#cockroach army!!

[girlsandcorpsess]

ever since wegot married tbere has been waayyyyy more cockieroachies showinh up inme house . esspecialy in me bathroom while im showerinf . dsid tyuo cause tbis .

mayb…..🤔🤔🤔

[golfcoursewitch]

Chart of my babies, their names, who named them and small cartoonish drawings detailing their features. Some witches have familiars, I have roach army + Larry

[dotdotdottiedot]

living with Bunny is so fun until I find roaches sleeping in my socks

@golfcoursewitch please tell your roaches to stay out of my socks

[agendratum]

okay it might be time to finish the spirealm

[tigirl-and-co]

I definitely vastly prefer book covers that depict scenery from the world of the book or a far-away painting of an important scene in dramatic colours to book covers that are just like. Here's a character. Maybe they're doing something idk

[notmarthagaryson]

throw back to when this idiot thought scaring me was a good idea (tw horror)

[unfinishedslurs]

average batfam dinner conversation

“Maybe try therapy?” Duke suggested. “Just putting that out there. You know, as an idea.”

“You try therapy,” Tim snarked back, jabbing his fork into the broccoli with a worrying amount of fervor. 

“It would be good for you.” Cass grinned mischievously over her plate at Duke. He narrowed his eyes, and there was a muffled thump beneath the table. It was immediately followed by a slightly louder thump, and he yelped. 

Bruce really thought the kids knew better than to pick fights with her at this point. 

Duke scowled as he rubbed his shin. “I’m the best adjusted out of all you assholes.”

“Lies and slander,” Dick declared. “There is no ‘best adjusted’ out of us, and if there were it would be me.”

Everyone turned and stared at him for that. He stared back with a bright smile, daring them to challenge the notion. 

He was lucky Jason wasn’t here, because he would have picked a fight instantly. Especially because he’d been there for the worst of his and Dick’s fights, back when their family was smaller but somehow no less complicated. The rest of his kids were too tired to argue the point, thank god. 

“I went to therapy once.”

Now everyone was staring at him instead. He took another bite of his food. 

“Uh…are you going to elaborate or anything?” Duke asked. 

Bruce chewed, swallowed, and sighed. “The therapist kidnapped me and held me for ransom.”

“Oh my god.”

“That explains…a lot.”

“You mean everything about him?” 

That was hurtful. It didn’t explain everything about him. That would be ignoring both his parents deaths and finding out he lived above a giant cave that was the perfect size for a secret lair. Really, Dick, he expected better. 

“Sorry that happened,” Cass said, because she loves him the most. Then she added, “It does track.”

Never mind. Bruce was going to die cold and alone, rather than be surrounded by his army of tiny traitors. At least Damian was eating quietly, although he could see him hiding his gaming counsel beneath the table. He was supposed to be grounded, but Bruce could only deal with so many losing battles a day. 

“What if you went to a therapist outside of Gotham?” Duke suggested, apparently having latched onto the idea of Bruce seeing a professional. He didn’t know why. All in all, he thought he was handling things pretty well. 

Tim snorted. “Yeah, and then they’d take off their mask at the end of the session to reveal it was Ra’s al Ghul all along.”

“Yeah, okay, fair. But like, Ra’s al Ghul? That’s who you’re going with? Seems out of his area of expertise.”

“If you ask him, nothing is out of his expertise. He’s probably got, like, three psychology degrees or something.”

“More,” Damian said. The final holdout in the children's war against his mental health this evening. Bruce quietly despairs. “He is a knowledgeable man. Although most of the degrees he has earned are not legally recognized, as he did not actually go to a university for them. I myself have obtained several while living with the League.”

Duke nodded along. “So what I’m hearing is we hire Ra’s to be Bruce’s therapist.”

Tim immediately choked on his chicken and fell out of his chair. Dick had a similar reaction, erupting in a coughing fit that nearly toppled him too. Cass just laughed loudly. Damian was looking at Duke with disturbance written across his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Bruce decided then and there not to mention that he actually had confided in Ra’s some while training under the League. He’d take the secret to his grave, if only not to give Duke more steam. 

“Could be funny,” Cass said. “Mental illness? All illness can be cured with my special green pool.”

There was a strange silence after she said that, as if his kids were waiting for something. Dick frowned and leaned over Tim’s chair. “Tim? Buddy? Are you dead? You didn’t even make a joke about Jason being sick in the head.”

“Did I kill Tim?” Duke asked. “Shit, Jason’s gonna be pissed. He’s gonna have to stop calling him a cockroach.”

“Don’t worry, Thomas. The name still fits perfectly.”

Maybe he could skip patrol tonight and just…go to bed for once. Take a break. Smoke a joint and watch Real Housewives of Metropolis again, if only to quietly make fun of Superman’s guest appearance. Or loudly, if he felt like antagonizing Clark. 

“Wait, no, I think he’s actually choking, hold on-“ Dick’s chair tumbled over as he rushed to give Tim the Heimlich. Cass’s eyes widened, and she quickly grabbed a trashcan to save the floors. Bruce got a glass of water ready as he retched. 

Tim’s head popped up from under the table, and he pointed at Duke. “We have got to hang out more,” he rasped. 

Duke looked touched. “I just almost killed you.”

“That’s how I make all my friends, you’re not special.” He accepted the water, and Bruce quietly despaired as he helped him up. Why were his children friends with such dangerous people?

There’s a little voice niggling in the back of his head that says that maybe if he didn’t want his children to be friends with dangerous people, he should lead by example instead of befriending the most dangerous people on earth. He pushed it away. 

Damian sniffs. “Your self preservation skills are abhorrent, Drake. I should never have even bothered putting in an effort to get rid of you, your stupidity will make quick work of you sooner rather than later.”

“Puh-lease, like none of your friends have tried to kill you.”

“Obviously not. My instincts are far superior to yours.”

“Horton hears a bitch ass liar,” Tim singsongs, and immediately has to duck back under the table to dodge the fork that was thrown at him. Thank God Alfred wasn’t in the room for it. If the silver was scratched, Alfred would give him the I’m not mad just disappointed face. As if it’s Bruce’s fault his children are like this.

He takes zero responsibility. They came to him like that.

[seawitchkaraoke]

Murph's characters ranked by how immune to Murph rolls they are

Theo: 10/10 won't land a hit but he doesn't need to, his job is to sit there and not take any damage while literal armies are trying to kill him and to jump in front of his friends. Also knock doesn't require a roll.

Riz (junior year): 9/10 reliable talent is a game changer, the nat 1 turns into a 10, becomes a 21, no mystery this guy can't crack. Can still fail in fights which is not great when you're the only one who isn't stunned.

Kugrash 5/10 does a lot of support work, like the cockroach aura and summoning a bunch of alligator friends which doesn't need Murph to roll. Sadly he does roll for the attacks the alligators make so that takes away from it a bit

Gerard: 4/10 what do you do when you can't roll well yourself? Make Zac roll instead. Commanding strike is amazing. Other than though Murph's rolls make Gerard a pretty pathetic frog - which is of course exactly what he is.

Barry 3/10 he's a barbarian so part of his job is to absorb damage which doesn't require dice and he does a fantastic job of it. Sadly both attacking and playing at casinos however does require dice

Riz (before junior year): 1/10 he'll get there but right now? He is at the mercy of the dice and Adaine's portent rolls can't save him every time

Cody -10/10 this guy is designed to be as affected by Murph rolls as possible, Murph really said let's make a character that is just so bad at what he does. Stabs himself with his own sword, he's perfect, no notes.

[juanarc-thethird]

Jaune meets... The Doctor (Arthur Watts)

In a lair far away from civilization was the famous mad doctor, Arthur Watts. His lair is on the shores of the kingdom, an old and forgotten castle, right next to a ravine that faces the sea. With his laboratory at the highest point of the castle, overlooking the sea.

Now what experiment would he be working on today you ask? Well nothing less than the dissection of a creature more persistent than a cockroach.

Nora: A Cockroach?! How rude, I am a lady! A TENDER AND SWEET LADY!

Nora screams while trapped on an operating table.

Arthur: Shut up, specimen! When I'm done with you, I'll finally understand how you survived all this time and create my own army of beasts like you.

Nora: When my leader finds you he'll kick your ass!

Arthur: Good luck with that, even if he finds my lair, he'll never be able to get past my security.

Jaune: I wouldn't be so sure.

Jaune interrupts as he enters his lab out of nowhere.

Nora: *Happy* Jaune!!

Arthur: How did you get in here?!

Jaune: As for the door, you left it unlocked.

Arthur: Damn it! I knew I forgot something. But that doesn't matter! *He takes a knife and puts it near Nora* If you move, I'll kill her!

Jaune: It won't be necessary.

He says as he takes an apple out of his pocket

Arthur: *Confuse* An apple?

Jaune: You know what they say, an apple a day keeps the doctor away.

Jaune tries to throw the apple right at the knife but ends up hitting the doctor in the face.

Arthur: Of fuck!

Jaune: *Surprise* Oh shit!

Nora: Yeah! Fuck him up!

The doctor loses his balance due to the impact and falls onto some chemicals he had on a nearby table, soaking him and cutting him with the glass.

Arthur: God damn it!

Jaune: Oh god, sorry!

As he tries to get up, the liquid residue on the floor slips off him and he falls near a beaker that is boiling on fire. It causes the chemicals he was soaked in to ignite, setting him on fire.

Arthur: AAHHH!!

Jaune: Oh fuck!

The doctor tries to put out his flames by running to the fire extinguisher on the other side of the lab, but in his panic he miss the cables lying on the floor and he trips, leading him straight to the window overlooking the sea.

Arthur: AAAAAAAAAAA...!!!

Jaune runs to the window and doesn't see the doctor anywhere.

Jaune: My God, what have I done?

Nora: You saved me, that's what happened. Now get out of here, I have to go to the bathroom.

[ghcstao3]

This just came to me: soap as deadpool and Ghost as wolverine

They separate at some point and end up "retiring" to attempt living a normal life. They both end up in the army eventually and meeting up again.

Ghost is annoyed he's met the bastard again, holding back the urge to nail soap in the head with his claws several times a day. But also appreciating the noise he brings to fill the void in his mind.

Soap is overjoyed to see his immortality buddy again and will not admit out loud he missed the grumpy guts. He also knows Ghost wants to claw him and loves teasing him.

Their secret goes out the window when Soap is shot in the head and comes back minutes letter yelling about the fucker who shot him reseting his "not dead" streak. He had gotten 90 years damn it! He now he needs to restart it!

Cue everyone being both horrified and wondering wtf Ghost is looking annoyed for.

"Why did you say that?"

"It's true!"

"I don't care, now everyone can see you can't die you cancerous cockroach!"

"...... oh."

90 years is a proud achievement! so what if it means his secret's been spilled, he's going to complain about it!

…even if that means ghost will later ask him for a “friendly” sparring session, of which will be the exact antithesis of friendly to get back at soap for exposing the whole immortality schtick—because if any of the brass catch word of it, soap had better be prepared to say goodbye to everything else he built up over 90 years.

(and, though ghost won't admit it, he doesn't think he's ready to be separated from the annoying bastard again quite just yet.)

[golfcoursewitch]

ME AND THE ROACHES ARE GONNA INVADE CHUCK E CHEESE, I’M STEALING THE BIG BASS WHEEL

[oogalybooglay]

~cat-fish?~

(sebby eeping in cat-like poses because he’s eepy)

(ALRIGHT ALRIGHT I GET IT YALL WANT ONESHOTS LMAO, YALL GET THIS, BUT NEXT ONE IS /start our restart/ STUFF, FAIR TRADE)

The days had started to blur together…. Sebastian hadn’t slept in what…. Two? Three days? (Author’s interjections: he can go without sleep for longer since the experiments (head canon))

He rested his head on his palm, he mumbled

“you know what? Fuck it…. Either i pass out now or pass out when scavenging when those idiots die….”

He slithered slowly up to the upper area in his make shift shop (author interjections: idk what to call it, but the little loft thing with the railing in his shop 😭😭)

He stretched out with a groan, doing the “cat-stretch” (author interjections: oooooh big stretch yessss) he rolled over and laid on his back, holding his three arms in front of him like a t-Rex. His tail draped over the ledge, a few of the bags slipped off with a thud but he really didn’t care, the explorers were too scared of him to steal. His body twisted around, leaving him in A many poses you’d see a cat in.

your pov

You were trying to get to a locker as fast as you can to avoid chainsmoker. Slamming the locker door shut, chainsmoker rushed past with a roar

“Huff…huff… Jesus-“

you crack the door opens peek and scan the area, walking out with soft steps… you spot the vent grate that led to Sebastian’s shop. You had memorized the path, but… you didn’t hear him whispering, or opening the vent grate, you army crawled in and looked around.. his figure wasn’t in the corner.

then you saw his tail

you realized he was probably passed out, you stood up and walked over to the ladder and spoke,

“wake up, seb…”

Sebastian groaned and turned over,

“mmmmmphhh…. Noooooooo…. M’ tired…”

you chuckled and climbed up the ladder, moving his tail a little to wake him up, “wake upppp…. You have customers to tend to….. and your bags fell dummy” Sebastian moved his tail, wrapped it around you and pulled you into his tired arms and spoke,

“vengeance……..mmmmmpppphhhhhh.”

you sighed, yep, you were stuck. You weren’t complaining though… not at alllll, you shifted around to get comfortable on the metal

Sebastian got cuddles whenever he got the chance, he purred, his tail wagging a little you spoke with a smirk

“are you a cat now?”

”shut up…”

YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED, NOW SHOO! SCATTER LIKE COCKROACHES WHEN THE LIGHTS TURN ON!

also, comment? 👁️👁️ I’m not begging I just would like seeing yall comment lmao

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Incandescent in All His Glory

My brother likes to present himself as aloof, undeterred, haughty, and cold-blooded. To those who has never seen him in pyjamas and dressing gown, the image remains unaltered. Underneath that stoic and well-maintained façade, he is very much human, despite how loathe he is to admit it. 

Granted, he has a peculiar way of showing his emotions.

Sentiment is never an advantage, is his trademark, so to speak.

Having known him for my entire life, and by being an adept observer, I am aware of the truth. 

His heart might be heavily protected by a seemingly unbreakable padlock, but when that lock is broken, there’s no stopping the tidal wave of emotions hidden there.

The unbridled rage is the most common of the forementioned emotions. Let me rephrase: the most common emotion to appear.

This rage mostly recurred in our childhood, and as far as I know, only directed at me. Not that I didn’t deserve it. I did almost anything to get his attention back then. I ruined his new suede shoes in the murky pond, put cockroaches in the biscuit tin he hid in his room, and read a love letter he’d received out loud at the dinner table on Christmas Eve.

“Did you ever apologise?”

Of course, John would ask that.

I shake my head. Much to my surprise I feel ashamed. Mycroft hadn’t done anything to deserve that, other than leaving home for school, which in my opinion was the same as treason.

What my brother has done is this:

He brought me food I tolerated when my parents didn’t understand my stubborn ways, when I refused to eat what they sat before me.

Once, he came home unforeseen. Three of my bullies were after me, again, and I ran as fast as I could, but they were older, had longer legs, and caught up with me quickly. Before the first blow, I closed my eyes, protected my head, but nothing happened. The anticipated pain wasn’t forthcoming. I looked up, and there he stood. My big brother, incandescent in all his glory. Fuming with rage. I swear, I saw flames in his eyes. Nobody ever bothered me again.

Three times he’s followed me to rehab. Picked me up in places he normally never sat his feet. Each time I woke, I saw his pain and sorrow. His quiet requests, no, pleas, to make me stop breaking his heart, left my own heart raw and aching.

He interrogated my newfound flatmate to make sure he knew what he was getting himself into, but also to assess what kind of a man John Watson was. I know Mycroft’s heart sung with relief when the ex-army doctor took it all in his stride, not the least bit perturbed by my brother’s inquisitorial questions, but rather affronted on my behalf.

Without so much as hesitating, he agreed to be my best man at my wedding, and his speech made us all weep. Even John. My husband.

Mycroft’s rage nowadays, is nothing like the one from his adolescence. Now it is cold as a polar wind. He remains calm, which in my opinion is much more terrifying than his uncontrolled fury from the past. I guess one doesn’t get employed by the British government if one has trouble managing one’s anger.

By now, most of his associates call him The Iceman. It fits him, and I know the nickname pleases him immensely. 

I’m happy to say, no one uses my hateful nickname, The Virgin, any longer. John wouldn’t stand for such an insult, being the one who unburdened me of said virginity…

----------------------------------------------------------------

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @helloliriels

@meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @topsyturvy-turtely @jolieblack

@221beloved @ninasnakie @shy-bi-letsfuckingdie @7-percent @lhrinchelsea

@peanitbear @bs2sjh @brandiwein1982 @meandhisjohn @a-victorian-girl

@missdeliadilisblog @salmonsown @oetkb12 @jawnscoffee @gay-ass-bitch

@acumberlockedgirl @willamholmeswatson @whatnext2020 @mydogwatson @redmondcollege

@thegildedbee @ilovegayangels @elizabethhood @xmengal03 @riversong912

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @couldbecannibal @2old2b-fangirl @dw91165 @jonkwatson

@binx72 @macgyvershe @raina-at @dragoonthegreatest @kholkate

@fookincarrotsandpotatoes28 @talkativeanxiousturtle @aloeverawrites @ch0s0lvr

[savagebite]

Simon Riley (Ghost) x afab! reader 

Tw:Kidnapping, slight physical abuse, references to s/a, and overall toxic behavior. No references to gender other than wearing a bra. This is probably so bad since I’m posting this at 3:40 and I can barely keep my eyes open.

You swear any and all sound completely stops. The only thing now filling your ears is his heavy breathing, his eyes so wide and filled with resentful fury you thought for sure you’d die from just him looking at you. He just stands there, not saying anything as his cheeks flush with anger. You’d rather him kill you now.

What was it your therapist said? There was three fear responses fight, flight or freeze. Surely yours was freeze because you couldn’t move a damn muscle, your feet might as well been glued to the floor.

Gritting his stained teeth, the blond suddenly slams his two palms into your chest, ass hitting the ground as your y/c eyes look up at him. The key had been long gone, dropping it when you eyes met his before he had even pushed you.

“Simon I wasn’t-“

“Shut up”

Like a cockroach on the ground of his home, unwelcomed and hateful. he scowls at you as he grabs a beer from the fridge.

“Listen I really wasn’t trying to leave I just”

He doesn’t answer as you ramble. he just plops onto the blueish grayish couch in front of the tv. An older model, Simon’s “Not needing to buy anything unless it’s fully useable” mentality coming into show.

You peer at him as he fully sits down, his legs spread as he man-spreads and takes most of the couches space up. Cracked lips come around the beers top as the yellowish color spills into his throat. The small glow of the shitty tv glows on his face illuminating his eye bags. Why isn’t he speaking? Even looking at you? He’s never been this pissed.

Finally getting up from the spot on the floor and ignoring the static feeling in your leg from it falling asleep, you crawl to him. You crawl to him like that of a pathetic dog in need of a treat for doing a trick. Not even 5 mintues ago you hated him and yet you’re crawling back to him.

When you try to sit by him a calloused hand meets your back and shoves you hard against the creaky wooden floors. With a loud “thunk” you softly let out a pained noise from the gravity of your shin hitting the ground. Damn. Everything you did made you realize even more how angry he was.

Rather not sitting on the cold decrepit wood floor you stand up once again, feet hitting the floor. each step causing a semi-annoying creek as you walk to your shared bedroom. It’s a sad, small room with no decor other than a queen sized bed that still felt to small with him in it. A small wooden ikea closet that housed his and yours clothes. A once cute wardrobe built to your liking was taken away when he kidnapped you. Your days now filled with wearing to big sold colored t-shirts and shorts. When was the last time you even wore a bra?

None the less, with nothing to do you sit on the right side of the bed. The designated side of which Simon appointed you when you first “moved in” you lay your head down in the thin pillow. Your y/c eyes look up at the white ceiling as you start to daydream. The only thing you can do.

Hours past apparently, but it felt like mintues to you. Breaking out of the daydreamed trance you forcefully put yourself in a large hand flips the light switch on taking you by surprise. Simon stares at you, a face you can’t tell if it’s fuming with anger or just annoyance. Probably both.

“If you think I’m willing to let you get away with that little spiel from wailer this evening you’re dead wrong.” His gruff voice sneers.

you flip over, not wanting to deal with this.

Wrong move

In almost a second Simon throws the sheet off you and grabs the t-shirt you were wearing and yanking it so you’re facing him. He was surely going to kill you now because he’s never done this before. At least you wouldn’t have to deal with him after you’re dead.

Except he doesn’t kill you, he doesn’t pull that army knife from his service out from the drawer by the bed. Instead, he just stares at you. You can see everything, the crows foot on the tips of his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, dark eyes dilated slightly as he looks at you.

And he hugs you. He hugs you. He hugs you? His big arms wrap around your body, squeezing like a child would with a teddy bear. You feel his slightly chapped lips press against your cheek. Head on your shoulder as he sighs deeply into your neck.

“Sorry. Had a rough day.”

That’s it? No leaving you alone for days on end? No making you sleep on the ground? No forcing you to make love?

You gently wrap your hands around him, not wanting to have his mind changed to anything else. Fingers dance in his tangled hair as you allow him to cuddle into you. Not like you had to choice, but this was the best scenario to come out of this.

“It’s…alright”

[mpicabo]

Just had a dream about this insect with an impossible life history. Supposedly it was in the order Diptera, true flies, and this was bizarre for many many reasons. It did not exhibit a larval stage, instead having juveniles mimicking juvenile cockroaches. It then would develop into a nectar feeding pollinator with a long extended head to reach into flowers as opposed to a proboscis. This development stage would already have forewings, and halteres, so as far as insects go it really shouldn’t be molting further.

However, it then gains sexual dimorphism, vaguely resembling termites. At this stage they are social, but not eusocial or sexual. I remember being told there was a stage after this and between the sexual adults; why there was a stage here and no where else that would make more sense, I cannot tell you. Maybe this was where the pupal stage would have gone, as little sense as that makes.

Finally, in the mature stage, the sexual dimorphism becomes far more extreme. The males become far larger, and appear to fuse their head and thorax into a cephalothorax, more closely resembling arachnids in the order Solifugae than insects, but on closer examination that would quickly fall apart. The females meanwhile take on a body more similar to that of a worker ant. I do not believe this stage to be eusocial either, but they do exhibit a high degree of sociality, traveling in large colonies similar to those of the army ants, gobbling up whatever comes across their path. I did not see any caste division or was made aware of any differences in reproduction.

So yeah, there are a TON of problems with how this dream insect would function in our world, but here is a weird fake fly. What should we call it? Let me know!

(Also pinging @humanbyweight cause I wonder if she’d have any ideas, hope ya don’t mind ❤️)