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#the versions with different pronouns
sherbertilluminated · 11 months
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The Turning more like The YEARNING this song should be on every terror ship playlist
youtube
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3amsnek · 1 year
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more aro week dragon! he’s very enthusiastic about his job <3 (flags: aromantic, demiromantic, cupioromantic, aroace, greyromantic)
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reblogs >> likes! please don’t like if you don’t rb
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sleepanonymous · 17 days
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Something extremely funny and not at all annoying about writing Sleep Token fanfiction is when the fake names you’ve chosen for the Eepy Guys— names that you’ve actually grown fond of and have trained yourself to use when writing so that it comes naturally and you’re no longer accidentally writing the forbidden Real Names™— end up being names shared by less than savory people in this fandom.
I’ve literally never had a writing crisis like this before. Like, I’m half tempted to just ignore it and be like “Do you eepy babes wanna read a oneshot that's almost finished about Vessel and III and attraction panic?” because I’ve been using these names for almost six months now.
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moeblob · 13 days
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You literally spent three hours having an ENTIRE SCHOOL (teachers included) slut-shaming a guy just for him to be a (spoiler).
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fandomsoda · 1 month
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I don’t really have the words to go too in-depth with this rn, but Roxy is absolutely one of my favorite Homestuck characters of all time and I like almost every interpretation I’ve seen of them so far, it’s just very hard to go wrong with them.
I love you transfem Roxy, I love you transmasc Roxy, I love you agender Roxy, I love you hopeless lesbian Roxy, I love you bi disaster Roxy, I love you canon Roxy, I love you postcanon Roxy, I love you fanon Roxy, I love you queer hyperfemininity, I love you masculine presentations with pink aesthetics, I love you goofy but chill and genuine characters, I love you Roxy.
I don’t have a singular favorite Homestuck character, but Roxy is up there. For many a reason.
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quietwingsinthesky · 2 days
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i can turn anyone into lesbians. just watch me.
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blockgamepirate · 4 months
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As much as I love and appreciate the new eggmins, I'm always a bit sad about losing the old ones
I can't help it, it's just not the same. It's not like it's worse now, but it's not the same
German Chayanne is great and I love him, but he's not Mexican Chayanne, etc.
And it feels extra sad when we lose Spanish speaking characters when it also feels like we've lost so many Spanish speaking streamers... Sure some of them show up occasionally but they're not really around, except Roier and sometimes Quackity
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leighsartworks216 · 9 months
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Of course it would be the Astarion fixation that gets me back into writing smut
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kittycowboy · 2 months
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Jamaican patois my beloved U are suxh a helpful referwnce
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burritowitch · 10 months
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me when there are no fics for an extremely niche character from a disliked else world
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dr3amofagame · 6 months
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this being j!dream's first thought when p!sam opens up about coparent timeline to him makes me gnaw on drywall
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ghostingcrows · 18 days
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I wish I could give 2019/2020 Ghost a hug
He deserves one
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ophiocordyceps · 11 months
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i want to know the scene give it to me NEOW
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ok but im going into Actual Writing Mode for this rather than just Description Mode 👍👍👍👍this is half stream of conscious and half referencing the original version of this scene so it might be kind of jumbled
Backtracking through Hell is an arduous task, even with an ally or two though by Violence the layers are all but cleaned out and slowly beginning to decay.
Having chased V1 back upwards from there, the game turned into a treacherous game of cat and mouse until it leads back to where it's life as an angry ghost began.
Layer four, Greed.
The slow breakdown of the upper layers had finally reached it, an inhospitable heat from the now-dying sun reaching far into the shadows, clawing down the connection to Wrath below as the angry star above consumed the sky. This was it. It would either succeed, or die its final death trying. Its oversensitive overheat warnings were screaming at it.
V1 sees it coming, across the melted sea of gold that laps at the burning sandstone platforms below, and it knows it has nowhere to go. If it could reach the hole in the side of the pyramid it would, but the wall is just too steep, too hot, it'd be fried or cast in liquid gold before it had a chance to do anything about it.
It would give everything it had to fend V2 off, red light glinting off it's plating, off the cobalt sword it's successor had borrowed from it's new companion (who, previously, had torn away it's primary offensive arm, which V2 now sports-- ironic) but the agonizing heat would prove too much for its systems to react quickly enough to the inputs it receives and outputs it gives.
It would've never been a fair fight, anyway. There's too much anger for that now.
Even as V2 faces the same problems, it persists, nothing else mattered to it anymore (or so it tried to tell itself, over and over) but the thought of dying right back where it started terrified it to no end, it could not allow itself to fail now, as the two once identical machines stare each other down on that fateful platform, the blood baked into the shattered sandstone having been there longer than either of them.
And then it makes its move, tunnel vision blocking out the fact that V1 is practically unloading its entire arsenal into it, red being cast not only by the sun above but by the visceral hatred being expressed by the way its shattered wings burn bright, lunging forwards with the sword practically the same size as V1 itself, forcing it back further and further as the edge nicks it bit by bit, and only then does V1 realize that V2 has no plans of truly fighting--these wounds would only be caused with the intent of inflicting suffering upon an organic creature, and in the split second it's distracted by the revelation, V2 finds an opportunity to kick it's predecessor to the ground, eliciting a rare buzz of alarm from it as it drives one of the hydraulic spikes it's salvaged legs provide through its plating to pin it down.
As the two lock eyes, V2 plunges the blade through its mechanical guts until it hits the slightly-molten sandstone underneath, twisting it slowly; it can see so much of itself in V1 and it hates that, as it realizes just how large of a shadow its predecessor has cast upon its life until this very moment, stretching all the way back to even before it was constructed.
They created V2 just so the model line would stay relevant and then failed to accomplish that.
They made a war machine without war, a V-model copy without any of the things that made the first one unique. And then they couldn't figure out what to do with it.
They couldn't make another V1, so they gave up trying, left it to have to figure itself out. Its been trying to do that ever since, haunted by the mere existence of the machine it's looking down at now, as its body heaves as if breathing heavily, its fans desperately trying to pump air over it's inner workings. Blood sizzles on the stone underfoot.
It practically collapses in the process of trying to kneel down, having to use the sword in V1's guts to support itself as it takes it upon itself to begin dismembering it. It takes more than what has already been taken from it, finding it hard to think as it feels more and more like an ant under a magnifying glass. V1 can barely react, with warnings about overheating and missing components blocking out any external stimuli.
It was this close.
And then, unceremoniously, it's ripped out of its focus.
It sees where it is, it hears the sheer number of warnings screaming at it in the back of its mind. Overheat warnings, component integrity and fuel level warnings, frying to death in it's own blood under the sun of greed surrounded by bits of metal.
Briefly it forgets about finishing off V1, terrified that it really did just end up right where it started, overwhelmed by everything this place meant to it now-- but it couldn't just quit, not now.
With the last of its strength, its senses, as its hardware starts shutting down to protect itself from further damage, it takes the blade and plunges Justice down through V1's chest plating, tearing through the soft material of its heart and the vital components of its brain.
It was over. For it, and now seemingly, for her.
Its body slumped against the corpse below it as its consciousness blinked out.
It's over.
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estbela · 2 months
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Nyo/fem!Romania...🥹🥹🥹🥹
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every now and then i think about my one interpretation of emma as a deeply closeted trans man radfem with a ton of internalized transphobia and antimasculism, who takes her issues with her identity out on the people around her instead of unpacking them and accepting herself. and i think, i need to draw a comic about this
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cartoonpigeon · 8 months
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cringetober day 10 - fursona :3
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