#durp

[timbo-johnson]

Bringing Sexy Back! A while ago I was showing a friend how you could use different tools in photoshop to merge bits and remove a whole face...then I went full derp and drew a face on it. This has ended up becoming one of my best selling designs at conventions! Not the pieces I spent aaaaaaaages on! Haha.

[the-myths-of-styles]

why hello everyone sorry for the long absence we forgor ill post more soonish -ni

[p0pcorn-lung]

Derp blerp

[random-tail]

I'm kinda running a little low on self care mentally. So any distraction would b nice. If anyone wants to see durpy doodles of certain characters, name it

[myckicade]

your grilled cheese sounds soo good 😭 and yes, make a second, because I WILL eat it 🤤 how do you make your tomato soup?? I have a method for mine but I'm curious about yours! I always want tomato soup with grilled cheese and refuse to eat canned lol

It's a dinner date! :D! I usually follow it up (after some time has passed) with a fruit dessert, and I FEED my dates and guests, so show up good and hungry!

I have two recipes for tomato soup. (Please forgive my instructions, as Chef Ramsay, I ain't). The easy one - for when I'm in a time crunch, or I'm feeling lazy - involves very few ingredients:

Butter - Half a stick. Crushed Tomatoes - One can. Cream Cheese - Half a block. Water - I like a thick soup, so the amount varies. Salt and Pepper - To taste.

Combine together in a pot, let it cook, and hit it with an immersion blender. (I have arthritis in my hands, and that blender is a godsend).

The less-easy version involves a few more ingredients, and I do this in much larger batches:

Butter - One stick. Will sometimes substitute for coconut oil. Whole Tomatoes - One dozen or so, peeled. I grow them in the garden, and this is one of my favorite ways to use them up. Cream Cheese - One block. Sour Cream - I admit, I plop this is in rather haphazardly. Onion, Celery, Black Olives - Half a cup of each, approximately. Homemade Seasoning Blend (Dill, Black Pepper, Himalayan Salt, Basil, Oregano) - To taste. Sugar - To taste.

Cook the vegetables until softened, lightly seasoning along the way. Add butter. Add tomatoes. Add cream cheese. Add sour cream last. Season slowly throughout. Blend with immersion blender.

Ohhh, you have me craving a delicious meal now! *eyes her store-bought muffin with disappointment*

[shallowrambles]

Anon, I agree with you. You can stop asking.

For the record, I think it’s hilarious that Dean gets mad about Cas working with Crowley, and floored by Sam leaving Kevin to Crowley’s devices. Then, after Crowley legitimately tortures Kevin Tran and his loved ones/fellow students…it’s Dean who gets tricked by Crowley. He’s dangled before Cain and manipulated into to taking on the MoC in order to take out Crowley’s political threats. (Not to mention, loses his free will to demonic disinhibition, something he laments in 10x06 i think?)

But! His being tricked is paralleled to Gadreel and Metatron, and I think those manipulations too were attenuated by fresh psychological wounds, dare I say nervous breakdowns. 🤪 Dean is absolutely trying to win the war single-handedly and, like Godstiel, he has good intentions in the mix.

I think you got me wrong: I love hypocrisy and contrast and desperate decision-making. Even from Dean! I think lone wolf desperation as well as “I alone will save us” and “I’ll leave you out of this to protect you” tendencies are hallmarks of every member of TFW. And I dig it! I think where we get twisted up is acting like one member always has the moral high ground (and mental health to stay there).

[beggieburger]

Good thing there’s Jacob cat

[lord-overlips]

When you try to draw a serious and your brain will have none of it

[cadavercowboy]

Hot Rod

Anonymous said: i need a eddie munson fic where reader is pretty bold. I had a dream where i texted him "i wanna blow you" and he just responded "hot." i need this so bad 😭 Hmmm. *cracks knuckles* Alright, allow me to extrapolate a bit here... Idk why Eddie is a mechanic, it just felt right. I believe he would find this ridiculously hot and would lose his silly little mind if his girl got all confident and cocky about giving him the schlurpy durp.

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You send Eddie some dirty texts and he takes full advantage of the opportunity afforded to him.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Sexting. Oral sex (it's sloppy toppy, guys!). Slight degradation. Face-fucking. Cum swallowing.

A/N: Reposting this because I privated the original and tumblr decided to fucking eat it. :-)

He heard the ping of his phone between the high-pitched whirs of Wayne’s pneumatic drill, though he’d ignored it on account of the grimy layer of black grease coating his fingers. Another ping and then a third let him know who it was texting him. A sudden sense of urgency had him ducking out from under the hood of the latest vintage car his uncle had him helping to rebuild so he could reach for the red rag on the workbench to clean his hands just enough to check his messages. The sight of your nickname splashed across the screen had prompted a small smile, but the content of your messages had his jaw falling slack.

“Eddieee…”

“I wanna blow you.”

Short. Sweet. Straight to the point. Eddie had licked his lips, fighting back a groan as he re-read the texts.

“Miss the way you feel in my mouth…wish I could taste you right now.”

The bold statement had caught Eddie off guard. While you’re far from a prude, it wasn’t usual for you to so blatantly express your desires. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but he knew a simple text wouldn’t suffice; he needs to give you precisely what you’ve asked for. Still, he couldn’t leave you hanging so he tapped out a lackluster response, knowing he’d make up for it shortly. 

“Hot.”

Eddie had stopped giving a shit about his greasy fingers as he dragged a hand through his hair and tried to come up with an excuse to give Wayne so he could get home to you. Sure, he felt a little guilty about flaking on his uncle, but the constriction in his pants won out over the one which tightened his chest.

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie called hesitantly.

His uncle popped up from his stooped position near the rear wheel of the cherry red Coupe, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“I’m pretty beat,” Eddie lied easily. “Think I’m gonna call it a day, man.”

Wayne nodded as he stood, tossing a rusted bolt into a coffee can already half-full of discarded hardware. He wiped his hands on the stained material of his navy jumpsuit, wondering why his nephew had suddenly decided to pack it up for the night as he checked the dirty face of his watch.

“Alright, kid. I’ll probably be outta here pretty soon, too.”

Relieved that Wayne hadn’t questioned him, Eddie returned his tools to the rack and cleaned up his workspace so as to avoid any reprimanding from his uncle. His phone chirped again and he snuck a quick peek as inconspicuously as possible. He wished he hadn’t.

“Come home and fuck my throat.”

“Jesus goddamn Christ,” Eddie muttered, nearly dropping the device.

Wayne eyed him wordlessly, studying his shaggy-haired nephew as he fumbled with his cellphone and shoved it in his pocket for the second time in the last few minutes. He suspected the jingling electronic had something to do with Eddie’s sudden desire to leave, though he said nothing.

“See you tomorrow, Ed,” Wayne grumbled. “Tell your girl I said hello.”

Eddie’s steps faltered, unsure if his uncle’s words were intentional or if he’s just paranoid. Wayne noticed the hesitation but pretended he didn’t, instead burying his head in the engine of his car to hide his sly smirk. 

And that’s how Eddie ended up racing home to you and making it there in record time.

Though he knew you’d kill him for it, he texted you on the drive; punching the keys haphazardly — volleying his eyes between the road and the screen — to let you know he was on his way. He had every intention of testing to see whether you have the balls to back up what you’ve said and he knows you know that even without him saying so. Still, you pretended not to see his text. You feign ignorance as his booted feet come clamoring through the door.

“Baby?” Eddie calls, his voice nearly as tight as his pants had been the entire ride here.

He rounds the corner and spots you. You’re lounging on the sofa and watching something mindless on the television. You look so pretty dressed in nothing but a tattered Tom Petty tee, your bare legs stretched out and your ankles propped up on the arm of the couch. He’d love to bound across the room and ravish you right there on the worn green cushions, but he’d much rather have you make good on the earlier declarations you had made so confidently.

“Oh, you’re home,” you note with a smile, though your expression immediately darkens as you swing your body off the couch and begin to advance on him. “Finally.”

Eddie doesn’t even have a chance to say hello before you’re falling to your knees in front of him. His mouth drops open in disbelief and his arms raise at his sides; he’s not quite sure what else to do with them as your fingers deftly undo his belt and wrench his zipper down. You shove impatiently at his grease and oil-stained pants, shifting them just enough to get to what you want. There’s something so hot about the fact that you seem unphased that Eddie has come straight from work and hasn’t had a shower yet; his dick stiffens in agreement.

The warmth of your hand surrounds his half-hard erection as you reach under the waistband of his underwear and Eddie groans in bliss. Your texts already have him so torqued up, he fears he won’t last very long. If the jolts of electricity shooting through his body at the mere caress of your fingers are anything to go by, he’ll be lucky if his dick even makes it to your mouth.

“Been wanting this all day,” you purr as your fist pumps Eddie’s length, coaxing him to harden further.

His legs waver when he sees how hungrily you stare at his dick, your desperation written all over your face. Your wide, wet eyes peering up at him makes his cock throb in your hand and you lick your lips. He barely hears what you say when you mutter something about needing to taste him because your comment is lost among the sound of his broken moan as your lips surround his sensitive tip.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie whispers, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “That’s so…s’good.”

You suckle his swollen head, intermittently flicking your tongue across the weeping slit until Eddie’s knees nearly buckle. When you lean in to drag your soft lips further down his length, Eddie comes dangerously close to exploding. A muffled moan escapes you as you taste the heady flavor of Eddie’s skin mingling with his sweat. He sucks in air between his teeth, finally looking down at you again and delving his hands into your hair to guide your movements.

As much as you love when he takes control, you want to make Eddie feel good; specifically, you want him to relax and let you take care of him. Rather than heeding the pressure of his hands, you plunge your head forward and swallow as much of his cock as you comfortably can. 

Your throat constricts and your eyes begin to prickle with tears. The metal teeth of Eddie’s zipper drag along your chin when you widen your jaw to accommodate the size of him. Gently rocking your head side to side, you manage the last inch before Eddie is pulling away from you. He stops when your mouth is midway down his shaft, taking in the sight of your mouth stuffed full of him as his girth stretches your lips wide.

With your best puppy dog eyes and a dissatisfied whine, you silently plead with Eddie to allow you to proceed. You need to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, need to bury your nose in the thatch of curls at his base until you’re gagging around him. You want it so badly. 

Eddie shudders when you swirl your tongue against the thick vein that runs along the underside of his cock. Saliva gathers in the corners of your mouth as Eddie sits hot and hard between your parted lips, the slickness beginning to trickle down your chin. Something in Eddie’s gaze shifts in a way that both frightens and thrills you.

“You really want my cock that bad, huh?” he taunts, a hand circling under your jaw to force you to meet his eyes.

You nod your head carefully, your lips sliding against his turgid flesh with the movement. Eddie grunts in response as his thumb brushes along the corner of your mouth to gather some of the spit that leaks out. 

“Why don’t you let me fuck your pretty little mouth then?” he adds. “Just like you said earlier. Bet you didn’t think I’d follow through.”

Eddie’s words are stern but teasing, challenging you to prove that you aren’t all talk. He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead shoves his pants and underwear lower, baring his cock and balls and the length of his pale thighs to you. He shifts his feet and brings his other hand to your face, each of his thumbs hooking in either side of your mouth as he pulls out. 

“Look at me,” he commands, waiting until you obey before he continues. “Stick your tongue out.”

The wet flesh brushes against Eddie’s cock when you do, the heaviness of the appendage making your thighs clench. Eddie shoves his digits further into your mouth, tucking them between your teeth so you couldn’t close your mouth even if you wanted to. Saliva dribbles from your gaping mouth and he pushes the solid head of his cock through the moisture before shoving the stiff member back between your lips. 

“You look like such a pretty little slut. Keep your eyes on me and breathe through your nose,” is all the warning Eddie growls before he thrusts his hips forward.

The first press of his hard cockhead against the back of your throat is alarming and you flinch and cough, but Eddie doesn’t relent. He thrusts with steady and smooth strokes, his hefty cock dragging over your tongue and bumping the sensitive spot that makes you gag until tears spill from your eyes. You gag and splutter and each noise only spurs him on, the pathetic sounds earning a grunt of pleasure with each slip and slide of Eddie’s slick cock. 

“Stay just like that,” he snarls behind gritted teeth, making the demand as if you have any choice but to remain in his steadfast hold as he fucks your throat. “Be a good girl and let me use you.”

Just as expected, Eddie can feel his balls tightening with his impending orgasm. Adjusting your position, you brace yourself against Eddie’s forceful thrusts; cupping your hands around the backs of his bare thighs and hugging your body close to his so he can continue to fuck your face with ease.

You’re a mess of tears and drool and damn if he doesn’t wish he could stay here forever. Spit falls in steady globs on your chest, soaking your shirt. The wet sound of his cock sliding through the abundant moisture is going to be ingrained in Eddie’s head for a long, long time. Not to mention the way you whimper as you struggle to take him. 

A buzzing in his ears signals the nearness of his release and Eddie holds his breath as he buries every inch of his pulsing cock in your mouth. The swollen head slips just past the tightness of your esophagus and when the muscles squeeze him, Eddie loses it. 

He begrudgingly pulls back, only for the satisfaction of coating your tongue with the creamy spurts. You sniffle and whine when the warm drops hit your taste buds and fill your mouth. Though you do your best to keep it all contained, Eddie just keeps cumming and the abundant seed overflows and begins to ooze over your lower lip and down your chin. 

“Fuck,” Eddie sighs, fisting his cock and giving it a final shake to dispel the few drops that still seep from the tip. 

Not bothering to fix his disheveled clothes, Eddie crouches in front of you. He studies your soaked face and your full mouth, his cock twitching appreciatively at the debauched sight you make.

“Show me,” he whispers hotly.

You widen your jaw and stick your tongue out, careful not to let a single drop of Eddie’s cum escape. He inhales deeply, satisfied with your obedience and directs you to swallow it all. A shiver courses through you at the heated tone of Eddie’s voice, but you do as he asks. Your tongue peeks out to sweep any remaining spend from your lips, though Eddie beats you to it. 

His large hand cups the back of your head, pulling you in so he can capture your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. The sweet taste of you mingles with his own saltiness and Eddie moans into the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours until you’re breathless. 

“What the hell got into you?” Eddie pants with amusement as he observes you with adoration and surprise.

Joseph Quinn Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

[rocketpunchhh]

stream doodles. used some anime stills as ref for those durp irukas

[thewertsearch]

GC: YOU W3R3 STRUTT1NG 4ROUND 1N YOUR D3L1C1OUS K1W1 31GHT B4LL SU1T 4ND RUNN1NG YOUR FR3SH MOUTH 4S USU4L GC: durp yo terezi sup sup gotta beat john gotta beat john GC: hes got a long hood and he does wind, how can i get powers too? [....] GC: [...] 1M L1K3 D4V3 TH4TS GO1NG TO 1NVOLV3 F4C1NG YOUR OWN D34TH GC: 4ND 1M SORRY TO BR34K 1T TO YOU BUT 1 DONT TH1NK YOUR3 R34DY FOR TH4T

Well, at least she gave him fair warning.

Thanks to Vriska, John was able to achieve the god tiers without confronting his mortality. He didn't have to grapple with any of this, and it's possible that he was robbed of some character growth as a result.

That said, I still think Vriska did him a solid. It's just ironic that she thinks she's helping him develop as a hero, when she might be doing the exact opposite.

GC: BUT ONLY 1F YOU PROM1S3 TO TH3 3X4CT T3RMS OF MY 4RR4NG3M3NT, 1N ORD3R TO PROT3CT TH3 1NT3GR1TY OF TH3 T1M3L1N3 >:] TG: the arrangement being the coin flip thing TG: thank god we did that otherwise wed be screwed TG: i probably would have gone back in time and killed my own grandfather oh wait i never had one

lmao

I do wonder if Bro had an adopted family. We know Nanna and Grandpa's background, and Mom was probably the child that Skaianet were apparently raising in their laboratory. (Remember when I thought there was a secret clone of Rose down there?)

Bro, however, is an enigma, even among the Guardians. He has no known relationship with any of the other parents, but was definitely getting foreknowledge of Sburb from somewhere. I'm not even sure I want to know what sort of childhood produces Bro Strider.

GC: 1 TOLD YOU 1 W4S GO1NG TO FL1P 4 CO1N GC: 4ND B3FOR3 1 D1D, YOU H4D TO P1CK 4 S1D3 W1THOUT T3LL1NG M3 GC: GOOD H34DS OR B4D H34DS

Really, the coin is just a rhetorical device. Terezi doesn't need to flip a coin, or even have a coin, because the real flip is happening in Dave's head. His Mind, if you will.

This does raise a lot of questions, though. I hope there isn't a timeline for every conceivable decision you could make. We've sort of discussed the idea before, but I don't think I've really talked about the subtle horror of a multiverse that works that way.

I mean, if there's a timeline for every possible decision - if everyone is capable of making any choice, at any time - then John will randomly kill his friends, for no reason. There are millions of offshoots where he does this. WV will become a monarchist. Dave will take off his shades.

It goes deeper, too. You can't even meaningfully ask why Dave wears shades, because he doesn't. He's constantly taking them off, because it is possible for him to do so. And if there's a timeline where he never takes them off, it's only because that's a decision he could potentially make.

If timelines branch at every decision, with no restrictions, then every single person in the multiverse is constantly doing things that contradict the core of who they are. In fact, there is no core. Everyone is an indistinguishable robot, constantly making every possible decision, simply because they can.

Homestuck could work like this, but I prefer the Discworld interpretation - I think it's more consistent with the comic's themes of choice. In Night Watch, protagonist Vimes is confronted with this exact question, and we get this exchange:

“But sometimes you can’t help wondering: what would have happened if I’d done something different–” “Like when you killed your wife?” Sweeper was impressed at Vimes’s lack of reaction. “This is a test, right?” “You’re a quick study, Mister Vimes.” “But in some other universe, believe me, I hauled off and punched you one.” Again, Sweeper smiled the annoying little smile that suggested he didn’t believe him. “You haven’t killed your wife,” he said. “Anywhere. There is nowhere, however huge the multiverse is, where Sam Vimes as he is now has murdered Lady Sybil. But the theory is quite clear. It says that if anything could happen without breaking any physical laws, it must happen. But it hasn’t. And yet the “many universe” theory works. Without it, no one would ever be able to make a decision at all.” “So?” “So what people do matters!” said Sweeper. “People invent other laws. What they do is important!

In short, there are some things you would never do, physical laws be damned. It is inconceivable that Vimes would murder his wife, because his current personality is incompatible with that decision. It simply cannot be made to make sense, so it can't spawn a timeline.

Note that this is only true for Vimes 'as he is now'. His moral code doesn't necessarily apply to his alt-selves - or even his younger self, whose code hasn't solidified. Hell, half the book is about making sure Young Vimes develops that code in the first place. There could be an evil John Egbert, but our John can't just arbitrarily turn evil.

So that's how I think it works. There's a timeline for every decision that you'd choose to make, and that subset of decisions will change as you grow. Your development as a person shapes the multiverse, in a very literal way.

[hero-israel]

I keep hearing about Irish stances on all this, often in the key of "oppressed people everywhere recognize each other :)))))," in large part b/c I live in super-Irish Boston but also online, b/c -- to be salty -- I think a lot of white Irish-American people cling to Irish history so they feel less like white oppressors. Every day I grow a little more surprised at how fucking shameless it all is. It never occurred to me, somehow, that the Irish people around here don't know that they've been treating us like fucking garbage for decades, that Irish anti-semitism has defined so many of our childhoods, that my dad STILL tells me to wear an Italian horn necklace in Southie so when people look at me, they'll think I'm an Italian instead of Jew. I mean, they *know*, I guess -- but it's just really something to see all my Irish-American friends who care soooo muchhhh about examining all their biases cheerfully be like, "ofc we stand with palestine and resistance worldwide :))))" Like yeah, no shit, Seamus? The Irish don't like those filthy, greedy Christ-killers? Boy, that sure comes as a shock! Not like this could be at all connected to one of the deepest and more entrenched bigotries you guys have only barely begun to cover up in the last couple of decades! Gee!

I can't speak about Irish-Americans, but can very confidently say that Ireland's government and society wrt Jews and Israel is incurably poisoned by primordial Catholic antisemitism. Ireland noticed that sex abuse and orphan dungeons were bad because the victims were also Catholic, but the same social structures and teachings inspiring constant judgment and death-wishing of Jews were left in place unquestioned and unchanged. Ireland was notoriously the only country to send condolences to Germany when Hitler died - even Axis Japan didn't do that! The IRA had strong Nazi sympathies, because calling Derry "Londonderry" was just that much worse than Babi Yar don't you know. Ironic that the colonized became the colonizers - the ultimate living embodiment of white Christian Europeans warping their entire society around interfering with a Middle Eastern conflict because they look and say HURP YOUR ENEMY IS JUST LIKE MINE YOURE JUST LIKE ME DURP ESPECIALLY I LIKE THE ME PART ME ME ME MEEEEE

[charliejaneanders]

Last night I made a shocking discovery. You can sing the star spangled banner, our national anthem, entirely to the words "shnurby durp shnurby durp." This is REAL!

[double-ended]

okay iim ju2t makiing a new thread becau2e @jumboass ii2 braiindead enough two need it.

do you not a22ociiate people wiith theiir color? liike, yknow. purple ii2 the color of wealth, red ii2 a color of viiolent 2hort liife2pan2. iit2 ba2iic color theory you moron.

ii bet you read that the curtaiin2 were blue and ju2t thought "man that2 weiird. iim 2ure the author meant 2omethiing by thii2 but blue ha2 liiterally no external a22ociiatiion2 for me. gue22 iill ju2t keep beiing an iidiiot hurp a durp durp."

genuiinely. your tt ii2 viiolet becau2e hii2 blog ii2 purple-viiolet, becau2e obviiou2ly ii can u2e my eye2. and whatever ii can 2ay about hiim, he2 clearly no clown, 2o iit2 viiolet.

liike what el2e do ii need two explaiin here.

[kishona]

Happy Halloween! Merry Samhain!! :3

just me and @mollys-bullshit-blog doing what she does the best—durping in the background of my mirror selfies whenever possible 😂😇😍

[scarlettqagain]

-baby Kirk lost a tooth. Tooth fairy brought him a rawhide…

-baby Kirk has doubled in size. His durps are strong…smoosh his face

-good day for lilac nails and green four eyes.

- baby Kirk’s idea of hiding his chew…

Was a day…a good day.