#but they’re not terrible : D

[otaku553]

My friends got some toed socks as a gag gift to pass around and if I have to think about it you do too. Sorry I don’t make the rules

[chew-on-bricks]

A painting I made for my first dungeons and dragons game that I’m going to DM (modified Curse of Strahd) I can’t show any of my players yet because of spoilers＿|￣|○ but I NEED to post it somewhere (I swear to god if one of you finds this i will eldritch blast you into the fey wilds)

Strahd the Devil and his brother Sergei on December 1st 351

(Sergei’s wedding day and the day Strahd became a vampire)

I WAS SO INSPIRED by the painting Ivan the Terrible and his His Son on November 16th 1581, I couldn’t stop thinking about it the themes fit so well.

AlsoI like never draw backgrounds so painting this whole dam thing was crazy for me☠️

The speedpaint: flashing lights warning esp at the end

[via-the-cryptid]

idea for the carnation au. Luffy hears that people generally give their girlfriends jewelry and goes ‘oh!! I must give Koby jewelry Right Now Immediately!!’ except she’s obviously not going to go buy something. she’s broke. Nami has all the money. so instead Luffy decides that she’s just going to have to do it herself! and this ends with Koby being gifted the shittiest woven bracelet of all time (it was supposed to be pink and green flowers but it kind of looks like a hairball because Luffy is terrible at crafts that require patience, but by god did she try her best). Koby wears it religiously and the one time someone suggested she remove it is one of the few times anyone has seen her legitimately glare.

[creatureantics]

kniveswood of the day i have an au i’m scheming for them

[robbed-ghost]

Brad Wayne, but instead of finding out the other Wayne’s are the Bats, he just finds out random secrets that stem from them being Bats. Bruce spent a few months in a Himalayan monetary, Dick almost married Starfire, Barbara owns a whole clocktower, Jason designed super bullets, et cetra.

Ohhhh yes. Brad may be stupid but he’s not an idiot, he knows when something’s strange and he’s got a good enough memory to write down the stuff he hears. He really just thinks they’re strange and traumatized, however. When the family finally thinks he’s not going to connect the dots and decide to mess with him, they don’t realize he’d remember all of it and write it down to try and tell his guys about them what. Looking back at the list doesn’t make him confident that they’ll believe him, though.

- Bruce was penpals/chess buddies with the penguin

- Bruce isn’t actually an alcoholic he just wants an excuse to get away from conversation

- Dick owns a circus and was a cop. And a museum curator. And a male model (note to self just check his IMDB) probably indecision from his parents not being around?

- Dick grew up with an elephant and still visits it sometimes, so sad

- They all speak at least 5 languages (proof: Bruce and totally-not-Jason-Todd argued about ice cream in like Ukrainian or something and then switched to some kind of Asian language)

- Jason is also legally dead so maybe he’s a ghost or something but that doesn’t explain how he attends Shakespeare book club with Alfred. Maybe Alfred can see ghosts? PTSD?

- Tim is like 17 and runs some of the company but didn’t even really graduate school ??

- Damian has a pet cow and also grew up on a remote island

- Dick was engaged to Starfire TWICE

- Stephanie’s dad was Cluemaster (really bad spin-off of the riddler) which explains why she’s good at wordle

- Alfred has so many guns but Bruce doesn’t really do anything about it, something about Alfred having been a spy in the past? Dude can do makeup like no one’s business tho

- Damian has even more family on his mom’s side but won’t talk about them other than the fact that his brother’s name is Respawn, what kinda name is that ?

- Pretty sure Tim only knows how to make soup. Also his friend looks JUST like Superman it’s crazy

[thegunslingerfollowed]

The problem is I have chronic guilt about something that I can’t control but everyone on tumblr would tell me I’m a bad person for. Unfortunately, this is the only place I can vent so this particular issue will just destroy me from the inside

[that-was-anticlimactic]

one of the worst feelings ever is wanting to write but your hands hurt too much or the words just don’t want to work so you just sit there staring at a half finished doc with tears in your eyes bc you want to write and you need to write but everything is telling you that you can’t

[worstloki]

LMAO Thor would have such heavy trauma from having a morning wood while sleeping next to Loki

It’s going to haunt him. Loki will ask which forest their next quest is in and Thor’s going to spit out his watered down mead.

[jupitisms]

Gay people yknow?

[weaselishmcdiesel]

Laaaady, Dimiiiiiiiiiiiitriscuuuuuuu - Markiplier for 10 whole minutes and also for 19 episodes

I’m going to give everyone my worst fucking take ever I was so pissed with lady d memes when re8 was coming out I thought the memes were so unfunny and the simping wasn’t even original I know I’m the unpopular opinion but it bothered me so much I didn’t watch marks re8 play through until a GOOD while after he finished it (and I love watching his re stuff) and I still haven’t watched that compilation thing either it would piss me off too bad

[deus-ex-mona]

stuff’s wildin’, my dudes

[mrsmiroir]

bat-meet-hornets-nest moment but. even if you view darklina through rose tinted lenses and convince yourself that it is a totally balanced and healthy relationship, even if you can somehow convince yourself that his brutal campaigns were solely for a good cause and not greatly motivated by a desire for power… even if you can somehow convince yourself that he is a good PERSON (not the same as thinking he’s a good character)… how can you possibly justify oh uh idk literally everything that happened with genya. i have yet to see a hashtag darkling defender sit with and unpack just how fucked up her situation was (the situation HE put her in. knowingly).

[pois0ncandy]

i dont know when you posted that tag vent but i feel for you so hard and i hope htings get better. you can get audio recorders at walmart or a hidden cam somewhere around you if thatll help to document and show what POSs they are. stay strong enough to outlive them <3

thank you very much anon. you sincerely made me feel a lot better :’) yeah i’ve been slowly gathering evidence for a bit now. hopefully someday i’ll be able to do what i plan to.

kisses anon <3 i’m sorry you have to go through these feelings as well :(

[godsprettiestprincess]

.🩸.

[lovebugism]

❛ if you die, i'll kill you. ❜“i cant live without you” “don’t die on me, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet” “i lied i never hated you”

eddie x reader enemies to lovers 🥹🥹

pls enjoy this absolute heartache of a fic :D — you and eddie hate each other until he almost dies (angst, enemies to lovers, cw for mentions of gore, 1.1k)

“Wanna make out?” Eddie had asked you, some hours ago now, when you first arrived at the Upside Down version of Skull Rock. You’d just narrowly survived a gang of demobats, and the stale air smelled distinctly of copper pennies. He managed a smug smile anyway. “I mean, we might as well. Looks like we’re gonna die out here, anyway.”

You scoffed and rolled your tired eyes. The annoyance you felt for him then momentarily distracted you from the fear swirling in the pit of your stomach. “I’d rather,” you’d quipped.

You feel a little like you’ve prophesized something now.

Eddie bleeds out in your arms with a hundred little bites on his stomach that were supposed to be yours. He’d distracted the circling demobats when you twisted your ankle, too hurt to run away. And now he’s dying. And it’s all your goddamn fault.

You sit with him while Dustin rushes into the Creel House, in search of help from the older crew. You watch him attentively over your shoulder until he disappears behind the rotted front door. When you turn back to Eddie, you find his eyes have fluttered shut.

“Eddie—” you call for him, clearing your throat when it comes out garbled. “Eddie! Hey!”

“Hm…” he hums tiredly in response, eyes still shut.

You sigh with the subtle relief that he’s not dead. The breath catches in your chest. You try to fight away the panic attack clawing behind your ribcage, even though it makes everything around you seem more and more distant. You try to stay as present as you can despite the horrors swimming all around you — for Eddie The Freak Munson.

“You have to stay awake,” you tell him, voice thick with emotion. “Open your eyes.”

“I’m just… I feel a little tired right now,” he mumbles, slurring slightly. 

Your chest wrenches. He’s getting paler and paler by the minute. The tourniquet you made from the bottom half of your shirt is now soaked with deep red blood. Panic burns a wildfire in your chest because you’ve done everything you could think to do. 

You can’t lose him. That’s all you’re telling yourself now. You can’t lose him, you can’t lose him, you can’t lose him.

“I don’t care. Keep your eyes open, alright?”  Your heart wrenches again, with something short of hope this time, when Eddie’s eyes flutter open. They’re glassy and dilated, but the deep chocolate of them hasn’t changed. You muster a small smile. “There you go, Eds. There you go— Now, just keep talking to me, okay? Keep talking.”

“I’m tired,” he mutters under his breath, too weak to do anything more.

Your face screws together as you choke back a sob. You swallow down every instinct to cry. You’ll cry when this is over, you tell yourself, when Eddie’s safe and back in Hawkins.

“I know, Eddie. I know,” you babble through stinging tears. “But you gotta— you gotta keep talking, alright? It’ll help you stay awake. And I need you to… I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”

He nods. At least, you think he’s nodding, because the movement is terribly faint. 

His eyes fall shut again. You feel the loss of his melted chocolate gaze like a stab in the chest. Your hand grips his jaw, a little less than gentle.

“Eddie,” you bite through gritted teeth.

“Mm…”

“If you die, I swear to god, I will fucking kill you.”

The familiarity of your aggression reminds him of home. He opens his eyes and cracks a small, barely-there smile. Blood glistens on his mouth. “I thought you hated me?” he slurs in an inaudible mumble.

“I do,” you tell him without thinking twice, laughing through the sob in your throat. “But I’ll love the shit outta you if we make it out of here together.”

Together, you say, because either both of you make it out or neither of you do. 

His grin widens softly, chapped and lopsided. “Metal,” he murmurs.

A whimper sounds in your throat when his eyes flutter shut again. “Eddie…”

“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers, breathing sharply through his nose. 

It’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe. You can tell by the harsh rise and fall of his chest. There’s little oxygen getting to his brain, accompanied by the weeping bites on his stomach— where the fuck is Dustin Henderson?

“I don’t know if I…. If I’m gonna make it outta here, babe…”

Your chest tightens. He only ever called you babe to piss you off. You wonder if he’s still being the annoying asshole you knew back home or if the term of endearment is too engrained in his head.

“Don’t say that.”

“If I don’t—”

“Eddie.”

“If I don’t make it out,” he repeats, sterner this time. He drags a sharp breath in and opens his eyes, just barely. “I want you to know that I never… I never hated you… ‘M just a liar… And a total fucking coward…”

“You can make it up to me when we get back home, okay? You just gotta stay awake.”

His lip quirks into a faint, crooked smile. “I’ve been dyin’ to kiss you since ninth grade… Did you know that?”

“I know,” you nod with an emotional laugh.

“I did make it kinda obvious, didn’t I?”

“You can kiss me when you get better. I swear.”

Eddie nods. You feel him grow heavier and heavier in your arms. His smug smile starts to fade, and you panic. “Eddie? Eddie, don’t— don’t die on me, okay? Please. We haven’t— We haven’t gotten to the good part yet, asshole. You have to stay awake.”

You shift him in your arms, trying to sit him up more when he slumps. He does little to fight you. He doesn’t have the strength to anymore.

“‘M sorry, babe,” you hear him whisper.

“No— No, don’t— Don’t fucking say that,” you scold bitterly, less angry at him and more at the rest of the world. It should’ve been you lying here, after all, not him. You’d trade places in a heartbeat if you could. “You can’t die, you asshole! How am I supposed to— fucking— keep going without you annoying the living shit outta me?”

“Henderson’ll annoy you for the both of us,” he manages to joke as life spills from the weeping wounds on his stomach.

“Fuck that. It’s not the same— I need you, Eddie. I need you, okay? I can’t— I can’t fucking live without you,” you cry over his pale, bloodied body.

You hear yelling and a set of rushed footsteps. “Eddie!” Dustin calls as he dashes down the decrepit porch steps of the old home — with Steve, Nancy, and Robin following close behind.

The sight of them makes you sigh. Your chest starts to sparkle with a hope you’d thought you lost — damn near aching when Eddie’s glassy eyes flutter open once more. 

The fucker grins weakly up at you. “I knew you had a crush on me, babe.”

[pileofmush]

luffy is for the sad, pathetic, touch-starved bitches. the ones who shiver at the mere brush of skin. who wince whenever their friends go in for hugs, unsure of where to put their arms. the ones who are so, so aware of their proximity to others. so careful not to brush fingers when walking side to side with a peer, or when handing a pencil to a friend, because they’re sure that one affectionate squeeze of the arm could leave their innards a puddle at their feet, creeping toward the nearest drain.

when you meet luffy, you think he’s one to be admired, not touched. you see the way he infects everyone around him with his reckless abandon. hanging off shoulders and dragging people to and fro. his crewmates are used to it. they scoff and wiggle under his weight for show: for there’s a sense of relief when monkey d. luffy has his eyes on you. you can tell in the automatic decompression of their shoulders, in the languid way they turn to him—saplings curving toward the sun. 

you see it, and you envy it. respect it. respect him. but that’s the extent of your thoughts on the matter.

you never considered that he would turn his sights on you. 

but he does. 

he picks you up like you’re something shiny, holds you up to the light and squints. and whatever he finds must be satisfying, because after that, he doesn’t put you down. 

it overwhelms you, at first. he tugs on your cheek at the sight of a frown, like you’re the one made of rubber, and your heart does a funny jig that’s actually not funny at all. he pokes you in the ribcage to grab your attention, and ignores you when you try to tell him that a verbal cue would work just as well. he grabs your hand, instinctively twining your fingers, and pulls you along when you stop in your tracks.

and you feel—you feel like a puddle. be careful your mind warns, or you’ll slip.

but luffy’s there to catch you when you fall.

and that’s what’s so terrible about him, you think. he’s the question and the answer. 

and he’s burrowed himself under your skin. 

how foolish of him to touch you so casually and expect you not to revel in it. not to crave his pokes and his prods more than you crave air. how foolish of him to drape himself over you like a weighted blankie and not expect you to desire him by your side, always, to keep the cold at bay. he’s a fool and you’re a pauper.

but, sometimes, you think he knows what he does to you. he has to. oh, how he’ll laugh when he catches you staring at his hands. bound over until he’s right in front of you, place a thumb under your chin and tilt until your gaze meets his. his eyes are dark, but so, so bright. you want to look away. you don’t. 

everything is so easy for him. it's unnerving. he plops his head in your lap one day with a carefree grin. you still—hold your breath like a child playing hide and seek. he cracks open an eye, like he can read your thoughts. or maybe he can just feel you tremble.

“what’s wrong?”

you rack your brain for an answer he could understand. “what do you want me to do?” you hedge. 

luffy furrows his brows. “whatever you want,” he says.

“no, i mean—where do you want me to touch?” 

he shrugs. “wherever you want.”

and you feel—you feel like you want to run your hands over every inch of his skin until you have a mental map of his body you could navigate through touch alone. you want to put him in your mouth. you want to inhale him like a drug, want him to burn the back of your throat 'til it stings. you want… him. 

you settle for caressing his jawline. tracing the slope of his nose. his eyes flutter shut, and you pause, but he grabs your hand and plants it firmly on his face. and it feels, it feels like you’re the question and he’s the answer. it feels like maybe, just maybe, you’re okay with becoming a puddle of a person, for him.