#helluva meme dump

[sincerelystesichorus]

fizzarolli meme dump <3

bc i definitely do not now kin the stupid little mean gay nervous jester

helluva meme dumps | pt. 1 | pt. 2 || fizzy editions! | pt. 1 | pt. 2

#helluva boss #helluva boss memes #helluva boss fizzarolli #fizzarolli #fizzmodeus #fizzarozzie #fizzarolli helluva boss #helluva boss mammon #qb #qb shitposts #helluva meme dump

[enthusiastofshit]

#fizzarolli #helluva boss fizzarolli #stephen king #stephen king’s it #Pennywise #Georgie #screenshotted memes #Helluva boss #Vivziepop #vivziemind #Hazbin hotel #not mine #clearing out phone #clearing out camera roll #phone dump

[buzz-in-your-veins]

Introduction

~ About me! ~

I’m Vyrus, I’m 18. I mainly use He/Him, but They/Them are alright! So are most pet names! I am unlabelled. This blog was created partly from boredom, partly from hyperfixation, and partly from a want to write! I will happily take requests and constructive criticism! If my spelling is off or my sentences don’t make sense forewarning, I am dyslexic. I also have ADHD and Autism, I have a tendency to fall in and out of hyperfixations fast. This is going to be a Hazbin centric blog, maybe with some Helluva too. Vyrus is a Hazbin/Helluva OC. Again, I am heavily neurodivergent. The tag for this blog is #vyrus.is.a.virus. Comments are like nectar.

My main Blog is @arachnid-silk

~ RULES ~

•Nonnegotiable•

- Please don’t interact with NSFW posts if you’re a minor.

- The more detailed you are, the better I can complete your request.

- Be Respectful.

- Feel free to spam, but not with your request. A different request, HC, meme, ect, are okay, but not the same thing.

- Keep in mind I may be late with your request, but unless I have responded otherwise, I will be working on it.

- Respect my boundaries.

- Please do not trauma dump or vent in my requests. If your request has something traumatic in it, please DM with warning before the trauma. If you need to Vent, please DM me first to ask, and warn me about the nature of the vent please.

- Yes! ~

- Fluff, smut, angst, pretty much most catagories.

- Character x character

- Reader x character

- Minors, only platonicly.

- Yandere, Dub-Con, CNC, Abuse•certain types•, Possesive, Obsessive, Mafia, possibly more.

- Readers with Habits!

- Fem, Male, and Gender Neutral readers! Please be aware I’m still learning how to write GN and Male readers.

- Headcannons!

- Anything unless specified on the NO! list, if you’re unsure, just ask!

~ NO! ~

•Nonnegotiable•

- Romantic minor.

- Piss, Scat, generally stuff that is usually considered gross.

- Vomit. I have Emetophobia.

- Pedophilla, Incest, Rape.

- Detailed bugs.

- Cannibalism.

- Anything gross in general.

- If you’re unsure about something, ask me if I’m comfortable with it or not.

~ Maybe. ~

- Specified race and/or religion. I am a white unreligious person, I may write these characters, but I do ask you provide as much information and detail in your ask as you can, and you give me time to research and learn about your character before I write them. I also ask that should I get anything wrong or incorrect that you correct me.

- Super detailed about body parts.

- Sexual Violence/Abuse.

- Eating Disorders.

~ Characters I Won’t Write For. ~

-

~ Characters I Will Write For. ~

- Everyone else.

Please be mindful this blog is still new and ergo still under construction, keep an eye out for any updates to the list. They will be in bold for the first three days.

#velvette #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #helluva boss #hazbin vox #alastor #angel dust hazbin hotel #helluva millie #cherri bomb #valentino #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam #blitzo #moxxie #hazbin hotel husk #vyrus.is.a.virus.

[spinning-all-your-silk]

Introduction

~ About Me ~

I’m Arachne, I’m 18. I mainly use He/Him, but They/Them are alright! So are most pet names! I am unlabelled. This is my main blog, it will be a mishmash of everything, I have other specific blogs I will tag! I will happily take requests and constructive criticism! I like to write. If my spelling is off or my sentences don’t make sense forewarning, I am dyslexic. I also have ADHD and Autism, I have a tendency to fall in and out of hyperfixations fast. Again, I am heavily neurodivergent. The tag for this blog is #arachne’s.web. Comments are like nectar.

Avatar: @water-connects-all

Hazbin/Helluva: @buzz-in-your-veins

~ Rules ~

•Nonnegotiable•

- Please don't interact with NSFW posts if you're a minor.

- The more detailed you are, the better I can complete your request.

- Be Respectful.

- Feel free to spam, but not with your request. A different request, HC, meme, ect, are okay, but not the same thing.

- Keep in mind I may be late with your request, but unless I have responded otherwise, I will be working on it.

- Respect my boundaries.

- Please do not trauma dump or vent in my requests. If your request has something traumatic in it, please DM with warning before the trauma. If you need to Vent, please DM me first to ask, and warn me about the nature of the vent please.

- I’m always open to more friends, just dm me!

~ Yes! ~

- Fluff, smut, angst, pretty much most catagories.

- Character x character

- Reader x character

- Minors, only platonicly.

- Yandere, Dub-Con, CNC, Abuse•certain types•, Possesive, Obsessive, Mafia, possibly more.

- Readers with Habits!

- Fem, Male, and Gender Neutral readers! Please be aware I'm still learning how to write GN and Male readers.

- Headcannons!

- Message asking to be Mutuals!

- Anything unless specified on the NO! list, if you're unsure, just ask!

~ NO! -

•Nonnegotiable•

- Romantic minor.

- Piss, Scat, generally stuff that is usually considered gross.

- Vomit. I have Emetophobia.

- Blind Hate.

- Pedophilla, Incest, Rape.

- Detailed bugs.

- Anything gross in general.

- If you're unsure about something, ask me if I'm comfortable with it or not.

~ Maybe ~

- Specified race and/or religion. I am a white unreligious person, I may write these characters, but i do ask you provide as much information and detail in your ask as you can, and you give me time to research and learn about your character before I write them. I also ask that should I get anything wrong or incorrect that you correct me.

- Super detailed about body parts.

- Sexual Violence/Abuse.

- Eating Disorders.

~ Fandoms I Write For ~

- Hazbin Hotel

- Helluva Boss

- Twilight

- Avatar/Avatar: Way Of The Water

- Buffy The Vampire Slayer

- Angel The Series

- BNHA

- More to be added.

Please be mindful this blog is still new and ergo still under construction, keep an eye out for any updates to the list. They will be in bold for the first three days.

#helluva boss #bnha #mha #hazbin hotel #avatar the way of water #avatar #arachne’s.web

[averywiseanimatedcat]

Welcome to my kitchen.

I don’t like my name and are in search of a new one. Pronouns are overrated but if you must, they/them is preferred.

AU/ADHD

Pushing 30?

I post about:

Honestly mostly Good omens…

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss

I draw, make some memes, write and analyse every dam thing.

Banner art is my own.

My messages and ask box is always open and if you come in there completely unhinged I’ll love you forever.

Good omens playlists post link

Fics:

Some of its transcendental…and some of its just really dumb. 5,626 word one shot. Comedy smut fluff chaos. If you’re going to read one thing I’ve written I would recommend this and would put it in my CV if it weren’t NSFW.

“I loved him.”- 2880 word one shot -post S2 angst

The stars in your eyes-fluff pre-fall angel Az and Crowley

All those Christian camps and it only made him gay- WIP multi chapter teenage AU. Fluff. All the fluff.

Art:

Uno wars

There must be something I can do for you?

A very SFW sketch

I’ll only make you cry

Hear that? It’s a nightingale

Trust me one more time

Sketch dump

A summary of my mental state for the past month

Who we are-Hozier

[letsstartariot2002]

Into post this is pinned!

Hey guys! My name is Salem but please, unless we actually talk, call me Riot! My pronouns are(in order of preference): they/he/it/void/voids/voidself/entity/entity's! Please use all my pronouns not just one or two sets. If you don't know how to use my neos in a sentence here's an example. "Void is annoyed leave Void alone today" "That's entitys phone please don't touch it". My bestest bitch is @shatteredhope123 so if you see me insulting them or typing in all caps at them IT'S ALL JOKES, WE'VE KNOWN EACHOTHER FOR LIKE 6-7 YEARS. We also know eachother in real life. I'm transgender ftm, Polyamarous, Gay, Demisexual and Demiromantic but I'm HAPPILY TAKEN AND NOT LOOKING FOR ANYMORE PARTNERS. My partners are Sam(long distance), Cody(long distance), Berat(close distance), Carlo(Headspace alter), and Duff(headspace alter). I have DID, ADHD, Major Depressive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety disorder, separation anxiety,social anxiety, and I suspect I may have some sort of anger disorder, so please use tone indicators when talking to me. If I don't answer you when you dm me, it means I'm socially drained or I just don't want to talk, so please respect that. I'm a furry, my fursona right now is a Pot dragon(closed species by Wikk Elam on Facebook, dm him if interested in owning one), and a grey Greek demigod cat named Skyler. I'm quite chill and laid back, until you piss me off that is. My hyperfixations right now are Helluva Boss, Hazbin Hotel, Subnautica, God Of War, FNAF, Wings Of Fire, the backrooms/liminal spaces, and weed(not doing it, the different strains and different effects, basically learning about it). If you couldn't tell, I am in fact a stoner. I'm 21 years old and I'm choas. I like to watch memes, or stupid shit, play games, and call my friends or boyfriends(mainly Berat and Sam, but separately). I have many many ocs so feel free to ask me about my oc lore, I so badly want to lore dump but nobody will listen to me yap about a fictional grey cat I made way back in grade 7/8.

Here are my triggers and things I'm not comfy with so please don't talk about these to me or tag me in posts related to these:

-Anything to do with someone dating someone much much older(had someone try to pull that shit with me recently)

-Abusive parents(unless ur my bestie then vent all you want, okay? Or oc lore, oc lore is fine as it's fake)

-Abusive romantic relationships, even if it's fictional. I've been in to many of these to fucking count

-Obsessive behaviors(had to deal with this recently, please just don't I can't even if it's fictional)

-Anything that has to do with Native legends(the W, flesh pedestrians, I'm native and highly believe in them so please don't glorify these things)

-Zoophila or pedophila(U WILL BE BLOCKED AND CALLED THE FUCK OUT)

-petty furry drama. Fucking sick of ppl claiming colors and animals. Grow up.

-Metallica(the band, trauma reasons)

-do not mention these names to me as I knew ppl with these names and they gave me trauma: Aiden, Justin, Annah, Sam, Hayley, Makayla,Karlee,Scott, Collette, Leonard. If I see any of these names for my own sake I will either unfollow you or block you. I know it's just a name but you guys don't get how heightened emotions get with ADHD.

Here are my current interests so feel free to dm me and ask me about these:

-fnaf

-subnautica

-Disney dreamlight valley

-minecraft

-wings of fire

-Eragon

-weed in general

-bendy and the ink machine

-Venom

-Spyro the dragon

-Ratchet and Clank

-animal jam for both pc and mobile

-my ocs

Feel free to tag me in things related to my likes or something you'd think I'd like! I love knowing ppl thought of me! I'm still learning how Tumblr works so I'll try to be more active to learn how it works. If I don't credit art please remind me to as sometimes I get way too excited to post art I get. I have a job so please be understanding that if I dm you, it means I value you. I'm VERY tired after work and have to constantly fight sleep all fucking day. I'm not very mentally stable from being exhausted so please be gentle on me. But yeah! Below are me and my boyfriend Berat! The dragon is the pot dragon, his name is Bear and he's HEAVILY BASED OFF MY BF BERAT SO PLEASE DONT TAKE INSPIRATION FROM HIM WHATSOEVER. DO NOT STEAL HIM EITHER. Art of Bear is by MilkyManta on discord. If you see someone other than me using him, TELL ME ASAP. same with Skyler.

This be skyler. if you see someone using them, TELL ME ASAP.

This be Bear, if you see someone using him, TELL ME ASAP. Species is by Wikk Elam on Facebook, they are a CLOSED species. You MUST tell Wikk if you are interested in owning one, you also must be 18+. Wikk will provide you the link to the official discord server.

#intro post #blog #cat furry #furry anthro #furry artist #besties #wof #dragon furry

[namelessdeceased]

masterpost/intro thing i guess, idk i just wanted to use my like two hundred dividers

hi! i am here! call me nameless, ya shit!

info!

they/them

MINOR

nonbinary

pan quoiromantic/cloudromantic aegosexual

kiss repulsed

asian (to be clearer half malay half chinese)

my brain is like literally a rock

thingos (all undiagnosed): depression, anxiety, adhd, neurodivergent (possibly autistic), body dysmorphia, slight anorexia, anger and trust issues

kins: boris pavlikovsky, mac coyle, kotallo (hfw), beta (hfw) , aloy (hzd and hfw) , katarina (10 things i hate about you) [i haven't seen it lol], blitzø (helluva boss), alastor (hazbin hotel), loona (helluva boss), octavia (hellluva boss), wednesday addams

stan: zo (hfw), ↓, ranboo, fizzarolli (helluva boss), stolas (helluva boss), verosika mayday (helluva boss)

posts!

current 90%: shitposts, interactions, hfw

occasional the goldfinch, grishaverse, paper girls, helluva and lgbtqia+ stuff. i like heartstopper, young royals, riordanverse and fnaf too (harry potter and mcyt occasionally).

i post my spotify activity on #nameless will die without music, cw-worthy stuff or rants on #nameless emo hours

i take moodboard reqs too, list on #nameless has a use for once

boundaries!

not okay:

advances, especially sexual. i'm a fucking minor, that's just weird. nothing romantic either, though platonics are okay.

shaming, slander, insulting. i think it's clear enough why, but if you're really that dense, nobody deserves that bullshit. especially body shaming and overall aiming for insecurities, having been very depressed and still am over my body image. it fucking sucks.

dni if you're: [insert every generic dni here]

do not invalidate my or other people's problems. no "other people have it worse" or "you're overreacting" or "be grateful for what you have" BITCH IT DOESN'T. FUCKING. HELP. so stfu.

don't call me bb-anything. it makes me extremely uncomfortable. basically anything else is okay eg. love, honey, babe (in a joke way) etc. i'd prefer genderless terms in this case.

okay:

sexual or romantic content, i'm okay with dirty stuff and i think romance is pretty cool!

send me pictures of hot people for opinions and send me memes :)

rants, vents or trauma dumps, i may be unable to help but my messages and askbox is always open!

happy rants, i'm glad i get to celebrate this with you! :D

about me!

heya :) i get sad sometimes and post sad stuff, but usually these are my aesthetics: chaoscore, piratecore, kidcore and grunge.

i am in a qpr of sorts, we don't have a label on it yet. they're not on tumblr, i'm not revealing their identity. 🖕. [i'm leaving this here, but i cut off contact with him.]

i have a spotify, and i'm usually an indie/alt rock kinda person. lemon demon is good. favourite songs: becca - the sukis, freaks - surf curse and 1985 - bo burnham.

my favourite colours are black, pink and green.

i have a cat. she's 10 years old and a proud calico. also slayer of many birds. a rat too once.

my favourite flowers are daisies. roses and hibicuses are cool too.

i'm in school.

i read ao3 a lot, with an average of 4h of sleep per day in order for me to do my homework.

my favourite flavour of monster is pipeline punch.

thank you for reading this far, have a meme :D

divider credit: @nayllijsstuff

[zo-mbiegirl]

✨HELLUVA MEME DUMP✨

mostly episode 5 memes that I didn’t think were funny enough to warrant their own post. enjoy

#also. starting up a new template at the end there. ask if u want the blank i think it has potential #helluva boss #helluva boss meme #helluva boss memes #helluva boss ep 5 #helluva boss episode 5 #helluva boss the harvest moon festival #the harvest moon festival #helluva boss blitzo #helluva boss sallie may #helluva boss striker #helluva boss moxxie #helluva boss millie #vivziepop #spindlehorse #meme #memes #shitpost #nightblogging #meme dump

[pallasperilous]

Funny Bone

The other day Supernatural9917 threw out this meme as a cracky Halloween Dean/Cas prompt and I was SO MAD, because I then had to write it:

And so here it is. Goddammit.

Funny Bone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761150 Words: 4930 Castiel/Dean Winchester Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Skeletons, Bad Pick-Up Lines, No Angels AU, Men of Letters Bunker, Mild Gore Mature (mentions of lewd acts, canon-typical violence, and some truly horrible pickup lines)

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland. It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

Discovering the bunker in the first place was a helluva surprise. The whole facility is legitimately batshit; Dead Guys of Letters knew how to live (and, apparently, die. All at once.).

But after plowing through a dozen rooms worth of priceless treasures and crusty boobytraps, even Sam was looking kinda full up on shock and awe.

“We can hit the basement tomorrow,” he said. There was a big smudge of dust across his nose and some cobwebs in his hair.

“Nuh uh,” Dean answered, kicking the door shut with the toe of his boot. “If there’s shit still kicking down there, we gotta clean it out before it cleans us out. It’s that or we’re sleepin’ in the car.”

“Ugh,” Sam said, as if twenty minutes ago he hadn’t been losing his mind over a rare book about werewolf hemorrhoids.

So discovering that the basement included a no-shit actual dungeon felt more like an unanticipated bonus, and stumbling across a skeleton while exploring it barely even registered. Skeletons and dungeons! They go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong.

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor, inside a big circle of greasy black ash.  It looked a little mildewy in in places. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland.

It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

“Welp,” Dean had said, holstering his gun and wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re all clear. Let’s head back upstairs, salt the shit out of everything, and then we can pick up some groceries.”

“Do I get to buy a vegetable that doesn’t fit in a bun, or are we still in the refractory period?” Sam snarked from the corridor.

“I don’t see you cookin’, “ Dean started, shuffling back towards the hall, and that’s when the skeleton butted in.

“Are those astronaut pants?” it asked. “Because your ass is outta this world!”

Dean absolutely did not scream, but it’s possible there was a yelp. 

He almost unloaded a clip into it – unclear what that would’ve possibly done, but it’s good to start with the simple, available solutions. Next he nabbed the lighter fluid off of Sam and dumped out half a pound of kosher salt as a chaser and set the fucker alight.

This does not have the intended effect.

“Baby, I’d like to put my meat on your grill,” the skeleton says, greenish flames dancing between its ribs, “because you’re hot, and I’m smokin’.” Then it sits up a little, just enough to shoot Dean some finger guns.

“What the fuck,” Dean says.

Sam makes a little evaluatory noise. “Sexually harassed by a skeleton,” he chuckles. “I think that’s a new one. Even for you. Is that a new one? I know a lot of strange shit went down in Purgatory.”

The skeleton perks up even more at that, grungy eye sockets sweeping up and down Dean’s body. “Are you a time traveler?” it asks. (Maybe he asks, because the voice is pretty deep and dude-ish, although possibly just on account of its vocal cords being leather shoelaces.)

“Wh…no, I’m not a time traveler,” Dean fibs. He’s more of a time trafficking victim, anyway. “Oh, wait, god,” he says. “Please don’t tell me you’re asking that because –“

“– I can see you in my future,” the skeleton finishes, eagerly, and Dean really wishes this thing had eyebrows so he could tell if they’re waggling.

“Yeah, okay. That’s enough for today,” Dean groans. “I need a drink.” He starts to back out of the room as a pre-emptive strike against Bones commenting on how he hates to see Dean leave, but loves to watch him go. Dean’s working on stumbling back again Sam’s left shoe when the skeleton pipes up one last time, this time with a husky, anxious edge.

“I realize that Purgatory isn’t accessible through a simple chronological shift,” it says, teeth chattering. “But it does require travel between modalities, and if you’re capable of that, I would very much like to speak with you again.”

Dean and Sam’s heads slowly swivel back towards the skeleton, like two little pizzas on the same Lazy Susan.

 An hour later, they’re still in the dungeon, working on dousing the skeleton with every possible anti-bad-stuff solution they’ve got, just in case he’s a vampire skeleton or a ghoul skeleton or a witch skeleton or maybe just a wendigo that’s incredibly bad at its job. In between progress reports, he’s still hitting on Dean.

“Dude, don’t you have an off switch somewhere?” Dean asks him.

“Well, Dean, you certainly make me feel like a light switch,–“

“– because you turn me on,” all three of them say in unison.

The skeleton looks a little embarrassed, which is kind of impressive when you think about it. “You’ve…heard that one before?” he asks.

“I spend a lot of time in bars,” Dean deadpans. “Okay, sage is a no-go.”

Sam strikes a line off on the clipboard he found upstairs. “Is this part of a curse or something?” he asks, glancing up at Bones. “Like on top of being a sentient skeleton, you can only speak in horrible pickup lines?”

The skeleton shakes his head, which produces a sound Dean recognizes from his kneecaps on cold mornings. “No, the spellwork allows me to speak freely on most subjects; except who I am, or how to free me. But it’s helpful to use language modern humans can easily understand.”

“Huh. Well, in a way, it is Dean’s native tongue,” Sam says, smirking.

“You shut your face,” Dean hisses.

“When I first saw you, I lost my tongue. Can I try yours on for size?” Bones asks Dean.

“Buddy, I don’t know where you get your information from, but nobody actually talks that way,” Dean tells him. “Nobody sober, anyway. Who isn’t a virgin.”

The skeleton slumps. “I learned from my last visitor. He tried to release me on several occasions, but he either died or abandoned the project.”

Dean arches a brow. “The project being…you?”

“I would be very valuable under the right circumstances.” The skeleton shrugs and casually holds out an arm for Dean to scrape at with the demon blade. “He gave me lessons in modern vernacular as a way to pass our time together.”

“Sounds like a peach,” Dean says, before he can catch himself. “If you have a peach-related pickup line in there, man, you’d better just sit on it.”

“That’s what-“

“I will smash you with a hammer,” Dean barks.

The skeleton relents, but with obvious reluctance.

 They call it quits before Kansas rolls up the sidewalk for the night and leaves them stranded with nothing but two Clif bars and a gross of septuagenarian cans of franks ’n beans. Bones shifts nervously when Dean leaves – “Which is better, pancakes or waffles?” he asks.

“Pancakes,” Dean says, with a sense of grim duty.

“Because I’d like to know what you’re making me for breakfast,” says Bones, his voice trailing off as Dean books it down the stony corridor.

  By lunch the next day (bologna sandwiches, so sue him, he’ll make something good later) they’re pretty sure that Bones doesn’t pose any known, immediate threat – other than to Dean’s sanity – so they switch gears to springing him. Maybe he will be worth something, or maybe he’ll crumble into dust and Be Free, or maybe he’ll just stop being chained to the basement wall, in which case he can become their skeleton butler or something.

There are weird runes on the ankle cuff, so Sam snaps some quick photos and heads upstairs to feel up the library. This leaves Dean in the basement with Bones, some good old-fashioned power tools, and Bones’s ex-suitor’s gross sense of humor.

“You know I can understand you just fine when you’re talking normally,” Dean says. “You’re just reciting some prehistoric shit that idiots say to girls to get a pity-laugh, hoping it leads to a pity-fuck.”

“What’s a pity-fuck?” Bones asks, all mildewy innocence. Dean’s pretty sure the grunge in his eyeball sockets is dried eyeball.

“Pretty much what it says on the tin, my guy,” Dean answers, and reaches for the acetylene torch.

 “Enochian,” Sam says, when Dean surfaces for another sandwich and possibly a beer. He’s really disappointed about the torch.

“Gesundheit?” Dean replies, around a mouthful of bologna. Like everything else here, the kitchen is pretty schwa, although the inside of the fridge required three exorcisms and half a jug of bleach.

Sam paws around the smelly old book in a way that makes Dean feel sorry for the girls Sam dated in high school. “The symbols on the cuff. I think they’re Enochian. It’s a fake celestial language made up by some sixteenth century con artists.”

Dean coughs up a bit of Wonder Bread. “I respect the hustle, but what’s it doing on an ankle cuff in a dungeon younger than Mickey Mouse?”

Sam frowns. “Well, it could be for show. But just because some nutbars made it up doesn’t mean it’s totally powerless. Maybe it does have some kind of…heavenly mojo.”

“Liwl probbem,” Dean observes, finishing off his sandwich. “Def nuh heggen.”

“Huh?”

Dean takes a swallow of beer. “I said: there’s no heaven.”

Sam shrugs. “We didn’t think there was a Purgatory, either.”

“Okay, but if we find out angels are real,” Dean snorts, “then Bones can fuck me in the ass.”

 Sam reports his findings to Bones, who sits placidly on the back of his pelvis, carpals splayed out on his kneecaps. What’s even holding him together? Dean can see what’s left of his ligaments, but they look like petrified gas station jerky.

“Do you know what they mean?” Sam asks him, pointing at the sigils.

Bones’s jaw creaks open a little, then closes again, and then he shakes his skull (something rattles inside.) Finally he makes a little frustrated noise and replies – “Baby, are you a book? Because I’d like to check you out.”

“Hey!” says Dean. “Keep it in your pants, man, I’m right here.”

Sam squints. “I think…Dean, I think he’s trying to tell us something, but the spell on him means he can’t say it directly.”

Bones clenches his fists, releases them, clenches them again.

“Yeah. Keep him talking. Let’s see how close he can get.”

Clack clack clack.

“Uh,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Do I need to, like. Give you some kinda opening?” he asks Bones.

“Sweetheart, I’d like nothing better,” Bones answers, then clacks his knuckles on his brow with exasperation.

“Sorry, Christ. Hit me with your best shot, buddy. Dealer’s choice.”

Bones clears his…ghost throat? and tries: “Tell me, Dean…did it hurt?”

Dean blinks. “When I…fell from heaven?”

Sam claps his hands. “Fucking knew it. It is Enochian, and it does have something to do with this. I think he wants me to check the library for another book. Maybe there’s one misshelved or something that I can actually use to translate. Or I can Google around, maybe there’s a subreddit.”

Dean’s pretty sure Bones has never heard of a Google or a subreddit (for that matter, does Dean actually know what a subreddit is?), but it seems like there’s a glimmer of hope deep in those scum-holes.

 Sam gets translations for a few of the words – “obedience” and something he’s fifty percent sure means “millstone” – but the rest is still gobbledygook, and he hasn’t come down with another update in hours. The dungeon is pretty roomy, but it’s not like there’s a foosball table or a cable TV pickup down there, so Dean and Bones wind up lying on the cold-ass ground, staring up into the dark reaches of the ceiling together and, like. Chatting.

Occasionally Bones goes quiet and Dean glances over at him. He really could just be a totally normal, completely dead dungeon skeleton. A good power washing and the right mounting hardware and he’d be ready for a high school biology classroom.

“So if these runes are a celestial thing, does that mean you’re some kinda demonic...thing?” Dean asks. “Cause I gotta say, you’re a much less of a douche than the demons I’ve met.” He snorts. “I know you probably can’t say.”

Bones sighs (how? With what lungs?). “The last person who tried to free me was a demon.” He shifts a little, maybe surprised that he can say this out loud. “It had been so long since somebody had spoken to me…I’m afraid I came close to actually enjoying his company. But he was no better than his kind usually are.”

“Don’t suppose you caught his name? Maybe Sam or me killed him for you already.”

“He called himself—no, I can’t say it.” He makes a sound resembling a harumph.

Then his skull creaks over to look at Dean. “Does your name start with ‘C’?” he says, very deliberately.

Dean is momentarily puzzled, but he works it out by the time Bones wincingly adds “…because I’ve got a D that wants to come behind you.”

There aren’t too many demons under the “C” tab in Dean’s blood-stained mental rolodex, and when he says the name out loud, Bones makes a sound like an entire set of dominos being thrown down a spiral staircase.

  Crowley is pretty pissed, which is fun.

It’s nice that the dungeon floor already has a perfect trap on the floor; they don’t even have to hit up Ace Hardware for paint. A damp shop cloth and a little nail polish (Wet ’n Wild in “Red Red,” don’t leave home without it) brings it right up to working order.

“Why does it smell like a nail salon fucked a bloody wine cellar?” Crowley says, after he’s settled down a bit. He manifested right in the creepy torture chair (in the shackles, even! What service!) and he made some escape attempts followed by angry noises about rust stains. Now he’s recovered his dignity and has kicked back a bit, legs crossed, fingers steepled, oozing maximum levels of 2 cool 4 school.

“How do you know what a nail salon smells like?” Dean retorts.

“I get a monthly mani-pedi. There’s no shame in a little self-care, boys.” Crowley’s eyes trickle down to their feet. “Imagine what fungal horrors those work boots must conceal.” Then he squints, and looks up, finally taking in the whole room. “Could swear I’ve been here before. Little upscale for you, isn’t it? Did we splurge for a vacation rental?”

“Crowley, why don’t we roleplay Titanic?” Bones growls from the wall behind him, and Crowley’s face goes slack. “I’ll be the iceberg, and you can go down.”

Crowley swallows and slowly twists back, as far as the shackles let him. “Feathers, is that you? Well, as I live and breathe.”

“You do neither,” says Bones, with so much gravelly contempt that Dean suppresses a little shiver.

“Oh, I still breathe now and then, when the mood takes me. I’m a sentimentalist.” Crowley cranes his neck a little harder and squints into the dim. “Goodness, you’ve dropped some weight since we last spoke, haven’t you. Finally let go of all that pesky soft tissue?”

Bones tilts forward and kind of clatters onto hands and knees, then tipsily begins to rise up to standing. Dean’s a little concerned he’s gonna topple right over and they’re gonna spend the next two hours collecting him in a basket, but when he moves to help out, Bones waves him off. After a couple false starts he makes it up onto his feet bones and then shuffles out to the end of his chain, right under one of the overhead lights. He’s still a good couple feet off from Crowley, but Crowley looks like he wouldn’t mind a few extra acres.

Bones sways a little bit, just enough for Crowley to wince. “You didn’t come back.”

“I got busy.”

Sam shifts impatiently. “What is he?” he snaps, gesturing at Bones.

“Exceedingly dull,” Crowley says. “I should’ve guessed you were friends.”

Dean uncorks a fresh bottle of holy water.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Crowley amends, quickly. “And even if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do with him. It’d be like giving a laptop to a pair of howler monkeys.”

Dean puts his thumb over the mouth of the water bottle and holds it over Crowley’s head. “Try me.”

Crowley scoffs, rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he is, since he’s useless as long as he’s chained up. And I wouldn’t have left him down here if I had a single clue how to smuggle him out.  I haven’t even been in here since the Bay of Pigs; I’d worked a loophole in one of the defense spells here that let me in. When it broke down, I lost my exploit. Wasn’t worth the bother after that.”

Dean slides his thumb a millimeter north of a perfect seal, and a fat drop of water busts its ass open on Crowley’s forehead and sends up a thin line of steam. “Good thing I’ve got a limitless supply of bother,” Dean notes. “Sam, we still got those syringes in the trunk?”

Crowley snarls. “Go ahead and melt me like the cartoon shoe in Roger Rabbit, it’s not going magically make me come up with a solution.”

Bones grunts and rattles his leg chain. “Do you speak Spanish, Crowley? Because you look like the Juan for me.”

“Did I teach you that one? You absolute xylophone.” Crowley glances back at Dean. “Do your worst, Squirrel, I deserve it.”

Sam frowns. “He uses the lines to get around the spell’s speech restrictions. This is something about speaking languages…were you able translate the Enochian symbols on his cuff?”

Crowley blinks. “What symbols?”

 After a whole lot of faffing around with mirrors and terrible cellphone photography, they confirm that Crowley can’t see the symbols at all.

“More demon-proofing. Clever little buggers, those Men of Letters,” Crowley sighs. “A real shame they were peeled and eaten like bananas.”

Finally Sam just hunkers down with a pencil and pad to transcribe the entire ankle cuff, and Dean awkwardly holds up Bones’s ankle, like he’s being sized for a glass slipper. When they shove the results in Crowley’s face, Dean watches his eyes dart along the words.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, boys. Along with the usual wankery, there are instructions on how to release the cuff. I can translate it,” he finally says, with an unusually low inflection of bullshit, “but I’ll thank you to release me, first.”

Dean is flummoxed. “What, you’re not gonna haggle for a cut of the profits or anything?”

“Activating the release mechanism will free him completely, and restore his…restore him. I’d rather be at a safe distance.” He glances back at Bones, looming in the shadows. “A continent or three should do the trick.”

“If it doesn’t work–“

“I’d be more worried about what happens if it does,” Crowley sighs.  “But feel free to summon me back for tea and sympathy. Here, I’ll even give you my number. But please, no personal photography. I pity you enough as it is.”

  Crowley finally smokes out, and Dean has a beer to celebrate while Sam looks over the list of what they need and Bones clatters his fingertips like castanets. The ingredients are (as always) larded with shit that’s exotic and expensive; Sam is looking crestfallen at some of the items. “I’ve heard of all of this, but I’ve only seen maybe half of it for sale anywhere.”

“Baby, are you a yard sale? Because you’ve got some serious junk in that trunk,” Bones monotones. He’s back to lying on the floor.

At least it’s getting easier to translate this shit. “They’ve got all the ingredients here somewhere,” Dean says. Sam looks skeptical. “C’mon, Sam, no way these dudes would use a lock when they didn’t have the key.”

The ensuing scavenger hunt takes a few pints of elbow grease, but at least by the end they’re both familiar with the Bunker’s floor plan, document filing system, and inventory records. They find virtually everything in-house, though they do end up driving to the nearest farm stand for some hen’s eggs and rosemary (and heirloom tomatoes, because they look bomb).

Dean christens – or maybe exorcises – the kitchen range with some red meat, and they fuel up with burgers before taking the plunge. Dean’s still licking the ketchup off his fingers when Bones pipes up one last time. “Can I ask you something?” he says.

Dean and Sam brace for impact.

Bones sighs. “That’s not the start of a pickup line. I genuinely have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why are you so intent on freeing me? You could have just left me down here. I’m not a threat this way. You only have Crowley’s word that you might profit - or suffer - from my release.”

Sam gives Dean a look; it’s the look that says I sure hope you have an answer, because I think this entire thing has been dumb as shit and half as necessary. It’s a look Sam uses pretty regularly.

“Uh. It’s the right thing to do? As far as I can tell, you haven’t hurt anybody or done anything else to deserve being down here. We went through all those records upstairs, and there’s no note that says ‘by the way, that skeleton downstairs eats babies for breakfast.’ This place is cool, but the dudes who built it were obviously shady as fuck.”

“I see.” Bones sounds a little disappointed.

Sam fake-coughs into his hand, and Dean sets down his paper napkin. “Also, you seem cool. Like, you’re easy to hang out with. Other than the stinky one-liners, and we’re gonna wean you off of those.”

Bones straightens himself out a little. “Thank you, Dean. You know, on a scale of one to ten, I’d rate you a nine.”

“Okay, okay. Why not a ten?”

Bones sets his chin on his knuckle bones with a tidy little clack. “Because I’m the one you’re missing.”

Dean groans, but he thinks the guy might be smiling, somewhere behind that skeletal grin.

 By hour two, Sam’s pretty tuckered out from pulverizing a billion and three mummified dove livers while reciting nonsense syllables, and Dean’s right arm is about to fall off from holding up this giant silver swizzle stick that’s either a really weird short sword or a decorative javelin, but Bones has never looked perkier. He’s lying on a nice white bedsheet and looking fresh as a recently exhumed daisy.

“Okay,” Sam rasps. “Light the candle and we should be good to go. Any last words, Bones?”

“Are either of you religious?” He crosses his arm bones over each other.

“Fuck no,” Dean answers, before Sam gets a chance to launch into it.

Bones shakes his skull fondly. “You should reconsider. Because you’re the answer to my prayers.”

Dean makes a gagging noise and lights the candle.

 What happens next (well, after the cuff pops open) is some of the freakiest shit that Dean has ever seen, and his Freaky CV is pretty fucking impressive, thanks. Bones tells them to avert their eyes, “just in case”, but he takes a peek between his fingers anyway, because he’s an idiot.

For a second Bones is just lying there, and Dean has a second of real disappointment that maybe he’s Moved On Past The Veil or something, but then he starts…foaming. It starts out kind of uniform and colorless, but then it really picks up speed and volume and starts to separate into swaths of distinct and horrible colors and textures. He closes his eyes again for a second to give his stomach a chance to reboot, and when he looks again the foam is gone, and instead there’s a whole lot of angry jelly trying to form into organs.

Just as the jelly is really getting its shit together and looking more like lungs and intestines and stuff, the heart-jelly pulses once and sends out a fistful of big squishy vines…veins? and a fat white worm of nerve scrambles down the spinal column and starts putting out franchises. This is followed by some disturbingly tasty-looking red sheets of muscle that swiftly sheathe over all the whole scene, and then the muscles start sweating out fat and cartilage and this is the point where Dean decides that looking away is actually definitely one hundred percent for the best. Even then, the sounds are tough to handle.

Kinda wild: he’s seen people taken apart, but watching one get put back together is somehow gnarlier. Well, if this guy is even a person. It’s a human skeleton, sure, but god knows even Mickey Rourke has one under there.

Finally everything seems to have quieted down.

“How you doin’ over there, Bones?” Dean asks, and dares to take a peek.

Bones is crouched down in front of them, fists balled up in the bedsheets (it’s a relief that the bedsheets didn’t get accidentally sucked into the muscle layer or something, like one of those surgeons who leaves a sponge behind). Dean sees white guy skin and some dark messy hair and gets the gist of a decent build.

The face slowly cranes upwards, and Dean is really truly ready for anything here; tusks, fangs, Klingon forehead ridges, gingivitis. Instead he gets a faceful of hot math teacher. Bones’s eyes are still closed, but he’s frowning like he’s mentally reviewing his strategy to explain the quadratic equation to a roomful of horny teens.

He slowly rises to standing (yikes! Naked! Dean is a Moderately Bad Man, so he glances, but just long enough to register “nice), uncurling slowly and carefully.

Then he’s all the way up. Bones squares his shoulders and straightens the last kink in his spine, and the frown resolves. Dean’s about to say something, when his eyes snap open, and this cold white light absolutely blasts out of them, and fuck, Crowley wasn’t kidding: this guy is definitely A Thing. The whole room flattens and distorts in the light. Shadows race up the walls like they’re looking for a way out, then snap together into the shape of enormous ragged wings, stretching thirty feet higher than the actual ceiling clearance.

Then the light dies down; the wings fade into regular-grade shadows. Instead of a terrifying unearthly avatar of Oh Shit, Dean’s looking at a buck naked thirty-something math teacher. Who happens to be an unearthly avatar of Oh Shit. And has nice eyes.

“My name is Castiel, angel of the Lord, Seraph of the First Shield,” the avatar says, in a piss-shakingly resonant version of Bones’s voice.

Then: “Do you speak English, Dean?”

“Yes?” Dean fumbles.

“So do I,” says Castiel, and smiles.

Then he makes finger-guns.

  Castiel sticks around for a grand total of five minutes before he’s suddenly gone again, because angels are (a) real and they can (b) teleport? at (c) any moment because (d) fuck you, then he reappears six hours later (clothed) standing over Dean’s bed, having apparently forgotten that humans like to sleep; this time Dean does shoot him, but luckily he doesn’t seem to take it personally.   

“I located Crowley,” Bo- Castiel says. The silver sword-javelin thing is sitting on the kitchen counter in front of him; apparently it’s an Angel Blade and it lives in Castiel’s coat sleeve and can vaporize demons. It doesn’t look like it has any Crowley on it, but maybe it’s self-cleaning.

“Did you kill him?” Dean asks, now that he’s semi-coherent and wrapped around a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

“Not this time,” Cas answers. “He did help, after all.”

“Sure,” says Dean.

“You don’t need to let me fuck you in the ass, either,” Castiel says, and Dean honks some coffee up the back of his nose.

“Oh,” he gasps. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. Didn’t realize you could hear that convo all the way down there.”

“Angels have excellent hearing. Mine wasn’t impacted by the spell.”

Dean can think of at least three very private moments Castiel almost definitely could hear every instant of, and longs for death. Or maybe not, since apparently this guy lives in Heaven and could hear him there, too. “Great. Good to know. Noted.”

“But…” Castiel looks wistful.

“What?” Dean nudges him. Dean Winchester: angel nudger.

Castiel frowns. “If I said…” he stops himself. “This is…what I want to say is very irregular, at least between angels and humans.”

“Jesus christ on a goddamn pogo stick, man. It’s three in the morning, some of us have a circadian rhythm and a limited lifespan. Say whatever it is you gotta say.”

Castiel looks up and drowns Dean in his swimming pool eyes, which Dean has learned belong to a radio ad salesman in Illinois, who Castiel possessed a few years back before jumping several decades into the past to run some errands and getting rope-a-doped by the Men of Letters and then warehoused in their basement; after they all spontaneously bought the farm, he just slowly ran out of the power reserves needed to keep his vessel from turning to mush and hey presto, talking skeleton.

Classic story, really.

“If I said you had a beautiful body, Dean,” Castiel says, solemnly, “Would you hold it against m-“

Dean doesn’t let him finish. {AO3 version}

#spn fanfic #destiel #deancas #profoundnet #prompt fic

[mandysimo13]

2020 has been a helluva year

I know it’s not technically new year’s yet but since it’s on my mind, let’s do a year in review. 

This year has been so fucking disorienting, in so many ways, and it’s hard to believe anything is real. Every other day there’s new outrage, new disgust, new triumphs, new joys, new fears, new ways to cope with existence. 

First we list the good from this year. 

My two best friends welcomed brand new daughters into the world. I was lucky enough to spend two weeks with one of them, helping her out since her in-laws are too compromised to help and her own mother is gone. I got to see my brand new niece have her first few experiences in life, hang out with dogs, and spend lots of time with my sister-from-another-mister. 

I got engaged to an amazing partner who is everything I’ve wanted in a spouse. He’s sweet and funny and makes me want to be a better person and work hard towards my goals. He’s the most supportive of my new career path and while he’s not always super interested in what I’m researching, he’s always willing to listen to me info dump when I get excited. He lets me help him and kick him in the ass when he needs it, lets me hold him when he needs it, and I never feel unloved or unwanted with him. Not to mention, the sex is really good, too, lol

I’ve started working on a new career path and trying to make history my job. I’ve been doing lectures on niche history and working towards making it a legitimate job and a legitimate company. I’ve been gaining a following and legitimacy as I make networking connections and getting my foot in doors that will open up opportunities for me. 

I have not lost anyone very close to me during this pandemic, even if a couple have gotten sick or injured. I did lose an uncle to covid, though he was 90 and was already in declining health. The other people who have caught it have so far managed to recover and haven’t had any obvious long lasting problems (yet *knock on wood*) 

I got on anxiety and depression medication this year and it has made all the difference this year; not only with the every day stuff but with some of the pandemic craziness. I honestly don’t know how I would be doing, mentally and emotionally, without it. I am very very very grateful for my meds, despite the very few side effects I’ve had. 

Now for the bad

Every day there is something new and awful to be had. Whether it’s US politics continually shitting on struggling americans or murder hornets or natural disasters or covid deniers or police brutality or fear mongers or throw a dart at this bingo card from hell year we’ve had. It’s all been fucked up and Too Much™

The isolating and social distancing, while absolutely necessary, has been exhausting and terrifying, and it’s been rough. I’m an extrovert. I thrive around people. I miss crowds. I miss walking around through stores without freaking out about distance. I miss being able to give hugs to people other than the people I live with. I miss traveling, which was my previous job, and the students I used to expose to the world. I miss being able to actually be part of the world.

I’ve been fairly lucky that my closest friends have kept small bubbles so we’ve been able to hang out from time to time but nowhere near as often as I need in order to feel balanced. I miss my historian happy hours. I miss movie theaters. I’ve been to a few restaurants since they’ve opened but it’s definitely not the same and I feel bad for everyone (including myself) caught between having to go out and make a living and staying home and staying safe because this country’s “social safety nets” are a fucking joke. 

And speaking of those safety nets, I’m on unemployment. For the first time in my working life I’m cashing in those tax dollars and all I’m entitled to is $450 a month. Thank fucking god I live with family and don’t need to pay rent. Thank fuck that my dad pays for our internet and majority of our food. Because aside from a few donations for my services every month, I **just** have enough to cover my few bills. This has been my poorest fucking year and you know what the kicker is? 

It was supposed to be my most profitable. This was supposed to be my busiest year for tour work since I got into the business. I missed out on so much money, so many work experiences, so many opportunities because of this fucking plague. And because our government couldn’t get their shit together. Because people fucking suck and they’re selfish and they decided their convenience was more important than safety. And those people are still fucking denying its “that big a deal” and denying the need for a vaccine. I’m so tired of hearing people say that covid is a hoax or overblown or whatever the fuck. I’m tired. 

In lieu of being around people, like most of you, I’ve taken to being on social media more. More zoom calls, more video chats, more messenger chats, and more facebook groups. And what I’ve found is that living almost entirely on the internet is doing something fucking awful to us: we’re forgetting there’s real people on the other side of the screen. We’re forgetting that humans are complicated beings, both capable of goodness and shittiness and we’re focusing too much on the bad because it is often louder than the good. I’ve seen so much infighting and gatekeeping and nastiness between people who are supposedly “on the same side” in every group from political to fucking memes. Like. It’s ridiculous and tiresome and it makes me want to clunk heads together. Or leave earth for awhile. 

Just. All in all, this year has been hard. There have been highlights but for the most part everything is so heavy and dark and I feel like as a society nothing is actually getting better. I don’t have a lot of hope for 2021. I am not encouraged by what I’ve seen this year and how people insist on behaving and treating each other. I fear that 2021 is going to be worse before it gets better. 

But hey. At least Biden won (don’t get me started, he was not my first choice) and I get to marry the love of my life in October next year. 

And, if we’re really lucky, we’ll be able to celebrate with our friends. 

Here’s to 2021, hopefully you’re not a giant suck salad. 

#personal #my life #2020 fucking sucked #year in review #tldr highlights and lowlights of the year

[sincerelystesichorus]

fizzarozzie meme dump !!

they're my current brain rot & i'm too busy to write

helluva meme dumps | pt. 1 | pt. 2 || fizzy editions! | pt. 1 | pt. 2

that painting is my favorite thing about them... ozzie it's beautiful but you don't think it makes any of your cohorts suspicious???

#idiots in love #i love them #the worst kept secret in hell #truly #helluvaboss #helluva boss #fizzarolli #helluva boss fizzarolli #asmodeus #asmodeus helluva boss #asmodeus x fizzarolli #fizzarozzie #fizzmodeus #helluva boss blitzo #blitzø #helluva boss memes #qb #qb shitposts #helluva meme dump

[enthusiastofshit]

#Hazbin hotel #clearing out phone #clearing out camera roll #Hazbin hotel memes #helluva boss memes #screenshotted memes #youtube screenshots #not mine #phone dump #paimon helluva boss #Dwayne Johnson memes #Dwayne Johnson eyebrow raise

[teruelfxonsuvar]

Five Things Meme

I got tagged by @stephicness !! It’s been a while since I actually made a post, wowzers :’) been feeling pretty low energy lately, maybe I need to purge my follows so checking in won’t be as tedious

5 things you can find in my blog 1. Lots of FFXV-related content. 2. Occasional post from my instagram (follow for dog pics lmao) 3. Many posts related to writing but no writing to be found 4. Hot dads 5. Occasional doodle dump post

5 things you can find in my room 1. Many many many cables of all type. 2. Endless amounts of notebooks and stationery 3. Linkin Park’s entire discography bar One More Light 4. A bunch of post it notes on my door with song lyrics that are relevant to who I am as a person 5. More pens and pencils than anyone really needs

5 things I always wanted to do 1. Have a minpin army led by one large Doberman 2. Actually write/draw/something the original story I’ve been plotting out since I was 14 years old 3. Meet Linkin Park. Cept it won’t be possible /properly/ anymore 4. HAVE FINANCIAL STABILITY 5. Make a videogame

5 things that make me happy 1. WARM FUZZY ANIMALS 2. Bright colours 3. Kneading dough 4. Swimming 5. Financial Stability.

5 things in my to-do list (these are actual quotes from it jsyk) 1. “Prompt: it is through bailing Loqi out of jail that Ravus discovers the true meaning of friendship” 2. “Take Rocco to the vet you obstinate cunt, look at him, he’s got anxiety” 3. “Send bean to grandma so grandma can cook bean and give you food” 4. “Find: Faceless Reapers character data. Stop misplacing all your papers ya ween” 5. “Character Design: Crossdressing angry crownsguard guy, angry lesbian, angry lesbian’s twin brother, crossdressing angry Kingsglaive guy, Caius”

5 things you might not know about me: 1. I have the Treddfuria URL and have been debating for months if I wanna switch to it or not, like, do I like Guy With 2 Lines more than our queerly beloved high commandork? Do I? And like, I feel like I gotta maintain my brand ya feel? 2. I have an artblog I haven’t updated in almost two years with the @crystalnymphetamine URL 3. I have joint hyper mobility and sometimes I gotta hold my joints in place to do things like chew or the like. My thumb bends inwards towards my palm when I grab a pencil and it’s great/gross 4. I can never sit still and my mind goes 200mph. ADHD is a helluva drug. 5. My first multichapter story was about a group of college aged delinquents that hung around a brothel and got up to crazy shit and it was loosely based on my teen delinquent days when I got up to crazy shit. I wrote it in Spanish and have been thinking about rewriting it in English for a while 👍

Aaaaaand I’m tagging @worry666 @fromeroicawithlove @fightitigniteit and mmmmm yeah that’s all I guess?

#kaz talks #meme #about me

[kartiavelino]

Floyd Mayweather vs. 50 Cent Battle Royale: A Timeline of Their Reignited Beef

What began out as a relaxed Saturday afternoon ended up in full shambles after Floyd Mayweather launched a scathing assault in opposition to his longtime frenemy 50 Cent. On Saturday (Jul. 21), through a prolonged Instagram caption, Mayweather, apparently responding to current jabs from 50 Cent, fired off on his former BFF about all the pieces from his child mama, to his son to his profession, even going so far as to deduce that he’s a snitch. Within the caption of a black-and-white picture of 50 Cent with the phrases “Curtis 5-O Jackson Go Snitch or Die Tellin,” Floyd wrote: Curtis “Confidential Informant” Jackson, you’re mad as a result of your oldest son Marquees mom doesn’t need to be with you! Your Son, your individual flesh and blood don’t need nothing to do with you! You haven’t had a success music on radio in who is aware of when and also you’re positively not scorching sufficient to even promote information anymore so Interscope dropped you. You’re jealous of any rapper, athlete or entertainer that’s scorching or received one thing occurring for themselves. You’re a licensed snitch and we received paperwork to show it. You discuss Ja-Rule however you stole his complete fashion and ran with it! You’re the one self proclaimed gangster that’s by no means put in work! You want to pay homage to the actual 50cent for stealing his identify and his storyline. Your declare to fame was getting shot quite a few instances & residing to inform it and also you assume that’s Gangster? The place at? You’re at the moment residing in a fucking residence in Jersey, you’re at all times in anyone else’s enterprise simply to remain related. You must simply grow to be a blogger trigger it’s apparent you don’t don’t have anything occurring in your life. Are you mad that Kanye West ended your profession? The one factor you bought occurring is Energy and everyone watches that as a result of Ghost is a dope ass character on the present. You possibly can go away the present everyone will nonetheless watch Energy, however out right here in the actual world I’m The Actual Ghost. That’s not a Mansion in Connecticut that you simply’re in debt for, that’s a dump, a cash pit an outsized lure home! It was dope when Mike Tyson had it within the late 80’s early 90’s, however you couldn’t afford to take care of it. You’re at all times speaking about anyone is broke, however the final time I checked it was Curtis Jackson that filed for chapter not Floyd Mayweather. So fast to gossip like a Bitch, why don’t you inform everyone how you bought Herpes from DJ. The place’s your memes for that, huh? Or higher but, put up on how your Coca-Cola deal wasn’t actually 300 million you f***ing liar and inform how that spinning G-Unit necklace that anyone received robbed for was faux. Simply keep in mind, I used to be with you on a regular basis and your driver Bruce was my driver additionally. I do know the place all of your bones are buried, so be straightforward Curtis Jackson! And by the way in which, don’t ask to borrow no extra money from me. Curtis “Confidential Informant” Jackson, you are mad as a result of your oldest son Marquees mom doesn’t need to be with you! Your Son, your individual flesh and blood don’t desire nothing to do with you! You have not had a success music on radio in who is aware of when and also you’re positively not scorching sufficient to even promote information anymore so Interscope dropped you. You’re jealous of any rapper, athlete or entertainer that’s scorching or received one thing occurring for themselves. You’re a licensed snitch and we received paperwork to show it. You discuss Ja-Rule however you stole his complete fashion and ran with it! You’re the one self proclaimed gangster that’s by no means put in work! You want to pay homage to the actual 50cent for stealing his identify and his storyline. Your declare to fame was getting shot quite a few instances & residing to inform it and also you assume that is Gangster? The place at? You’re at the moment residing in a fucking residence in Jersey, you’re at all times in anyone else’s enterprise simply to remain related. You must simply grow to be a blogger trigger it’s apparent you don’t don’t have anything occurring in your life. Are you mad that Kanye West ended your profession? The one factor you bought occurring is Energy and everyone watches that as a result of Ghost is a dope ass character on the present. You possibly can go away the present everyone will nonetheless watch Energy, however out right here in the actual world I’m The Actual Ghost. That’s not a Mansion in Connecticut that you simply’re in debt for, that’s a dump, a cash pit an outsized lure home! It was dope when Mike Tyson had it within the late 80’s early 90’s, however you could not afford to take care of it. You’re at all times speaking about anyone is broke, however the final time I checked it was Curtis Jackson that filed for chapter not Floyd Mayweather. So fast to gossip like a Bitch, why do not you inform everyone how you bought Herpes from DJ. The place’s your memes for that, huh? Or higher but, put up on how your Coca-Cola deal wasn’t actually 300 million you fucking liar and inform how that spinning G-Unit necklace that anyone received robbed for was faux. Simply keep in mind, I used to be with you on a regular basis and your driver Bruce was my driver additionally. I do know the place all of your bones are buried, so be straightforward Curtis Jackson! And by the way in which, don’t ask to borrow no extra money from me. A put up shared by Floyd Mayweather (@floydmayweather) on Jul 21, 2018 at 12:36pm PDT Prior to now, 50 Cent has referred to as Floyd Mayweather out for being allegedly illiterate, so whether or not Floyd can really learn/write stays to be seen. And who is aware of if he had somebody to jot down that caption for him. Nevertheless, THAT was one HELLUVA “learn,” if what we imply. Additionally, the way in which he ended it with “by the way in which, don’t ask to borrow no extra money from me” was fairly spot on, for those who ask us. Now, earlier than we get into Fifty’s response, let’s return to Could when this beef was re-ignited. In a sequence of Instagram posts in late Could, 50 Cent shared with the world a textual content message dialog between himself on Mayweather, who was clearly not proud of 50’s conduct, telling him that he’s coping with a snitch and all he ever is does is canine individuals and take into consideration himself. 50 wrote within the caption, “Floyd on his bullsh*** once more, he performed f***ed that cash up. Now he mad about previous sh**, I’m not promoting your vehicles again champ, you’re n***a. Get the strap.” 50 returned a couple of hours later with a second put up, and this time, he accused Mayweather of being “in his emotions.” A couple of month or so later, 50 trolled Floyd as a result of he dropped $18 million on a watch. “Man they discovered the 1 n***a on the planet, dumb sufficient to purchase that watch,” he commented on an image of Mayweather, adopted by his notorious catchphrase “LOL get the strap.” He adopted up that put up with this one (which he deleted) making enjoyable of Floyd allegedly not with the ability to learn. Beneath a photograph of Mayweather and his son at his highschool commencement, he wrote within the caption: “He can learn no matter you want for you. Get the strap.” Now, again to their newest back-and-forth. In response to Floyd’s scathing IG put up, 50 retorted with this IG put up insinuating that Floyd had assist writing that lengthy put up about him: I should have damage your emotions champ, you had somebody write a guide I’m gonna take my time with this so I get all of it out we’re gonna begin together with your 11 Home violence circumstances. Wait a minute I’ll do them so as keep in mind you requested for this. Floyd hit again with one other put up questioning the paternity of 50’s second son and telling 50’s first son, Marquise, with whom 50 has been on the outs with over the previous few years, “Uncle Floyd nonetheless received you!” Within the subsequent spherical of their “Battle Royale” match, Fifty went after Floyd once more over his alleged illiteracy with this video making enjoyable of him struggling by studying a radio drop for the Breakfast Membership: COME ON BABY’s LMAO, the Champ so delicate he turned his feedback off. ?get the strap #lecheminduroi pic.twitter.com/TXtB63XZfp — 50cent (@50cent) July 22, 2018 He additionally shared a photograph of a notice with horrible grammar and plenty of misspelled phrases, calling it Floyd’s “tough draft earlier than his ghostwriter received concerned.” After which Floyd fired again with this picture Sunday night (Jul. 22), evaluating 50’s $20 million 2018 web value to his $18 million watch. The picture on 50’s aspect is of his cancer-stricken character from the film “Issues Fall Aside” with a rat in entrance of it. “You’re Not Supposed To Be Beefing With Me. You’re Supposed To Be Beefing With My WATCH,” Mayweather wrote within the caption. “Me And You Are Not On The Identical Stage!!!” And whereas we had been drafting this put up, Floyd adopted up with ANOTHER IG assault Monday afternoon (Jul. 23) calling on of us to enter “The Greatest Rat Sweepstakes.” He wrote: “To Enter: 1st, Inform me what number of rats are on this image? 2nd: Go to 50cent IG, twitter and Fb and put up essentially the most disrespectful remark you’ll be able to presumably assume of about The ‘Herpes Infested Rat’ 50cent. third: Repost On Your Web page #50CentGotHerpes. I Promise… The Prime 9 Pictures Will Recieve $1,000 Every & A Reposts On My Web page.” Ball’s in your courtroom now, 50. http://feeds.gossiponthis.com/~r/gossiponthis/~3/ECoTdXwxwsU/ The post Floyd Mayweather vs. 50 Cent Battle Royale: A Timeline of Their Reignited Beef appeared first on My style by Kartia. https://www.kartiavelino.com/2018/07/floyd-mayweather-vs-50-cent-battle-royale-a-timeline-of-their-reignited-beef.html

[sincerelystesichorus]

helluva meme dump 1

helluva meme dumps | pt. 1 | pt. 2 || fizzy editions! | pt. 1 | pt. 2

#fizzmodeus has joined my otp train ugh i love them #stolas is so me i never thought id see somehow rival my gay nightmare vibes but he's outdone me #helluva boss #helluva boss memes #fizzmodeus #fizzarolli #fizzarozzie #helluva boss asmodeus #stolas goetia #stolas #blitzø #helluva boss blitz #loona helluva boss #pt 2 exists...in my queue kdjkdfs #qb #qb shitposts #helluva meme dump

[sincerelystesichorus]

helluva meme dump pt 2

helluva meme dumps | pt. 1 | pt. 2 || fizzy editions! | pt. 1 | pt. 2

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