#serisously

[redcyclops650]

Thank you, Sandi.

In spite of what happened, I still look up to you and your work. And I know that you may not ever see this post, but I still feel a need to make this post nonetheless. You've made an unfathomable mark on the Friday Night Funkin' community, inspiring hundreds! - me included! You may not come back for a long while, that much may be true, especially after what that shitshow called Twitter did to you. I understand that you've quite possibly lost a lot of friends you've made in this pseudo-industry, as well as interest in the game overall. I'd understand if you never came back. But nonetheless, we thank you Sandi, Worship.

[lilniina]

my brother ate the flourless chocolate cake I was going to eat tonight erm 😐

[bies-y]

guys seriosuly how do you get better at art? I feel liek I’m deeply stuck in my comfort zones and have zero ideas how to get out of them

[itsirion]

yeah, if haikyuu could just never end that would be great.

[lostinthewrongfandom]

Ok, so I’m looking for this specific writing prompt where it was a soulmate au but the main character had a floating blue streak. Does anyone know what I’m talking about?

[sassyrequin]

Holby you’re going to have to prise away from my cold dead fingers the headcannon that Serena wears the most decadent lingerie and loves wearing it and has a whole bunch of sex toys and loves sex and has it often

[rainbowdragonlair]

Eeeeyyyyyy Okay. I just had my first trial (Or match, whatever you want to call it) where a survivor accused the killer of camping and tunneling. It was a Michael Myers killer too, and honestly...He didn’t camp and (after having looked up what people mean by “tunneling” in Dead by Daylight) he wasn’t doing that either.

Sure, he stuck around the hook when he caught the last survivor (the one who accused him of such things) but I mean...they were the last survivor. No one was coming to rescue them...Honestly, I was more annoyed by the person who disconnected after being hooked twice. Like, it’s not that big of a deal. Not to mention, they probably unhooked themselves right in front of the killer, got downed again, and then hung back up considering how rapid it was and that nobody else got hurt during that time.

To be fair as well though, I have seen killers tunneling before (usually towards myself because I’m a panic-fueled dork), but I’m not really bothered by it too much. Is it annoying? Yes, but...eh, I just don’t see it as the big insult a lot of survivors make it out to be. Whether you like it or not, someone is going to end up singled out in a match at some point. So long as the killers don’t mock you or be like “get gud scrub” (idk, do people even say that anymore?) I don’t really see an issue with it.

I do think the game, particularly some killer perks need re-balancing, but that’s more so that people don’t spam-play the Wraith, and the Spirit and so the Trapper stops getting shoved into the shame corner.

[speckledspout]

Title: Twelve Miles from the Border Fic: ao3 Author: audaciousdean Artist: bluefire986 Warnings/Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Rating: Explicit Pairing: Dean Winchester/ Sam Wesson Summary: If you were to ask anyone in town who Dean Winchester is, you’re more than likely to get the answer that he’s the boy with leashed anger and quiet serenity. He’s an enigma wrapped in an enigma wrapped in street racing, cheap whiskey, stale cigarettes and denial that he could drown in. He’s got bruised skin and bloody knuckles, breathy whispers of dreams that would never be fulfilled and swollen lips. He’s a feral beast caged within that small town with a weakness for the only thing that he loved that could kill him. That thing was Sam Wesson.

And if you were to ask the boy with the shaggy hair wearing khaki slacks and an oversized hoodie draping his bony limbs, being the abnormal in the town of normal, he would say that Dean Winchester was nothing more than a boy who was too stuck to move, believing that his destiny was written, not made.

It’s the story of darkened streets coated with burnt rubber. It’s the story of two boys who were so opposite of the norm, one the town outcast barely making ends meet and the other too smart for his own good. It’s the story of a taboo love and growing up too quick and falling just a little too far. It’s the story of pain and agony, of devotion and sacrifices. It’s the story of what you’re willing to give up just to keep your head above water.

Excerpt: It was a flash of movement, just the barest glimpse of the checkered flag waving through the darkness and he lurched forward, his foot pressing down on the pedal as far as it would go and he drove off into the night.

He learned it some time ago that it only takes a car going a hundred and twenty miles per hour to make him really feel alive. It wakes him up from this sleep that it feels like he’s constantly in. There’s nothing but him and the road and the car on the road next to him.

There’s only two things certain in streetcar racing and that’s life and death.

read on ao3