#and then they fucking high-five

[puppyeared]

filipina miku!! my mom helped me with her outfit ^_^

[chonkadonk]

fnaf fans is it over for us all

[ciralincixx]

i am right

[captainjonnitkessler]

I truly, TRULY do not know how to say this, because the fact that I have to say it makes me feel like I am losing my grip on reality. But no, in the post-capitalistic anarchist utopia, I will not be relying on “autistic minecraft girlies” to be building inspectors because - and this may shock you - one of those occupations takes years of education in how to read and interpret hundreds of thousands of lines of regulations based on complicated math and physics that were the result of decades of tragedy and death, and the other one involves playing a children’s video game.

[stripysockxx]

Toy foxy / Fixed Mangle / Funtime foxy WHATEVER THE HELL YOUR NAME IS!!

Drew this mostly for my younger self, cause when I was 9 all I would draw was fixed mangle at school <\3

[looney-tact]

I wish they let viktor run around with a gun even though he “didnt have powers” as a kid. Like pump em full of xanax or not, you give that kid a .32 and shits gettin real. “Sure allison you can do mind control, I’m controlling the way his mind splatters that fucking wall.” DIRECT QUOTE FROM BABY VIKTOR

[to-be-a-dreamer]

I have legitimately never laughed harder in my entire fucking life than the Fantasy High: Junior Year Beardsley Finale Nat 20, aka British Kristen farting a dispel magic at the season Big Bad so hard that the dead Goddess of Mystery granted her true life, not true life in the world of Fantasy High, true life in the actual, real world that we the viewers live in. I've never been high or drunk before but I know in my soul that whatever mental state I've ascended to right now is 1,000 times better than any substance could ever make me feel I had to pause that twenty-minute bit four times because I was laughing so hard I physically could not breathe Ally Beardsley they could never make me hate you

[piowasthere]

`i N S a N i T Y`

finally got this one done it was in the making for like a week, i'm just procrastinating for no reason lol

i also used only the thumbnails as ref cuz if i'd have to stare at his ugly mug for so many hours i would either explode or start to like it and neither is a good option.

anyway alts under cut, don't go insane <3

glitchless, no txt, alt

[inoreuct]

punkflower where hobie loves the morales family, loves how they’re becoming HIS family.

still, the first time jeff calls him “son”, he has such a visceral reaction.

he knows it’s coming from a good place and he knows he should be touched, but he’s only ever been called son in a condescending way. in a “know your place beneath me and stay in it” way. he feels so sick all of a sudden, nausea roiling in his gut, and his knee bangs against the underside of the table as he screeches his chair back and mutters a shaky “’scuse me”.

he hears rio’s concerned call of his name, sees the confusion and dread on jeff’s face right before he turns and leaves. he doesn’t stop until he’s up on the roof, ducking into the bottom of the water tower and collapsing into a corner.

stupid. it’s so stupid, and it pisses him off how tears are burning down his cheeks.

hobie scrubs them away with the back of his wrist even as he hears the door to the roof creak open, hears the familiar gait that he knows belongs to miles. he keeps his face turned away as his boyfriend appears in his line of sight, stepping gingerly like if he moved too fast hobie would break.

the punk sniffs angrily, the spikes on his cuff poking his cheek as he wipes his tears again. a hand brushes his against the ground as miles sits down beside him, close enough to touch but not quite.

he waits. for miles to say something, anything; to ask for an explanation, or offer words of comfort that will ultimately only make him feel worse.

in the end, it’s him that breaks the silence.

“i’m sorry,” he offers, and cringes. his voice is thick like rusted metal, scratchy in his throat. it’s scraping up against old wounds that never really healed, pulling at scabs to draw fresh blood, and it stings. “m’sorry, i just— he’s—” it feels damning to even say these words, but it’s the truth, and hobie’s never been a good liar.

doesn’t mean it’s not eating him alive, though.

“he’s still a cop, miles,” he chokes out, guilt winching around his lungs like a parasite, “and the last time a cop called me son—” hobie’s breath shudders out of his lungs as miles crawls into his space, ducking his head beneath hobie’s arm to press the punk’s face to his chest.

“i know,” miles murmurs, wrapping his fingers around hobie’s nape as hobie scrunches a desperate fist into the back of his shirt. “i know. i understand.”

hobie doesn’t think he really does, but that’s okay. if hobie has any say in it, miles will never have to go through what he did and understand what it’s like.

his voice is meek as he asks, “are they mad?”

“‘course not.” miles clicks his tongue, gently admonishing, like it’s a fact hobie should know by now; his fingers trace gentle circles into hobie’s skin. “just worried. hope you know my mama’s gonna feed you thrice the usual serving of tres leches when we get back.”

that gets a chuckle out of him at least, but the look on jeff’s face still haunts him, burned front and centre into his mind’s eye like an afterimage. “and your dad?” he feels miles go still, doesn’t resist as his boyfriend pulls back to look hobie in the eye. his voice is terribly gentle.

“he understands. it’s okay.”

hobie doesn’t think it’s okay. it doesn’t feel very okay. jeff had disliked him at first and reasonably so; he’s nothing like a person anyone would want their kid to be with.

and yet the captain had let him into their home, accepted him as miles’s person, given him a place at the table. of course rio would have sat him down and shoved food into his hands regardless, but still—

“hobie.”

miles calls his attention back, and he looks up into wide, dark eyes. his heart burns.

“he knows what you’ve been through. he knows how much you’ve grown.” miles huffs a soft laugh, rubbing his thumb against hobie’s hairline. “do you remember that time we went to your concert?”

hobie nods; he doesn’t think he can speak just yet.

“you were so nervous about what he would think, but he was stressing about looking like an old man in front of your friends. he literally said that as your boyfriend’s dad he had to out-hip all the other guys his age.”

something twists in hobie’s chest. “he’s the coolest old man i know.” he pauses, frowning. “maybe after peter b.”

miles laughs again, quietly. “he cares about you.”

hobie doesn’t doubt that. he’d let jeff and rio learn about him piece by piece, and with every sliver of information jeff had softened more; he might be the captain of the PDNY, but he was also a father.

hobie’s never really had a father.

not until he was asked about whether he preferred waffles or pancakes. until he was consulted for advice on what to wear to a pride parade. until jeff only looked at his blue laces with a tentative expression and he was hesitantly slipped a phone number to call if he ever got into trouble in this dimension that he couldn’t get himself out of, a helpline should he ever need it.

so he gets up, takes a deep breath and hauls miles to his feet. his boots clomp down the stairs; he takes care not to fling open the door and when he sees jeff and rio hovering in the living room, he holds out his arms.

rio reaches him first. she’s shorter but fierce, pulling hobie down to hug him tight, and he feels like crying again.

miles slips close to cling to his back, arms sliding around his waist, and hobie watches jeff meet his eyes with something almost anxious.

hobie’s lips twist in a smile. an i’m sorry and an it’s okay wrapped in one.

and maybe it really is okay, because when jeff comes around to squeeze them all together, hobie can’t help his relieved sigh as he thinks, this is what family’s supposed to feel like, certain as the next deep breath he takes and comforting like the broad hand that squeezes his shoulder.

fin.

[personishfive]

in which the metaverse is a dangerous place

[sammygender]

i’ve never been as angry on behalf of a character as i am for sam winchester

[good-to-drive]

When someone says they wanna fuck that old man and it's a rock star who's been drenched in sex appeal for decades and has fucked hundreds of women I do respect and enjoy that, but when someone says they want to fuck that old man and it's Conan Christopher O'Brien, a man drenched in sexless Catholicism who is 90% leg and 100% heart, well, I just think that's pretty darn neat.

[fairyfortalliance]

the imagery of no health regen…… wounded skin that doesn’t heal…. torn clothes….. burns…. scorch marks….. bite marks….. blood everywhere…… unraveling bandages…… oh…….

[spoopyandtired]

Listen to me. Buddy Dawn becoming a cleric of the goddess of Justice and Conviction as a kid who put the most trust in his faith, and in his friends- and lost both of them at the hands of the people he cared about the most. Buddy Dawn becoming a weapon against anyone who harms kids like himself, who are a little too naive for their own good. Buddy Dawn dealing with his own faith and learning what can happen outside of his upbringing. Buddy Dawn getting better and becoming the thing he needed the most- Buddy Dawn mirroring Kristen- because she’s who he needed, but who couldn’t be there for him when he needed it most.

[beaft]

today i was confronted with one of my top five scariest situations ("abruptly presented with critical decision that must be acted upon immediately, except you can't act on it immediately because you're stuck doing something else and can't leave"), and i coped with it and didn't burst into tears or call my mum even once. truly i am a king amongst men. songs will be sung of this day

[feelingtheaster99]

Fig/Emily @ the rest of the bad kids right now