#it backfires terribly

[rosurie]

he's such a freak ♡ @bad-wink-scribbling

BONUS with @wreckowafer 's Yunie ♡:

moments before disaster. little did Damsel know by interacting with this freak one time, he would decide she was his best friend because she's Yunie's best friend. [local popular girl talks cordially to man once: instantly regrets it]

[meloneie]

I fw this idea heavy. AC is the only one in a better place than the one he started in because he's all knowledgeable and posh due to HP's influence while HP deals with the fact he has actual emotion. (Terrifying.)

AU! where the mature HP takes the young Anti-Cosmo under his wing and learns the importance of the emotional aspect of life.

P. S. If such fanfic already exists, then discard to me plz(((

[samijey]

#the way i SCREAMED

[rowanisawriter]

i have seen too many bad posts like in a row .

[possessedopossum]

His head swam, the weight of his thoughts dragging him down until the cold earth became his bed. As he drifted away from the painful reality, he expected to see familiar nightmares—the suffocating dark waters that had haunted him since first touching shadow magic. But the dream that came was different. Ravens. Dozens of them, perhaps hundreds, descending in a shrieking maelstrom of ink-black feathers. They did not simply attack; they feasted. Talons and beaks tore at his flesh with methodical cruelty, each strip of skin peeled away revealing not blood, but swirling darkness beneath. But the true horror came as their cries coalesced into words: "Arrogant child!" they screeched in unison, their voices sharp with scorn. "How dare you bring Rukhmar's fire where shadows rest? The Sun abandoned us, and it will abandon you!".

[multiversal-pudding]

Listen- I never played Nicktoons Unite nor do I know much about it aside from a couple cutscenes I looked up, but also. Why do I feel like Danny’s energy out of the four would be the most “This might as well happen”

[adrift-in-thyme]

did

did you say febuwhump 👀

-Sky Floor

Yep ;)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

your mice-feeding Charles post got me thinking about how in the original X-Men run they were always saying Charles is busy with his important experiments in his off-limits room... what WAS he experimenting with? what was bro doing?

what WAS bro cooking .......

[competitioneddie]

Tidbit Tuesday for my sterek fic of doom

Have I been absent for three weeks? Why yes thanks for asking I'm loving working on my master's thesis on why representation on TV matters and being mean on Twitter is bad.

Incidentally, I cannot stress how badly I need a beta reader to bounce ideas around please message me I'm nice and totally normal about Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski.

There is a witch in the woods and, much like many other creatures drawn to Beacon Hills, she’s parched with a thirst can only be quenched through pain. She comes from a distant life she barely remembers, other than the rotten florals that follow her, so she hides in the evergreen.

Nobody knows this, but there is a witch in the woods. There has been, for quite some time now, trapped and desperate to find a vessel. It has to be perfect. It has to be someone, but it can't be anyone. She must be patient and find the perfect person, one that would go to the greatest lengths, who would trade a life for a life for a life.

It has to be perfect. She won't have it any other way.

At first, because this liminal space she inhabits is familiar in ways she cannot recall, almost out of a vision, known to someone else in some other time, she waits, she gets acquainted with everything that makes up the forest and the town and the bleeding sky in the heat of summer.

Eventually, she dips her feet in this strange place called Beacon Hills, roaming but never free, and she hides, carried in the crackling of dried leaves on a clear day. She glimmers in the cold waters of the lake, rippling and reveling in the soft waves that break the stillness of the surface. She simmers in the tarmac, under the roaring traffic, and hums inside the pipelines of the buildings downtown, and creaks along the wooden staircases of old Victorian homes and rustles through the gardens of the neat little rows of suburban white picket fence houses.

She waits. She listens and she sees, and she bides her time. She lurks around the graveyard, and she runs with the winds around the ruins of the Hale house after the fire dies down, howling mischievously to lure the wolves that used to run in the woods. She wails with the sirens on patrol cars, and she slithers under the hospital doors, hovering over the skin and bones of a battered, sleeping dog.

It must have been years, spent rotting away in the depths of her isolation, when the forest starts convulsing around her. There is a rogue wolf circling her territory. There is another, and then another, and another one. It doesn't stop. The hospital room is empty now and there's a corpse, but no other ghosts to keep her company among the trees. There is new blood and old blood, blood that awakens something primal in the woods, something hot white at the doors that separate this realm from others, something that pushes her and whispers in her ear that her time has come.

So she wakes. She wakes and she lies underwater, in the creek, carried away by the first rains of the season, biding her time, until the crisp autumn leaves start crunching under the trodden sneakers of the young and unaware. The wind is picking up and the sky is slowly bruising away into a clear sunset, and there are wolves but it's not quite right.

No, it's not right. It's not the wolves that have her squirming in the confines of her shapeless lifeform. It's not the wolves. So then it must be the boy. The boy. The boy, who steps on a pile of browning foliage and mud and falls flat on the loose soil around him, near the edge of the cold stream, hands scrabbling around clumsily.

A rock slides and drops into the water. The lazily swirling currents set in motion a tiny ripple that reaches beyond the blurry confines of the riverbed, lapping at the muddy bank and splashing away mischievously. The water takes hold, soaking through the thin, well worn material of his jacket. The wolves have dismissed him, but she hasn't.

She knows, it is him. A life, for a life, for a life. The boy, the wolf, the witch.

There is a creature, for lack of a better word, a presence that might be a fae, a ghoul, a spirit, a shadow that creeps and preys on the tiniest wisp of hope and sanity she can find.

There is a witch in the woods.

She learns, she plots, she waits. She finds the perfect vessel.

And then, she shows her hand.

[algernoninwonderland]

I just remembered how the Life is Strange remaster completely butchered the original game’s art direction and now I’m sad.

[thebestever16]

Do you think the reason Josh got black out drunk in the prologue of Until Dawn was bc he trusted his friends would look out for his sisters?

[quibble-auk]

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

Look at me. Finally getting around to actual bits of plot I’ve had planned forever. It’s not exactly what I’ve imagine but I like it. It gets the point across. This is not proofread at all and is also kinda short.

I also hate the start but whatever.

Next

Jeopardy has a little breakdown but he’s fine I swear.

—

Warnings!

Injuries. Panic attack? Kinda? It’s smth like that. I really don’t know.

—

Dropmix had asked if Jeopardy would want to go on his behalf to retrieve some medical supplies with a small caravan. Though the larger medic seemed a bit reluctant to extend the offer, he argued it would give Jeopardy the chance to socialize with more medics and gain some experience. It was supposed to be a short trip with an escort to keep the medics safe. Overall it was simple and easy, nothing should have gone wrong.

So, Jeopardy had agreed. He joined the small transport.

It had been a mistake.

They had been traveling safely within Autobot territory when word of a large battle reached them. Their caravan was close and when the field medics requested for back up the leader of their small caravan had quickly redirected. The supplies they carried were needed more at the front, their medical knowledge as well.

That’s when Jeopardy should have known things would go wrong. He had rarely ever gone into the field, and on the few times he had, Dropmix had been there. The young medic should have argued against it, or stuck closer to the others.

The caravan had arrived at the battlefield and quickly gotten to work. Just outside the ruins of what was once Protihex, a large city-state that had flourished from the local mines. Unfortunately those mines had created a rather interesting dilemma since the war had started. The structures were long abandoned and without the proper maintenance had slowly started to deteriorate. The Energon mines below meant the ground was unstable and they would need to be careful not to disrupt it too much, otherwise it could cause a cave in.

It seemed ridiculous to have a battle here. Jeopardy knew they hardly ever planned battles, but it didn’t change the fact that both sides were at fault. Both Autobots and Decepticons were too proud to take a moment to consider their surroundings. It was the same story everywhere, why they had lost so much and turned their planet into a husk of what it once was.

The medical teams deployed had been aired an extra work of caution. Most medics were heavy enough that with enough of a disturbance the ground would cave below them rather than the mechs they stood next to. Other than actual war frames of course, but they had deliberately chosen not to send many of those out onto the unstable battlefield. So medical frames were the ones at the highest risk.

Jeopardy had discovered that first hand when a grenade went off nearby. He had been crouched over a bot who had gotten shot in the side, the medic had barely registered what was happening before it was too late. The ground had groaned as he shuffled to get away, shifting and throwing him off balance. Jeopardy had looked around for someone, something to hold onto. But he was too slow.

The ground gave way and he fell.

When the white mech woke up he was in a large mining cavern, staring up at a small sky light now provided by the small cave in. The air was thick and stagnant, his disturbance sending thick layers of dust and debris into the air and clogging his vents. Jeopardy frantically looked around to find the mech he was trying to heal. They lay to the side, unmoving. The smaller Autobot had not survived the fall.

He couldn’t help but let out a small choking sound as he sputtered to clear his vents, a daunting realization hitting him as he lay uselessly on the ground.

He was alone.

That was enough to force his body into motion, fear making his spark skip as he lurched into a seated position. His eyes flashing around the debris that surrounded him. Jeopardy’s breath picked up as his eyes wandered to the small skylight above. No one had seen him fall, no one would know where to look for him. He needed to find a way out, some way to signal for help. His communicator was having trouble with getting a stable signal.

The white mech forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to keep himself from letting his panic take over. He needed to focus. He didn’t have time to get worked up. His hands trembled as he forced himself to his feet. A pained cry tore through him as he settled weight on his left leg. Jeopardy stumbled, breath hitching as he crashed back down to the uneven ground below him. Another cry escaped him when he landed awkwardly.

Jeopardy hissed as he looked down at himself, letting his medical programs access the damage to his frame; scanners quickly leaping into action. Energon slowly dripped from under the plating in his side. He was bleeding internally. His energon lines pinched, damaged by the fall. However, there was nothing he could do without exposing himself more. His paint was scratched and chipped, his armor damaged. That didn’t matter, that could be fixed later.

The young medic’s head throbbed. Reaching a hand up confirmed that there was damage to his helm. The energon staining his hand as he pulled it away to examine it. Jeopardy’s shoulder had gotten shaded by shrapnel, most likely from the grenade. His eyes wandered down to his leg, his breath hitching again. His ankle sat awkwardly, the struts there were likely broken.

Another choked cry escaped his lips as he reached for the damaged limp, hands lightly tracing over the dented plating and shattered internal structures. Jeopardy winced and pulled away, whimpering quietly to himself. He would need to get the struts replaced, there was no point in trying to repair them. Which meant there was nothing he could do at the moment.

His breath was uneven again, heat building in his core as his engine idled. Jeopardy looked around the dark cavern again with wide eyes. His plates pressed into himself, trembling as his hands shook more. Jeopardy shifted carefully, flinching when he moved too suddenly. He moved to curl into himself more, pressing his back against a large piece of deteriorated structure next to him. Another small cry slipped from him.

Jeopardy knew he needed to focus, he needed to not panic. Dropmix would be sitting there telling him to try and even his breathing right now, to focus on something other than the countless possibilities of what could happen. On the reality of his current situation. Isolated and injured. Unable to escape the tomb the cavern had created for him.

His engine rattled painfully, vents sputtering on the thick air as they forced hot air from him. Plating trembled as it fought between the need to flare up to help regulate temperature and press against him to make him smaller.

The medic frantically looked around, shadows dancing between piles of ruin and flicking in the corners of his vision. The sounds of the battle above long forgotten, drowned out by his own engine and hissing vents. Jeopardy needed to breathe, his attempts coming out as desperate estranged gasps. He fought against the suffocating air around him. He pressed himself against the structure even more.

He was alone.

No one was coming for him.

A pitiful cry forced itself between his choppy breaths. His chest heaved, hands shaking. Jeopardy’s vision swam with static, his processor unable to hold onto a coherent thought other than how screwed he was. Nothing more than how badly he had messed up. Was that why Dropmix had sent him out here? Had he somehow made a mistake back in the medical bay and now the older medic didn’t want him around? Maybe he asked too many questions? Was he too annoying?

It was really getting hard to breathe.

Jeopardy must have done something wrong. Just like he always did. No medical facility wanted him around for too long. He had been wrong to believe that Dropmix’s medical bay would be any different. He had served his purpose and now Dropmix was done with him. He had messed up somewhere and ruined the only good thing he had.

A choked sob echoed around the empty cavern.

Dropmix wouldn’t miss him. When he got word that Jeopardy had disappeared he wouldn’t bat an eye. The medic wouldn’t send someone out to find him. He would probably be relieved that he wasn’t burdened with Jeopardy anymore. He would finally be free of the jumpy mech he had been given in the place of a partner. Dropmix would send for a replacement and move on with his life.

The white medic screamed when the sound of screeching metal interrupted his cries. His eyes lifted to the roof of the cavern as it groaned and fell apart. It was further down, across the large cavern that he could see supports buckling and giving way. The ceiling collapsed, debris raining down and crashing loudly into the ground. The very air seemed to shake at the impact, the ground rattling.

Jeopardy couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move as he stared at caved in spot. Light cascading down as dust settled. His body was painfully tense, his eyes wide as he held his breath. His engine had managed to stall, clicking and ticking as it struggled to restart. The world was silent aside from a distinct ringing. His entire being was on hold, waiting and watching the space that the spotlight illuminated.

Slowly someone staggered to their feet, struggling to stand. They fumbled, unbalanced and feeting unsure, their entire body shaking with effort. Regardless they rose, shaking their head as they attempted to stabilize themselves, leaning on a piece of fallen beam for support. Their golden armor glinting dangerously in the skylight, energon and grime covering the surface.

The silhouette of the large, hulking frame twisted to face him. A new wave of terror washed over him. Flicking eyes met his, dancing between red and white as they stared intensely at him. Blinding searchlights flicked on, the oppression beams of scorching light making him flinch back. They were too far from Jeopardy to make out many defining details—not with the static that danced in his vision—but he knew who that was.

Sunrazor was down here.

Jeopardy had nowhere to run.

[little-eye-guy]

(guy who's only beaten monsoon once with pilot and is now playing monsoon with robomando voice) oh boy three shrines of the mountain on stage five!

[hassamkhalidsaidfuckyet]

its so funny to see david just let trexel play out his terrible impractical bits ever since he started doing the brief by himself. he's simply extracting trexel for information for his one useful attribute which is, having-been-outside-the-room. letting him roleplay his little fantasies, accuse david of having an oedipus complex and sending him out by playing into his alcoholism. i love this master manipulator clone and i have a feeling its not going to end well for him

[askaceattorney]

Dear "Athena" or Whoever You Are,

It seems you didn't read the last conversation or the entireity. If you did, you'd know that any of the pathetic people you just mentioned were not my targets.

Fine, let me spell it for you and your puny little child brain. Let's start with this first letter. You can read these can't you?

Our lovely Mod placed that there for a reason. They were showing you what I was REALLY trying to do so there was no misunderstanding. Now, let's move on to the next letter I answered.

Once again, I am hinting at my true intentions mentioned in the previous letter. I didn't see the last part, but our lovely Mod was kind enough to mention this, being YOU would have seen this had you read the previous letter. Then, there is this.

Now, do you understand? All you had to do was click on this

and you'd have known that everything you just wrote in this letter would NEVER have happened.

- Dahlia Hawthorne

[lightfed]

calling someone dumb is basic. it's predictable. saying they share a brain cell with the members of suleiman's family is dangerous. it's lethal.