My pronouns are...everything...like...I really don't care which pronouns you use for me. I just post random things, right now mostly DSMP, Cult of the Lamb and occasionally Monster Hunter. My "blog" is safe for all shippers, so, feel free to ask or comment about the ship that you enjoy. If you want to see some flower pictures then you could go to my Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/adamignis/?hl=en
You can support me on Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/adamignis
And on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/AdamIgnis
I didnt really think that something like this would be necessary but because of some events I might need to add this to my page.
DNI please if:
TERF, racist, homophobic, MAP(Non-MAP), if you consider sending anyone de@th-threats as a normal or acceptable thing then please dont interact. (List could be bigger but my DNI list is pretty basic. If you in any way harm people, mentally or physically, DNI.)
Because of recent events I am also triggered by even the simple mention of Poppytwt. So please dont include me in discussions about it or anything like that.
My blog is only about the characters. Not about the creators.
This is mostly a SFW blog but sometimes I also post NSFW, which would also be tagged as such.
Gay men use she/her pronouns all the fucking time. Drag queens are very accepted in the LGBTQ+ community. So why is it 'invalidating your own gender' or 'infiltrating lesbian spaces' when lesbians use he/him pronouns??? Please go read a gay history book i beg of you. He/him lesbians are fully accepted on my page! i love yall sm & dont ever let cis people invalidate your experience when they have no idea what they're talking about
hey jsyk if you purposefully try or even successfully try to trigger paranoia in someone with paranoid psychosis or any type of paranoid delusion, no matter how ""funny"" or how much you hate them, i fucking hate your guts and i want you to reconsider why you think being ableist is a big punch up to someone who is probably too afraid to leave their room because we think someone will get us
NOTICE FOR PSYCHOTIC PEOPLES LIKE ME AND THE NEW TOMODACHI LIFE: Please please pretty pretty please be careful while playing Living the Dream, esp if you’re currently unmedicated!!!
The game treats the Miis like they’re real people and makes zero mention ever that they are not, and only ever refers to them and their POV as if they are real and you are their caretaker! While playing this honestly messed with my head pretty badly at times and made me worry a lot on if I was hurting real people/not doing enough for real people while I was playing!
I cannot imagine how much worse this would be for someone who’s unmedicated, non-dormant, or experiencing breakthrough symptoms! Do please be careful and PLEASE remember to have a way to reality check yourself while playing the game!!!
Also: If you’re not psychotic, please reblog this anyway!!! It may not seem like a big deal to you but these kinds of things are REALLY important to know for us psychotic folk in a world that is both hostile and negligent to us and our needs!!!
Thank you, Black people in fandom spaces. Thank you, Black creators and Black lurkers. Thank you Black artists, Black writers. Thank you, Black bloggers, Black influencers. Shoutout to those Black characters, both canon and original. Thank you, Black people, both queer and cishet.
Your perspectives matter. Your representation matters. You are not bothersome for demanding equal treatment in fandom. It is not your responsibility to make fandom more welcoming and inclusive to you. It is not your sole responsibility to create all of the Black-centered content. You are not "ruining" anyone's fun for demanding better for yourself, and anyone who says otherwise can go fuck themselves. Any fandom worth being a part of should have no room for racism in it.
Black people in fandom, you are wanted. You are needed. You are loved and appreciated. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
And since they don't get told it near enough, thank you, Black women especially!!!
You are not "ruining" anyone's fun for demanding better for yourself, and anyone who says otherwise can go fuck themselves. Any fandom worth being a part of should have no room for racism in it.
oh my god i'm so tired psychotic does not mean violent it does not mean angry or erratic. it refers to a person suffering from psychosis, a loss of touch with reality that includes hallucinations and/or delusions. psychotic people are not inherently violent and y'all need to understand how much stigma you create when you again and again incorrectly use the word psychotic without even thinking about it
Description: Quackity is about to go home from a late night working when he hears a concerning sound from Schlatts office.
Tags: Hurt/comfort
CW: Alcohol consume
A bottle for one
Quiet but persistent chirping of crickets was echoing through the lonely halls of the Manberg White House. Illuminated by the light of a full moon, gracefully filling its spot on the night sky. A night that would be best spend in a warm bed, away from work, conflicts, accompanied by the white noise of a TV that hasn’t been working properly for months. Such a perfect scenario was nothing but a daydream of course.
An annoyed sigh left the vice presidents lips as he tapped the bottom of the pile of papers in his hands against the desk, aligning them properly. He chewed on his bottom lip, biting off the dry skin before placing the pile down on the desk. The mans hand reached in one of the drawers of his desk to grab a transparent folder, trying his best to separate the two sides while they were drawn to each other by the static electricity. “Who´s idea was it to insist on everything being printed…can’t we use a computer like normal people” was mumbled in annoyance as Quackity struggled to slip the pile of papers inside the folder without messing up the alignment. “How is it too small but the same size at the same fucking time…” It was almost working beside some pieces that refused to stay aligned and were picking out of the folder, threatening to crumble. Quackity was sure that maybe he could use some forces to slide it inside without and issue and it was slowly working, up until…
Shhrrrkkk
A sharp, awkward sound lingered in the air, causing the man to freeze with the folder and papers still in his hands. Quackity slowly squeezed the disobedient objects in his hands before slamming it down on the desk. Wings spreading and feathers bristling with anger as he was taking sharp inhales through his nose. Its late. This is Fundy’s job normally. He doesn’t have to tolerate this utter bullshit. He slowly breathed out through his mouth, brushing both hands over his feathers, trying to smooth them down. “Mañana será otro día… “was uttered quietly as he slowly lowered his gaze at the bag on the floor. He just needs to make tomorrow happen already.
Quackity grabbed the bag and started walking to the door, flicking the switch and turning off the light in his office, not the biggest office in the building of course but it was still decent. His steps echoed through the halls, adding a rhythm to the chirping of the crickets. Quackity stopped at some rooms, making sure to turn off the light, wondering when it became part of his responsibilities, but this is what you get when you have a bunch of teenagers working for you instead of adults. The desired exit already felt so close when Q stopped in his tracks, turning his head at a loud, shrilling sound of glass shattering. It felt as if the echo of the sound was cutting through the man’s skin, feathers at high alert, puffed out and ready for danger to appear. But the halls were empty.
The man slowly breather out, softening his gaze as he made a soft turn, facing the direction of the sound. The next couple of steps felt heavy. Quackity was adjusting his beanie, straightening his blazer, as the massive door to the president’s cabinet was getting closer. He stopped in front of it, lowering his hand on the handle. Some may have expressed pity by now, when asked they would explain that it must be so hard to handle someone’s inadequate and self-destructive behavior, constantly questioning, worrying, not knowing whether you can leave. To those concerns Quackity would reply that he doesn’t understand…since it really wasn’t hard for him.
He turned the handle without a second thought and stepped inside, seeing the scene in front of him unfold. The soft, bluish light was falling through the vast window, the floor next to the desk had shard spread across it, mixed in with an amber liquid. Sitting in an executive Chair was Schlatt, expression confused as he was looking down at the shattered glass, squinting. The ram hybrids sheep ear twitched at the sound of the door opening and his gaze soon followed to meet Quackitys. The amber eyes with rectangular pupils seemed to be swimming, covered in a layer of fog but soon the man just started to chuckle.
-You st´l here.- He said, slurping his words.
Quackity simply nodded with a small smile as Schlatt tried to get up from the seat and reach down for the shards, causing the vice president to rush to his side with fast, confident steps. Softly grabbing his arm to push him back in the seat.
-Let me do it…okay, baby? - the man spoke in an even but soft voice, not judging or demanding. Schlatt didn’t have enough coordination in him to protest, so he fell back against the back of the chair with a squeak. Quackity leaned away before looking for some disposable papers that he could use to clean up the glass without getting a broom or risking cuts.
-M…too old for´a baby, don’t´cha think?- Quackity only shrugged a little, using a piece of paper to push the shards on another paper and throw them in the trash.
-I could say sugar plum if that’s better- The young man suggested, lifting his eyes just in the right moment to see the older burst out in laughter, holding onto the desk with one hand. Quackity wasn’t looking away for some time before getting up and straightening his back, looking over the table. There was one bottle lying on its side, maybe a fourth of its content was still inside, some small drops were dripping on the desk surface though. Quackity reached over when Schlatt blocked his hand in a clumsy attempt to stop the other from taking the bottle.
-Hey, hey, am still needing that. - He wrapped the disoriented fingers around the neck of the bottle, pulling it closer to his own person.
Quackity didn’t protest or try to change his mind, getting a napkin to clean up the drops that were on the desk itself.
-That’s okay. Do you want me to leave you to it or stay? Maybe wait at the door till you are done? - Quackity offered, throwing the napkin in the same trashcan as the shards and looking back at the man, who seemed deep in thought. Schlatt was swinging the bottle from side to side. Splash. Splash. Seeing his reflection in the amber liquid that was burning his throat but coating his mind in a warm embrace. One that promised closure.
-…Stay. - He whispered. “Stay” words that burned on his tongue with shame and disgust. “Stay” echoed in his mind as a final, desperate plea, wishing but also fearing to be heard.
The avian didn’t ask anything in addition, stepping closer to the man, bowing down to leave a kiss on the president’s cheek before rubbing his nose against the side of the mans face. Burning scent of alcohol, cigarettes and a higher amount of cologne was hitting his senses. Schlatt raised the bottle to his lips, emptying it in a few last sips before placing it back down on the desk. Heart beating fast, the taste burning against his tongue. Quackity lowered himself on the armrest of the chair, hiding his face against the top of the man’s head, blocking half of his view. Qs hand slowly reached up, brushing through the dark curls on Schlatts hair, untangling the small knots, humming an unknown melody. Schlatts ears twitched occasionally at the soft motion as he leaned into the touch. Beathing in and out. Effortlessly recognizing the scented shampoo that Quackity insists on using, but also the natural scent that comes from his feathers, reminding one of the outside world, how it smells right after the rain.
-Do you want to talk about it? - Quackity asked softly, noticing how the inside of his palm starts to feel wet and brushing his thumb over the corner of Schlatt eye. There is nothing but a subtle headshake. Quackity uses his second hand to bring Schlatts head closer, resting his chin on top of the man’s head.
-Then lets just stay for a little while. -
The soft chirping of the crickets was accompanying the night…
i know that “don’t harass people for being weird, they might be autistic!” is a fairly popular take on here. but as a Certified Autist, i’d like to add that harassing allistic and/or neurotypical people for being weird is also bad, and should not be done
and before you come in with “yeah, you never know who is and isn’t autistic, and you shouldn’t force people to out themselves!” i want to say two things: one, i agree. and two, even if you could magically avoid ever harassing a single autistic person, it still wouldn’t be okay to go after NTs for being weird. they’re people, janice. they’re allowed to be really invested in naruto
#stop playing the game of ‘who is it okay for me to hurt?’ #the answer is no one #the answer is ALWAYS going to be no one #none people is the correct number of people to hurt [X]
