#Im going to sue you

[hinamie]

idk about yall but life is good again

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

In sally and poppy's character page it says "Sally and Poppy are often depicted together and, according to recovered material, could potentially be best friends."

and to that i say, best friends my ASS!! those are lesbians right there

oooo i actually talked about this in the update stream when i was reading the updated bios! to restate!

a common Cover for lesbians used to be "best friends". why are those two women living together? why they're best friends, so why not! why do these women spend all their time together? they're best friends! why are those women so physically affectionate - well! they're best friends! an excuse that would never fly with gay men is perfect for lesbians.

and you still see this in recent years! remember all of the posts making fun of facebook moms / grandparents seeing photos of lesbians and going "well they seem like a lovely pair of Best Friends!" this still happens! i'm sure there are people today seeing lesbians and thinking that they're best friends. the amount of times i've pointed out to my own parents "they're gay" and gotten surprise and sometimes even denial is response because they genuinely thought these blatantly gay people were only friends

to me and my current knowledge, this addition to Poppy & Sally's bios is evidence worth considering with this context. a tally in the "canon Popstar?" box!

[queen0fm0nsterz]

Ended up pirating all of Hazbin for the sake of my younger days (used to be a fan when I was around 14/15, before all the stuff with Viv came out) and I am so surprised by how I felt... nothing for the most part. Like a lot of the show's storylines feel like they was crammed in there with no real pacing. A lot of this should have been season 2 territory, which is a sentiment I've seen echoed around, but also... it feels as if the show is trying to be episodic while also having a long narrative thread, which just doesn't work with just 8 episodes. Especially not when paced like this. So I kinda ended up feeling nothing for the most part. All the events got a "Oh, great, so what?" reaction out of me because there was little to no buildup to most of them.

Sir Pentious was always a fave of mine so I was glad to see they kept him around and, though I think we should have had more episodes with him as a villain, I think how he ended up was fitting for what little of an arc he had. I am livid about what they did to Cherri and Mimzy.

I fucking loved Mimzy, I have no idea why they sent her away -- having someone like her at the Hotel would have been a blast considering how the others are already on the road to redemption. She would have balanced it out by being a regular sinner, someone who doesn't care about redemption and won't probably ever care unless it's in her best interests to. Plus her friendship with Alastor was quite cute, they bounce off of each other very well imo. Plus I could see her have a bit of a conflict with both Charlie and Vaggie because of her ways of acting. I'm so sorry they took that from you girlboss.

And Cherri... dear lord where WAS she? She should have been a lot more present. I used to like her relationship with Angel and I even think Cherrisnake is cute conceptually, but both these relationship had... little to no room to breathe imo.

[lover-of-mine]

I know it isn't fair...

[mizzyislost]

ultrakill doodle dump because none of these were good enough to warrant their own post. and also some of them are like months old and im never finishing them so

[lost-in-fandoms]

Manifesting a pole and good race in Spain by having GP make Max drive qualifying with a plug <3 (praise kink, little bit of dom/sub dynamics)

cw: explicit sexual content, probably unsafe driving practices (can't think this is safe in a F1 car), probably nonsense technical talk

"Okay Max, we're aiming for something between zero and plus two in this lap."

Max shifts gears, GP's voice clear in his ears. His focus is divided still, part on the track and part on the pressure of the plug inside him, on the way he's half hard in his fireproofs. As if he's reading his mind, GP speaks again.

"How does it feel, Max?"

It's a thrill, knowing that to anyone else it will sound like GP is only asking about the car, about the settings, about the track, but Max knows he's actually asking about both things at once. Their game, their secret.

"Okay," he says, voice steady. The plug is his smallest one, but it's still an insistent presence in the corner of his mind. At least for now. He knows it will feel different later.

"Three cars ahead of you," GP informs him, and Max wonders if he too is half hard, or if his control stretches that far. "Russel has gone, now only Gasly and Piastri. Recharge off before turn 13."

Max takes a breath in. Holds it.

"And you can go whenever you're ready."

He breathes out, and for one minute and 13 seconds he's one with the car. His heart pumps with the engine, cylinders pushing blood around his body, fingers melding with the steering wheel, feet holding the carbon fiber itself. For one minute and 13 seconds his body and its needs don't matter unless they're bound to what the car is doing.

"And recharge on. Good lap."

GP's voice slams him back to himself, man separated from machine. He shifts, and suddenly his body remembers itself, the sharp bite of arousal stealing his breath for a moment, long enough to muffle whatever GP is saying.

"Sorry, what was that?" his finger doesn't shake as he presses the radio button, not yet, but he still feels charged, electric.

"Box this lap, Max. Anything you want to change?"

An out Max doesn't want.

"Maybe one click on the front wing."

"Copy."

He doesn't go back out during Q1, just sits in the car with the screens in front of him, watching his time drop from p1 to p6, but remain safe. Usually GP stays on his spot on the wall, but Max isn't too surprised when he comes over, leaning over the halo to catch his eye.

"Do you need a break?" he asks, low enough nobody should pay attention to it, but vague enough that even if they did, it wouldn't matter.

"I'm okay," Max reassures, shifting slightly just to check. Now that GP is this close, it's harder to keep his hands away from himself, but he manages. He's being good and he wants to keep being good.

"If you need a break, you tell me. Clear?"

Max nods, but GP reaches forward slightly, tipping his chin up to meet his eyes again.

"Max."

Visual and verbal confirmation, always. That was one of the things GP had made him promise before they had agreed to try this.

"Clear," Max confirms, nodding again. His voice catches a little, and GP hands him his bottle before he can even think about reaching for it.

"Good," GP says, mouth ticking up at Max's responding shiver, before patting his helmet and standing back.

Q2 is a bit harder. Sitting still in the car, nothing to think about but the pressure that isn't quite enough, has done nothing to cool Max down, but still his desire is just a lake: deep and quiet, something he dips into when he's not focusing on going fast, faster than anyone else. It's manageable.

"We're doing a cooldown lap and then you're going again, Max."

Max frowns. It means his lap wasn't good enough, and in his current mindset that's slightly more upsetting than usual.

"Where did I lose time?" not good enough! his brain screams. He clenches his hands on the steering wheel.

"Turn 4, the exit of 10 and then 11 and 12. There's the toggle available for turn 4 if you need it."

There's a long pause. Max grits his teeth, forcing himself to not close his eyes while he waits, knowing it would be catastrophic. He lets two cars pass him by, not even bothering to check who they are.

"Track should be clear after the two Ferraris go. Recharge off before turn 13." Then finally, "you're doing a good job, Max."

Max breathes out.

He wishes there was a way to ask him to say it again, to say it right, but he knew what he had agreed to when this had started.

He flicks the recharge off.

"Recharge on, mode 8 and let Russel by. Well done, Max."

Relief washes through him, both for the lap and for the praise, making him wish again he could close his eyes, making him wish GP was touching him while speaking.

GP doesn't come by to check on him this time, and Max is equally relieved and disappointed, wanting to have him close, not knowing if he'd be able to resist the temptation to reach out for him.

His car is the last one out in Q3 and he doesn't know how much of that choice was dictated by GP just wanting to keep him sitting still a little longer, keep him wanting. They both know racing comes first, but he wonders, if it didn't harm his qualification, how much GP would let himself lean into this game they're playing.

"Feel free to push a little more on this outlap."

The vibrations of the car send sparks up his spine now, his lower back feeling a little tense, the plug feeling bigger. His throat clicks when he swallows, his tongue heavy in his mouth. When GP speaks again, Max almost asks him to keep talking through his lap, stay close, say more. He doesn't, but only just.

"Recharge off."

Max wills himself back into full focus, but it's different than it was before. The need to go faster, to come out on top, to push the car, hit the apex, find the limit, be better coils itself around the need swirling in his gut to grind down, to shift, to put his hand inside his own fireproofs, to be good. Max wonders if the people outside can see it, all this need bleeding out, flowing around the carbon fiber, turning with the tyres, burning with the engine. His breath comes in short harsh puffs. He doesn't blink.

"And recharge on. That's P1 for now, good job."

It's harder to disentangle himself from the car this time, to undo the knotted lines of his desires. He feels like he's vibrating, doesn't know if he's shaking or if it's the car underneath him. The sun feels brighter, his skin tighter.

"Box this lap, Max. Everything okay?"

No. Yes. I don't know.

His thoughts are starting to slip, but it's too soon, there's still so long left before he's allowed to.

"Max."

If he'd ask for it, GP would find the way to make it right, even with the limited time they have. But this is right, this is what he had asked for, what they discussed.

"All good." His voice is raspy, he can almost imagine it crackling through the radio. He wonders if GP will come over to the car again, wanting to get a new visual check, knowing that Max has pushed himself further than what he was comfortable with before. He doesn't know if he hopes he does or not.

GP doesn't, but he turns to look at him while he drives past the pitwall, and Max nods, knows he'll see it.

His body feels wound tight as he waits to go out again, set in anticipation for everything after while also trying to stay in the now. He asks for his drink again, wills his hands to be steady. Forces himself to not walk out of the car to go drop on his knees next to GP's stool.

It's relief and torture to drive again, to keep his eyes open and his mind present for every meter of the circuit, knowing he can't afford to slip, not even a little.

"Currently P3 Max. Focus on the exit of turn 5 and 10. Recharge off before 13. You know the tools you have."

Max knows with unshakable certainty that if he was to say now that he needed a break, GP would give the rest of qualifying up for him. He also knows himself enough to be sure he will not need it.

It's impossible to fully disconnect from his body now, to not feel the way the car hurtling around track makes it move and shift, but he curls his needs around each other again until he's holding everything tightly in his gut. And then he drives.

"And that's P1, Max, well done, good job."

The words land in Max's mouth, heavy as if he had been the one to speak them, sweet as if GP had put them there with his own tongue. He lets himself slip just a little, taking a hand off the steering wheel between turn 9 and 10 and shutting out Christian's voice.

He digs his fingers into his own tight, hopes the other part of his brain is spitting out something coherent enough.

Almost time. His whole body thrums with the knowledge of it.

He manages to pull himself back a little, enough to not wobble as he gets out of the car, to clasp hands with Lewis and Carlos, to find words to say during his interview.

And then finally, finally, he gets to walk away, even if just for a few minutes, to go look for GP.

He finds him sitting on the small couch in his driver room, knees splayed wide, eyes focused on Max as soon as he lets himself in.

"Come here," he orders, in the same voice he uses on track.

As he always does, Max goes.

A part of him wants to drop to the floor, but GP tugs him into his lap, hands firm on his waist, mouth finding his with a certainty that makes Max's head spin.

"You did well," GP says when they separate, Max panting and whining already, grinding forward and then pushing back, looking for relief. "You deserve your reward now, right?"

Max nods, letting his head drop on GP's shoulder, mindlessly mouthing at his neck, hands useless around his shoulders.

"So good, so far gone for me already."

GP somehow manages to get his hand inside his inner layers, index finger pushing on the plug before toying with it, dragging gasps and moans from Max, making him writhe in his lap, keeping him still with the other one on his waist.

"Please, inside," he begs, feeling tears gather on his lashes, "please."

He's shaking now, all the coiled desire ready to snap, but GP shushes him, finally taking out the plug and immediately replacing it with a finger before Max has even the thought to complain.

"Two?" he asks, waiting for Max's breathless assent before pushing his index finger next to the other, pleasure and pain shooting up Max's spine in a show of sparks.

"You can come whenever you want, you have earned it."

Max closes his mouth around the collar of GP's team shirt, trying to not be too noisy, and grinds forward against his stomach, too many layers between them, feeling his fingers twist inside him.

He's so so close, he just needs...

"So good, Max," GP says, before Max can even think about stringing enough braincells together to form the whole thought. "Good boy."

Max comes with a jolt, untouched in his underwear, biting down on GP's shoulder, shaking and gasping his way through it as he tries to get somehow even deeper, closer.

He's still boneless and floating as he feels GP replace his fingers with the plug again, whines even if he knows they don't have time for him to properly fuck him now, knows it will have to wait for later. Feels a kiss being pressed onto his sweaty temple, then another on his hair.

"Breathe now," GP reminds him, still unflinchingly steady, even if Max can feel him hard underneath him. "Good boy."

Max knows he soon will have to gather himself again and go for more interviews, knows he will feel the ghost of GP's hands on him for the rest of the day until they can properly fall into a bed, reassurance and taunt wrapped into one. For now though, he lets himself be held and praised, content.

[ethanharmonia]

Practicing without refrences

(first is the family and second is a reference for mega stone 10 thousand iron man)

I felt that i should do art without using any kind of bases or references for inspiration cuz it felt weird, so i wanted to make something from myself and im kinda proud of it😭💗

Also close up profiles of the sillies...

Dont mind the second middle, i didnt have any other slave silly to show

Spare me please let me live

[honeydots]

Because I love you~Xanlow

"Because I love you." xanlow | 1.4k | rated T ask game

Laslow's been left in a heap of mud.

Not long ago, he and a small army of Xander’s personal guard were in the midst of fighting. Only against some bandits and ruffians, but they were facing off in a mucky marsh. That was trouble all by itself, it was hard to move around without worrying you were going to lose a shoe.

But Xander's father provided them with a battalion of faceless for protection during their travels. And as creatures that are notoriously hard to control, one of them carelessly thwacked Laslow in the chest as they fought. It knocked the wind out of him, and he actually flew backwards and straight out of the battle.

At that moment, Laslow was profoundly grateful for the squishy mud that broke his fall. It could've been a lot worse, and a lot more deadly, had he landed on something hard or sharp. The mud acted as a nice and slimy pillow, and he was promptly smothered in it.

Dazed, Laslow couldn't pull himself up right away. Then he started sinking, fantastically, and he had to use every muscle in his body to try and keep himself steady. With a dull ache in his chest, Laslow resigned himself to his fate of needing some help to get up.

Everyone left him behind, though. Smartly, the battle moved out of the swamp and onto the more solid ground of the forest. So now Laslow's stuck, alone, mind jumbled and chest sore, in a smelly bog. Perhaps the mud was more of a curse than he imagined.

Thick drops of rain begin flicking down onto Laslow's face. Ah, not good. He might actually drown if this place begins to fill up. He decides to stop mucking around (ha-ha) and give an honest attempt to get up. It isn’t exactly fun to be lazy in the mud, but he’s tired, and he wanted to wait out as much as he could.

And he tries to escape! He really, really does! He just realizes that he's still sinking more than he's making progress and stops quite quickly afterwards.

So that's horrible. Laslow’s senses don't sharpen exactly, rather he begins to panic. Wait, is he really stuck? He tries to struggle less aggressively, but he can't find any sort of solid ground, and he really regrets letting himself sink down this far. Oh, it feels gross, and the rain is still coming down. He’s going to be devastated if anything gets in his mouth.

Which makes Xander’s sudden voice all the more heaven sent.

“Laslow!”

Laslow tries to lift his head enough to see where Xander is—and he eventually spots him, only his blond hair standing out against the dark. But he’s looking around quite aimlessly, Laslow realizes.

“Milord?” Laslow calls, and Xander snaps to attention, eyes finally on Laslow in his personal mud bath. He comes running over, and Laslow kind of awkwardly plops his head back down. “I’ll have you know I was just thinking about getting up, but somehow my limbs aren’t entirely cooperating—”

“Are you hurt?” Xander asks, kneeling next to Laslow while safely out of any gooey spots. He’s looking him over, and also absolutely staring at the mess of muck Laslow’s gotten himself into.

“Oh—I think so. But I’m not bleeding.” At least he’s pretty sure he isn’t. He feels oddly moist, but he’s certain that’s because of the frequently aforementioned mud. “I think it’s my ribs? I’m achy.”

Xander frowns down at Laslow. Then, in what seems to be a quick decision, Xander grabs the top of Laslow’s vest in a hard grip, and begins to lift him out of his muddy heap. It’s weird, even more so because it works, and Laslow stumbles onto solid ground on his hands and knees.

An exhaust comes over Laslow in the moment. It was hard work, seriously, to keep himself from sinking, lazy as he looked. He slips a bit, rolls over to sit down, and looks over at Xander quite pathetically.

It should be noted that pathetic looks work enormously rarely on Xander. So when he sighs and begins to turn, at first Laslow thinks he’s actually leaving him to his own grubby devices.

But, a cautious “Climb on my back,” from Xander speaks a different truth which Laslow readily accepts.

“Ah, my savior,” Laslow says as Xander stands, holding Laslow’s weight very well. But he always does, despite the many burdens Laslow brings along with him. “I was worried I’d drown for a moment there. Someone once said to me that it’s not a bad way to go, but how could they possibly know that? I’m not convinced, I'm really not.”

“You’re awfully talkative.”

Laslow sighs. “I’m very lightheaded.”

“We’ll find a proper place for you to rest soon.” Xander continues walking, carefully avoiding the deepest mud pits in the bog. “You were quite a ways, you know.”

“Because you all ran off and left! Abandoning me in a literal pile of goop.” Laslow flings a slop of mud off of his hand for good measure, and Xander shakes his head with a scoff. It gets a laugh out of Laslow, which makes also his chest hurt. So he just rests his chin on Xander’s shoulder. All cold and metal, of course.

“…You came back and found me, though,” Laslow says. He’s teasing a bit, too.

“I did.”

“What made you?”

Xander scowls, eyes still ahead and looking at the thicket of trees they’re slowly approaching. “What made me? You disappeared.”

“I suppose so.” Laslow tilts his head back and forth, chin still planted on Xander’s armor. “Any better reasons?”

Very often, Laslow fails to amuse Xander. Unfortunately, there isn’t a happy ending to this. “I will grant you the mercy of not assuming that you were hoping to be praised for having been trapped in mire.”

“Well thank you, because I wasn’t. I’ll admit, however, that I’m always open to my ego being stroked.” Laslow tilts his head a little far, and manages to bonk the side of Xander’s head lightly. Xander doesn’t shake him off—he doesn’t really do that anymore. Laslow has been gracefully granted the right of toleration. “My heart needs an extra beat or two, or I’ll die right here.”

“Quite the exaggeration,” Xander says plainly. Laslow scrunches his nose.

“Won’t you indulge me? Savior?” He earns a huff from Xander for that.

“Was there something noxious in that mud?”

“You wound me!” Laslow kicks his feet about, until Xander readjusts and makes Laslow nervous to fall. “I’ll be quiet if you tell me something good.”

Xander seems annoyed, but not nearly enough so that Laslow will stop being playful. There’s always some room for this, he thinks. Unless Xander gets actually mad. But lately, many things have changed, and… He doesn’t, as much.

“Why did I rescue you,” Xander repeats, not quite muttering. “Am I correct that you wouldn’t be satisfied with my saying that you’re my valuable retainer?”

Laslow grins, feeling a small warmth radiate in his chest. It’s just beneath the pain, settling in soundly. “It would’ve been enough, though you’re welcome to go on.”

Because Xander is fundamentally a kind man, he doesn’t just drop Laslow for the comment. But there’s long enough of a pause before Xander speaks that Laslow’s sure he considers it. “What would you like me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Laslow presses his lips together. “Because I’m invaluable and not an idiot for getting knocked into a pit of mud and almost dying very stupidly?”

…Laslow is kind of embarrassed, actually.

“Hm.” Laslow waits, but that’s all Xander provides.

“Hm?”

Xander looks around. Though the army isn’t in sight even still. The two of them are very much in their lonesome, unless this muck and gunk all over Laslow is sentient.

“May I say because I love you?” Xander asks.

Laslow feels himself blush. He grunts a little, and he stuffs his head into Xander’s cloth collar, digging his nose into his neck. For a moment, he rests there.

“That works, I think,” Laslow says, still nestled in. He pauses. “…May I say I love you back?”

Xander slows his pace a bit, and he rests his head against Laslow’s. “Will you always be so needy with me?’

“Only a little.” Despite how he can’t find any exposed skin, Laslow still kisses Xander’s neck. “Thank you for saving me.”

Xander exhales. And he keeps walking through the forest while Laslow pecks his neck and bumps his jaw.

“It was only some mud.”

[moldwood]

[tariah23]

How do you have kids and don’t make them do chores. I’ll never get it, man. They grow up to be one of those ppl who’s never washed a single dish before and are usually dirty and of privilege mind. Parents essentially sending their usually annoying kids out into the world to be an even further nuisance just because they don’t know how to do simple, everyday chores when they are fully capable of doing so and are able bodied.

[byebyelullabye]

bitches always read a book with a dangerously relatable main character and every time a chapter ends they go "god I hate this bitch and their stupid decisions that I would definitely make"

it's me. I'm bitches.

[bramblepaws]

where are the people on this godforsaken app who actually like the Mercy Thompson series--

[dailybotany]

I'm so tired of the notes my foraging post only being about mushroom consumption. Yes. Mushrooms can be hazardous. Yes, they are more hazardous than plants (partly because their characters are more subtle and more easily confused!!). However, SO ARE PLANTS. I'm so tired of the fear mongering surrounding mushrooms in the foraging community while plants are treated as essentially harmless. You need to know what you are looking at! You need to be able to describe it! Or you WILL eventually hurt yourself or others! If you cannot reliably key out a species, you cannot reliably double check yourself.

[todayisafridaynight]

it’s actually kinda crazy how the rggo stories are real lol genuinely felt like i was reading fanfiction. They 100% had a minedai shipper hiding among the rggo writers

iirc one of the writers for rggo was. Not To Say A Minedai Shipper HOWEVER he was pretty earnest about how good together daigo and mine were so ..... not too far from the truth me thinks .....

[girl-bateman]

I know I just spent 20€ on noodles and 80€ on primark but should I spend even more money going to the cinema and spoiling myself with takeout food?

[lordsardine]

.