#sorry. thats fucking weird

[no-design-derby]

so are dnd/actual-play podcast characters not allowed either if sanders sides characters count as real people? what about minecraft youtube series characters? where are you drawing the line between “real person” and “character invented and played by a real person”?

Oh boy, here we go. I'm hoping there's no negativity behind this ask, I don't wanna cause problems. If a character is based off of the person playing it, to the point of the same exact name and appearance (for mcyt, their minecraft skin) I would count that as real people. I don't really want to get into the Discourse™️ of what DSMP fans specifically have done to acting weird about real life people... Say though, they maybe share a few characteristics, but thats it? More like a self insert? Personally I think it's a bit better. But I wouldn't say let one random person decide how you view things. Do whatever. Some people will agree, some people wont. Y'know? Just for me, and my tournament, I'd rather not have 'characters' that are That close to the actual person playing them. Again, don't take my word as something you need to follow. I think a lot of people who use social media see what someone else says and thinks "welp, if i dont agree, im gonna get cancelled" or something. Bad mentality. Believe what you want to. Live your truth. If people disagree, they disagree. If they agree, they agree. If what you want to think is bad to everyone else, like, say, being a terf or something, then you deserve all the disagreement and hate you're getting. Just saying that so no one thinks I'm in the "let people enjoy things" crowd, I'm definitely not lol. If anon is gonna fight about dsmp 'characters' being different from the people playing them I'm gonna think they're annoying and disagree. Sorry for the rant. It's Tumblr, shit like this is always bound to come up and people LOVE to misunderstand shit and twist people's words to make them seem like the bad guy. Just wanna clear some shit up.

[luckyjorabbit]

Obsessed w Doffy’s sunglasses/googles combo so I had to draw somethin with it but then wani too <3

[bandtrees]

they would get divorced in one universe just to find eachother in another one

alternatively titled: sometimes you're the level-headed token flesh-head impulse-control-and-polycule-member of a stubborn, eccentric, and hearty telephone-headed drug addict, and there's cruelty in the world you deem fit to suicidally fight, and that either goes about as well as you'd expect it to, or you learn about love and the value of your life and junk along the way

[tabooi]

i call this one "literally what was going on with the second us tour"

[kiddokori]

his ass is NOT getting up for his 8am lecture

[biblically-accurate-dca]

moon n ballora

[a-sketchy]

persona misogyny is so fucking wild. ignoring literally everything else about the entire rest of the games, every single s.link with a female character is like “entirely for having been born a woman i have had to work twice as hard for a fraction of the benefit. even now, i am stripped of my agency in a position i never wanted in the first place” and/or “i’m put on a pedestal by the people in my life because of my looks. men see me as an object to be conquered, women hate me for ‘stealing’ ‘their’ men. if i’m withdrawn i’m a bitch, if i’m friendly i’m easy. because of this, i’m alone” and/or “because of my personality or hobby or lack of cooking skills, i feel like i’m failing at femininity. if being a woman is something i can fail at, then where does that leave me? i’m scared at the loss of my identity and place in society”

like very consistently they present female characters with complex thoughts towards their place in society as women, femininity as a whole, and facing issues stemming from misogyny, and then the payoff is always “my problems were entirely my own fault. i wasn’t strong enough, i was a coward. but now, i’m gonna work hard to be exactly what society expects me to be (which is what i want to be)! i’m gonna do better at femininity (which is still something tangible i can fail at)! i’m going to try hard at making friends (which was my fault for not doing)! all my problems are solved through personal responsibility (that im totally culpable for), effort (which i previously was not putting in), or you, a man! i am Happy and Satisfied with this outcome, can i be Your woman?”

and like hello? why are we here. what the fuck are we doing. why do we keep doing this every single time. can we not do the constant lukewarm attempts at criticizing misogyny so you can jerk off to your own thoughtfulness, while ultimately reinforcing patriarchal systems and brushing off any deeper misogyny-bred issues as a lack of deference to one’s rightful place in society? like maybe don’t do that? for fucking once? just an idea

[carpathiians]

sketches

ref

[marsbotz]

whats ur fucking deal

[in-a-mountain-pool]

Hi everyone, my name is Emily, and I am SO over the head!canon that Michael Gavey likes bimbofication, and I think it's a bit anti feminist, and weirdly not in character. But hey ho, everyone is allowed an opinion, I'm just feeling a bit icky about it today and I'm looking for reassurance that it's not only me~

[moeblob]

Every single time I draw for an anime I think to myself "never again will I draw for an anime" and then I am proven wrong. So here, take my daughter Lulu.

[bedforddanes75]

do you have any fanfiction recs??

I DO!!!!!! im honoured that someone's thought of Me to ask for recs omg... anyway theyll be under the cut because making long posts without a cut makes me feel mean

okay im assuming u mean gatty cos. its Me so sorry if u didnt 😞 smut is marked with * btw!!! (also before i start i'm sorry to everyone i tag i Hate tagging it's really scary.) SO. in no specific order. let's go

love me to death* by...somebody who i do not know the tumblr of (sorry) is amazing. i'd also recommend everything else by this person, too, because all of it is beautiful.

all the king's horses by the wonderful @allylikethecat is one of my all time faves, it just makes me want to scream and cry and yell and jump up and down. in a very, very good way!! (also, it has horses, so.)

the big light by @betweenthings2 is for real godsent, and i would die to be able to write like this!!!!! (but if u do then tw for speak of s/a!! keep urself safe!) it's beautiful and sad and sad and sad and wonderful. again, i'd recommend everything else by them, too!!! (also loads of crisps because it got updated like three seconds ago, and i Love It)

in the search for it, inside of you* by @arainesque is so beautifully sad, and the best thing ever. it's so soft and wonderful and lovely and aaaaaahhh!!! the way she wrote their dynamic makes my heart ACHE. obsessed always :(((((<3

how little i really know (about the things that matter)* OH MY GOD. farm boy george. literally almost entirely what inspired deus like it's AMAZING. beautiful and i love it so much

roadkill, again, by @betweenthings2 because she's genuinely amazing and deserves nine hundred thousand billion kudos on every single fic <3 (tw for restrictive (i think) EDs btw!!) i think if i read this while not in a good mood i would explode and die. it's amazing

into my spiral patterns you (my love) by @lookedlikethebins which is in progress rn is HWHSKJSJSJ. beautiful. obsessed with how they've written george in this one <3

okay im Very sorry to everyone who i tagged here i genuinely hate tagging people so much it makes me SICK but i kinda felt bad speaking about fics and Not tagging people. LORD. someone give me a tumblr etiquette class

[hiemaldesirae]

The Hazbin Graduate’s Guide to Homicide (3)

HAZBIN'S MIDSEMESTER STUDENT REPORT Student: Vox Vanhal Supervising Staff: Professor Enoch Leviathan Sponsor: Not Applicable To the Board: Vox Vanhal may be one of the most brilliant students this school has seen in decades. In all my years of teaching at Hazbin, I have never met a student more insanely ready to learn and apply their skills- due in part, of course, to said student's own possible insanity. I mean this in a jovial way, of course, but I will admit that when young Vanhal's true identity was revealed to me that my first thought was along the lines of 'is this student insane?' Whether or not my student's reason should be called into question is something myself and my fellow professor Asmodeus have discussed in length, but there is one thing that we can definitively agree on: If there is any one student in this school who I would choose to place my bets on, it would be Vox Vanhal. There is nothing more to say at this time of report evaluation. Sincerely, Professor Leviathan.

May God's blessings be with you now and at the hour of our deaths, Amen.

[ 1 ] / [ 2 ] (<- read these first for context and more murder academy radiostatic content!)

Though Alastor may have thought that Vox was much more knowledgable in how Hazbin's Institution for Homicide worked, the truth was, Vox was still fully flying on the seat of his own coattails.

He had no damn clue what he was doing still, and although it'd been two weeks since he'd arrived, part of him still felt like how he did when he'd first arrived: hesitant, scared, not knowing where to go or what to do besides the want to make his boss suffer as he killed him.

That level of animosity might sound strange to anyone not a Hazbin student or alumnus, but it was perfectly normal for any student enrolled in the academy to have such feelings. After all, there was quite a rigorous process involved in the application, and for Vox, this application process (and what led to it) was perhaps more intense than most.

There had once been a time where Vox had dreamed of becoming a Hollywood starlet, one who lit up the silver screen and was blessed by hundreds of thousands of cheering, dedicated fans who would fawn over his every move and action. He'd wanted to follow in his mother's footsteps, at one point. But after taking on his first roles in Carmine Studios, the glamour of Hollywood had shattered like fine glass.

"Miss Vesper! Would you please look over here for a second?"

"Miss Vesper, when is your next movie coming out?!"

"Miss Vesper, is it true that you and your co-star on Anna Karenina, Valentino Vega had an affair-?"

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! That- fucking bastard!" Vox rushed into the privacy of his and Val's shared apartment, slamming the door behind him as he collapsed into the couch, head cradled in his hands. He couldn't even begin to start detailing the number of ways he'd wanted to fucking butcher and rip apart his boss.

Andrealphus Goetia was no stranger to the spotlight, naturally. One of Hollywood's top directors, the man had been an influential cornerstone in the history of movie-making, a real legend to light the days. But behind that picturesque platinum reputation laid a monstrous piece of shit.

It had been a complete accident that Andrealphus had found out about Vox's identity.

Vox himself hadn't even really planned out what to do about himself at that point, only that he'd known that the dresses he wore on screen were far more suited to his best friend than they were for him. Knew that the copious amounts of makeup flattened on him everyday made him feel more like a clown than a princess, that it was the most uncomfortable feeling to have to sit and play the pretty face for the audience's sake.

But he persisted, telling himself, one more year, one more year til my savings account has enough to supply Val and I with a comfortable life and we can leave.

But of course- of course Andrealphus had to ruin it for him.

The man had found out and immediately proceeded to blackmailing Vox with the information, holding things such as promotions, media gossip and rumors over his head. And now... now... Vox stared down at the script he held clutched in his hand, his knuckles turning white as he grasped it with an iron grip.

"Dieser verdammte bastard," Vox muttered under his breath.

Though he'd never loved the spotlight that came with his first taste of fame, he had loved acting. Had loved being adored for his skill, applauded for the emotions that he could evoke in crowds of people and the way he could twist people's hearts. He had wanted to be one of the best, a household name.

And now, he stared down at the script for a movie that Andrealphus knew would tank his reputation. It was absolute bullshit. The plot was held together by thin strings and a bit of glue, despite being an adaptation of one of the past decade's best selling books. Not only that, but the moment he left the safety of the apartment once more, he would also have to contend with the rumors that were steadily piling against him and dragging his loved ones and friends into it too.

All this, because Vox had refused to sleep with his shitty boss.

He could still hear the fucker's voice- come on, don't you wanna say that you got a piece of me? I'll even leave out the part about you being a transvestite, darling, just the fact that I got a piece of you is enough.

God. If only.... if only he could see that bastard's face when he crushed his fucking skull in between his hands. He wanted to see Andrealphus' stupid face contort in revulsion and terror when Vox finally did the deed, wanted to bathe in the the fotze's inbred blood. He'd do anything for the chance to just kill that piece of shit-

"Amorcito?"

Val's voice makes Vox jump on the spot, quickly shifting to hide the script from view. His friend comes around the corner, eyebrows furrowed with concern, and it's this that makes Vox break his composure, a single tear falling down his face as Val frowns, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "Voxxy, amor... tell me what's wrong."

And because he can never keep his mouth shut when it comes to his best friend, Vox tells him everything. Val nods along, pauses at the right moments, all of that stuff that friends do when they're trying to let you know that they'd rip apart your shitty boss if not for the law.

But- and perhaps this is something that Vox knew deep down to be true anyway- Val was a bit different in that aspect. He'd met the man under... less than legal circumstances, after all, and he knew that Val was the heir to quite the illustrous cartel career.

So when Valentino stops him with a firm hand on the shoulder and hands him an application paper for Hazbin, telling him to think it through, Vox barely takes even a second glance at it before filling it out.

Now, two months later and sitting in the auditorium of Hazbin's famed Music Hall, Vox doesn't find himself regretting the decision. Sure, it's a bit lonely without Val's supporting presence by his side, but the students he's met so far have proved to be some of the friendliest people he's had the pleasure of knowing: ironic, considering the kind of school they're studying at. And he's even managed to make a friend! Not that bad a start, altogether.

Vox absentmindedly doodles on the edge of his notes as Professor Leviathan's soothing voice lectures them on the importance of a proper alibi. "If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, looks like a duck, but it has an airtight alibi, it is...?"

"Not a duck," the auditorium echoes back to the professor, who nods, looking satisfied with the class's response. "So, then! The first step to alibi making is...? Miss Velvette, perhaps you'd like to answer this one for us?"

The girl sitting beside Vox shoots up in her seat, looking as if she'd just fallen asleep and was awoken by the professor's question. "Uh... the..."

After a moment of silence and stuttering, Vox takes pity on the girl, sliding Velvette over a slide of paper that she squints at before reading. "Make sure you're in a different place from the crime?"

"And how would I do that?"

"I... uh. Use an accomplice...?" Velvette stutters.

Professor Leviathan shakes his head, looking disappointed. "Not quite. One thing you will have to learn at Hazbin's is that you should never rely on any other person to carry your deed out for you. No hiring accomplices- after all, paid personnel's loyalty is shaky and they have no honor code preventing them from taking you to the police- and absolutely no committing crimes as lovers, unless you can guarantee that neither of you will be snitching. Would anyone else like to take a try?"

Vox raises his hand hesitantly. "Move the crime scene or otherwise obscure the culprit?"

Professor Leviathan snaps his fingers, "Yes! Absolutely. One of the best ways to make yourself an iron clad alibi is, if the pope is shot in the church at midnight, make sure that you are seen halfway across town in the bar at midnight; so drunk that you cannot even leave until your wife comes to pick you up at two- and no one will suspect you, even if he was actually killed right outside the pub and moved to the church instead. By moving the crime scene, you can make yourself an ironclad alibi. Obscuring the identity of the perpetrator and making it someone who couldn't possibly be you also works splendidly. After all, if the police believe the murderer to be a six foot tall adult man, then the actual perpetrator, a four foot tall young woman, would be able to pass by completely unnoticed. Thank you for that input, Vox. Now, onto the actual creation of such an alibi..."

When class ends, Vox is the first to leave his seat and head for the door, intending on leaving and getting to Track with Professor Satan as quick as possible when someone stops him in his tracks with a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Hey. Vox Vanhal, right?"

"That would be me, yes," Vox turns to face the person he's talking to, only to be met with the young woman that Professor Leviathan had called out in class earlier. "You were... Velvette?"

"Yep, that's me," the chipper young woman responds. "Listen, I know you don't know me at all, but I really need to get through this school year. Like- look, okay, I'm in a little bit over my head right now. I still want to go here and do what everyone here does, of course, I'd love to just go and plunge a damn butcher's knife into my cunt of an ex-friend's neck, but... well, you saw how I did back in class- look, what I'm trying to get at is I need someone to help me. And you're like, Leviathan's star student. So- I don't care what I have to do, I'll-"

Vox holds up a hand to stop her.

"I don't need you to do anything for me, unless you've got any tips on how to kill my boss and make him suffer during it. But I'll help you with whatever you need to study during your courses. Just..." He pauses, taking a moment to think out what he's about to ask. "Could you teach me how you did your makeup on your own?"

Velvette blinks, clearly not expecting that response. She laughs, a shrill, sharp bark and grabs his hand to shake it firmly. "Yeah, 'course I can. So, do we have a deal?"

"We do," Vox smiles. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

[ode-to-fury]

Friendship Astarion is so important to me. Like I know everyone is horny for the sassy elf but like… what if he learned to care for someone without sex? What if he tried to manipulate Tav into bed and they told him no? And then… kept being nice to him? Kept taking care of him and expecting the same in return? What if he doesn’t have to fall in love to realise he wants to live a life where he cares about things and makes his own decisions? What if he tells them about how he used his body anyway? What if they tell him he never has to again? What if they hug him and expect nothing back? What if they put their head on his shoulder and nothing else? What if, for the first time in 200 years, he felt safe enough to joke and laugh and not put on a show because it’s obvious they don’t feel that sort of attraction to him anyway? What if he just had a best friend?

[bidoofenergy]

in the middle, alone

based on this post by @quaranmine

(825 words)

Grian can never really deny Jimmy and Joel. He goes along with the big things— teaming up or handing over his time or fighting with Pearl and BigB over that fucking frog—and the little things—their matching jackets or their sunglasses or their fucking name—and minimally complains about it the whole time. Their bed situation was a medium thing; it wasn't going to kill him, but gods did it make his days that much worse.

Joel somehow both overheats and has the coldest toes known to man. Jimmy sleeps curled into himself but stretches his wings out, sticking feathers into Grian's mouth. They both kick. They left him the middle. He hates them for it.

At the end of the day, he makes a show of leaving with Pearl and BigB, back to their towers and frogs. Being alone makes you easy to pick off by any of the other roving groups of Reds. BigB throws an arm over his shoulders and Pearl bumps shoulders with him, both comforting him, both making him stumble.

It's only as they pick their way across the lawn, avoiding pressure plates because no one can quite remember where the TNT is, that Grian realizes he might actually be spending the night there. That's not the worst thing in the world. He'd probably get his own bed, away from other people. But something about the thought of sleeping on his own, not on the destroyed roof of the woodland mansion, makes something settle in the pit of his stomach. Makes things feel a little too final.

"We'll take care of you, Grian!" Pearl tells him, with that bright, sharp smile she only wears in the games. BigB rummages through their chests but in the end only turns up with a single piece of wool.

"Sorry, man," he tells Grian and he sounds like he means it.

"Don't worry about it," Grian tells them. "I'll just sneak back through the forest to the mansion and meet you guys in the morning." For a moment the other two hesitate, glancing at each other, and Grian watches them do the same math he just did: no one's in the forest, the TIES and Clockers have both gone home, he definitely has good gear at his base that he could bring them.

"Stay safe." BigB tells him and he sounds like he means it.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite!" Pearl sings after him, already heading up the ladder.

Grian makes it back to the mansion, perfectly fine except for being damp all over again—why did Joel flood their whole base? He's tired, wrung out from the chaos of the day, and crawls into bed, armor still on. He pulls his sheets up to his chin.

It's too cold. Joel runs so hot and curls in so close that most nights Grian woke up well before he wanted to, drenched in sweat. Grian rips the blankets off the other beds and pulls them over himself. There's no one here to yell at him for it anyway. It's not the warm bulk of two friends, of a set of wings layered over his own.

It's too quiet. Jimmy loves to talk when they go to bed, rambling on about the day or some joke Martyn made or that fucking frog. Joel snores and snuffles into his pillow and is generally just as noisy asleep as he is awake. Now, all Grian can hear is the wind rustling through the wheat.

It's fine. Grian likes sleeping by himself. He hates being in the middle of their ridiculous dog pile—the "Bad Boys Bed Bundle" as Joel had called it, which didn't even make sense. Just this morning, he woke up spitting mad because Jimmy's feathers had found their way into his mouth, again. He's not upset to be sleeping alone for the first time since the games had started. It is not too cold or too quiet or something truly ridiculous like too lonely.

It is perfectly normal for him to be in bed, alone. Two nights ago he threatened to move up to his bread house, he was so annoyed, and Joel had yanked him back down with hands around his chest while Jimmy clung to his middle and apologized and begged in the same breath. He stayed on the rooftop, because he can never really deny them anything, and stared up at the mess of bridges that cut across the sky, Joel and Jimmy still clinging to him.

No one is clinging to him now. No one is on either side of him now. In the morning, he will go meet Pearl and BigB and neither of them will lean on him the way Joel and Jimmy did so easily. He's in the middle of nothing now. He's in the middle, alone. The thought settles in his stomach like a lead weight.

They're dead. They left him in the middle, alone. He hates them for it.

[thecrowsart]

👁️🦎🎯

(crops under cut)