this is my ao3 account where i currently post a lot of dsmp (lots of other fandoms if ur interested in any of those too) fics: https://archiveofourown.org/users/708_things/works
Are you excited about Hold Me Too Tight, a batjokes fanbook you can clutch in your hands like a fiendish clown's willowy throat?
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Hello, folks! We ran into some difficulties, but Hold Me Too Tight is alive and kicking (much like an orderly in the Arkham trash incinerator).
What is Hold Me Too Tight? It's a 🦇Batman/Joker🃏 fan book resulting from a collaboration of 33 artists and writers, exploring how Gotham City's most notorious nemeses express their love through pain and violence. While there is no explicit sexual content, many works do include mature material along with the violence inherent to the ship.
This book has been a year in the making, and we are excited to share it with fellow batjokes fans! Stay tuned for a purchase interest check, followed by teasers of our talented contributors.
(Hold Me Too Tight remains a not-for-profit effort. All revenue will go toward production and shipping costs; any profits will be donated to an organization chosen by the zine contributors.)
Hello, folks! We ran into some difficulties, but Hold Me Too Tight is alive and kicking (much like an orderly in the Arkham trash incinerator).
What is Hold Me Too Tight? It's a 🦇Batman/Joker🃏 fan book resulting from a collaboration of 33 artists and writers, exploring how Gotham City's most notorious nemeses express their love through pain and violence. While there is no explicit sexual content, many works do include mature material along with the violence inherent to the ship.
This book has been a year in the making, and we are excited to share it with fellow batjokes fans! Stay tuned for a purchase interest check, followed by teasers of our talented contributors.
(Hold Me Too Tight remains a not-for-profit effort. All revenue will go toward production and shipping costs; any profits will be donated to an organization chosen by the zine contributors.)
Summary: When Merlin finds out about an assassination plot against Arthur that is set to happen sometime during the annual three-day masquerade ball that Camelot hosts, he is forced to enter the ball, disguised. How will he be able to save Arthur's life when the prince attempts to court him during the ball?
Tommy and Tubbo are just spreading a little Primesday cheer by caroling. No shenanigans are afoot. None at all.
Tommy & Tubbo, post-canon, 1.6k, complete. My gift for @gogegg for the Tubbo_HQ secret santa this year!
ao3 link here!
****
“TUBBO! BITCH BOY!”
Oh boy. “Gimme a second, Michael,” Tubbo says, putting down his crayon, and crosses over to the window. Michael snuffles agreeably, scribbling with a fistful of blue crayons. They’d been drawing the scenery outside their house.
He opens the window enough to fit his head out, braces himself against the gust of cold air, and shouts, “What do you want?”
Below him, Tommy is red-cheeked and grinning, hands shoved in his pockets. His hair sticks out in a big poof from the beanie he’s pulled over his ears. “Quit hanging out with your son and come sing with me.”
“What? Sing?”
“Sing! Singing – singing songs of love and joy, you know. Festivities. Spreading Church Prime Cheer,” Tommy insists. Tubbo can hear the capitalizations in his voice.
“You mean caroling? You want to go caroling?”
Tommy’s eyes light up. “Caroling! Of course you, big man, big science man, you would remember the word for it. Yes, caroling. I want to go caroling, let’s go Primesday caroling.” He whips out his communicator and types something into it. Moments later, Tubbo’s pocket buzzes. He pulls out his own comm and reads the latest messages:
<TommyInnit>: CAROLING AT THE COMMMUNITY HOUSE IN TWNETY MINUTES
<TommyInnit>: BE THERE OR YOU HATE PRIMES AND ALSO WOMEN
<Technoblade>: all women are queens
<Technoblade>: ill bring my bell
<TommyInnit>: NO BELLS TOO LOUD
<Technoblade>: too late
****
Tubbo stifles a smile. It’s unseasonably warm for January, anyway, and he’d been meaning to go for a walk with Michael…
He pulls his head back inside, twisting around. “Michael, do you want to hang out with Uncle Tommy?”
Hunched over at the table, there’s a clatter as Michael drops the crayons, nodding eagerly. A couple of them are significantly shorter and glistening with something. Tubbo sighs.
“Awesome. And don’t eat those Michael, I don’t care if you can digest them, if you eat them all then you won’t have any left to draw with.” Ducking back into the window frame: “Michael’s coming with us!”
“Big man Mike!” whoops Tommy. “Of course he can come. How would we sing without our lead singer?”
He laughs. “Give us five, we’ll meet you downstairs.”
Tommy responds with a wordless yell, presumably of assent. Tubbo shuts the window and latches it, turning to Michael and clapping. “Let’s get your snow pants on, big guy.”
Michael looks at him with a big, shining, innocent eye, pushes himself up carefully, and scampers out of the room.
“Michael! Get back here!”
****
The walk is brisk and cheerful; Michael hums under his breath and runs ahead, returning frequently to show Tubbo purple rocks and interestingly-crooked sticks, while Tommy talks aimlessly about his latest basement gardening woes. Tubbo is mostly content to listen to his favorite people, enjoying the crisp crunch of snow under his boots.
Over the past year, some of the Greater SMP citizens had made an effort to fix up the community house, renovating it into a space for events and parties. Puffy had replaced the scarred floorboards and wall panels, new wood stained a warm brown and gleaming. She’d also set up a working kitchen on the second floor – great for potlucks, actually, though Tubbo had only been to a couple. Hannah had coaxed ivy up the sides of the brick walls, framing the windows in lush green. Bad had dragged Skeppy in as part of his unofficial Egg rehabilitation program, building a low stage together and arranging seating around the stage. Karl had started hosting karaoke nights there, when he remembered, and they were getting more and more regular.
It’s that stage that Tommy beelines towards. There are a few people already gathered – Technoblade, with his bell as promised, standing near the back with Philza; Eret, browsing the bookshelves; Foolish and Junior and Finley, sitting in the front row. Michael scampers over to Junior and squats beside him, whispering furiously about something concealed in his clasped hooves.
Tubbo looks away. If it doesn’t escape, it’s not his problem.
On the stage, Tommy is fiddling with the microphone. Tubbo winces as it crackles. Tommy twists a knob decisively, and it echoes one last test-tap before picking up Tommy’s loud breathing. “Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?”
“Yes!” shouts Finley, lisping on the ‘s’. Tommy beams at her.
“Hello! I am Tommy Innit and this man here is Tubbo.” Tubbo waves. “Today we are blessing your ears with,” he inhales, “Primesday carols!”
“Primesday was two weeks ago,” Eret objects, amused.
Tommy points at her. “You do not have the spirit of Prime in you,” he intones. Eret raises her hands in mock protest. Tubbo huffs and climbs the two steps to the stage, taking the mic from Tommy.
“We are singing songs of holiday joy and cheer,” he says brightly, staring her down. “Feel free to join in our joy and cheer anytime, Eret.”
Eret inclines her head, smiling. “Fair enough. Carry on, gentlemen.”
Tommy snatches the microphone back from Tubbo and says, too close to the mic and spitting feedback, “Thank you! Our first song will be, uh, Prime Rest Ye Merry Minecrafters – ”
“Woo! Yeah!” Foolish cheers, nudging Junior and Michael. Michael climbs to his feet and starts clapping enthusiastically, clearly without any idea what he’s clapping for. Junior wrinkles his nose and goes back to poking whatever Michael had brought in.
“Thank you! Thank you! Now be quiet so we can sing.” Tommy clears his throat. Tubbo waits for his cue, and at Tommy’s excited “Five, six, seven, eight,” starts singing –
– and is wholly drowned out by Technoblade’s enthusiastic bellringing. Tubbo stops for a moment, blindsided, but Tommy barrels on, hollering “FOR JESUS PRIME OUR SAVIOR WAS BORN UPON THIS DAY” into the mic and probably shorting it out or something. The noise is horrific. He looks around: Philza is howling with laughter, Eret’s covered her ears but is still smiling, and – Michael is bouncing and laughing and clapping along.
Well, if that’s the case. He picks up Tommy’s place and joins back in. “ – OH MININGS OF DIAMOND AND GOLD, DIAMOND AND GOLD, O-OH MININGS OF DIAMOND AND GOLD.” He holds the last note as long as he can. Tommy runs out of breath before him and tags an enthusiastic “BITCH!” to the end.
Distantly, he thinks he can hear Bad squawk in outrage. His ears are ringing, or maybe that’s just Techno’s bell. It’s exhilarating. He laughs, breathlessly, and takes turns bowing with Tommy.
“Thank you for the applause. Thank you. Thank you.” Tommy is a masterful emcee, Tubbo thinks, watching him wink at Junior and pull a reluctant smile from the five-year-old. “Our next song is – one second,” and Tommy lowers the mic, leaning towards Tubbo.
“What do you want to sing?” His whisper is probably audible everywhere in the house.
Tommy’s eyes light up. “Our next song will be All I Want For Primesday Is You,” he declares. From outside the community house, Tubbo hears a distinctly outraged exclamation, just before the door slams open and Jack Manifold storms inside.
“That’s my song, dickhead!” Oh yeah, Jack likes to sing this one at karaoke, however unseasonal it is.
“Too fuckin’ bad! We’re singing it.”
Tommy clutches the mic closer to his chest as Jack climbs onstage. A brief scuffle ensues. Watching them, Tubbo waits for a moment, then sticks his foot out. Both of them fall over.
He grabs the mic as Tommy goes down, ignores his wails of betrayal, and announces, “Neither of you sing it, because I’m singing it.” And without hesitation, he launches into his version of All I Want For Primesday Is You.
He only slips in one reference to being blown up with color, thank you very much.
Techno doesn’t ring the bell this time, maybe out of misguided consideration for Michael’s hearing. He makes it through the song with minimal theatrics, Tommy peeling himself off the floor and adding improvised call-outs as he sings, and they actually get genuine applause. Grinning, he bows again, ceding the microphone back to Tommy.
“Thank you, Big T, for that gorgeous song. Another round of applause,” he commands, and the front-row peanut gallery of kids they’re entertaining obliges happily. “Yes, yes, very good. Okay, we have time for one more song, because I am a big man and I have to take a big shit after this.”
“Hey! Language!”
Tubbo’s eyebrows fly up before he can stop himself. In the middle of the room, Bad descends from the spiral staircase, Skeppy following silently behind him. They’d been up there the whole time?
“You were up there that whole time?” Tommy echoes his thoughts.
“We were looking at the aquarium, right, Skeppy?” Bad nudges Skeppy gently. Skeppy looks a little vacant, as usual, but nods very slightly before hiding behind Bad again. “We thought we’d come down and listen.”
“O-kay,” says Tommy, “but you can’t interrupt us when we’re singing.”
“I would never,” answers Bad, primly.
Tommy shoots Tubbo a Look. Tubbo grins back at him. Well, Michael was looking a little over-excited anyway; better end the afternoon on a high note. Literally.
“We’re singing Hark The Warbling Wardens Sing,” proclaims Tommy, “and since this is our Very Last Song, anyone that would like to join in is welcome to.”
“I love this one,” Jack declares, pushing himself up from the corner of the stage where Tommy had left him. “I’m the best at singing it.”
“I’ll forgive you for that statement, Big Manifold, because we are starting now. Five, six, seven, eight – ”
Tubbo and Tommy didn’t plan this, per se, but, well. It’s in the song’s name. Tubbo knows what Tommy’s going for.
“Hark, the warbling wardens sing,” they sing, mostly in tune, and then they look at each other again and grin wildly and lean into the mic, and they roar.
****
After all the chaos, bundling up an exhausted and utterly delighted Michael, Tubbo thinks to himself that that was pretty good.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
My gift for @gogegg for the @mcytblrholidayexchange! I find it very amusing that both of our works involved paintings in some way despite no communication lol. Hope you enjoy!
Merlin had enough of Arthur's cruelty and blindness. He bury his feelings for his king and do what he must, as Emrys, to bring back the magic to land and save the life of innocents. He won't wait for prophecy to happen by the hand of someone anymore, it is time for him to do it himself.
And here is the fic written by @gogegg
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I hope it’s okay to add something but DC Cosmic Teams pretty much helped me a lot to get in their… cosmic teams, obviously, and some others. Especially Legion of Super-Heroes, New Gods, and JLA’s branch teams/members.
DSMP fic + Jackbox = Fic Box! Introducing a new prompt writing event inspired by Quiplash and other minigames, we are excited to open our sign ups!
The event will run for the entirety of October, and you earn points through writing other people’s prompts and completing challenges. For now, the event will only be centered around the Dream SMP, but we hope to open up more in a future event.
The sign ups will remain open until September 28th, noon EST.
For more information, please join our Discord
Im very sorry if youve answered this before, but what exactly is the peoof against Manatreed? Ive been trying to find literally ANYTHING and cant even come across the original tweet lmao
It's very difficult to be talk about the actual proof since a lot of it hinges on an old dream doxx. Here's a short summary of the things people bring up in case you're in a hurry. But the little proof i could find that didnt rely on doxxed information is under the cut.
It's pretty undeniable and a clear cut case that Dream has definitely at some point known Justin, (I found this reddit post that gives a lot of good insight that doesnt rely on doxxed information.), the thing that is more tricky to prove is that this Justin is in fact Manatreed.
The first thing that links Justin to Manatreed it that Justins name was allegedly already banned in his twitch chat since before the shit hit the fan but admittedly thats a bit difficult to verify.
Secondly, Justin Tyler Alfonso's mother follows/followed him on instagram, but shes since gone private.
And thirdly there's the fact that both Manatreed and Justin have been homeless at one point and lived in their car.
("River" is a name that Justin has used a lot of online profiles, and his face in the profile matches the facebook page people dug up. As far as I know this twitter profile and tweets is still up).
You could also make the claim that the lower half of Manatreeds face matches Justins' but it's difficult to tell due to the angle.
In summary there's far too many coincidences to brush over and it's very unlikely that Dream happens to know two guys who he's known since childhood and used to play minecraft with as a kid, and who both happened to live in their car at some point. And one of their moms just happened to follow the other. It's far more likely that these two are just the same guy.
fyi initially accidentally missed one username to censor so if youve already reblogged this post i kindly ask you to delete the reblog and reblog the fixed version instead
germansingergirl
dailybridgerton
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titsay
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