#i’ll cope

[sasster]

What IS That Thing?

Can you guess what ICP song is on this guy’s playlist with what was provided?

[Doc] —

The lights are out when you return to your hive, not just turned off, but actually smashed out. Small piles of broken glass near where the lamps live, only partially lit by the light in the hall of the building as you enter, indicate that much. Maybe the lights in these hivestems have a tendency of just exploding with very little stress put upon them, it has only been a few perigees since you moved into the place after all. At the behest of everyone that heard about your campaign to dethrone the local regional ruler.

Not many trolls possess that sort of audacity, at least not the ones that aren’t also fleet aligned. Dethroning those guys is a little bit like pulling teeth, or, more appropriately, getting rid of a bedbug infestation in the hive of a hoarder. Short of burning it all to the ground and starting over from scratch, it is always an uphill battle. But doable. Certainly doable. Actual Empress-fighting would be punching a little bit above your weight class, but you think you can handle a little skirmish with some run of the mill general. It should be a no skin off your nose sort of situation. After that, you’ll be able to put in place the sort of guidelines that will see that the people who live in these areas won’t have to deal with the mistreatment. The fight is only in a few hours, you’re amped, and there is no time for second guesses.

With caution you step around the broken glass and make your way into the small kitchen space that shares an area with your living room. It is a far cry from the near palace you were raised in, but laying low is important. The local regional ruler will have your head if they find you, and you’ve done so good to shake off their muscle thus far. What a shame it would be for it to all come to pieces now.

You sit in a stool in the kitchen and sigh, relaxing into a slump against the wall as all of the stress of the day starts to roll off of you in a wave. No one told you how stressful it would be to run this sort of campaign, but that might be just because it goes without saying. There is so little time between now and the fight, but you can’t show up to it wound up all tight like this. 

A creak in the floorboards draws your attention to your bedroom, and a cold dread pricks at the back of your neck. Did you shake off the muscle? Could have just been the building settling. Slowly you pull yourself to your feet and take deliberate steps back to the bedroom, stepping around piles of glass still while you do, and equip your trident in the process.

You call out toward the sound, “Hey, man. Whatever you’re getting paid, I’ll double it. Just get the hell out of here,”  as you near the door, using your weapon to slowly poke it open all the way. “Or I can kill you, it really doesn’t matter to me.”

The intruder is sitting on your bed when you enter, with a face obscured by a mask that appears to be smooth with some simple designs, from what you can see lit up by the dim moonlight. They angle their head toward you.

“They sent a laughsassin after me? Really?” Your laugh is breathless.

The intruder laughs as well, it is a mirror to yours, but much higher in pitch, and absolutely sardonic in nature. “I always get that. Laughsassin,” he bemoans as he stands up and stretches, there is something incredibly uncanny about the looseness he handles his own limbs with. “It’s outdated. Implies that all I do is kill and laugh. Which, alright, I won’t lie. It does take up a big chunk of what I do.”

Dealing with a clown today was the last thing you thought would happen, it was your understanding that GHBs don’t typically put their noses into the mess of seadwellers trying to kill each other. Isn’t it a net-zero loss for them, at the end of the day? But now that you’re thinking about it, they might just be happy to stick the old ‘the devil you know’ addage.

“Sometimes, I’ll have you know, I’ve also been known to convince.”

“You want me to believe you aren’t here to kill me?”

“I am here to let you know you’ll be taking a dive later this evening.”

This time when you laugh, it comes from sheer shock. They sent a clown.

To tell you to give up in your pursuit of the regional title.

They must be scared.

With his hands on his hips, the clown takes confident strides around the bed and closes some, not all, of the distance that separated you. Your grip tightens around your weapon.

“How about I kill you now, and then your boss later?”

He bounces on his heels. Why is he so flimsy?

“Or you can leave here with your head attached to your body, and watch from the crowd. I’m not taking any bribes.”

He comes to a stop within striking distance of your trident, you can make out two faint lines that curve like tear tracks down the cheeks of his mask, but you hold firm, watching him carefully. He stretches again, bending his body at the waist until something pops audibly. “Oh, I’m not here to bribe. Did I confuse you? The dive you’ll be taking will be the swan type. Y’know? Into your grave.”

In the time that passes between the words leaving his lips and confusion contorting your features, something else hits you, literally — A small blade, tossed with such precision that it slices through a bit of your cheek and ear on its way to embed itself in the wall behind you. “Y’know?” He echoes.

You are already advancing on him with your trident when the gears start turning in your head, and the springy bastard ducks out of the way of the attack and dances behind you with another laugh that suspiciously sounds like it’s still mocking yours.

Clowns are the worst. You didn’t even see him move to throw the damn thing in the first place. A frustrated growl rips out of your chest as you turn to face him.

“That’s all? You’ll need to do better than that if you’re going to scare me out of it.”

It’s hard to tell what he’s going to do next, without being able to see his face, which you gather is the whole point, but he’s already rocking back on his heels, reaching back to get a grip on his knife. He practically cackles, “You’re right,” followed by pulling the thing out of the wall. It doesn’t matter that he has his hands on his weapon, you think, without the element of surprise, a throwing knife loses the fight to a trident every time.

Smugness settles in your breast as you pull yourself to stand a little straighter, having found the confidence to make it through both of the fights the stars have set out for you this evening.

Then, the smugness quickly dissipates when the nuisance does something completely unexpected, and tips his mask up to uhm.

Well, it looks like he is lapping the blood, and bits of drywall but whatever, off of the knife.

“Why do so many fish carry a trident, anyway?” He asks and though you’ve instructed your body to lunge with the subject of his criticism, you stay rooted in place. A sinister glow begins to spill out around the edges of his mask. “I always thought it was a bit on the nose. You know? There are other weapons. Bet you’d have fared better with a harpoon gun.”

His words fly over your head, you are more concerned with your suddenly immovable body.

The masked intruder stays where he is, stretching and bending his freakish form while in the meantime your own disobedient body once again closes the distance between the pair of you. Your mind is racing. You’ve come so far, your aspiration right within your grasp, just to be killed by a clown.

His knife comes up to your cheek, where he’d already cut it before, and from the angle his mask sits at now, you can see two rows of sharp teeth exposed in some form of twisted grin. It is almost worse that the rest of his face is entirely concealed. He presses into the flesh and more of your blood is drawn out onto the blade.

“It’d be really nice of me to kill you just like this, y’know, but the boss wants to make an example of you. No hard feelings, right?”

[flowerboypoet]

back from the dead to wish everyone a

HAPPY SHIVERING SEASON DAY!!!!!

@mostremote

[romanoffsbish]

This is why nobody talks to me 😔

[bluepuppethidinginafilingcabinet]

the watcher fandom rn

[shrugsinchinese]

Tether Essence: for you to feel the entirety of my love

[canarydarity]

Boy, can’t wait for tomorrows session am I right guys

[spineless-lobster]

Okay but genuinely what happened to all the chthonic residents when the house was attacked? The dialogue briefly mentions that the shades fled so I’m assuming sisyphus, eurydice, orpheus, achilles, patroclus etc. are fine (also they’re already dead so they can’t exactly die twice) but like… what about dusa?! Is she okay??? Are the furies okay???? Is nyx alright? Did she flee to chaos’ realm? Where the fuck is thanatos?! CERBERUS???!!! IS CERBERUS OKAY?! SUPERGIANT ANSWER ME!!!!

I swear to god if that fucking titan laid a single hair follicle on that dog I will start killing

[r-aindr0p]

Holy spirit ? No… His brother.

[taciturnpoet]

Charlie’s small almost-smile when Todd says “it’s so beautiful” tells me there was a conversation that he’s referencing that we don’t get to see

[mcondance]

cw creampie, period sex, bad ending

sighs… creampies from hobie.. thick loads of white cum… hobie breeding you deep as he can, cause he knows that’s rlly all you want right now. fucking his cum deep into you, fat tip leaking white against your cervix, your sore thighs pressed up against his heated chest, legs thrown over his shoulders, your hands thrown around his neck. his hand caressing your hair as he makes sure to rut against you, makes sure you feel every drag of his cock against your sensitive walls, makes sure you feel the base of him slide against your achy entrance, makes sure he ruts his hips against your achy vulva, your lower bodies a mess of cum and blood.

“i know, love, i know. i’ll make it feel better, swear.” and he does, grinding his dick into you until all you feel is white hot pleasure, pulses of ecstasy streaming through you. hands moving from your hair, he swipes his thumb over your puffy clit, pushing his hips into you firm and deep, coasting you into another orgasm that you hit with a gritted moan, head thrown back into the pillows, shaking and trembling in his grasp.

“cum in me, please hobie, i need it.” you almost cry, pulling him closer like he’s not already on top of you, like he hasn’t already filled you up once. he lets you, nodding against your lips, seating himself as deep as he can. slurring, “i got you baby,” he cums pressed against your cervix, fulfilling everything you needed from him. he kisses you as you both come down, lowering your legs to the side of him, gentle lips moving softly against yours.

[metamatronic]

also obviously snake is a big one i neglected, but we can’t have him competing with crowley.

also reblog for bigger sample size if you’d like.

[graceofagodswrath]

She tore across the fields, the deserts and the oceans. She destroyed villages, cities and empires. She jumped across planets and worlds, ravaging, killing, burning. Nothing could stop a woman with such rage in her soul.

And a mother’s wrath in her bones.

It had been peaceful. An out of the way back world planet, green and bright. An oasis form of the planet earth. And it was a secret. A secret she kept between her and her child. A little boy, sweet as can be. With swirling black curls atop his head and big honey brown eyes, he’d stare at the only home he knew with playful awe. He’d dance while she tended to the garden, sing as they walked the wood’s paths. He’d ask a million questions about a million things, and she rarely grew tired of it. He filled her days with entertainment and happiness, and she filled his with knowledge and play.

But all good things end. That is the universe’s constant cycle. She came back from a mountainous trip to find her home ravaged, and her boy gone. She tore through the ruins, a woman of green spirits no longer. Now, she was fire and brimstone. A mountain of storm.

It didn’t take long for her to find the tracks. She called back to her dark past, the one she ran from to keep her child in a net of safety. It only did so much good. So she called back that dragon fire fury of her warrior days, and hunted down those scavenging fools who’d taken her only treasure.

And caught them she did. She stormed their ship, all metal and fang, claw and bullet, sweeping through them like a hurricane. Blood and carcasses painted the bridge in eerie art.

But she did not find her boy. However, She did find her next target. And it would not be long until they’d tasted the rage of her blades.

So beware the venomous scorn of a woman.

And the hellfire of a mother’s wrath.

[jester-step]

trying to get over the anxiety of having to do a job interview tomorrow by telling myself it’s JUST like when adaine got a job at oodles of strudel

[kindlythevoid]

Rabi: [gives Oppenheimer orange slices during his trial] Eat.

Oranges - Clyde Lawrence // pazoo-underscore // Ao3 tag - social_mockingbird // Orange Juice - Noah Kanan // onlinehorseproblems // Oppenheimer dir. Christopher Nolan // amateurdigitaldesign // The Orange - Wendy Cope

Edit: So I finally got permission to add in the beautiful artwork of Big Bird and Snuffleupagus sharing oranges. It was in my original draft for it, but I got impatient and posted it minus Sesame Street. However, much thanks to @onlinehorseproblems for the art and the words!! I think it works as a nice segue into friendship, don't you?

[shgark]

[frecklenog]

rewatching destiny is so funny but it also HURTS !!!!!!!!! jay has to hear his dad say he’d kill the destiny gang members, which includes little destiny, and i’m sure that finn would be understanding of jay and ld’s relationship but naturally since they’ve kept it a secret finn doesn’t fucking know and it clearly upsets the poor kid ,,, crying throwing up