#/cheery+girl

[random-racehorses]

Random Real Thoroughbred: CHEERY GIRL

CHEERY GIRL is a chesnut mare born in Argentina in 1939. By ELECTRON out of CHERRYFLOWER. Link to their pedigreequery page: https://www.pedigreequery.com/cheery+girl

[beechalk]

This is what watching late season M*A*S*H feels like

[kenobihater]

made a post a while back on how javert's suicide is often poorly portrayed in film adaptations to the point of accidental comedy, and how the 1978 movie in particular is the most unhinged example. audio warning for a loud trumpet blast, don't turn up your volume

[sparklychimecho]

I image a herd of them just follow him around because they constantly sense that he's sad and they keep trying to heal him. Do you see my vision here?

I love the blissey line so much, they're perfect.

[valfeathers]

i be like *thinks about L’s childhood* *thinks about L’s childhood* *thinks about L’s childhood* *thinks abo—

[fountainpenguin]

Incredibly funny to me there was literally an explosion behind Anti-Wanda when she was feeding Foop for the first time and neither she nor Anti-Cosmo turned around... Eyes only for BABY!!!

Anti-Wanda listening to Timmy share his plan about making Foop cry on purpose. she and her husband will be cheering for their son's tears in 8 seconds btw.

Moodboard of Anti-Wanda excited for motherhood:

Her son is a smidgen under 7 hours old and she's about to send him to jail <3

Bonus Anti-Cosmo trying to find his baby .2 seconds after Anti-Wanda had him, because it cracks me up every time:

World's dumbest husband <3

[running-on-narrativium]

So after seeing this post, I was inspired to make one of these! (With a few ocs thrown in)

🌿sensitiveplant

Everyone keeps telling me I should go to Ankh-Morpork…They want an ELF…to visit a city that’s mostly iron and pollution…should I be concerned? Am I being threatened?

🥒🔄clacksing-dr-c

That whole city’s got a threatening aura. RIVERS SHOULD NOT BE SOLID, PEOPLE!!!

🪷🔄mangrovemerman

FACTS^^^

🐌rainbowsbright

I got my first catering gig!!!! 😆

⚗️🔄miss-cheery

Congratulations!

🏹🔄certifiedhuman

Proud of u sweetie ❤️❤️❤️😘

🐲🔄sunshine-sanctuary-official✅

We’re looking forward to it, dear. I’m sure your food will be a big hit at the charity dinner. :) -Lady Sybil

⚔️🔄amcw-official✅

Can’t wait. Just don’t make anything with snails please. -Commander Vimes

🥀lady-of-the-underground

Question: how do you keep Feegles from getting into your stuff? Asking for a friend.

🐇🔄hat-full-of-sky

You can’t…😞

💀numberonegranddad

HOW DOES ONE ADD THE SMALL PICTURES?

🖤🔄inner-babysitter

You have to scroll to the bottom to change which keys you’re using.

💀🔄numberonegranddad

THANK YOU. 🐈‍⬛🐈🐱😸🍛🐴🐦‍⬛🐀💀💕

[sn0wp1anets]

the tortured builders department and its grian and joel in gtb

cue grian opening his prompt abt joel making out with himself and saying 'no im not building this im going on strike no im genuinely not'

cue joel building the dog peeing in pool prompt 'why do i have to build this why am i so good at it'

[p4nishers]

[enthusiastic-nimrod]

Wanted to experiment with the idea of a Synchronized Swimming Team for Magical School Girls; and while originally I was just going to scrap the designs after the first batch of sketches, I'm actually really happy I stuck with it.

The team itself has been around since the inception of the series, but this is the first time I've really ironed out a magical girl uniform for them. So with that; meet Harlene! she'll have a vital role in character development, someone's backstory, and worldbuilding.

[mochasucculent]

Yea idk how I haven't shared them here yet but here's some doodles of Tabitha and "Apathy" (she ain't got a name yet), the two protags of my ghost story!

Grieving after the sudden loss of her grandmother, Apathy accidentally becomes bound to the spirit of Tabitha, a young girl who was murdered in the 1870s. Stuck together in unfamiliar circumstances, the two must discover how to send Tabitha on to the afterlife, and if they even can.

UPDATEEEEEEEEE Apathy's name is Naomi :)

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[frolltomstein]

I wanted to draw something for fun in between my work projects, so here’s a little Julie Joyful!

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

5, 18 & 19 for the fanfic ask!

Hello and thank you for the questions!!

5. first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

“I have to say, Blanche,” Rose says, settling back against Blanche’s side, “I know you explained it to me, but I still don’t get it.”

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

I don't really keep deleted sentences/paragraphs, unless they're full concepts for a scene that I might want to use in another WIP, but I did find a couple of sentences from an early draft of i would have said impossible [...] that got heavily edited by the final cut. I'll bold the parts that got kept in the final work:

"She likes to think she hid it well. She tried to, at least; bit back the most acidic jokes, tried to keep a hold on her sarcasm. It's not her roommates' fault if she's had a bad day, is it? So she tries. She listens, and she's patient, and she's affectionate -- and they seem happy. That must count as a success.

And yet, when she's finally alone in her room and ready to call it a night -- then Rose comes, carrying tea and cookies on a tray.

It's strange. She told Ma earlier that she'd like to be alone tonight, and before the door opened she only wanted to get into bed and forget everything until tomorrow morning. Then Rose came in, and she'd be lying if she said a single hint of her perfume and a single glance at her reassuring smile aren't enough to calm her nerves."

The gist of the passage remained more or less the same, but I hope it counts anyway!

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

I'm not sure I can choose the most interesting one -- I love learning and I've had a lot of fun with every rabbit hole I've found myself in for a fic! The most charming one, though, was definitely the little ornithology detour I went on while I was writing sonata for trio, which was a classic case of 'I only needed to find the right simile to add in this sentence, how the hell did I end up on the Wikipedia page for the American Robin?'. I learned a lot, and birds are so cute -- especially robins!! I had a great time reading about them :)

(I'm not counting my research on karst and sinkholes as a valid answer for this questions, because I already knew the topic well enough, but I did spend a lot of time fact-checking what I wrote. I don't want to spread misinformation!)

[✍️ more fic writer asks!]

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

“What are the major blood vessels that run through the neck called?” Slade asks, his back to Rose, his hands busy with operating the makeshift laboratory’s equipment. He did this sometimes, quizzed her on things she had already learnt, on the rare occasion that he runs out of super-soldier serum and doesn’t have the next batch ready yet. He says it’s to make sure her memories while on the serum and her memories while not on it don’t get jumbled; Rose suspects he just likes to make her obey him even when she isn’t chemically forced to.

Rose lifts her head, curtains of white hair falling over her face as she does so, and says nothing.

(A man had stood over her like this, once, and had screamed at her to cry. She hadn’t obeyed then. She’s not going to obey now).

Slade doesn’t quite turn around, but he does turn his head to the side so that he can look at her over his shoulder. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Her lips betray her before her conscious mind can stop them. “Carotids.”

Slade lets out a pleased hum. Rose tries not to retch and mostly fails, a flood of bile overflowing through the gap between her lips and running down the sides of her face to stain her bodysuit.

She can’t even wipe it away.

“How many are there?”

Not for the first time, Rose wishes that her hands were free so that she could rip out her own vocal chords before they betrayed her again. As it is, she closes her eyes—or rather, eye, singular, now—and slumps back against the radiator she is chained to, taking comfort in the way the sharp metal edges of the device dig into her back in a way that is uniquely real, and prepares for her body to betray her once again. “Two.”

“Where?”

“On either side.”

“Either side of what?”

“The neck.”

“Good girl.”

~~~

Unlike most people, Rose Wilson disliked late mornings.

It wasn’t that she thought there was anything wrong with waking up late—she wasn’t her father, she didn’t share the same gung ho military outlook on life that led him to live his life like a wannabe Spartan—it’s just that she liked the solitude early morning would bring. Those precious few hours in which everyone was asleep and she was unaccounted for were more precious to her than any of her meager belongings. Usually, she’d spend those precious hours on the roof, either going for an early morning swim in the rooftop pool or taking the opportunity to lounge about in the early morning California sunlight, but today she’d slept in a little longer than usual and didn’t have enough time to do either of those things before her teammates wake up, so she decides to just get herself a coffee and spend the time she does have scrolling mindlessly on her phone.

She would have done just that if she hadn’t walked into the kitchen to find her teammates sitting around the table, clear-eyed and awake and evidently waiting for her. The back of Rose’s palms starts itching, but she pushes her instinctual paranoia aside and leans against the doorframe, letting her one-eyed gaze sweep over the assembled heroes questioningly. None of them meet her gaze. Some rub their arms or scratch the back of their necks, but not one of them looks at Rose.

Ah, she thinks, feeling bitterness roil up from her stomach. This is it, then. The moment they finally kick her off the team for good. She’d been wondering when they would finally muster up the courage to just get it over with.

In any case, Rose isn’t about to make it easy for them by taking the hint and packing up her stuff like a good little bunny. If they want her off the team, they’re gonna have to look her in the eye and say that, she decides, doing her best to pretend her mouth doesn’t suddenly taste of bile.

With that in mind, she pushes away from the doorframe and walks up to the table, putting her hands on her hips and looking down at her teammates with narrowed eyes. “There a team meeting no one bothered to tell me about or something?”

Her teammates shy away from her gaze, all save for Tim, who is the only one with the courage to at least turn his head and look her in the eye. She thinks she could respect him for that, if he was anyone else, if this situation was anything but what it was.

Rose’s lip curls. “Well?”

Tim’s eyes slide to the empty chair to his left. “Sit down, Rose.”

She doesn’t move. “I’ll pass.”

Tim sighs, long and weary, like a suffering parent talking to a particularly obstinate teenager, and Rose think she’s never wanted to punch someone in the face as much as wants to punch him now. 

Perhaps sensing her rising hostility, Conner stands up and places a hand on her shoulder in a way that doesn’t feel placating at all.

“No one wants to make this any harder than it needs to be, Rose,” he says, his voice hard, and Rose wonders when he began to use his super-strength as an implicit threat. She shrugs her shoulder, trying to shake off his hand, but his grip simply tightens, his invulnerable fingers denting the scales of her armor under them. Rose exhales in pain and surprise and tries to shove him away, but he simply catches her hand and twists it behind her back painfully, forcing a pained grunt past her lips. Her free hand drops down to reach for a weapon, a flashbang, anything, but Conner grabs that arm as well and twists it behind her back next to its neighbor.

“What the—ow, fuck, let go of me!” Rose snarls, straining against his hold. “What the hell is the matter with you?!”

“I’m sorry, Rose,” Tim says, his face like stone. “But you forced us into this.”

Rose doesn’t understands until he reaches into his utility belt and pulls out a syringe dripping with a very familiar yellow liquid. Her eye widens in horror.

“You wouldn’t,” she says, her voice half gasp, half whisper.

“We invited you back because we needed your skillset, Rose.” Tim takes a step forward, and Rose almost dislocates her own shoulder trying to pull herself away. “But we don’t need you.”

Rose’s one eye sweeps desperately over the room, looking first at Eddie, who disappears in a puff of smoke without even looking at her once, and afterwards at Cassie. To her shock, the demigoddess keeps her gaze on the wooden wall of the cabin, shame coloring her face. She nods, even though Tim isn’t even looking in her direction. “Do it.”

Rose doesn’t even have time to feel the cold sting of betrayal before the syringe plunges down towards her neck. The last thing she sees before everything goes dark are the blurry faces of her teammates flitting around the edges of her vision, faces and mouths stretched into unnatural grins, her father’s laughter ringing in her ears as the cabin burns.

“Good girl,” he says, again and again, in between bouts of cackling. “Good girl. Good girl. Good girl. Good girl…”

Rose doesn’t exactly wake up screaming, but she does find herself sitting up in bed, breathing heavily, once her enhanced mind chases away the petrifying fog of terror that’s enveloped her senses. Pushing down the panic worming its way into her heart, she reaches for her phone and swipes a thumb across its surface to unlock it, quickly selecting the camera app and taking a picture of her own neck. She holds it up in the darkness of the room and tries to focus on her breathing. No marks. No bulging yellow veins, no round patch of dead skin, no pulsing muscles. Nothing.

Not that that means anything, Rose reminds herself sharply. After all, the first time her father drugged her the effects lasted for well over a week, more than enough time for the marks to disappear. She needs to go through her checks, needs to reestablish what reality is and isn’t, needs to-

“Rose?” She feels a hand settle on her shoulder, invisible thanks to her blind spot. “What’s wrong?”

Rose’s breath hitches and she blindly shoves away the person the hand belongs to, registering the shocked yelp she makes as she falls out of bed. Rose scoots backwards and turns her head so she can look at Cassie—Cassie who turned away, Cassie who let it happen—as looks up at her from where she’s fallen, tangled in a nest of sheets. “Hey, what the hell!?”

“Don’t touch me,” Rose snarls, kicking the covers away and scrambling to her feet, breathing hard, her mind whirling as it tries to separate nightmare from reality. Was she dosed with the serum and is only now snapping out of it? Was it all a horrible nightmare? Do they want her to think it was all just a horrible nightmare because they did drug her but ran out of serum halfway?

She’s being stupid (is she?).

Tim would never have done that (wouldn’t he?).

The team would never have let him (does she know that for sure?).

Cassie would stop it (what if she didn’t?).

Or… could this be the dream?

Maybe she’s back with her father. Maybe she never escaped. Maybe all of this is just an induced hallucination, created to ensure her mind remains dormant while her father uses her—uses her body— as he sees fit. He knows people who could do it. Telepaths, supervillains who specialize in mind control, scientists, hypnotists…

Maybe she imagined Dick. Maybe there were never any Titans. Maybe the real Cassie has never even met her. Maybe the past years have all been a figment of her imagination. Maybe she’s alone in that stupid cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere with only him for company and she doesn’t even know it.

“… Babe, what’s wrong?”

Rose blinks. Cassie is standing in front of her now, her gaze having softened, her hand hanging in the air as if she’d reached for Rose again but thought better of it. And Rose…

She wants this to be real. She wants it to be over.

“Babe?” Cassie asks again, moving her hand forward but stopping just before palming her cheek. Asking for permission.

Rose turns her head and takes a shaky breath, trying not to think about the fact that her father never asked for permission for anything. No, she says without saying anything, and half expects the world to collapse then and there.

It doesn’t.

“Okay.” Cassie lowers her hand and takes a step back. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

Rose takes another heavy breath and moves to sit down on the edge of the bed, pushing her hair back with one hand and sighing. Cassie sits down as well, and Rose finds herself leaning into her without really meaning to. Cassie, taking that as assent, begins rubbing calming circles into the small of her back.

“I get it,” Cassie says after some time.

“No, you don’t,” Rose says, but doesn’t move away. “None of you ever did.”

They stay like that for some time, neither saying a word. The only sound Rose hears by the time they both go back to sleep is the sound of her father’s laughter still ringing in her ears.

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

Originally posted October 25, 2016