#don’t ask i don’t have an answer

[candlecordyceps]

[onesidedradiostatic]

EXTREMELY CURSED THOUGHT

has anyone thought of making this one of vox's fantasy radiostatic dreams

part of me wants to redraw it. part of me wonders if it's already been done.

[theminecraftbee]

task: answer the following question. do you believe in curses? respond as completely with relevant information as possible.

Grian: Well, that's a lie. This isn't a task. I know it's not a task, I set the things up! Not sure why we're getting a question as pointless as this one, but sure, mysterious scroll, I'll answer. There's no such thing as curses, unless you're Timmy, in which case it's funny, yeah? Besides, I didn't actually kill Etho. Even if that did count, self-fulfilling prophecies aren't the same thing as curses, and I know which one I fall under.

Joel: Do I believe in bloody curses what kind of question is that? Do I really get hearts just for answering this? This feels like a prank or something... well, whatever. There are no such thing as curses, except the Boogeyman curse, which I sort of had today, but it wasn't actually the same at all. A lot of the bloodlust, sure, but a lot more... Etho had to be the one to do it, huh? And it's not the same. Not comforting. That's a stupid thing to say actually. Take it out of wherever you're putting this. Cut it out of the recording. Comforting. Please. As if it were ever... Yeah, I'm done actually. Don't have a good answer. Go away.

Scott: What, other than Jimmy? Bless that man, he may not have died first, but he sure tried his best. Sure, I'll believe Jimmy is cursed. I mean, mostly he's just kind of stupid. Lovingly so. I mean, despite him being stupid, I put up with him, right? That seems like a complete answer to this question. Jimmy's an omen but we put up with him anyway. That's all.

Mumbo: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Pearl: Oh, I mean, I'm probably cursed. That's what everyone liked to say at one point. I think... I mean, I think this time I have good friends, which is nice. They don't think I'm cursed. And it's not like I--I mean, it's surprisingly fun, acting cursed! And I am just acting. Acting scary, blowing up dance floors, all of that. And I don't really have to this time, so... Maybe I'm not cursed? And since it's acting, it's not real? This is a weird question.

Etho: Oh, man, that's a question. Um, do I have to answer? Because I feel like if I say no, that's really just asking for it, but if I say yes, I have to explain myself. Uh, I think I'm abstaining, unless the zombie thing from earlier counts. That was scary and I hated it. Curses are scary and I hate them in general, but apparently I'm good at them, if you ask everyone else. Um, it's not the only thing I find scary that apparently I'm good at.

Scar: Why, of course I believe in curses! Look at poor, poor... Timbert? Timmy? Jim? Gosh, sorry, I'm very tired right now. That's more proof of curses, by the way! That I'm tired. I've been tired straight since the desert, let me tell you what. And that, my friends, is a curse like no other. What a terrible beast, loneliness is. Wish me luck breaking it, because it's not happening this season!

Cleo: Oh, you mean the thing people like to blame instead of their own actions? Nah. My soulbond was kind of a curse, I guess, but even that's at least half just... bad people. Bad relationships. Good ones, too. We're all just doing what you can, you know? No script, no curses, no characters, just... Oh, I hope everything turns out tomorrow. Sorry, that's unrelated. It's just nicer to hope than to preemptively blame things on curses that don't exist.

Impulse: Well, I mean, I didn't until you just asked me that, but now I feel like I should. Wouldn't that be nice? Being cursed instead of just sort of unlovable? Sorry, no, that's mean to Gem. I shouldn't say that about Gem, she's been good this season. Super, super cursed, mind you, in the like, game mechanic sense? But she's been good, no backstabbing or inability to get love involved. Um, and I guess that's not fair to Bdubs, kind of, except it also totally is and I haven't forgiven him. So I guess if they ask I said I believed in curses, and that's why my life keeps circling clocks? Don't put any of that other stuff down, I'm trying to work on that.

Lizzie: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Gem: I was just cursed for a task, but that probably isn't what you're asking about, right? I'm new, so I don't know! A task is a concrete thing to believe in, like bloodshed or victory or fun and games. You don't have to believe in those to know they're real, either! They just are, whether you like it or not. I understand that much!

Tango: Gah, don't talk to me about... Deep breaths. Look, I don't care if it's a curse, or if it's just me being really bad, or what, I'm not going out pointlessly this time. Jimmy managed not to die first, I can manage to not go out to a stray arrow or my own bomb or a misstep this time, right? Is that so much to ask?

Skizz: Huh? Curses? I mean, I don't think so, and to be totally honest I think it's kind of mean the way people sometimes rag on people about them. Everyone's got so many good things about them! Why do people like to focus on the unfortunate luck, huh?

Bdubs: Hah! Curses! Let me tell you about curses. When I see curses, I eat them for breakfast. I don't got curses, I've got better things to do! I've got my buddies with the Mounders, and I've got-well, I'd say keeping Etho safe, but he's being weird at me again this season. Not that it matters. It never matters. Etho and I, we're... The point is, that doesn't matter anyway, because I have the Mounders, and they're the ones who matter here. And because I'm a strong, independent Bdubs, who doesn't need anyone but my bow and my perfect, flawless fighting prowess! Sorry, what was the question? I've been thinking so much lately that it's just sort of made everything else pop out of my head, so it's hard to keep track. I'm sure I answered it flawlessly, though.

Martyn: Of course there are curses. That's half the fun for you lot, isn't it? Putting your little curses on us and watching us rail against them. Bet you think it's real cute to ask us what we think of the things, too. "Oh, what do you think of curses," like we have any control over them. Please. If I had any control over curses, Jimmy--or, well, no, I guess that one was technically broken, wasn't it? Sure doesn't feel like it. Point is, curses are bad, and they're definitely real, and I hate you for them, got it?

BigB: Look, man, if you're trying to get me to write my character out for you, just say so! I won't tell anyone. We can come up with a hole thing about holes and red tasks and the Backrooms together! It'll be fun! After all, you probably don't know what kind of curse to say I have, right? Haha, just kidding. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, neither does anyone else, so I think that evens out between the lot of us.

Jimmy: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

[hellsite-hall-of-fame]

How do you not get flooded with pictures of the sky and all of its colours

Everyone should send you pictures of the sky

oooh I agree tbh and thank you!! those are such lovely pictures of the sky!!! it truly is beautiful

in fact, here’s one of my pictures of the sky because holy fucking shit this was a marvelous sunset

[warlenys]

house md is incredibly culturally significant it led to the hamilton song you’ll be back and american gay marriage

[braisedhoney]

Gaster but he says “oya oya”. Trust me on this.

is this it. is this what you wanted from me.

[berlingotesque]

Average Bendy enjoyer experience right now.

[soars22]

For those who were wondering, Phil confirmed in his early birb stream this morning that Chayanne is NOT intended to be a glass child.

He is, according to Phil, a character who is very strong, with big protective energy but who does occasionally need a helping hand (paraphrasing).

Most importantly:

Chayanne’s admin is NOT playing the character as a glass child.

Once again, Phil/Chayanne’s admin did not intend for the character to be interpreted this way, but there is evidence that supports the theory and it is a perfectly valid interpretation. But it was NOT the intention.

[rakiah]

so i read that lions will follow females they're interested in and this gave me an idea for a funny scenario:

leona peacefully taking his nap, waking up the instant he hears vil's voice, and instinctively trying to get up before actively stoping himself while cursing his cat instincts

probably the moment he goes "fuck i'm in love with him aren't i?"

Give me more time and I’ll do a short comic about that cause this prompt is gold ✨

[mtndw-whteout]

*peeks from under your bed* may i request for fluffy teruki and ???/shigeo (terushige?) moment? cuddling or kisses, all that good stuff 🥹

They’re holding hands :)

[dovewingkinnie]

found this in my drafts i think he looks funny he looks like he’s saying “hey buddy…”

[the-phantom-peach]

i’m being a big girl about it okay

anyways, small important message in tags ⬇️

[frickityfrackityfuckingshit]

Sometimes I feel sad that my special interest is learning as a broad because I used love school so much but obviously the school system and being autistic and shit kinda ruined my experience and now I really struggle to engage in my own special interest.

But then I remember I’m the perfect friend to other autistics. Like please. Tell me everything about your niche interest. I will ask questions. Lots. I will get as obsessed with you. I will remember for next time.

[bonesblubs]

LITTLE GUYS

[chloesimaginationthings]

Sorry if you’ve already put this somewhere and I didn’t see, but what’re your favourite ships?? :3

Women

[hungharrington]

listen. listen. having steve ride/grind on your thigh. he is so good so love and so beautiful god bless his soul :')

i'm listening alright 😮‍💨 MDNI this entire blog is 18+ warnings: alcohol (steve has had sum tequila! but he is not drunk), grinding & a bit of exhibitionism, sort of dom!reader, gn!reader

look, you know when you bring this up i've gotta be thinking of pussy drunk steve, right? steve who's just stuck in a whimpery ramble, his eyes all screwed shut and cheeks flushed pink, just begging for you to let him fuck you? and that's good, that's fucking great but god imagine it's when you two are at a party. it's a house with two stories and upstairs is where the party is really at, with music pumping loud and people dancing and chatting. downstairs is quieter — there’s only a few stragglers, people trying to find the spare empty bathroom from time to time, and then there’s you and steve, sitting so close together on one of the couches, his arm propped up along the back, his hand on your knee. you’re both turned to face each other, knees knocking in the middle.

steve's had tequila tonight — and tequila makes him horny. you know that and he knows that. there's no doubt about it, in the dark glint of his eyes, that steve is feeling it- especially when he turns, eyes watching the last noisy partygoer thump up the stairs, waiting til she's out of view before he pounces. his hand on your knees slide up, gripping at your inner thigh, leaning over you enough that his knee has started trying to work between your thighs, following his wandering fingers. his hot mouth finds your neck. he’s so so messy with it, sloppy wet kisses that alternate between gentle kisses and harsh sucking, as his fingers dance higher and higher — it’s enough to make you keen up into his touch, a whisper of steve’s name escaping your lips, “steve.”

steve groans at the sound of his name on your lips, much too loud for your liking. you try to shush him in between your gasping breathes but he won’t hear it, another too noisy gravelly moan scraping out his throat as his hand slides up at he cups between your thighs— hungry at the heat he finds there. you slink a hand up around his neck and wind it into the hair at the nape of his neck and pull. steve’s mouth leaves your neck to give a guttural whine, right as his hips cant forward, grinding his hard on against your thigh roughly. you realise what he’s done a second before he does.

“oh?” you say, just a hint of teasing. is that how tonight’s gonna go?

“stop teasin— uh” steve starts to snark back but his words are stolen by the moan that comes out when you pull his hair again. your other hand makes quick work, slithering down his front to tuck your fingers into the belt loops on his jeans. you tug forwards and steve’s hips follow easily, giving another filthy grind on your thigh. you grin devilishly and steve meets your eyes through his own hazy half-lidded stare— his hand between your thighs shifting to grip your waist before his hips move again, purposeful this time in how he rubs up against you. it’s a combination of a pitiful and glorious sight; steve beginning to move desperately, those little whimpers falling from his lips, eyes torn between screwing closed tightly and drinking in the sight of you. the party lingers on behind you, a reminder of the lack of privacy that threatens your little bubble on the couch. better make this quick.

you give another pull on his hair and steve’s head drops back, exposing the line of his throat for you. he’s started murmuring softly, whispering, “baby, baby, fuck, baby,” in that voice that keys up the coil in your stomach in a way nothing else can. you press your thigh up, right as steve rocks forward and relish in the jagged pretty moan he makes. leaning in, you lick a bold stripe up his neck and find that sensitive spot beneath his ear- delighting when you find it, indicated by steve’s tightened grip and the fast buck of his hips.

“baby,” he moans whiningly, head tipping back forward. with the tequila and the heat of the situation, the party looming just nearby, you know it’s not gonna take him long. you don’t let up, timing the movement of your thigh with the tug on his belt loops as you nibble on your neck. it makes steve shiver, hands on your waist growing tighter and tighter, and he hides his face into the curve of your neck as his motions grow sloppy. “m’gonna- oh fuck— m’gonna—”

“shhh,” you hush him, partly because he’s getting too loud and partly just to mock him a bit. “i know, i know,” you coo, and then pull his hair once more and steve whimpers loudly, his hips rolling roughly once, twice, before he shudders with a soft cry. his face buries further into your neck, hands on your waist sliding around to hug himself closer to you. you can feel his entire body twitching against yours, hips still moving through the end of his high and you soothe over the hair you pulled, murmuring sweet praises in his ear the whole time.

a loud clatter on the stairs makes you both jump, your head shooting up to see who it is. a girl in heels, clearly on the tipsy side, navigates down the stairs noisily — though she stops and gasps loudly when she spots you.

“oh my god!” she says in concern. “is he okay?”

you realise that steve’s hunched position looks an awful lot like he’s being crying. steve’s body shudders as he fails to hold back a little laugh, still running off his delirious high. you do your best to nod solemnly and run your hand down his back.

“he’s okay now,” you say, giving him a pat of the back dramatically, then mime a little cry to the girl to sell the whole act. the girl let’s out a little aw! before she seems remembers the bathroom she’d be seeking, rushing off on her teetering heels.

steve pulls his head out of your neck when it’s been quiet for a moment, checking the downstairs for other people. when he doesn’t find any, he narrows his eyes at you. “i can’t believe you told her i was crying!”

“you technically were,” you point out, then put on your whiniest voice, mocking his moans. “m’gonna— oh, baby— sfmh—“

you’re cut off by steve’s hand over your mouth, his glare outmatched by the crimson on his cheeks. adorable. you push him off you gently and stand up.

“c’mon, i wanna dance.”

steve looks at you incredulously and then gestures at the incredibly telling wet stain on his jeans. you pout, and then hold out your hand, ushering him up anyways. when he doesn’t make a move to get up, you pout harder and bend over to whisper in his ear— “you know, if your hips are against mine, i doubt anybody’s gonna notice…”

you get your dance.