whats ur opinion on the brendon stans vs dallons stans thing??? what do you think about beebos treatment of his other "band members" ??
idrc about the whole stans vs stans thing bc i mean, its what people do so i cant really change it no matter how i feel. Also don’t really care about the whole “treatment” thing? kinda unsure what that means, im gonna assume u mean the whole “hes the only remaining member of the band” thing and, like, i’d have a better opinion if we KNEW what happened? but like going off just what we’ve got and/or what we’re guessing, i’m not just assuming that brendon was cold and heartless or smth, they’re adults they obviously talked about it at some point, and they seem on good terms now so idk i think its all good? i havent seen anything else really on it in a while so idk
You can be polyamorous and still cheat. You can be polyamorous and still cheat. You can be polyamorous and still cheat. You can be polyamorous and still cheat. Y O U C A N B E P O L Y A M O R O U S A N D S T I L L C H E A T
YOU CAN BE IN A POLYAMOROUS RELATIONSHIP AND STILL BE CHEATING
Hey, sorry I don't know if you've answered this before, but how exactly does the Miraculous work between Adrien and Felix? Did it used to belong to Felix and then Adrien got it? And also you perception of Felix is A++
i have talked about this before (assuming here you mean the twin au and not just the show in general, since felix and adrien have no relation to each other there), but i’m happy to rehash! i’ll put it in bullet points this time so it’s a bit easier to separate the information:
kwami (in this AU at least) choose their human charges based on their energy signature. they have the ability to sense the ideal candidate before they even see them; minimising their chances of going out and getting in danger with other humans while trying to find someone to bond with.
plagg fixates on the perfect energy signature, bonding his own energy to it right away before he even pops into the room to greet his new charge. that’s a bit of a risky move, but he already knows he’s found the perfect chat noir, so there’s no harm in jumping ahead a step–
–UNLESS IT TURNS OUT TO BE TWINS. IDENTICAL TWINS. A NATURAL DIVISION OF ONE PERSON. WHO OF COURSE SHARE AN IDENTICAL ENERGY SIGNATURE.
PLAGG’S MESSED UP.
now, he’s already bonded with both these kids (one of whom seems okay with this and the other who is really pissed about it) and he can’t just unbond - that isn’t the way it works; kwami stay bonded until they’re no longer needed to set the world back in balance - so the new problem is that he only has one ring. both kids need a ring, plagg needs some gateway to merge with them and create chat noir, so he has to figure something out.
with a huge feat of bad luck energy, he makes a second ring - a black one, decorated with a cat’s head (e.g. felix’s original ring). being freshly forged from raw dark energy it’s not nearly as subtle as the regular silver ring, but it’s definitely better than nothing.
being able to reside inside the rings, plagg is able to use the magic link to essentially teleport to whichever twin is closest to an akuma attack and needs to transform (only one can power up at a time; they can’t both be chat noir since there’s just one kwami between them). it actually turns out to be way more efficient than past chat noirs; with so much time saved trying to get from point A to point B!
a little while into this teamup, plagg’s considering picking out twins more often! if he can get hold of tikki, he knows she’d love to hear how useful it is to have two charges canvasing the city instead of just one!
(tikki already has two charges. marinette’s sharing her earrings with her cousin.)
sometimes i think i could survive solely on deep meaningful conversations with people who are willing to sit and talk for hours about things they think about like their theories on stuff and how much they have changed as a person and how some people never really change at all and you just sit there reflecting on not only them but you as well
So since a lot of people ask me about how I come up with character designs and go about making them - would anybody be interested if I recorded the process for my next RWBY villain design for a speedpaint video?
(I’ve only got their name and basic concept in my head for far so it’d pretty much be the whole process from scratch, including getting references, line drawing and colouring) ?
hey so i updated my about a little at the v bottom with all the extra links youll see some new ones i put some of my art on things and u can get em here and im also tryin to do adopts again u can find those here
i’m on mobile and i can’t edit my actual page but here’s an Updated Blacklist. i’ll change the page when i can but w/e
all insects preferably especially closeups but particularly those three
any kind of surgery pictures or gifs. especially gifs especially if something inside a person moves Fuck That
anything that shows a persons genitals really
all ships but here’s some in particular cause i want people to hate me i suppose
shakarian (i don’t hate the paring just. how it’s portrayed i suppose???)
you can tag everything as “ginny don’t look” if you want to but i have everything blacklisted individually where i can
obviously since i’m on mobile i can stomach seeing them but if you don’t tag i will unfollow you. i’m expecting to see at least some of the things i have blacklisted when i’m on mobile so it’s. bearable?? but i don’t want to be bracing myself when i have a frigging blacklist y'know
Spots swirl, sickening, before his eyes, following the
circular path of water, and the rest, as it sucks down the bowl and away and
Dean gasps for breath. Dizzy, he leans against the raised toilet seat as he
waits for his vision to clear, less concerned about anything unsanitary
staining his cheek as he is about the steady build of bile in the back of his
throat and the tight, agonising twist in his gut.
He tries closing his eyes, thinking the black might help
the sickness pass, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Instead of blissful oblivion
his mind is full of Cas’ face. Or not Cas’ face. Just a face. A face that had
never been Cas at all.
That had been his mistake all along, thinking that mess of
black hair, pair of baby blues and five o’clock shadow had ever been anything Cas. All of that, no matter how
reassuringly consistent, was nothing but skin and bone, just a fancy second-hand
suit Cas had taken from that poor schmuck Jimmy Novak, a coat as easily
discarded as that damn trench.
And just as easily shrugged on by another. Hands and eyes
and mouth just as easily moved by another. Soft words fashioned between
familiar lips. Fingers used to gently touch and caress.
Dean barely manages to tip his head down in time before a
new flood heaves its way out of him, choking him, every recent – secretly
treasured – memory seeing him cough more rank, viscous fluid up from inside
him, as though his body is trying to purge itself of some deep rooted poison.
“Come now, don’t look
so upset,” he
hears again between convulsions, the voice so tender and so achingly, achingly
familiar. “It wasn’t all bad now, was it?
In fact –” The memory of how those chapped lips had quirked up, the gesture
wide and foreign, makes Dean shiver. “–
let’s face it, between me and my kid brother, I was the better Cas, wasn’t I?”
As he spits out the last of dregs of vomit, Dean clings to
the side of the bowl with both hands, knuckles white, as he readies to suffer
through the next wave of regurgitated memory.
“Don’t pretend you
didn’t enjoy our time together,” the voice continues, those blue eyes dancing before Dean’s
own. “I could see it in you. You were
lapping up all that nonsense I was spewing, all those heart to hearts about our
feelings, all those promises to
stand by you, that we were in this together, oh your little face!”
The laughter was the scariest part – so raucous and loud, with hands that weren’t Cas’
slapping thighs that weren’t Cas’ either in vicious delight. That was when the
truth really hit home – that one heart-stopping moment when he hadn’t looked
like Cas at all.
“Honestly, I didn’t
think I’d be able to keep it up this long, but you made it so easy…”
From his position on the chipped bathroom tiles Dean
flinches at the memory of fingers stroking down his paralysed jaw. Presses his
eyes shut against the way his heart had fluttered with longing at the touch, even then.
“You just…” The ghost of warm breath hisses up
his neck and into his ear. “You wanted it
A sudden tapping on the bathroom door jolts Dean back to
“Dean? Dean are you… are you okay?”
Sam is quiet, trying to voice his concern without being
Hearing him makes Dean’s stomach lurch once more, but this
time with a well-known guilt he swallows back with ease. Because god, Sam –
he’d just left him out there in the wake of Lucifer’s departure, rushed away to
wallow in his own grief without a thought when he wasn’t even the one who’d
been tortured by the guy for so many years. How awful must it be for Sam to
know that his tormentor is roaming free in the world again, and yet here he is
offering Dean comfort.
Though it feels like pushing through molasses, Dean reaches
up and pulls the chain.
“I’m, uh –” he croaks over the resulting splash and roar of
suction. “I –” The words he wants get stuck in his throat. “Hold on, I’ll –
I’ll be out in a minute…”
Except his legs refuse to lift him, moving only enough to
let him sit back against the peeling navy wallpaper between the toilet and the
sink. He hooks an arm about one of the exposed pipes under the basin, but the
effort needed to pull himself up seems gargantuan and the attempt leaves him
He doesn’t even hear the door when it opens, despite the
god-awful creak it makes that he’d been complaining about since they got here,
back in that lifetime when this was just a normal case. It’s only the click of
the toilet lid that alerts him to Sam’s presence.
“Hey,” Sam says, dropping down on the closed lid and
hunching over. “How you doing?”
Dean sucks in a ragged breath.
“Been better. You?”
Sam lets his hands fall loose between his knees and looks
down at them, staring beyond to god knows where. Though Dean can guess, and
figures god has no part of it.
“I’m okay,” Sam nods, though his voice is tight.
He takes a couple of deep breaths through his nose before
turning to Dean, thin-lipped and steely eyed, and it tears Dean up inside to
watch him, to see Sam being strong for him.
“You couldn’t have known, Dean,” Sam tells him. “He… he’s
the Devil, he’s smart, you can’t blame yourself for –”
“No,” Dean cuts him off, shaking his head. “No. I…” His
heart starts up a hard, erratic beat as he works up to his confession. “I did
know… I did… There were – There were so many things. Small stuff, stupid stuff,
that was just… wrong. But I didn’t –
I shrugged it off, told myself it was just Cas working through things or trying
something new or whatever, because… because I wanted to believe that he…”
Dean turns away, pressing his forehead against the pipe
under the sink.
“I’m such an idiot…”
As the resulting silence continues on, Dean fixates on the
leaky faucet above him, on the slow, inexorable drip, drip, drip, drip.
“You know. Cas, the real Cas,” Sam breathes into the quiet,
disrupting the rhythm. “The way he feels about you, it… I mean, I can tell he
“Don’t,” Dean begs, voice cracking for just a moment. “Just
Given a few more hours, and a few stiff drinks, Dean thinks
he’ll be able to pull it together. But more false hope? That might just break
Sam falls silent again.
Then, after a moment, Dean feels his brother press a hand
against his shoulder and hold there.