Master post !!
Hi, I'm bren, this is a second account to my main tumblr @outta-trouble , in which i will post about my fanfic ideas and cross post with ao3
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(links under the cut)

Origami Around
noise dept.
h
sheepfilms
todays bird
art blog(derogatory)
Not today Justin
Peter Solarz
Claire Keane

if i look back, i am lost
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Xuebing Du
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

Love Begins
Sade Olutola
Mike Driver
dirt enthusiast

#extradirty
will byers stan first human second
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore

seen from Malaysia

seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Ireland
seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
@timewillreveal
Master post !!
Hi, I'm bren, this is a second account to my main tumblr @outta-trouble , in which i will post about my fanfic ideas and cross post with ao3
.
.
.
(links under the cut)
jokes on you i could never get accused of using ai bc my writing is too ass
one moment, he felt normal- the usual, nothingness and subtle tingle of static he was so familiar with nowadays. the next one, he could feel texture for the first time in years, and decided he loathed it.
it all felt so tight, and he knew for a fact it wasn't his clothes (these were too big for him, actually) but the skin suit that suddenly compressed his <st>static</st> bones and muscles in place.
it took a few seconds, to figure what was happening, and react accordingly. more than that, to get used to a corpse that should've been buried decades ago.
and yet, there wasn't any sign of decomposition. He doesn't know if that's better or worse (at least he'd have a excuse for the unease this event set on him, were he a decomposed corpse).
taking in the environment, –a disheveled hotel room– he looked for a mirror, or any surface slightly reflective, truly.
however
all he found
were shards
-----
This storybook from every childhood reads like a nostalgic visit into another lifetime. My first time through, it enchanted me and had me questioning if I could have somehow read it before, to no avail. It's only been on my shelf since college, but the writing, art, and humor always evokes a sense of childhood warmth.
The artist, ★Modmad, has a vibrant and palpable passion for what she does. Her love and understanding of the fundamental heart behind her visual and narrative style, and how she utilizes it in her comics with a sort of finesse that slips right into your core memory banks, makes any book with their name on it a must-have for the shelf by my esteem. I've learned so much about the history of film, toons, comics, Donald Duck's cursedly handsome and compelling cousin… ahem.
Forever and always, however, The Property of Hate will hold its place as one of my all-time top three recommended webcomics. It's free to read?! And you haven't read it! That's wonderful; there's so much to catch up on!
I'm highlighting ★Modmad and The Property of Hate this week after seeing what they've been going through recently. I was heartbroken to imagine such a brilliant star in my orbit losing heart in their story, one that's inspired me for years and seen me through the darkest of them. Uncle Mod is a role model for all ages: Kind, funny, honest. The word I always come back to when describing this person is passionate. She does not just love, but loves with verve and fervor.
Her love is delightfully infectious.
Seeing what vitriol they've received turned my stomach, and the memories still do.
I’ve been following Mod for the better part of a decade and watching this unfold has been heart-wrenching and harrowing as a fellow creator and storyteller. She has been an inspiration for years, and seeing someone so kind and earnest being hurt and then ignored has been nauseating. Nobody deserves what she has been put through.
Having people cast doubt and aspersions without even taking the time to read her first-hand accounts has been almost worse. This is a human being whose life is being wrung and flung upside down because of a minor issue that could and should have been resolved ages ago if anyone would have done the bare minimum of opening a dialogue with her.
Read their story on ◆Tumblr or ◆Bluesky, help how you can.
Then go to their website and read their comics, buy some books, might as well get some merch while you're there. This helps too, and you get a prize at the end.
***
I have been doing weekly webcomic recommendations on the Syrcus. This one was delayed because I knew it had to be for TPoH, but finding the words was so difficult.
Modmad and her comics have been a constant in my life since the day I found them, and I can't imagine a world without her and her stories. She has so much beauty and wonder in her mind, and I can't think of a single reason everyone couldn't benefit from following her, reading her stories, and trying to be someone that would make Uncle Mod proud. Truly, I couldn't name a better candidate to fill the niche of Mr. Rogers; she is unerringly, unabashedly, unrepentantly compassionate and funny, and I believe inspires everyone who knows her to do and be a better version of themselves.
@modmad , love, we have only spoken sparingly over the years, but please know that I am always in your corner. You are beloved and cherished, and you are seen.
WIP! TPOH | EYETENNA
light reflected on his glass screen as he strode the path to the house of paint, his sleeve cuff's were growing wrinkles from how many times he had fixed them in the short time.
a weight could be felt on his chest, and RGB convinced himself it was the kiss on his top right pocket. at least he tried to until his mind dulled it out in favor of the next focus.
this being, how embarrassing this whole mission was. not only for the possibility of being rejected, which say, he'd die on the spot; but more so by the opening up that it'd take.
that is, if he even knocked, which he could just turn away and hide the whole attempt under the rug his mind was. but that rug was already worn, dusty and with corners showing what was hiding below it almost neatly.
and he also knocked before he could chicken and run away.
No way out now, coward.
wrestling could be heard from the inside, but that was expected with the years the house wore.
Hopefully he could convince himself his knock wasn't heard and-
-RUN. Get the fuck away from that door you imbecile. Are you bad on the head? god hello it's me again-
Aaand the knob was turning wasn't it. Welp, until here it was. he can already imagine his grave 'coward, monster, died of embarassment of his own making'.
"The house of paint- Oh god it's you again-" RGB could almost- no, definitely feel that eye roll through the hardwood the door was made of.
"Why you wound me, Madras" if he had lashes hed be batting them, feigning naivety.
The door was opened, a shriek escaping the ancient relique. Madras, unbothered by this, shushed him in, by the words of 'get in before i kick you out you walking migraine'. RGB was too busy not falling to string her a word about how he was a colorful sight for the sore eyes.
it was a silent way down, but one they were used to. the stairs were knowing and welcoming to the pair, for the amount of times they'd gone down them was outnumbering in number the crystal vials stored within it's walls.
Madras dropped herself gently onto Gladys, managing to somehow not lose a single droplet of her tea.
"My house is your house and all, you know" She looked almost bored at his stiff standing at the stairs bottom. He let out a breath he didn't know to be hold in, leaning on the wood counter like he'd done it a million times (and he might've).
"You still own a kettle, i presume" Looking at the mug in her hands, he strode past the room and into the kitchen nextdoor.
"No, I've developed water boiling powers" She answered without skipping a beat, and sipped her tea as he looked for the mug she kept for him (the one with the fop legend that looked right out of urban dictionary).
"And we need to talk" Pondering whether to chose chamomile or black, his static coated tone went through the room, and hopefully made it into the continuous one.
"You always need to talk" It was as though he'd implode if he didn't get his thoughts out, she thought. It was better than the silence, maybe enjoyable, but only every one hundred words, when it wasn't absolute bullshit he spew.
"Why i am only honouring my name" the word chatterbox crossed her mind, and she determined it fit.
The chatterbox walked in with a steaming mug that read 'fop' and she couldn't help the smile at the end of her lips.
"So you've accepted your title" Sitting on a chair (the eyeless, way less cool one) he crossed one leg over the other as he watched the mug on his hands steam.
"It's the only mug you've got besides your own" Red pretended to slip off his screen, but the true protagonist was the green that dripped into his casing and collar.
Proposition: We make Alastor work on therapy because he sucks at being a Host - ao3 link
Previous work | Next Work
Previous chapter | Next chapter
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Chapter 1
(under the cut)
reddit interaction that goes pretty hard i think
wut is this help. i have a headache i know its bad LEAVE ME ALONE
gunshow WIP
idk the wordcount but id bet less than 200
i should be more hopeful of myself
agh i should post my hazbin works here theyre only on ao3
WIP! TPOH | EYETENNA
light reflected on his glass screen as he strode the path to the house of paint, his sleeve cuff's were growing wrinkles from how many times he had fixed them in the short time.
a weight could be felt on his chest, and RGB convinced himself it was the kiss on his top right pocket. at least he tried to until his mind dulled it out in favor of the next focus.
this being, how embarrassing this whole mission was. not only for the possibility of being rejected, which say, he'd die on the spot; but more so by the opening up that it'd take.
that is, if he even knocked, which he could just turn away and hide the whole attempt under the rug his mind was. but that rug was already worn, dusty and with corners showing what was hiding below it almost neatly.
and he also knocked before he could chicken and run away.
No way out now, coward.
wrestling could be heard from the inside, but that was expected with the years the house wore.
Hopefully he could convince himself his knock wasn't heard and-
-RUN. Get the fuck away from that door you imbecile. Are you bad on the head? god hello it's me again-
Aaand the knob was turning wasn't it. Welp, until here it was. he can already imagine his grave 'coward, monster, died of embarassment of his own making'.
"The house of paint- Oh god it's you again-" RGB could almost- no, definitely feel that eye roll through the hardwood the door was made of.
"Why you wound me, Madras" if he had lashes hed be batting them, feigning naivety.
The door was opened, a shriek escaping the ancient relique. Madras, unbothered by this, shushed him in, by the words of 'get in before i kick you out you walking migraine'. RGB was too busy not falling to string her a word about how he was a colorful sight for the sore eyes.
it was a silent way down, but one they were used to. the stairs were knowing and welcoming to the pair, for the amount of times they'd gone down them was outnumbering in number the crystal vials stored within it's walls.
Madras dropped herself gently onto Gladys, managing to somehow not lose a single droplet of her tea.
"My house is your house and all, you know" She looked almost bored at his stiff standing at the stairs bottom. He let out a breath he didn't know to be hold in, leaning on the wood counter like he'd done it a million times (and he might've).
"You still own a kettle, i presume" Looking at the mug in her hands, he strode past the room and into the kitchen nextdoor.
"No, I've developed water boiling powers" She answered without skipping a beat, and sipped her tea as he looked for the mug she kept for him (the one with the fop legend that looked right out of urban dictionary).
"And we need to talk" Pondering whether to chose chamomile or black, his static coated tone went through the room, and hopefully made it into the continuous one.
"You always need to talk" It was as though he'd implode if he didn't get his thoughts out, she thought. It was better than the silence, maybe enjoyable, but only every one hundred words, when it wasn't absolute bullshit he spew.
"Why i am only honouring my name" the word chatterbox crossed her mind, and she determined it fit.
The chatterbox walked in with a steaming mug that read 'fop' and she couldn't help the smile at the end of her lips.
"So you've accepted your title" Sitting on a chair (the eyeless, way less cool one) he crossed one leg over the other as he watched the mug on his hands steam.
"It's the only mug you've got besides your own" Red pretended to slip off his screen, but the true protagonist was the green that dripped into his casing and collar.
wut is this help. i have a headache i know its bad LEAVE ME ALONE
gunshow WIP
idk the wordcount but id bet less than 200
How I’d introduce a Deaf tech character in an action/sci-fi film.
Our heroes stop outside the big swoosh workshop door.
The introductory hero hands our pov protagonist a pair of earplugs.
“Why would I need those?”
“Trust me.”
Door opens, light and an INCREDIBLY LOUD recording of Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge Overture sweeps over our heroes. (Open to suggestions)
They step inside, the pov newbie clutching their ears.
Panning shot of workshop and inventions.
Our first intro to our Deaf techie is their sock-clad feet tapping in time.
Medium shot from the back of our Deafie dancing wildly.
Intro hero walks over and pulls the plug.
Silence.
Deaf techie turns around and sees visitors.
POV hero: “you know, you’ll go deaf if you’re not careful.”
Deaf techie [in sign]: too late. What you want?”
I would like to add for the uninitiated to my blog, that I am, in fact, a Deaf actor and screenwriter and Beethoven’s music is entirely an intentional choice.
(Also his music slaps. Just want you to know)
asi que empecé a reescribir AARED (en español porque en inglés me bloqueé......... .......🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀)
wip, wordcount: +500 etc etc
Me found you 0 0
girl the account is linked on my masterpost how did you not until now
Okay, we got a new one, boys.
i like to think I'm funny