#idk let me know what you guys think

[tanlotts]

Kinda want to do some modern AU art for Fallout characters

[kaidabakugou]

my brain needs a break from working on three different collab pieces so i decided to pick back up my hellhounds kiribaku fic but i’m horrible with titles so help me decide

a little context on the fic - it is set in a world where chthonic creatures roam freely on earth and your job is to rescue the ones used in illegal activities which is how you meet two hellhounds but first you must earn their trust before you can save them after years of mistreatment

[toytulini]

listen im ace and im pro kink at pride and whatever, but the way some of yall are wording your posts in response to the backlash against it is uh. really taking me back to the ace shitcourse era.

yall know theres nothing wrong with being a "virgin", right? that its not inherently shameful to have not had sex, to never have sex, even if youre not ace, even if you do want to have sex someday, like, its fine that you haven't had sex?

maybe if your problem is that theyre trying to police your behavior and shame you for expressing your sexuality, you can say that? instead of resorting to "haha stupid virgin gets no bitches" like my god. do you not hear how fucking regressive that attitude is? i know, i know, youre "joking".

get a better joke

[sophysourpatch]

I’m trying something new with these

Have fun

[pensymbols]

ah yes the brook/franky/robin/jimbei polycule also known as the babysitters also known as monkey d luffys biggest enablers

[babisawyer]

Ben coming back to the cabin to see yet another cannibalistic ritual

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[s4ndg3m]

draw pest doibg a handstand

why would he do that

[kayvsworld]

sorry to be doing mcu throwback complaints again and EXTRA sorry for it to be about cacw and aou, sorry, i just am thinking again that if marvel had. in aou. committed to letting steve rogers see that captain america graffiti calling him a fascist with his own two eyes i would have forgiven many of their subsequent deeds and crimes

[hauntingblue]

making a collection

making another collection with a threatening aura

[oifaaa]

Jason is such a meticulous planner that he makes Hamlet seem impulsive.

Everyone keeps mentioning hamlet and I'm not gonna lie guys I've never actually read or even know what hamlets about (this is not an invitation to explain hamlet to me I'm enjoying my hamletless existence) so anyway I'm just gonna take your word for it

[doktorventure]

I believe in succubus!Hidan supremacy

[pickleking8]

Tw: mentions of bleeding out, vivisection/lab table, blood, death, and shattered glass.

Ok so I went to this random indoor pool today and for some reason my first thought was "This would be a great place for Danny to bleed out in!" My reasoning is as follows:

The entire pool was made of metal. Like lab-table metal, shiny steel or something. When you jumped on it it clanged and you could feel the vibrations all throughout the pool.

The pool was lit green. So now, we have lab-table metal bathed in green.

The ceiling was glass, and it was night, so as you lie on your back floating, you can see the dark sky.

When you're in the pool, alone, you can hear everything, the quiet swishes as you move your arms and legs, your joints popping, your breathing, and nothing else.

Bright fluorescent indoor lights on the edges of the ceiling (outside of the glass bits)

Together, we have a vast expanse that's incredibly peaceful (lots of time for "I'm almost dead" thoughts), practically tailored to remind Danny of whatever vivisection he just went through, but also perfectly tailored to allow Danny to look at the stars. Plus blood-red will contrast the pool's green, and blood mixes in very cool-looking ways with water. Additionally, shattered glass from the ceiling Danny probably just fell through would also reflect beautifully, perfect shards for Danny to, idk, view his old life in/reminisce/be forced to confront his reflection as he dies. And finally! The obvious stuff one could do with the concept of sinking as one bleeds (I'm thinking bubbles, if that makes any sense).

Anyway, in conclusion, there should be more fics where people find Danny bleeding out in a pool.

[thetomorrowshow]

fighting back

Empires Superpowers au masterlist

this takes place about 4 months after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: food, flashbacks/panic attacks in a public place

~

“Here’s your menus, can I get you both something to drink?”

“Diet Pepsi, please,” Scott says, raising an eyebrow at Jimmy, who manages a stuttered, “Water, thank you.”

Scott nudges him after the waiter leaves. “Boring.” “Caffeine used to really screw with my powers,” Jimmy admits. “I haven’t had any in a long while, but I used to drink a bunch of Mountain Dew, and coffee every morning. Stopped when I was around twenty-three, I think.”

Scott leaves it at that, instead asking, “So you’ve never been to a restaurant before?”

“When I was a kid my parents would take Lizzie and me to, like, buffet places,” Jimmy shrugs. “But then my mom got really sick at one, and going out as a family to someplace nice was too expensive. So we got fast food drive-throughs on road trips or for celebrations, but not much else.”

“Criminal. What do you want to order?”

Jimmy thumbs through the plastic menu, biting his lip. “Um. Not sure. Do I have to get from—”

“Here are your drinks,” the waiter interrupts, placing a tall glass of soda in front of Scott and a matching one in front of Jimmy. “I’ll be back in a few minutes for your order!”

“Thanks so much,” Scott says, Jimmy echoing him. He takes a sip of the water, ice clacking against his teeth.

It’s not a fancy restaurant, by any means. It’s a diner in a cheap part of town, a place that Scott had said has the best fries and milkshakes and had gotten very excited when Jimmy had said he’d never really been out to eat before. Jimmy’s fairly sure that Scott’s made a list of places to eat, to go along with all the sights Jimmy’s never seen and the foods Jimmy’s never tried.

There’s a decent crowd of people here, too, which is why Jimmy’s more put-out than anything else when he feels a hand run through his hair.

He jumps a little, glances around to make sure nobody is near him. Scott glances up at him, then back to the menu.

“I’m gonna get the roast beef sliders. Anything sound good to you?”

No flashbacks sounds good to him, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, phantom fingers curling around his hair. He turns his eyes back to the menu, stares at it uncomprehendingly for a few moments. “Um, you pick,” he says, pushing the menu to Scott. “What’s good here?”

“Ooh, definitely the reuben if you like rye, but the turkey and swiss is always a safe choice. Good?”

“Mhm, sounds fine,” Jimmy mumbles. He tries to grab hold onto anything Scott had told him about the food here through the brain fog of flashbacks. “Uh, you said the fries are good?”

“Ooh yes, I’ll get us both fries and milkshakes. What flavor of milkshake?”

Jimmy can’t remember any ice cream flavor ever, suddenly. He checks the menu, picks the first thing he sees. “Vanilla?”

“Sure! I’ll match.”

As casually as he can manage, Jimmy slips an ice cube out of his glass, cradles it in the palm of his hand. It’s supposed to ground him, remind his body that he’s in the present. The hand in his hair stubbornly remains.

He holds onto the ice cube until it melts, dribbling water in a small pool on the table. It doesn’t do anything but make his hand burn with the cold.

He blinks rapidly, twitches his head several times to try and shake the hand away. His trained instincts are starting to settle in, his body going still. If he moves his head, he might get slapped.

“Everything okay?”

Jimmy smiles easily, brightly, in Scott’s direction. His boyfriend is giving him a concerned look, hand out for Jimmy to take. Jimmy takes it.

“I’m fine, babe. Just got a little lost in thought!”

The acting skills from that one role as Cod Number 3 in Empires South Middle School’s production of The Little Mermaid Jr are really paying off.

Scott’s face eases, just as he looks up to see the waiter approaching them. Jimmy orders with no issue, watches the very pretty way Scott’s eyes scrunch up as he pretends to examine the menu one last time before ordering.

That doesn’t get the hand out of his hair, though. Maybe he should buzz it. Shave his head. Nothing for phantom hands to touch.

The hand trails down to rub his shoulders and Jimmy knows that wouldn’t solve the problem.

The food arrives and Jimmy releases Scott’s hand to watch him for cues, not trusting his unstable mind to do things in the right order. Scott unwraps his silverware so Jimmy does so as well; Scott places his napkin on his lap and Jimmy follows suit.

Scott seems to enjoy his food, and Jimmy understands that his tastes good as well but it’s hard to process. Everything is hard to process. It’s too bright in here, too loud. A family with three shouting kids passes by and Jimmy can’t help but flinch away, a movement that he tries to suavely change into wrapping his arm around Scott’s shoulders.

Scott scoffs at him, wriggles out from under and gives him a quick peck on the lips. “How’s your food?”

“Good,” Jimmy responds automatically, taking another bite. The hand pulls hard enough on his hair that his head jerks back and he freezes, biting his lip. He’s not going to cry here. He just wants to enjoy a nice meal with his boyfriend. Why can’t he just have a good time?

“Scott, love?” Jimmy manages, the slightest tremble making its way into his voice. He gathers his courage before he’s too anxious to ask. “Could—could you touch my hair?”

Scott goes still. After a moment, he slowly turns to give him a concerned look. “Jimmy, your hair is off-limits. We set that boundary in place ages ago.”

Great, now Scott probably thinks something ridiculous, like he misses the feeling of horrible hands touching his hair. He doesn’t, he doesn’t at all—in fact, he’s so nervous about Scott touching him that he can feel himself begin to shake. He just needs a little push.

“I just—I—” he takes a calming breath, places his clenched hands on the table, “there’s—there’s a hand. In my hair. And I—I want a real one. So I can tell the difference.”

Scott’s eyes flick up, and Jimmy watches as his face morphs from confusion to understanding, then sorrow. “Oh, Jimmy. I’m sorry that’s happening.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jimmy grits out as the ghost hand yanks again. “The ice trick didn’t work, eating didn’t help, it started almost as soon as we got here and it just won’t go—”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Scott says, glancing around as Jimmy pulls at his face. He’s fine, he’s not freaking out. It’s just a flashback, just a stupid flashback, and he’s fine. He’s not—he’s not—

“We can get to-go boxes, eat later,” Scott offers, already looking to wave down a waiter. “Really, it’s fine—”

“No, I want—” he wants to have a good time with Scott, he wants to eat, he wants Xornoth to stop touching him— “I want to be here, can you—can we at least try?” he begs, peeking at Scott through his fingers. “Can you try touching my hair?”

Scott glances around again, frowning. “Jimmy, I—” he sighs, bites his lip— “Jimmy, we set up months ago that if you’re clearly distressed and want me to touch your hair, I’m supposed to say no. And baby, you’re crying.”

And now he’s crying. Great. He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes, takes in a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want—I wanted it to be good—”

He can hear the panic in Scott’s voice when he speaks. “Jimmy, do you know where you are right now?”

“The diner, with you, and so many people watching—” he cuts himself off, buries his face in his arms. There’s so many people here, all staring at him as he has a breakdown over a stupid flashback that he knows isn’t actually happening but just can’t shake.

“I’ll get some to-go boxes, okay? We’ll go home—”

“But I want to stay,” Jimmy insists, and he just knows he sounds like a petulant child. “I want to eat out with you, I want you to not have to worry about me freaking out over nothing! I love you so much, I just wanted today to be normal. . . .”

Scott’s silent for a while as Jimmy sniffles into his sleeves. At some point a waiter approaches, asks Scott lowly if everything’s all right.

“We’re fine . . . no, he’s got PTSD . . . thank you for your service too. . . .”

Scott waits until the waiter leaves, lays his head down on the table beside Jimmy. “Hey,” he says quietly. Jimmy blinks at him through the tears.

“I won’t be upset if we have to leave. I just want you to be safe and happy. You’re not a burden to me—I want to spend time with you, and it doesn’t matter where.”

Jimmy closes his eyes briefly as the phantom hand falls again to his back, rubbing lightly. “Can—can you rub my back?” he asks, voice small.

Scott immediately complies, and the feeling of something real—someone real—touching him where the hand was makes the phantom sensation drift away, off into the air like it had never happened. He relaxes into Scott’s arm as his breathing begins to even out, tension seeping out of him.

“Told you,” he grumbles, pressing his head into Scott’s chest. Scott being there, his head up against Scott’s firm and real body, makes all the difference. “‘S gone now. Just needed you.”

Scott’s hand, still rubbing his back, pauses. “I—oh,” he says softly, resuming the backrub. “I’m really . . . I’m really happy you trust me in that way. I’m really happy I can help you.”

“Sorry for making a scene.”

“You don’t need to apologize for a thing, love. Flashbacks are nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Jimmy’s embarrassed anyway, certain that there are still eyes on him. He sighs, rubs his eyes before reaching for his plate. “Can we still stay? I want to.”

Scott gives him a once over, frowns. “Okay, but on one condition: if another flashback starts at any time, we’re leaving. All right?”

It’s the right choice to make, and Jimmy nods his agreement.

He’s still not used to luck being in his favor, but he doesn’t have another flashback, and he finds he can push through the exhaustion and enjoy dinner with his boyfriend.

There may be flashbacks, and panic attacks, but really? Everything . . . everything’s okay. For the moment, he’s happy, and he knows that a flashback is a minor setback.

He leans against Scott’s shoulder, sucking on his milkshake, and lets out a contented sigh. Everything’s okay.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[the-acid-pear]

hey do u fw phone guy jack and if so do you have any thoughts on phone guy jack

I loooooove phone jack as a concept unfortunately I haven't managed to build a coherent thought since the summer of '92 but let me try like. I mean he'd be undeniably one of the fucking worst ones hands down. Steven would blush next to how atrocious of a boss phone Jack would be. Because he's a bit of a cunt as it stands but w his brain reprogrammed to focus mainly on the company and forget his previous life? He'd be a turbo cunt. And I don't think he'd even that good at the job either. I do wonder if he'd manage to keep the narrator or not. I'd be funny if he did and the narrator remembered everything but was like, unwilling to tell him? Or maybe he'd tell him and Jack would just ignore it. He's busy half assing his duties to be bothering with past memories you know?

Hell even if he remembered I think it'd be a bit of a Roger moment in the sense that he was already fucking MISERABLE where he was and now he is Someone he's Scott™ and he lost everything already so what's even the point? Here is bad but there is worse.

Maybe I had more thoughts than I accounted for.