#appear blocks

[missjukebox8bit]

Tragedy struck Mega City today as a 20 car pileup was caused by someone placing one of those goddamn disappearing block puzzles on the highway

[bacchuschucklefuck]

a totem pole of hopeful idiots

[astronnova]

proposition: danny's hair turns white in random patches when he's used too much power, he just dyes it back to all black when he gets home

[zu-is-here]

Selfish request of Dreammare pls ?

Pygmalion

idea by @clownyclowns

Dream & Nightmare by jokublog

+ the perfect finger sketch :'D

[metalmachination]

hello. i am learning to draw this Thing . Go my first post

warning for scary endoskeleton face under the cut

unfortunate!

[raiyndeere]

I believe I’ve figured out my personal Thespius design! Rejoice!!!

[puck-luck]

lukey + riding thoughts?

luke, whose messy curls are flying every which direction.

luke, whose hazy, lust-filled eyes get more and more hooded each time you pull away.

luke, whose blown out pupils and fluttery eyelashes follow your every move.

luke, whose flushed cheeks and puffy pink lips make you want to take a picture so you can admire him whenever you want.

luke, whose eager mouth tries to follow after you every time you pull away, chasing your lips.

luke, whose red blush creeps down his neck.

luke, whose heartbeat is so quick and loud that you can practically feel it as you trace over his chest.

luke, whose stomach flexes whenever he bucks up against you, desperate to feel your warmth around him.

luke, whose cock drips precum as you rock your folds along the length of him.

luke, whose fingertips dig into your ass each time you roll your hips against him.

luke, whose length fills you so well that it makes your eyes disappear into the back of your head.

[olessan]

[poug1y]

freaks

[atlas-cian]

Arcane/tøp thingy from former Twitter/ X (idea by kat0_bug).

[amelia-yap]

TUMBLR USER AMELIA-YAP. POINTS

I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT YER ART IS SO COOL AND AWESOME AND SUPER EXPRESSIVE AND SMART AND PRETTY AND CUTE AND EEEE ALL THE BEST VIBES <3333

YER ART IS A HUGE INSPIRATION TO MEEE THANK YE FER ARTING HEHEHE 💙💙💙💙

I HOPE YE HAVE A GREAT DAY!!! :3

//◕_◕ )👉👈

[beetleshells]

this came to me in a dream

hyperball version plus the og images

[spoofymcgee]

scaffolding

Parker was gone.

This wouldn't do for Hardison, who was very proud of having learned to cook omelettes all by his lonesome so as to stymie Eliot's attempts to sneak into the kitchen and strain his sprained (not broken) wrist making sure everyone ate something other than cereal. This pride demanded that everyone be there to witness his slightly dry and mildly overspiced creations.

Parker had, thirty minutes ago, pursed her lips when the smell of powdered garlic (baby steps, they were still getting to knife skills) drifted in from the kitchen. Twelve and a half seconds later she'd been out the window.

Which is why Eliot is here, wandering around the port like a goddamn idiot, seriously considering making 'here kitty' noises as a tactic to find Parker. It's about as low on his list of options as possible, just under screwing up his hand more by climbing to get a better vantage point and right above giving up. He doesn't think it'd actually work, but she might show up just to ask him why he was being weird.

"Eliot," a familiar voice calls, from the top of a shipping container, and he thanks the god he probably still believes in for saving him from unnecessary injury and/or humiliation before scanning his surroundings. A familiar pale face looks down at him from about two stories up, which isn't so bad, considering that the ladders on the side line up.

It takes a bit of undignified scrambling and the handkerchief from his pocket tucked between his teeth so he doesn't get tetanus from the rungs–he'd use the dental dam he keeps in there with it but that would demand an explanatory conversation he doesn't really want to have with Parker right now, so he settles for the worn fabric.

There's a kind of appreciation in her eyes when he gets to the top–not awe, like some of the civilians he shows off for, but acknowledgement borne of understanding, and it's a little intoxicating sometimes. It makes him want to peacock a little for her, which is a dangerous impulse.

"This thing smells like fish," he tells her, instead of asking what's wrong or saying he was worried. He's long learned to give her the space to reach out even though she's a little less skittish these days–more likely to nip than bite. He's always liked that about her–the violent instincts–though they've landed them all in trouble more than once. It means he worries about her a little less.

"Needed something bad," she says, frowning a little. "The smell of the spices wouldn't go away."

"Powdered garlic that bad?" he asks, hoisting himself a little farther up the corrugated metal. It digs uncomfortably into his hip, and feels upsettingly slimy, but he pays that less attention than the stiff way Parker's holding herself–not like she's in a no touching mood, but rather like she's holding herself back from climbing all over him.

He considers the bruises where an unexpected piece of scaffolding that had caught him across the thighs and the shoulder he'd nearly dislocated in the process of spraining his wrist and decides that won't do.

He holds out his arms and relaxes his face. No one but Parker has ever liked it when he does that–it makes his eyes go blank and his jaw loose, like he's sleeping or out of it or a robot, or whatever else people have said. He'd trained himself out of it as a kid, figured out how to look confident or smug or bored all the time.

Then, for a long time, he was just angry, and that made it easy.

Parker likes to lean across the table and poke at the creases of his brow and chin and eyes until they go flat. She told him, once, when she had a hundred and four fever and was potentially hallucinating, that it made her feel less alone to be around someone else who wasn't pretending.

He holds for a minute, then two, and just when his arms are starting to burn she growls and clambers over to cram herself against his ribcage and tuck her sharp little chin into the divot of his collarbone.

"This is worse," she informs him, muffled against his undershirt.

"Than the fish smell?" he asks, and gets a sharp pinch to the side for playing stupid. "Ow!"

"The feeling," she says, only whining a little. "Feelings. I dunno. I'm not good at telling them apart."

"I know," he says, and she grumbles and tries to fit a hand under his shirt which is not happening on the top of a shipping container, so he grabs her hand in his own and tips his head to redirect it up to his hair. "Stop trying to distract me, Parker."

"I don't wanna talk about it," she complains, doing her best to make his head look like a rats' nest with her hand at the center.

"I can't make you," he reminds her, shifting to adjust her weight and then settling back in. "But you know it'll just last longer if you doing."

"Ugh," she says, with every one of her little bird bones. "I don't want to need that. I don't want to need you, or Hardison, or anyone else."

"...okay," he says, confused. "But you. Don't?"

"That's the problem! I can't tell!" She twists, pressing her back into his sternum and looking out across the dock. "And if I don't, then I'm doing it wrong."

"Doing what wrong?"

"Loving you," she says, and it's been months now, but it still takes his breath away to hear her say the words so easily. It isn't like they haven't been saying it in different ways to each other for years, now, but the frank way she puts it makes Eliot's throat close. Hardison isn't the same, he knows, but Hardison first told Eliot he loved him eight days after they met when he'd picked up a box of Cheerios and milk for the whole team at a corner store.

"You can't do loving someone wrong," he tells her, because he's maybe bad at saying it but he's loved lots of people lots of different ways, and he's done some pretty bad things as a result, but he doesn't regret any of the feelings.

"Yeah, well, I'm special," she says, which is her new favorite way to react to any kind of reasonable advice.

"I don't want you to love me like you can't live without me," he says, and by the way her breath catches in her chest, heart kicking up a gear until it feels like a hummingbird trapped under the palm he's laid across her ribs, he's hit the heart of the issue.

"But that's how you're supposed to do it," she says, small and plaintive and tired.

"Supposed to is stupid," he tells her, and himself, a little bit. "I can't imagine my life without you and Hardison. But I could do it, probably. I wouldn't want to. I would hate it, more than anything else. I need you to be happy. I need you to be comfortable, and because my life would be so much worse without you. But I don't need you to live, and I'm not sorry about that."

She goes silent for a long moment and then squirms out of his grip, turning and bracing her knees on the roof so she can tuck her chin over the crown if his head.

"You're smart," she informs him, sounding contemplative."

"Well. I'm not doing anything else with all the brain space you and Hardison use on movies," Eliot says, a little muffled by the base of her throat.

"You could wear your special glasses," she suggests, and he growls, low in his chest, at the idea.

It makes her giggle so he keeps it up until she falls, boneless, back into his lap, and starts batting at his hair like a cat.

"C'mon," he says, nudging her. "If the eggs get cold I think Hardison will cry and we're out of the soft tissues."

"Don't be mean," she says, but bounces to her feet and helps him down the ladder.

They set off down the dock and there's a weight missing from Parker's steps he hadn't even noticed until it was gone.

That'll do.

[maxz-b]

back for more we're already on part 7 out of ???

[eposiemc]

sooooo saying that gem is still stuck in the murder camel is tecnically canon right because wl!gem is VERY clearly not over anything that happened in the secret life finale

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts 3 - Twilight Town