#sorry this got outta hand

[weirdlittletoasterboy]

Is their something like cleancore that's like the process of cleaning!? Like letyourshitinorder(affectionate)-core!?

Cleancore sounds cool but I just don't really vibe with it personally because my living space has been a mess for years! (Grade 6- now currently!) And none of my family including myself really have any of the energy! At one point I started to try and wash my clothes in the bathtub and it was working for a bit!! (Sometimes it wouldn't try dry and smell funky tho!)

My parents wouldn't let me do it once they caught me drying off my bed sheet a few months ago! I only have the bathtub rack to really dry thing (live in an appartment) so like I spread the sheet using 2 chairs!! It worked!! It took a few hours but by the time they were home it was almost dry and actually looked and smelled fresh!! They didn't like it tho! Weren't mad or anything! They just said they'd wash it and look it away into their room filled with other 12 overflowing basket's of laundry!

I didn't see the sheet after that again! Now my mattress protector is always dirty and basically grey and I'm worried ti take it off! My pillows are always bad!

I'll be 17 in a month and a half! I should be better! I want to be able to actually clean my messages! I'm currently doing the dishes again rn!

I love my parents it just sucks when I feel to tired to do anything but school and then it all gets worse! Then occasionally "we'll do one big clean!" And it only stays clean for like a week!

I lived in this fucking house for almost 2 years barely leaving to walk the dogs! I'm going to irl school now for the first time since the beginning of grade 9 second semester but I still come home and sit like this! I cant invite any of my friends over and I just see them having fun with each other and it hurts!

I want to through everything away!! I did take off some animal posters a while back! I had them up since grade 6 and my mom made I thing out of it! At the same time should would ask if I wanted to get matching permanent tattoos with her! I think she just hates change that isn't under her control!

I want to feel control! Not like in a bad way I just want a little piece of it! My room is a mess, my body is a mess, I cant cut my hair or change my name, I'm dysphoric , I'm exhausted, I'm stressed for no reason, my parents are stressed! It's all a mess and I really wanna clean it up!

[yeyinde]

I'm gonna mention this to you because you also like slashers and COD so I imagine there's a little monster fucking in there possibly? But god imagine Ghost as a non-human tho. Just like an actual beast of a man. Sharp canines, solid black eyes, bigger than what you had thought possible for a human. You barely notice when you first start because you don't want to inconvenience your Lieutenant. But things start sticking out. When he's not working, you notice the way he moves is like he's stalking something. Sometimes he huffs like a wolf. You make eye contact on a mission and really finally look, but there's nothing there. Just glossy black.

You're getting fucked by Soap in your cot, on top and facing a wall and he clicks his tongue and something moves behind you. Ghost steps out of the shadows, panting like a dog, and Soap is like "you don't mind if he joins do ya?"

Also calling him a good boy and patting his head 😌

I just think it would be hot and would explain some of the ways people write him as if he's an inhuman creature

sooooo on board with all of this!!!!

i try to be sneaky about it but i've described this man as a Cimmerian not just for the darkness aspect but the mythos too since it kinda fits him (and i love relating things that have no right to be related).

Ghost AU where he's some primordial being. a monster. a werewolf, perhaps. it has so much potential. i kept thinking about it, and this kinda got away from me. sorry!

When you join the 141, there is a heaviness in the atmosphere. A strange, stifling weight you can't make sense of. Tension. An unease. 

They tell you you're full of life when you walk in the room, smiling at them—but it sounds like a curse. They whisper it, as if they're afraid of speaking it aloud. Eyes filled with a gravity you can't begin to understand. 

You turn to leave, and they say stay away from him.

The him in this equation is made known when you set your eyes on the behemoth they call Ghost. 

When you cross his path, he stops completely. The world around you falls dead. Deafening silence. His eyes are a perfect polynya when he gazes at you. His head tips back, baleen lines stretching out. And then breathes in deep. Scenting the air.

His broad chest expands with it. A rumble sounds from low in his chest.

No man can be like this. 

(He was once a man, Soap muses. Maybe. Probably. Called him Simon. Simon Riley.

How can someone probably be a man?

His eyes are grave, shrouded in the mourning fog that sits low on the tombstones. You don't wanna know, bonnie.)

They tell you little about him, but you notice things. They keep their distance, and drop their chins when men go missing. No one looks. No one says a word. 

They're just—

Gone. Forgotten. 

Everything they once were is hidden away in a closet that can barely shut. 

Don't worry about it, hen. 

Just happens sometimes, mate. 

Don't go sticking your nose where it shouldn't be. 

You should listen. Heed their advice. 

But he's enthralling. A being made entirely of death. 

A strange feeling that settles low in your chest. There is a yearning inside of you that wants to know everything about this behemoth shrouded in tenebrose—a siren's call, beckoning you closer. It calls to you in the dead of night. spools over your thoughts until your head is full of him, him, him—

He's an enigma. A mystery. 

And then you see in battle. A shadow. A myth. No man can spill that much blood. 

Dread spools thick on your guts. A man like him should not exist in this moral realm. He does not belong. 

You turn to Soap—a man (human: flesh and bone, real)—but it does little to stem the fever inside.

He catches you when you sneak out of his room, smelling of alder and sex. 

He stares at you. Midnight hour, devils night—the warnings are tucked into the recesses of those unfathomable depths. Fear pools, knots inside of you.

"Have fun, pet?"

There is a chill in his voice, a growl deep in the pits of his being that resound through the corridor and make your bones shake. 

He stares at you—a greedy, covetous tinge in those Stygian depths. 

You're playing a dangerous game. Waving your breakable fingers in front of the maw of a starving beast. 

Stay away, Soap says. You really don't know what you're getting into, bonnie.

You smile. I know. I will. (Liar)

Something breaks. Curiosity. Obsession. Your neck prickles when he's close. You hear a rush of water when those black eyes pierce you; the call of a river thick with the stench of death. You think of the Styx when he turns to you. Hands shackled to your wrist; grip tight. no escape. terror blooms inside of you.

run run run run

"Watch your step, rookie."

Is that a warning in his voice? Why does it sound so—

Beguiling. Taunting. He gets under your skin. spellbinds you. You can't stop thinking about him.

You feel him in the shadows. Liquid black; death. Sometimes, you look at him, and you think you hear a hiss in the back of your head when your feet move, bringing you closer. An augury. a portant. 

Aeons ago, they warned naïve wanderers like you to be wary of the quietus in the fog.

—he leads you not into salvation—

You find him waiting for you, covered in blood and reeking of death. His head lifts. The Styx in his eyes. Damnation in the tilt of his head. He'll be your ruin. Your demise.

Your name falls from his lips.

(Too lost in the magnetism, that primal draw that brings you closer and closer, you miss the anathema that taints the word.)

His hand reaches out to you. Deadly, dangerous. Each breath he takes rumbles the ground around you. He smells of hellfire and rot. Sulphur. Ichor. It leaks into your lungs, your marrow. 

You're drenched in the ashes of Zaqqum.

A distant, almost atavistic warning rears in the back of your head tells you to run. But why? He's just a man. Just your Lieutenant.

Your fate is sealed the moment you place your fingers in the cup of his palm.

—but into perdition—

[brisskwinds]

hey girl can you not track blood all over the facility you’re ruining the sterile hospitalcore aesthetic

[crttvset]

bruh i jjst had the funniest thought ever like imagine jotaro zooming with his students during the pandemic

[starlooove]

Parents when you stop caring what people think of you after they tell u ur whole life that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks 😨😨😨😨😨

[blistering-typhoons]

Can I ask you about 7 (if it doesn't embarrass you :D I would be embarrassed XD), and 43? (I'm @i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end asking from my main ;))

Thank you :D And I don't mind at all, it is cringe, but it's funny cringe xD✨ I've put read more, cuz the first question gets outta hand xD

7. Can you tell us the plot of your first ever fanfiction?

I've cast my mind as far back as I possibly can and to the best of my knowledge, my first ever fanfiction was [long, resigned sigh] a Tintin x Self Insert OC fanfic. I wrote it in my diary and illustrated it myself, it's iconic- it follows our protaganist, me I mean a girl called Kate Blackline as she gets vanished through a portal and ends up in Marlinspike where she meets and falls in love with Tintin. I honestly want to do a full commentary on it one day, but highlights include: Kate having a cheating ex at age sixteen; channing tatum gets roasted; i write the shittiest original song; aforementioned original illustrations which I honestly believe i should bring back; and the real kicker, Kate gets send back home and that's how the story ends!!! Tragic, original, inspiring, I'll never write anything like it ever again-

43. How did writing change you?

I honestly don't really know how to answer this, my ass has been writing for so long I can't really mark a change in myself- I started reading super early as well, which is not a flex I promise lmao I guess it's made me more observant in people and general life, and that deepens every year as I gain more experiences to incorporate in my narratives :>

[aria0fgold]

I don't really like Hidetoshi from p3 all that much... He reminds me of Those typa ppl in school and like-- My guy, not everyone got so much time in their hands to be seriously pursuing a guy smoking in the school restrooms, I don't care bout rules bro, in the words of the trailblazer from hsr, "Rules are made to be broken."

[themthistles]

not even joking i would kill for some kind of beyond evil sequel focusing on jihwa. it doesn't even have to be a full time drama. a mini-series, a movie, anything is fine i just need it

[ddanmeissu]

i need someone i can yell at about my very niche tma au ;w;

(see me playing fast and loose between tma lore and mdzs canon under the cut wheeee~)

this is part headcanon, part drabble, all-around mess. just dont think too hard about it please

the classification of each entity isn’t fully documented yet, smirke’s 14 doesn’t exist, but each major clan has a specific fear that called their founders. there are also some entities haven’t been identified yet so a lot of fears bleed into each other 

they’re still cultivators here. they’re cultivating fear.

golden cores are the physical manifestation of your connection with your god within your body. the more you feed it, the more connected you are to your patron, the more powerful you become.

each clan is a powerhouse to a specific entity but their disciples can be touched by multiple entities (and honestly, i cant make everyone a slaughter avatar) only the sect leader needs to be fully devoted to their fear god

Gusu Lan = Beholding, Qinghe Nie = Slaughter, Yunmeng Jiang = Hunt, Lanling Jin = Stranger, and Qishan Wen = Desolation

wei wuxian was once heavily touched by the hunt. his mother a famous Huntress and rogue cultivator and his father a servant and close friend to the sect of The Everchase

jiang cheng’s Hunt core is slightly weaker but its fine because they are of the same pack. they are partners, brothers in everything but blood, and will hunt down anyone who dares to hurt the other.

jiang yanli isn’t an avatar, not marked by the hunt but touched by the Hive, manifesting more on the love/belonging and family aspect rather than the filth aspect

i have more Thots about the family aspects between hive/hunt and how they are both very possessive on who they call their Persons but expresses it different ways that mirror jyl and jc but that’s for a different post

during their time in the cloud recesses they meet a quiet watcher who wwx immediately zones in on him as his new “prey”.

lan wangji is silent and knowledgeable as is expected from a disciple of the beholding, but there is a certain chill around him that other eye avatars do not have

wwx stalks the poor boy, pounces on him whenever he manages to catch him alone, and is just a general disturbance all-around.

he does not feel the Eyes that sometimes watch him when he is alone.

lan xichen does not need the beholding’s power to see the way his brother looks at the young hunter disciple. he is pleased to feel the cold surrounding the jingshi has lessened. shufu seems perplexed and torn.

wwx’s also has his eye on jin zixuan, the pompous plastic peacock that’s engaged to his shijie. he isn’t actually allowed to hunt him down so he settles on dismembering the lifeless mannequins that he uses as servants.

(playing with the timeline here) they get kicked out when a text is destroyed within the Library Pavilion even though it was just a pornography book (any kind of knowledge is still knowledge) and even though it was lwj who destroyed it (the eye had punished him severely for that).

the desolation!wen are attempting to bring The Scourged Earth into the world. they burn down the cloud recesses “in the name of ‘cleaning up the place’ so that it would be ‘reborn from the firelight.’” ( - directly from the mdzs wiki)

the xuanwu of slaughter is an ancient manifestation of, well, the slaughter and cannot be reasoned with.

(”Lan Zhan, can you See anything?” “No. My connection with The Beholding has been greatly severed.” “Oh. well.. Uh, it’s kinda foggy in here huh? Here have my outer robe, you look kinda cold.” “…Mn.”)

lotus pier burns and jiang cheng loses his core. wwx asks flesh!wen qing for help because only an avatar of the flesh (the boneturner, though that isn’t its name yet) is able to carve open another avatar long enough to take something out and place it somewhere else.

jiang cheng immediately becomes a fully-fledged avatar using wwx’s hunt-influenced core. it manifests as strong bloodlust against the wens, fear of being seen as weak prey by the other clans, (and later, hunting down wwx and other end-aligned cultivators.)

wwx gets thrown in the burial mounds. he is dead for three whole months. and then he wakes up.

his hunter core is gone but that’s fine. he is alive not because he wants to but because he has to. when he is awake, he calls upon the dead to exact his revenge. the wens are defeated and everyone is in frightened awe of the new being that he has unwillingly become. when he is asleep, black tendrils of death plague his dreams. He relives the horrible memories of his own and others’ deaths. sometimes he can feel someone watching him but cannot see them in return.

wei wuxian is alive but he is not part of jiang cheng’s pack anymore. he does not follow them out on hunts anymore, doesn’t even bother to stay within the residences. he isn’t part of their pack anymore, abandoned their patron for something else more powerful, and for what? he feels resentment brewing inside him. resentment and fear.

wwx knew not to trust the polished and waxed faces of the jins. all the wen remnants are non-avatars, barely touched by anything other than the fear the jins had instilled by themselves. they do not deserve this cruelty, to be both entertainment and livestock for the rest of the cultivation world. it is true that death comes for everyone, but wwx will not let these people die at the hands of these strangers.

the wens become touched by the End during their stay in the burial mounds. wen ning, with flute music playing in his head, wins an archery game against Death and finally wakes.

 one day a cold mist surrounds yilling when wwx takes a-yuan out on a stroll. He loses him but finds him again clinging to a man in white robes that looks like he wants to disappear. wwx feels himself smile brightly at the sight. (”lan zhan! it’s so nice to see you again! It’s been so cold out today but luckily it’s warmer now!” “Mn.” “You really blend in with the fog with those white robes of yours. it’s okay though because i’m sure i can find you wherever you disappear to!” “Mn.”)

qiongqi path becomes a massacre of plastic mannequins and not!beings. the smell of death and manufactured flesh fill the air like an offering to his unwanted patron, and black tendrils surround wwx and his assailants. It blinds him and he can’t see it, can’t control it, can’t stop it as jin zixuan is pierced through his chest and falls to the ground, dead.

the clans are outraged. they speak in fear of him, they hear of his power over life and death and that he, like the wen fugitives by his side, is trying to bring about his patron into the world. they call for an attack, a bloodbath to take him down once and for all.

and a bloodbath it is. the entire cultivation world against a one-man army. fear rings high in the air and all the Entities are well fed in the aftermath, the most satisfied: Slaughter and (paradoxical to their intent) The End.

later, much later, when the siege is over and nothing is left of his anchor other than a small child marked by death, lwj accepts the punishment lashes and then goes into cold seclusion. the jingshi is completely covered by clouds of fog. no one can See him, the elders only get a debilitating headache when they try to pry too hard. not even lxc, who has become the Eye’s most devoted avatar, can know his brother’s whereabouts. only lan yuan seems to able to navigate through the dense gloom.

the world moves on

jin guangyao’s wide smiles are not conspicuous within the plastic faces and painted lips within lanling jin. If his limbs are too long or if his smile a bit distorted or if he disappears through a bright yellow door and doesnt come back then no one makes mention of it.

No one also notices the webs above them hidden in the high ceilings of lanling jin nor the tiny spiders that skitter around the gossiping servants, spinning and weaving threads of thick silk around them.

it takes years for his brother to come out from the fog and lxc nearly weeps at the knowledge that The Lonely had not forsaken another member of his family. still, lwj has changed. there is a certain chill around him now that persists wherever he goes. though he has always been silent since childhood, his silence now is cold and unfeeling, eyes faraway as if not seeing those around him and only floating through the days. He is not completely alone though and that is enough to alleviate some of xichen’s worries. 

time abates some wounds but certainly not all. there is still an empty cold pit in lwj’s chest but it does not bleed as freely as it did 10 years before. Before, he would have readily disappeared into the fog when the elders comes to look for him, now he chooses to disappear from the cloud recesses and absconds into night hunts. he goes wherever the chaos is, seeking (but not willing to hope) that he might find something that can stir the deadness in his heart.

tbc ?

[thefreakandthehair]

Many things to note here! First, what is that lamp. Second, a baseball trophy! So we officially have three sports he played! Assuming he could only do one a season (my school only let us do two a season starting in 2012 I think), that would make swimming a summer sport, basketball the winter sport, and baseball his spring sport. Third, what in the hell is that bottle and why does it look semi suggestive (if a little sharp)

KAT. okay, I cannot thank you enough for sending this to me!

first, that lamp and that weirdly phallic bottle (you're right) look like further evidence that his parents decorated his room without taking his style into consideration. it just looks good and appearances matter in the Harrington ethos. I'm on the older side and it reminds me of what you'd see in a JCPenney catalog in the 80s and early 90s. this was a /look/ at one point and it makes me SHUDDER. (the framed car poster is the only personal touch I've seen of his room, tbh.)

second, the! baseball! trophy! baseball!Steve sets my brain on fire and I am truly so angry that we've been robbed of this. but the jock agenda is very real. Steve Harrington is a 3-sport athlete and thrives on the structure it provides, the competition, the instant gratification and praise! he's good at it, so he doesn't let up. it makes me think of younger Steve playing little league and it makes my heart hurt, honestly. it also really makes me think about Steve post-high school, too. my fiance is a reformed jock and he, and a lot of his friends, struggled for awhile when they were done with organized sports because it's such an anchor for so long and then it's just gone. Steve would absolutely get into a recreational sports league once the world, you know, stops trying to end every year. it really puts a cramp in his baseball season.

[skrunksthatwunk]

yesterday i was talking with my friend who reads a lotta kindle unlimited het romance novels (ok girl live your truth) and apparently the sports romance market is like 80% about hockey players and she was like "I wonder why that is" and i, a little too fast and a little too loud, went

oh it's the violence for sure

and then had to pretend that was a conclusion i came to from a place of cold impersonal logic and worldly wisdom and not literally anything having to do with me as a person

[kieranculkingirl]

idk whats happening tonight i had a dissociative episode and a panic attack, neither of which ive had for the past 7 months straight and now i just feel like fucking garbage

[vg-soundtrack-showdown]

im sorry but we Need longer rounds, the back and forth on the splatoon vs ff is insane and 24 hours really isnt long enough to sway people one way or another

I totally agree, but a week feels too long for non-finals rounds. My Lovely Assistant suggested that I could do week long pills and just call them after a few days, but I do not trust my ability to remember to do that. The next set of polls are coming out in a few minutes, so I’m leaving those alone for now.

If there’s a general consensus about whether or not I should change things (more than a slim majority), I’ll make them and redo this round.

[bronan]

“wyd ronan” ahhh just changing how I draw jack for the 18 millionth time anon wyd. anyway listen to phantom by of monsters and men it’s a banger and great to vibe to while you draw depressed single fathers who just can’t catch a break

[fooligandan]

i hate that people dunking on steve u critical makes me a little mad tbh. like yeah i think if that's All you're doing online (esp as an adult?) you need more hobbies and things 2 do. obviously. but i resent that it's a shorthand/punchline bcs of the pseudo-smear campaign against the concept i guess??

anyway post so true let's all watch and read more than just the one or two kinds of things. i'm going back and forth between house of leaves and one hundred years of solitude right now AND dunmeshi

[deepspacesatellite]

f]chert