#should calm down

[aaandbackstabbed]

Goldie: okay this time, I really didn’t do anything

Scrooge: now why don’t I believe you

[bardofavon]

not to be controversial bc I know this is like…not in line with shifting opinions on fanfic comment culture but if there’s a glaring typo in my work I will NOT be offended by pointing it out. if ao3 fucks up the formatting…I will also not be offended by having this pointed out…

‘looking forward to the next update’ and ‘I hope you update soon!’ are different vibes than a demand, and should be read in good faith because a reader is finding their way to tell you how much they love it. I will not be mad at this.

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ is also incredibly high praise. I’m not going to get mad at this.

even ‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ is just another way a reader is engaging in and putting thought into your work.

I just feel like a lot of authors take any comment that’s not perfectly articulated glowing praise in the exact manner they’re hoping to receive it in bad faith.

fic engagement has been dropping across the board over the last several years, and yes it’s frustrating but it isn’t as though I can’t see how it happens. comment anxiety can be a real thing. the last thing anyone wants to do is offend an author they love, and that means sometimes people default to silence.

idk where I’m going with this I guess aside from saying unless a comment is outright attacking me I’m never going to get mad at it, and I think a lot of authors should feel the same way. ESPECIALLY TYPOS PLZ GOD POINT OUT MY TYPOS.

[mwagneto]

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.

[marinatedsaltea]

Touch starved

[shitpostingkats]

Riz Gukgak and his bloody hands

SUCH a metal visual and motif. Kalina, Baron, they tease him for it, they twist it into one of his worst qualities, just as they belittle that he his heart, leverage his fear that he cannot love anyone enough.

Riz Gukgak loves. He will claw himself to shreds on love. He will dig through reality, lacerating himself on crystal, just to help his childhood friend. He will hiss at the devil, he will bite out eyes, he will do anything to help his friends feel safe. He will attempt to eat an entire dragon. Out of love for a father he barely knew.

"That’s you saying “I love you” to the people who matter to you the most."

[kourota]

being a writer is just thinking that anything and everything is great writing material. people watching while you wait for your bus? writing material. experiencing something that's gonna scar you for life? writing material. getting chased by chickens and running for your life? writing material.

[jamiesansible]

Scarp socks! I’ve told myself I can’t buy anymore sock yarn until I finish what I have. So in a drastic move I cut up all my ugly / scrap self striping yarn and sorted it by colour.

They turned out great and I love playing with colour like this but there are just so many ends to weave in! (too many, one might say).

The colour work was inspired by Emma Ducher’s Anni sock pattern, which in turn was inspired by Anni Albers’s Bauhaus weaving.

[koroart]

Homosexual activities on this Friday morning

[royalarchivist]

I love the QSMP. Not only has it introduced me to many amazing international creators, it's also introduced me to the French and Brazilian community, who are so sweet, funny, and chaotic in their own unique ways. I love seeing fans sharing their culture and learning from one another, and I myself have learned a lot this past year. I think it's incredible how QSMP brings so many different people together – all of us united in our love and passion for this project and its goals.

But passion can often evoke strong emotions, and these strong emotions aren't always positive.

The past few months, I have seen multiple waves of hate, bad-faith generalizations of communities, and racist remarks directed at fellow fans – especially those who are part of the French / Brazilian community. This kind of behavior is inexcusable, and is in direct conflict with the mission of QSMP, which is to break language barriers and unite communities.

We are a global community with a variety of people from different backgrounds. Miscommunications may occasionally occur because of cultural differences and/or language barriers, but we should use these moments as opportunities to learn and engage with other people rather than assuming the worst about them and starting fights.

Although certain issues can be resolved with communication, sometimes it’s better to block and move on. Avoid spreading negativity or hate, and save yourself the headache of interacting with people who are just looking for someone to argue with.

No matter what community we're a part of or what languages we speak, we're all here to have fun. Please remember to be kind to each other. We have more in common than we have in conflict.

[drulalovescas]

Cas: being a dramatic bitch

Dean: rushing to explain and calm his boyfriend down

[hailsatanacab]

I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache. 

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were. 

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too? 

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence. 

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How? 

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman. 

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year. 

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating. 

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..." 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he... 

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please." 

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now.  "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb. 

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

[sketchy-tour]

A wilting flower is not always beyond healing. It'll just take time.

[stainedglassthreads]

One thing I think I just realized is, in addition to being dissatisfied with how stories deal with Toriel’s grief compared to Asgore’s and Asriel’s, and how I don’t see many instances of Toriel and Asgore’s quarrel being addressed in a way that satisfied me... I don’t think I see that many AUs that quite get the responsibility Asgore feels... right.

Yes, I’ve seen several that portray his grief, depression, and how badly he doesn’t want to be in this position well, even if it’s disappointing how not everyone seems to be aware of what you learn about him in a Neutral run where you’ve previously killed Flowey. A lot of people can get aspects of his characterization very well, the broken man, the goofy dad, the intimidating monarch. But I think the reason I don’t see people capture the weight of his responsibility quite as well in fanfics and comics is... well. Oddly enough it’s in the way the monsters treat him.

It’s not just the fandom that has issues with idolizing or demonizing characters. It’s also the Kingdom of Monsters themselves--and they all idolize Asgore. Yes, he’s a very grounded and compassionate individual who invites his subjects to share all their problems with him, and who Papyrus insists will just let you pass through the Barrier. But he’s also a bit of the subject of a cult of personality for his subjects. When they say he’ll absorb seven souls and become a GOD, it’s not an expression of his arrogance, but rather their own adoration. While out-of-universe the Angel is generally agreed to be either Asriel or Chara(or us), in-universe I wouldn’t be surprised if Asgore was considered the Angel.

It’s not long now. King Asgore will let us go. King Asgore will give us hope. King Asgore will save us all.

Yes, individual monsters may want to collect a human soul for their own individual wants and desires. But it’s only the capture of a human soul, or using a single soul for their own benefit, that they really aspire to. (With the exception of Toriel, who wants no souls, and Flowey, who is Flowey.) Of those area bosses who earnestly try to take just one soul, Papyrus and Undyne both want to hand you over to Asgore, and Mettaton wants to protect humanity FROM Asgore. Literally everyone in the Underground seems to fully believe that Asgore will be the one taking all the Souls and fulfilling his promises, and all are content. (Again, barring Toriel, MTT, Flowey.) No one seems to ever doubt he’ll do as he says, even his ex-wife, and no one’s greedy to take the power for themselves or take the burden of being a savior for themself, except his kid who has both a God Complex and a Savior Complex.

With Chara, and with Asgore. They take a person and turn them into a representation of something More than any singular person could ever be. And then in the worst route Chara does it again, to themself. Asgore is freedom and salvation and retribution itself, and everyone including the woman who was once married to him agrees and reinforces the role. Chara is the feeling of a number going up, and the fandom agrees and reinforces the role.

And I dunno. There are fics and AUs where Asgore never lost his kids and always remained an affable, friendly guy. There are AUs where Asgore is the main antagonist and an awful villain with few redeeming qualities. There are fics and AUs where Asgore gets to recover in a post-pacifist setting. But I’m not sure any fics or AUs have ever quite captured how everyone else just talks about the guy, for me. Toriel is simply ‘intimidating’. But Asgore is a GOD.

[chickenoptyrx]

*sittin up projecting onto the baby blorbo when I should be sleeping*

[cosmicfruits]

Fallout protags who can never truly leave their trauma behind.

A lone wanderer whos just a little more resistant to rads, if not completely ghoulified, they almost wander into it without guidance because they've yet to realise, like their body is seeking the nearest rad source

A courier who feels as if they're rotting inside, they're not entirely alive and yet aren't dead. They'll be on the edge of death yet continue going even after they're in a critical condition.

A sole survivor whos nearly always cold, maybe before the war they had warm hands, they'd hold their partner in a tight embrace and all that was there was warmth but now they're surrounded by a chilly wind, even if they should be roasting

[lastpenaltytaker]

JURGEN KLOPP prevents DARWIN NUNEZ from committing first degree murder on live television, MANCHESTER CITY vs LIVERPOOL, 25th November 2023