in the quiet corridor, but Max ignores the nerves twisting his stomach and keeps turning the key, pulling the door open as quietly as possible.

The first thing that hits him is the smell. The stale, damp air, now smells even worse, after days of a human being living in it, and he almost has to take a step back, feeling it like a punch in his chest. After that, he sees the thief, a shadow tucked away in one corner.

The sight is enough to make him forget about the smell as he rushes forward, tucking his keys in his pocket to make them less noisy, crouching down in front of him, relieved by the movement of his shoulders.

"Daniel," he whispers, reaching out to touch but worried he'll accidentally scare him, or worse, hurt him. "Daniel, come on, look at me."

"You're late."

Max feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest hearing Daniel's voice, even if dry and raspy, and he almost laughs with it, finally leaning all the way in to touch his shoulders, helping him sit up.

"I'm sorry," he says, even if he had no real way of getting their work done more quickly. "I have water for you, and a piggyback ride out."

Max is glad he prepared himself before walking in, because it takes all his self-control to not gasp when Daniel finally looks up. The bruises he had seen a few days earlier are now purple and green, the dried blood still caking his cheekbone now a flaky brown, his cheeks sunken and pale.

"Don't look at me like that, I haven't had my beauty sleep," Daniel jokes, voice cracking into a cough by the end of the sentence.

"I hate you," Max says, because saying I love you so much it felt like I was dying when I was watching them throw you in here feels a bit too much at the moment. What he does instead is take out the small flask of water from his pocket, helping Daniel drink, fingers almost tingling where he's touching his skin.

"You got them right?" Daniel asks as soon as he's done, looking slightly better than before.

Max nods, patting the pocket on his chest, under his cloak, where he had hidden the documents he had retrieved from where Daniel had stashed them away. Daniel getting beat up hadn't been in the plans though, and Max is eager to get him out of there as soon as possible.

"Come on, it's not long until the watch changes."

He helps Daniel stand up, then climb on his back, leaving his hands free, just in case.

"I'm going to give you so much food," he tells him, feeling how much lighter Daniel has become in just a few days.

"You better."

Max closes the door of the cell behind them, taking a moment to wrap the keys up in an handkerchief before putting them back in his pocket. He knows that there's no way to make it seem like he's not smuggling Daniel out, so he's not taking any chances of the damned keys betraying them when he's trying to be quiet. Then he takes a deep breath, makes sure Daniel is secure on his back, and starts making his way to safety.

[omaano]

Last Line Challenge

I was tagged by @quatredraws @whiskygoldwings @loverboy-havocboy - thank you for the tag guys! <3 (We all know how the rules go at this point, right? I won't have to type it out again?)

The last bits there were the highlights on Omega's jacket; I'm real happy how they pulled all the other coloures together!

NP tagging (just the weight of my curiosity): @insertmeaningfulusername @bilbosmom-belladonna @ghosts-of-rishi @ominouspuff @frostbitebakery and any creatives who see this! How are we dealing with the summer? XD

[skitskatdacat63]

"Death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily."

+ process(tw blood)

Also, look at him, bloody little guy 🥹

This drawing was inspired by several matador pics :D here and here:

^ I don't think I'll ever live up to the second one ah. There's several pics of that specific guy just soaked with blood, and I'm uh a bit obsessed with then ITS FUCKED UP I KNOW OKAY! But I've not drawn blood in a while so it was a bit difficult so I added less than I would want to I guess. Also I'm obsessed with how often they kneel in bullfighting?? Like okay who are you arching your back and spreading your legs for-

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Both my parents actually suffer from HORRID emotional dysregulation and are prone to snapping and going into rages. My sister is the same way tbh. I am now realizing this is why they are constantly baffled by the question of whether or not I am mad at them.

I don't have external meltdowns.

I could. I don't let it happen.

I keep my rage on the inside and stay pretty quiet about it. It's just as strong as theirs [physically shaking nose bleed from high blood pressure kind of bad], but like as a kid I saw how terrifying it was to be around [dad breaking dishes, mom putting our lawn chairs into walls] and I just internalized that I wasn't going to wear that anger on the outside.

So my mother genuinely cannot tell if I am just being quiet or if I am silently hearing the dial-up noises of pure rage. This has lead her to both making strong and confident statements like "You are a pacifist who would never hurt a fly U.U" but also acting like I am secretly dangerous maybe... It's because she has never seen me snap.

She knows what her temper is like [throwing chairs through walls], she knows what my father's temper is like [pick up child and toss out door], and she can tell I am being tested, but she doesn't know what happens when I snap or where that breaking point is.

Her -perhaps unhinged- solution to this, my whole life, has been to do things that should obviously enrage me or shut me down completely, like ignoring important boundaries, repeatedly, punishing me for expressing emotions or needs at all, etc... And then to constantly ask me if I am angry with her when I get too quiet [right after near directly telling me to shut up].

It has occurred to me now, they have never once seen me lose my temper, so they literally just can't tell if I am angry at them. My sister is easy, my mother fights and screams with my sister constantly, my mother understands this. My mother doesn't have any grasp of feelings or boundaries that are not screamed at her [apparently, and I fear my sister is the same way]. Her and my sister are close despite constant fucking fighting because they understand each other.

They are trying to get me to engage the same way and it is not working. I realize now that this has been hard for them.

I was so successfully taught to suppress my emotions, by being punished for any outburst, that rage quiet looks the same as any other kind of quiet from the outside. To them anyway.

I did tell her. For the record. I used my words. I did tell her very calmly that my response to rage, in order to avoid doing the things that terrified me as a child, was to simply leave [the autistic urge to GTFO]. When a situation or person causes too much of the dial-up rage noise, I simply extract myself from that situation, up to and including never speaking to a person again. I explained this calmly. I explained it calmly 100 times and I explained that I explain myself calmly as my rage response 1-5 [also pretty much every other negative emotion tbh], and I told her that what came next was me simply opting out and fucking off. I told her this. I couldn't understand why she never took me seriously, or why she never fucking understood.

I couldn't understand what made her like this.

But it's the same problem I have with everyone else multiplied by a factor of 10.

If I am explaining myself calmly, they can't understand that it's actually serious or that I am actually upset. ESPECIALLY because they read me as "female" and women "aren't that rational" so if I am not screaming and crying about something, which I never do, people assume I can't be upset and it isn't serious.

And then after having my boundaries ignored too many times despite having calmly explained how and why it's a problem [shaking inside or not]... I leave. I leave and everyone gets upset like this is unexpected behaviour, even though I told them 50 times that is how I would respond if they kept doing *the thing.*

And for neurotypical people especially, they are expecting there to be a disconnect between what someone says they need or feel and what their actually boundaries and feelings are, and they expect the latter to be demonstrated with emotions. Telling them bluntly you do not function that way somehow never helps?

My mother isn't just looking for normal yelling or a few tears to know I am serious, whether or not I do those either [I don't], she's looking for an explosion to know there's a problem at all.

Fucked if I know how she proceeds through life this way in general or if this is just her expectation of her own kids???

And I couldn't get why my mother couldn't read my emotions and didn't seem to think I have any. It's because she's testing for the rage limit to see where my 'actual' limit is instead of taking my word for it. Never the fuck mind that she could simply *not* test at my boundaries instead of letting me have them. Separate issue.

I couldn't figure out what made her *like this*

She's expecting me to throw a giant meltdown violent tantrum at people when I have 'actually' had enough. Maybe she got away with those being like 5'4" in another time, but I am the size of the average man, I do not get to have giant screaming rages, whether or not people perceive me consciously as a woman, and least of all because a lot of people -at least unconsciously- read me as 'masculine' or at least always "they guy" of the situation compared to all other women and some men [bigger stronger and more rational, more able to just absorb the damage and let it go so the less rational screaming/crying one doesn't have to be dealt with]. Even if it was in me to be willing to terrify people [usually never], there are such limited instances where it wouldn't just blow back on me. Potentially very dangerously.

I am going to be the quiet calm one. You are going to have to let me use my words, bitch.

So she kept ignoring my boundaries until I had to cut her out of my life, and she probably doesn't understand and probably thinks it feels sudden -after 36 long years of bullshit- abrupt and unfair.

But I told her hundreds of times.

I probably should have just screamed at her.

[arttsuka]

augustus making friends with the easter island moai head and they both bond over not having a body

🗿

The sketch because it turned out good (and honestly I was terrified that I'd ruin it when I tried to color it) and the Moai before I decided to attempt a background (it was too empty with the white background, I felt bad)

[motherforthefamicom]

killing him with my mind (affectionate)

[front-facing-pokemon]

[ramsheepram]

my sorrow turns to salt