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#that would be a nightmare for her
bhaalsdeepbat · 2 months
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The tadfools were just SO connected for such a long amount of time that I can't imagine them seeing each other as anything but family after a good run, especially a good Resist Durge run. I think they'd swoop right in for one another like they were siblings if they absolutely needed something.
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manyrepulsivethoughts · 2 months
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that one post comparing ruin's and LN2 endings altered my brain chemistry so now have this
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critterbitter · 5 months
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Introducing! ELESA, the new kid on the block! She's a tiny bedraggled child from Sinnoh and not all that familiar with Galarian, the spoken language in Unova. (One day she'll be amazing. Right now though, she just wants to go play in the mud. And maybe get a better set of hearing aids.)
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When not bitterly lonely, she’s scheming to run back to her old home. Or chasing the local patrat. Or watching nervously from the sidelines as other children play on the swings. Oh elesa. (loosely inspired by @/noxstrages' incredible comics about elesa's origins! Ty for the food.)
Masterpost to my submas comics!
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monakisu · 2 months
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lawlight toxic yuri i never posted
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Oh god, oh fuck, oh no; the parallels between Jean at the beginning of tsc panicking and telling Wymack "I want to go home" and Jean at the end of tsc falling apart after finding out his baby sister has died, telling Neil the same thing.
"I want to go home."
He is only nineteen
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ricky-mortis · 3 months
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So, I heard it was Holloweane Week?
It’s a bit late in the week but I wanted to draw something for it, and I liked this prompt.
The way I see it- their roles may have been swapped, but their dynamic? Exactly the same.
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yashley · 3 months
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I feel like if she's telling me so strongly to stay away from it, I don't trust her anymore.
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mediumsizedpidegon · 10 months
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Another avenue I want to explore in an Amity Park is Weird scenario is all the niche sub-cultures going on.
There is absolutely NO WAY there isn't a thriving goth community in Amity Park. They're holding picnics every full moon. They're holding crafting sessions in their friends' basements. They're adopting ghost animals left and right: eight-legged dogs and blob-cats, skeletal fish and neon bearded dragons.
There's a young man called Raphael who performs live music every week at a dance club with his band: he's got a myriad of shiny piercings, and a phone camera roll full of his rabbits, Morningstar and Salem. Perhaps those ghosts are bad business like the Fentons say, but the club's never felt more alive.
The scene and emo kids are multiplying at a rapid rate. The punks and grunge folks are doing shit with textiles that makes every quilting grandmother in a five mile radius swoop in to pass on their skills. Josie and Betty, old friends who periodically upload photos online of their handmade lace, suddenly gain an influx of young folks who want to learn how to make their own ghoulish patterns.
There's a new group peeling off from the goths that dress like the embodiment of Halloween– all bones, pumpkin orange and lengths of costume jewelry.
The historical costuming community is alive and well in these times, and they fall upon the few ghosts from times past willing to share knowledge like starving wolves. Their minds are full of patterning-math and fabric prices, and their excitement is, quite literally, infectious.
A revolution starts up in food service: a great many restaurants closed or moved to follow the many people who left Amity after the ghosts first came. A pair of brothers open a restaurant that has the best Polish food around: people politely don't comment on how the owners are dressed in clothes a century out of date or how their eyes gleam. Two cat cafes open, one space themed and another with loose definitions of what counts as a "cat." Assorted coffee and tea shops dot the landscape: some serve donuts, some have cupcakes, and others have breakfast wraps, sandwiches or savory hand pies.
People that can't afford to open a restaurant sell food out of their homes, advertised by cardboard signs with phrases like CAKES FOR $10, and BARBEQUE RIBS FOR SALE painted on them in gigantic bright letters. High school students bring in bags of cookies they made the night before and completely sell out of stock before the day is done. One woman's house has no signage and yet is known by word of mouth to be a herbalist, selling tins of homemade tea blends, flowers, assorted plant clippings, and cough drops.
Someone down the street of Casper High sells small batches of eco-friendly soap at a nearby corner store.
During summer time, lemonade stands are everywhere. Some of the lemonade is made with the strange fruits from one of the parks: no one dies, so it's fine.
The Farmer's Market has gotten... intense.
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daiwild · 5 months
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Forever & Always Paulkins ?
Orr Tinkoffski 👀
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The Matthew-Perkins. Second normal-est Hatchetfield couple. The first normal-est are the Jerries, obv.
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whatapunderfullife · 2 months
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do we think Ruvina, goddess of winter and sorrow, took the sorrow domain after the loss of Ankarna.
Her sibling is dead, something unfathomable for a god.
Her sibling the go of summer, of warmth, or protective wrath especially towards anyone who dared harm Ruvina.
Do you think in the absence of true warmth Ruvina told the Giant races to huddle together? to keep each other warm because now the sun cannot. because isn't that what was do when we lose someone that is our everything?
we greave and pull strength from our community so that we can move forward everyday.
Lucy Frostblade was not a happy soul, but she was a kind one. Why would her god be any different.
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puppetmaster13u · 2 months
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Prompt 268
Fright Knight sighs, running a clawed hand through his hair in an attempt to stop the flames from flickering into being. It had been far too long since he had taken a human-ish form. His human-ish form. Ugh. He didn’t exactly care for his human form after so long as a ghost, but needs must he supposed. 
Especially with the whole, we’re going to punch a backdoor into the literal daycare part of the Infinite Realms and be surprised when literal toddlers go exploring. 
Well, at least it got him off of guard duty for a bit, which was relieving. Not that he didn’t love the darkness, but it got boring in the shadow of his sword for literal centuries with nothing else happening. He was a warrior for Realm’s sake! Borderline an Ancient in both power and age! He wasn’t meant to stay so still for so long. 
So while ghostling wrangling wasn’t exactly in his area of expertise, he could definitely gather them back up to the Realms. And deal with the curs who had decided to attack literal babies. 
The Daycare area was already understaffed due to just how large it was, and the one in charge of this section had practically sobbed to the Council (In another world they would have been put on hold for a century in line for their concerns, and then more once a Sarcophagus was opened, but they had told the other ghosts in distress, causing others to let them go up in said line) how they were almost certain they had felt at least one core form Outside the realms thanks to the breach. 
Which had understandably put everyone at an uproar. 
So here he was slipping between shadows to do reconnaissance and take stock of if any Ghostlings had left the city. And gently scruffing those he comes across in exasperation because what are you doing, ghostling? Look at the mess, what would your caretaker say? 
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cemeterything · 7 months
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i never should've said "this edible ain't shit" the other day i took more today and not only did it kick in this time but it did so just as my mom called me
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ethan desrved so much betterrr ususghhshshsdaaaa
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agentark · 2 months
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do you ever think about how in the literal very first scene with Rebecca, we learn that Unit Bravo had no idea she even had a kid
she chose UB and The Agency over the detective so consistently, so frequently, that her team didn't even consider that she had some kind of life outside of them, with someone waiting for her at home
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ghouljams · 9 months
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Ohmygod i have an obsession w price n witchhh!!! In my head after the events of tapped price comes back w his metaphorical tail between his legs bc before witch's wards kicked him out, she looked at him!! And was like price? And he def realised that she trusted him so much in that moment liek her instinct was to look at him bc she cannot believe he would let something hurt her let something of his (gaz) hurt her, not to deal w gaz or the fae magic, yk?? He def feels as awful as he can bc she trusted him and im making my own heart ache rn
It is genuinely so rrrrrrrrrr I am feral about that one moment in particular, because you're hitting the nail on the head. She trusted him, trusted that he wouldn't bring anyone/anything to her that would hurt her, trusted that he was looking out for her, and he gets that moment of his Witch's trust being shattered before he's forced out. That single "Price?" is a "How could you let this happen?" And it fucking kills him.
Price doesn't come by to see you for days. A week passes, then another, with his nose in his work. He can't face you, can't get your wide eyed shock out of his head, the bright crimson of your blood as it dripped from your nose. He can't shake the lingering ache of your magic in his bones, still working off Gaz's accidental curse. How could one mistake shake him so badly? Nothing shakes him.
Still, when his feet carry him down the familiar path to your garden he flinches at your sunshine. The overgrown garden that once seemed so comfortable now seems to only remind him of his failure. He stays in the treeline, watches you hum as you tend to your plants. You wipe the sweat from your forehead and roll your shoulders back, alive and well.
Why can't he forget the way you'd clung to him? His heart clenches in his chest each time he remembers the way you'd sagged against him, unable to keep yourself up any longer. It was the first time in a long time your wards had bit their thorns into him, distrustful and violent. You'd said his name like a plea for answers he didn't have, and it haunted him. How could he let this happen? How could he bring pain into your house? How could he stay away so long, avoiding you like the plague? A stern reminder of his own shortcomings.
You look towards your garden gate with eyes full of longing, something soft and sad dragging your brows together. Price steels himself to make his way towards your garden, then turns and leaves. He can face the court and all its dangers, but one witch turns him into a coward.
He makes sure to get to your garden wall before you come out the next day. Somehow that feels easier. The thought that you might look out your window and choose to ignore him sticks like a knife between his ribs, but it's better than having to approach you. When you do come out you're struggling with a tea tray, keeping the door open with your hip as you maneuver the delicate set out of your house. Price pushes off the wall.
"Let me help," He offers.
"No," you snap too quickly, "No, I'm- the wards are still all out of whack." Your explanation is almost as bad as your denial. He can feel the hum of your magic, the barrier as strong and friendly to him as ever, not a hair out of place. The wards are almost apologetic, not that Price holds it against them for doing their job. No. It's you, your expression is kind but your eyes are unsure.
You carry yourself like you did ages ago, like you don't trust him. Kind, not friendly.
Price swallows down his pride, and keeps out of your way as you set up tea on your garden wall. You set a steaming mug of spiced wine in front of him. It smells like an apology. What do you have to apologize for?
"Sweetheart," Price picks up the mug, his fingers tight on the rim of it, you hum questioningly, "you wouldn't be thinkin' of sayin' sorry for something, would you?" You pause your fussing with the precarious placement of your plate of cookies.
"Of course not," You don't look at him, "but if I was-"
"You shouldn't," Price cuts you off. He sips his mug as you fidget --he's never seen you do that-- it makes his stomach twist unpleasantly. "I would've made the same call," he assures you.
"You wouldn't have let it happen in the first place," You tell him, "I shouldn't have-" You cut yourself off, staring at your tea. Shouldn't have trusted him, Price thinks.
"I should have stopped him," he tells you.
"Is that why you haven't come to see me?" Your voice is so soft, and so god damned perceptive. The way you look at him makes his heart stop, like you can see straight through him. You'd make an excellent creditor if you ever wanted a career change, leading him exactly where you want him.
"Yes," Price admits. Your guard melts away, smile softening just for him. You could take a man's breath away looking at him like that.
"Stop that," You break a piece off one of the cookies with an air of finality, "you'll just have to find some other way to make it up to me."
"I'll think of something," He murmurs into his mug. He'd spend the rest of his life making it up to you if you'd let him. For now he contents himself with your small smile, an olive branch that what's broken can be repaired. If it ever was broken in the first place.
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sansxreaderbraindump · 5 months
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Y/n, gross crying: GOD I-IM SUCH A-A FAILURE!! Nightmare, without thinking: good, cuz I'm into girlfailure's
Y/n: wait, what. nightmare: what. killer: WHAT?!
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