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luminousstardust · 6 days

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this staging has me gnawing at my enclosure because being possessed and standing against your party in general sucks but BEING PHYSICALLY SEPARATED FROM THEM????? THE WEB IN THE BACKGROUND AND AIMEE IN THE CENTER???????

#shout out to aabria for staging it like this bc omg this is so badass #the web in the back and her in the center GOD!!!!!!!!!!!#critical role #bells hells #critical role spoilers #bells hells spoilers #cr spoilers #aimee carrero #crown keepers #c3e92 #tay liveblogs

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chloesimaginationthings · 2 months

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You should draw Vanny with that red lipstick more often she slays in it 😍

She only wears the red lipstick when in her suit but I agreed wholeheartedly,, queen

#ask reply #TBH I thought the red lipstick would just make her look more cool and striking #so I’m glad it works for that effect #god I love drawing Vanny #I gotta draw her in her fit again #maybe I’ll update her rabbit costume or give her a new outfit we’ll see #shout out to women ❤️❤️

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captainswhore · 13 days

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you see price sitting like this when you walk into a room post mission- and you know exactly what it is he needs.

he's licking at you and holding your thighs open with his rough palms- and you can't take it. his calluses and his beard and the fabric of his sleeves are rubbing at your legs just right- but not enough for you to lose focus on his hot tongue rubbing on you and in you and you've never been wetter in your LIFE.

his only problem? you're still moving too much. he can't reach where he wants to inside of you because you keep wiggling out of his way. his hands want to touch you everywhere- not just hold your thighs still. this is when he begins to squeeze at you everywhere, and tell you to rest your thighs on his shoulders.

"b-but price- hhnngh ohmygod- i c-can't. they're too big. thighs are too big"

you whine at the loss of contact, but then you look down and see him staring at you with massive pupils and a wet face. "lovie- my shoulders are broad for a reason. rest your thighs on em and i swear they'll have enough room"

and you listen, and you're crushing his ears with your thighs, and he's never been happier. the next time you look down? he's rutting into the mattress and you see his hips stutter when he groans into you and your vision goes white

(@chamomiletealeaf and i had SUCH A HORNY discussion about this and she told me to post it so here i am- and also omg photo creds to her. we've gotta reign it in lmfao)

#if only you guys could see our chats. they're so so filthy #shout out to the first friend i've made on this lil side blog of mine- bless up!#i still don't know how to tag SHIT #but imma try my best!!#john price drabble #john price x reader #john price x reader drabble #john price smut #john price x reader smut #oh god how else do i do this this feels so awkward and weird #cod smut #cod x reader #cod drabble #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 smut #uuhhhh #yeah that works enough #im gonna need to be someone's smut protege or something so i can learn LMFAO

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il-predestinato · 6 months

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Max: "Charlie!"

What the -

🎥: Scuderia Ferrari (pre-race, 2023 Brazilian Grand Prix)

#max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen #I SWEAR TO GOD HE SHOUTED 'CHARLIE'?!?!#am i hallucinating?!#maxsplaining #starting the pre-brief :D #fave #*#my edit #brazilian gp 2023 #interlagos 2023

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hivemindal · 2 months

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of course you blue screen and have pronouns

#objectum #posic #posic companion #shout out to my 3ds i love her but god will she blue screen sometimes when loading homebrew lol

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nekomim1 · 3 months

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Nona the ninth is like,

Imagine you are a girl, and you woke up sixth months ago and thats your earliest memory. You dont know who you are. Your name was chosen for you seemingly at random, because nobody else knows who you are either. All you know about yourself is this: you cannot let anyone see you injured, or they will kill you. You are inhabiting a body that the others recognize, but you dont. You are probably one of two people, but nobody knows which one. You dont know these people. You dont know yourself. And deep down maybe you know you're not either one of them.

You are happy anyway.

You live with three people, who love you and who you love back fiercely. One of them is inhabiting a body that doesnt belong to her. She understands you, but she also doesnt. The other two are sharing a body, so intertwined that you can never be sure which one is standing right in front of you, unless you study them closely and know them well enough to guess. They understand you, but they also dont. They expect you to be one of two people, but you arent and you dont know why. You dont know who (what) you are.

You are happy anyway.

The world is crumbling around you. Your life is on a time limit and your soul is trying to claw its way out of your (her) body. The people you love are in danger but you dont know why or how to stop it. You are in danger, and the people you love know how to save you. You dont belong in this body, everyone knows that now. You are too big, too much, and the rest of your essence is trying to claw its way into your mind, becoming whole again, but you cant let it. You cant let it because if you are whole then you will be different, you wont be Nona anymore and you will not be that girl who loves and who is loved. But there is no choice, you must go back or risk killing yourself and the girl whose body you inhabit. You may remember your time as Nona, or you may not, but either way you will never be the same again. You might not be loved anymore. You might not love.

But you are happy anyway.

Because at least you know this. You cannot take loved away.

#uhmmm hey guys does this make any sense 🧍#im just shouting in an empty cathedral #and god is like the guy in the apartment above me whose banging on the floor and telling me to quiet down 😭#idk if this makes sense just take it im feeling emotional about nona today #christ #tlt #the locked tomb #ntn #nona the ninth #alecto the ninth

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puppetmaster13u · 9 months

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DTC Au

Okay so y’know the Divine Twitch Chat Aus with Billy? Where Billy can hear the voices of the Gods in his head? Hear me out.

So Martian Manhunter can create psychic links between Justice League members, or anyone really. So, does that mean if/when Marvel is connected to it suddenly everyone also connected can hear the six other voices trying to egg him on? Do they also hear the Mediterranean Magic Men? Do they hear both Marvel and Billy?

Are they utterly befuddled and concerned about this? Like the captain is pretty chill and just, this is what he has to deal with 24/7??

#they hear him telling the unknown voices to please at least let Billy sleep tonight #Marvel is the twitch chat moderator lol #Billy is the streamer #Divine Twitch Chat #Billy Batson #Captain Marvel #DCU #DC #DTC AU #Justice League #Martian Manhunter #Everyone is utterly befuddled and maybe a bit freaked out #The moment they notice that there's other people the gods all shout about a raid #JL Member: Why does Marvel sound like a twitch streamer sometimes??#JL Member: Oh #JL Member: Oh that's why-#Shazam

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definitelynotshouting · 4 months

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MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE OF SECRET LIFE!!!!!

so i sped-wrote this as soon as i learned who the winner was this morning, tried to post it twice, tumblr mobile deleted it BOTH TIMES... but i will not be silenced ive finally gone to desktop /silly

this will go up on my rough draft pseud soon, but until then please enjoy the results of me being EXTREMELY unwell about the secret life finale. WOOOOOO WE ARE POPPING THE BIGGEST OF BOTTLES TODAY FR!!!!!!!!!!!

Grian barricades himself at the top of the highest tower of Tango's citadel the moment he wakes up. It's a calculated move, admittedly. There are a precious few places one might still find him if he truly wants to hide, but the Deep Frost Citadel isn't one of them— and with the second Decked Out coming to a ceremonious close, foot traffic here is perilously low. Dawn is a swift-approaching knife on the horizon, and Grian soars above it all, face numb with chill wind, wings brazen and feathers strewn across an empty sky.

He doesn't want to be near when Scar wakes. And he doesn't want to be found just yet, either. Oh, Scar will track him down. Of that, he has no doubt— but for now, Grian takes solace in the snow crunching underfoot as he locks himself inside this barren tower.

It's dark here, which suits Grian just fine. He doesn't bother lighting a lantern; instead, he huddles right on the floor, letting the ice seep through him. From here, he can just make out the sky as it lightens, bringing with it the dawn of a new victor. Nausea boils in his throat. With that victory comes a price, and Scar— And Grian— Well. Grian hasn't treated him very well throughout the games, now, has he?

He curls in on himself even further, feathers brushing along the length of his chilled arms. Each hair stands at attention, in some vain effort to pull warmth from the surrounding freeze— when he scrubs a hand along his arm, his fingers shake, and the gooseflesh remains stark and raised against his skin.

There was a sand-drenched point when the concept of warmth was all he could register— scorching wind scraping the cut on his cheek, the scarlet splatter of blood across split knuckles. And like the steady drain of life from a corpse, that warmth has drawn away, poison from a putrid wound— it leaves him compacting this cold, this loneliness, to mold it into four high walls around his heart; a fitting tribute to every grain of trust he's rightfully lost. Grian huffs the barest traces of a bitter laugh as his breath mists in the air. A better man would meet Scar at his base, extend his support, no matter how icily it might be met.

But Grian is selfish, and a coward, and will always be a coward— and so instead he sits, marrow freezing, with only the thin garrotte of paltry sunlight wrapping itself around his tender throat to keep him company.

And there he stays, motionless, for long enough that the chill makes a home in him— the glistening, pale yolk of the sun warns him of the passing time, a watery heat that counts down the seconds to minutes to hours until Scar finds him. Grian curls his wings around himself, a pitiful embrace, and waits.

Two hours later, the whistle of rocket-propelled elytra warn him of incoming company. Grian doesn't bother fleeing; he knows Scar, and Scar knows him, and with this last, missing puzzle piece finally slotting into place between them, he's under no illusions that staying hidden for long is feasible. Grian's eyes skitter to a crack on the far wall as clumsy footsteps scatter the snow outside, scrabbling for balance before the muted click of a cane joins them. Footsteps; another, louder click— the door's latch gives way, and a brief, blinding wave of light crashes over Grian's face, obscuring everything but the outline of a painfully familiar silhouette.

Grian has to look away. The door shuts, and for a small moment, neither of them so much as breathe.

Then Scar's sighs— one great, resigned gust. "Grian...."

He says nothing else. He doesn't have to. Grian draws his legs up to his chest in response anyway, heart a frozen pump bleeding ice into his very veins. What can he say? An apology? They're past apologies, now— if Scar wanted to disavow him forever, take the crumpled remains of their friendship and throw it at his feet, he'd be right to do so.

But Scar doesn't shout; neither does he leave. Instead, his cane taps forward, boots sliding into Grian's line of vision— and, with a grunt of effort, Scar eases himself down, until he's sitting at a safe diagonal from Grian's hunched form.

Neither of them say anything for a while.

Eventually, Grian licks his lips. They're chapped from cold, thin and ready to split. "Hi, Scar," he says softly. It comes out weak, thready— a barely-there declaration. Whatever Scar wants here... he can take it. It's the very least Grian can do at this point.

From the corner of his eye, he watches Scar settle, shifting his weight before he lands on something approximating comfort. He takes his time with it, blind— or uncaring— to the erratic snarl of Grian's pulse. His voice is just as quiet when he responds. "So... that's it, then, huh."

Grian glances over properly before he can stop himself, stomach churning; Scar's gaze has slipped to the cutout acting as a window, middle-distant and lost. Locked on something only he can see. Then Scar shakes himself, an abrupt jerk of his head and shoulders, and that glassy look turns to pin Grian directly to the wall behind him instead. "Just like that?"

Grian's fingers tighten around his knees. "Just like that," he agrees, hollow.

Scar mulls that over for a moment. His sigh is a wisp of white in front of them, crystallizing in the glacial atmosphere. "Jeez," he says finally, scrubbing one hand through the tangled bird's nest of his hair. He must have flown across half the server as soon as he... remembered, Grian realizes with a visceral pang. "I didn't... that's a lot of memories to just, um, gain back on a dime, huh?"

Grian darts a sidelong glance at him. Shifts his wings until their primaries lower, sweeping the ground around his feet like a feathered cat's cradle. "I wouldn't know," he says, a quirk of black humor dancing around the edges of his mouth. He swallows. "Since. Well...."

He trails off. Imagines, briefly, that he is a black hole— a quasar. A neutron star. Something so tight and compact it can string him out, erase him; a ball of grief and misery dense enough that it contains its own event horizon.

Scar hums a little shakily into the blooming silence. "Yeah. I guess that would complicate things, wouldn't it." A pause. "Does it always feel—?"

Grian shrugs. "Don’t know that either, Scar."

"Oh." Scar's still looking at him, the searchlight of his gaze burning pockmarks into Grian's skin. "Cool, okay... so...." He hesitates, teeth worrying his lower lip, before finally forging on: "So what now?"

Grian sucks in his own shuddery breath. "Whatever you want, Scar," he says, blank and dull. Every inch of him frozen stiff, awaiting the tipped scales of Scar’s judgement. "There's no going back, after this." The quicksilver flash of a grimace tugs his lips back to reveal sharp, white teeth. "Welcome to the club, I guess."

"It sure is a warm welcome," Scar says weakly. "Got— uh, got your complimentary balloons, and— and um, a whole gift basket of... of...."

He trails off too, the fragile ley lines of his humor peeling off, cracking at the seams. Impossibly, Grian curls around himself tighter.

An apology is nothing but wasted air now, but it dredges from his throat anyway. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Scar. I—" He breaks off, jaw tight. "I'm... I'm not sure what else to say, honestly. I never thought...."

I never thought you'd win. It's a cruel phrase that haunts the air between them, hanging like a smoky pall across their shoulders.

Scar says nothing against it; he only watches.

An uneasy prickle crawls up Grian's spine. "You don't—" He stops himself before he can finish that thought. "Are you— Scar, why are you here?"

"'Cause Pearl's not talking to me yet," Scar says quietly, prompt. "And— and because I remembered. Us."

Grian's throat closes around the word. "Us," he echoes, a rough rasp that ricochets against the deepslate walls surrounding them. The word tears through his ears, distorting with each pass. "Look, alright— I-I don't know if you got the memo, exactly, but— I'm not—"

He breaks off again, lungs jarring, hitching in his chest. Hot prickles sear behind his eyes, but nothing drops— he’s too tired for crying. "I've hurt you a lot, Scar," Grian says at last, lips numb around the words. "I'm not sure if there's much of an 'us' left, at this point."

"I know," Scar says. His eyes reflect the snow-glitter outside.

"And— I wouldn't blame you, if you left right now."

"I know," Scar says again, softer.

"I—” Grian stares at him, helpless. "Okay, then why are you here, Scar?" He gestures between them, an aimless motion that somehow encompasses the breadth of everything that's rotted at their foundations. "If you know all that, then what—?"

Scar regards him with enviable poise. His throat bobs as he speaks. "Maybe, I just— now that I remember— maybe I just want your company, Grian. Is that really so bad?"

Grian stares at him, at a loss. "I don't understand," he says finally, and it comes out plaintive even to his own ears. "I thought you'd be— angry. After everything I've done, after all that's happened.... What's your play here, Scar? If you want to yell at me, be my guest. I think by now I've more than earned it."

But Scar doesn't take the bait. Instead, he shuffles closer— just by an inch. A careful, cautious inch. "Y'know," he says, apropos of nothing, "and correct me if I'm wrong, here— but I seem to remember something about you wanting an alliance before all of... that crazy stuff happened. Is that right?"

Something in Grian's chest spasms. Whatever expression it spreads across his face must spur Scar on, because he scoots closer again, just enough to bring their calves together. The brief shock of warmth explodes through Grian's skin, worming its way underneath the subcutaneous tissue to flood his veins and gnaw at the lingering ice.

After a moment, Scar's lips tilt up— a subtle, fragile smile. "Is it too late to cash in on that?" he asks.

Grian's mind goes blank, white and buzzing, the thin hiss of a creeper drifting through it like smoke. Unfiltered shock threads through his voice. "You want t— what?"

Scar's smile tempers further around its edges, stretching into something softer, knowing. Rounded out. With solemn motions, he reaches into the pocket of his utterly ridiculous safety vest, and delicately pulls something out.

It's a sunflower.

In the frigid gloom of Tango's citadel, Grian gapes, the brilliant yellow petals incongruous with this grim, grit, darkened room. When he looks up, Scar's eyes are overbright, painfully earnest— brimming with a desperate urgency that tucks itself away in the depths of his pupils.

"Can we try again?" Scar says, soft as the new-fallen snow beyond this isolated cell of misery. "Start over? I— I kind of hurt you too, you know. And— for the record, being without you sucks. I don't—" He falters. "I know it's gonna be all weird, y’know, between us… but I don't want to do that anymore. I just... want you here, Grian. That's all. I just want you to stick around."

Grian sucks in a sharp, daggered breath. "You're joking," he breathes, but his heart leaps, tumbling from his throat and onto the floor for Scar to stomp at his leisure. "You're actually— this isn't funny."

"Hey, do you see me laughing?” Scar presses forward once more, a calculated attack, but still slow enough for Grian to track each move, to stop him if he cared enough to. Gently, Scar unwinds one of Grian's hands from his knees, cupping it between his own and brushing the lightest of kisses against his knuckles before turning over Grian’s palm and pressing the flower into it. Grian's fingers curl around it of their own accord, silky petals burning against his fingers.

"So." Scar smiles, tremulous, eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. "Can we still be friends?"

And Grian has always been a raw creature, a tangled wreck of his own selfish greed— he’s craved the honeyed umber of Scar's love since he first cradled it, tentatively, in his palms all that time ago. In the depths of his heart, there will always be that sandstone cliff, the crack of his bones against hard-packed sand, and wings too clipped to fly freely. There will always be that calloused fist around his heart, and beyond his own scrabbling fear, there will always, always be that fervent need to bring Scar close even as he pushes him away.

And where before, Scar had been playing blind, a game with no true rules… now, his eyes trap Grian against the wall, clear as glass— diamond sharp and just as steady. From a winning game, there is no turning back. There’s nothing left to lose here, except this porcelain trust, this shred of hope Scar offers him once more in the form of a flower.

Even after everything, all the memories flooding back— Scar is still here, holding Grian’s heart, and offering up his own in return.

Grian slowly presses it to his chest with trembling, vulnerable motions. "You're sure you want this."

"I'm sure I want you," Scar says, unwavering.

Grian breathes in. Breathes out. Inhale and exhale, both a heavy drag in his lungs. Already, the sun is beginning to strengthen, casting thick rays through the window and splaying them across Grian’s lap. The advent of gilded noon weaves around them, perfuming the air with light and heat.

"Okay," Grian says at last, and it drops from his lips with the weight of a confession; a relinquishment; a solemn vow. "Okay."

This time, when Scar reaches for his hand again, Grian meets him halfway, and the tangle of their fingers nets the sunflower in a promise neatly between them.

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syn0vial · 8 months

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living in a country with nationalized healthcare after being raised in the US is just

> experience uncomfortable medical issue > leave it untreated for months or years bc it's "not serious enough" to warrant professional medical attention > it gets worse > finally go to a clinic > they ask me how long i've had this problem and i tell them how long > they look at me like i'm a fucking nutter, treat it in 5 minutes, and charge me $6 USD > i walk out feeling like the world's luckiest idiot

#crumb post #shout out to the time i almost let a skin infection become septic #literally the only reason i went to a clinic was bc my taiwanese coworker saw me limping and ORDERED me to go #god bless her fr #anyway just went to the dermatologist and he removed a painful callus that's been bugging me for the past two years #i was too embarrassed to tell him how long i'd left it untreated so i just told him one year #fixed it in like 2 minutes :`)#healthcare

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damniteggs · 4 months

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a re-read of Friends Like These got me emotional and decided to throw my (somewhat benevolent) rottmnt oc, Charlie, at Timothy for human friend/machine shop TA support.

Timothy is @pinetreevillain ‘s son and was only abducted momentarily for another doodle with heavy duty machinery.

PS: dealing with CNC ghosts is a mechanical engineering right of passage (and so is having a kooky TA that claims to hear the voices in their head). Might do more of Charlie later?

#rottmnt #rottmnt Timothy #my art #damniteggs art #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt oc #the machine shop TAs always talked to our machines like an enraged animal they were trying to soothe #God I miss them #meanwhile I shouted all the curses while working on our 3d printers #those little guys were the spawn of satan #Resin printers I am looking at you #rottmnt Charlie

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violent138 · 16 days

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It'd be funny if Tim gained a stalker that did increasingly unhinged and dangerous shit to learn about him/learn from him. Especially if Tim, while initially flattered, rapidly grows to resent this stalker and tries to shake off this unwanted minion.

Mostly because the stalker keeps documenting and disrupting Tim's illicit, illegal, and insane activities and is not explaining at all how they keep finding him.

#the stalker shouts out encouragement and advice from the sidelines #ducking to avoid hits and weapons while Tim shouts at them to leave #not by any means original just the funniest fuckery I can imagine to drive Tim insane #batman #dc comics #tim drake #batfamily #OH MY GOD THERE WAS A SPELLING ERROR

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