#it isn’t much but it’s. a start lmao

[jackobbit]

RAAAAAAAA

It’s!!! It’s something!!! Certainly not my best work but I haven’t drawn in like a week so I’ll TAKE IT

Have some Solar Flare being a goober :]

Maybe I’ll do something similar with my Bloodmoon soon enough, but for now, we’ve got this!

[ID: A filled, digitally drawn doodle page that depicts Solar Flare from the working for E.V.I.L. Au in various poses, all are placed against a white background. Solar Flare is a boxy orange and yellow robot with several bent Sun-like rays, large triangular shoulder pads and large limbs. They have dark eyes with lighter pupils, and an air vent for a mouth. From left to right, they are first depicted from the chest and up with a bashful expression as they press the tips of their index fingers together. Next, they are seen looking over their shoulder. To the right of that is a small doodle of the character as a melted ice cream bar on a stick, complete with one eye dropping further down than the other. To the far right is a picture of Solar Flare with an angry expression, smoke bellowing from their air vent mouth. To the far left is a drawing of Solar Flare winking as they hold a large bouquet of purple flowers behind their back, followed by a doodle of them stimming happily by waving their arms up and down. This is followed by a doodle of Solar Flare as an autism creature, and then one full body image of Solar Flare extending one hand out towards the viewer. The bottom right hand corner is comprised of three doodles, the first being Solar Flare smiling at a bird that has perched on their hand, Solar Flare standing with their arms behind their back, and finally a doodle of them holding up one arm to present a floating Star. /End ID]

[clownsuu]

I have no clue if tumblr ate the ask or not (if it didn’t, I apologize for the double posting) BUT

BUT

Im glad to see so much art of Robbie getting so many friends who roughhouse with him, especially after the Robbie lore dump (possibly by coincidence? Since it wasn’t here) because he deserves friends who can handle and even match his energy :)))

YEAHHH IM GLAD TOO!! specially for a lonely guy like him,, he’s dumb and sometimes even criminal in what he does, but my golly he’s a really excited and happy guy,,,,,

[soullessjack]

Also just since my one jack-psychosis post made its rounds i’d love to add on these things for extra salt in the wound:

-> “jack smiles, so happy to be so needed, so loved.”

-> “they’ll never want to be friends again.” [“and that’s important to you?”] “they raised me. taught me to be who i am.”

[deus-ex-mona]

my five surviving braincells when something remotely good happens:

[cabeswaterdrowned]

As a Kandreil enjoyer and known Kandrew lover, I think it’s weird and embarrassing as hell when Kandreil/Kevin stans who’s least favorite pairing in it is Andreil try to frame them prioritizing each other more and more as the series goes on as somehow insidious or toxic. Like, you can dislike the direction For Sure and wish it was written differently, but be honest that it’s because of Kevin being your favorite (perfectly valid, I also react disproportionately when my favorite character is hurt by something narratively vs when it’s other chars even if I like/love them) and has nothing to do with *problematic messages about romance* (BAH!) or whatever you are trying to frame it as being the concern instead. 

[zerothesonic]

no because SURGE

she was made to be like sonic but no one will ever truly understand what she goes through except shadow

but because she was made to be like sonic she and shadow couldn’t be more different (she’s loud and chaotic while shadow is brooding and indifferent)

she’s both of them yet neither of them, she’s a copy but also her own person, like girl i love you but why are you so confusing

[akkivee]

was thinking about that event where they put some of our hypmic cast in a movie and samatoki was doing his best to act that role and it made me think of the time he also did his best to act in different roles in canon lol

[babyfairy]

i drew @ramdaughter’s adorable character renee 🩰🎀 she’s the cutest!!!

[thesunshinecourts]

countdown to tsc: apr 7., 2024, 23:58 pdt

2. digging your fingers into fresh dirt // renee walker, after lazarus

When Renee gets to the garden, her fingers are still stained with blood.

It had taken Abby’s most soothing tone and Wymack doing a passable imitation of Aaron’s impatient candour—the same language as Wymack’s, but less heart-filled bluster, more blunt force trauma—to get Renee to leave the room. She’s still not sure she should have, but Abby’s voice had been gentle when she’d said, this isn’t like Matt. Giving him something to believe in will come later.

Renee doesn’t know if she’s ever seen Abby so angry and horrified. It’s worse than how she looked at Kevin’s injuries, that very first night. It’s worse than how she looked at Neil, both times, after the Nest and after his father. It’s almost as devastated, Renee thinks, as the way she looked when she held Allison tight to her chest that first night after Seth.

Wymack is better at holding his expressions in check, but Renee knows him. There had been a tremor in his knuckles when he opened the passenger car door. He’d gotten it under control fairly quickly, to his credit, but Renee had noticed.

Renee had thought, I am not the only one who must draw on all my reserves to keep steady.

She breathes out, then in, as if the smell of growth in the world around her can flush through her body. When she was a second year, Seth had taken a biology class with Dwayne. It had nothing to do with either of their majors—she remembers Juan making some sort of joke about growing pot, and Seth elbowing him with a sidelong glance at Allison, who had rolled her eyes and told them both that she thought they’d be lucky to keep a fake plant alive in the shithole they called a dorm—but Seth had liked it better than anyone had expected, occasionally offering up things he found interesting from the units on horticulture.

There had been a joke about photosynthesis once, something that had been mostly earnest information, but he hadn’t been able to resist throwing in some teasing at the end, always trying to make Allison laugh. Renee feels a sudden wave of indescribable, quiet grief when she realises she can’t remember how his joke had gone.

There are four plants to her left, still in the plastic pottles you buy them in at the store. Renee remembers Abby talking about a sale a few weeks ago, and wonders if these are those same plants. It’s been a demanding few weeks, she thinks. Life is often unkind to those that cannot move of their own accord.

She’s not really thinking about it when she walks over and picks them up. She puts them together, two by two, and squeezes her fingers around two pottles per hand. There are probably gloves somewhere; a trowel too, maybe.

Renee does not care.

Kneeling down at the edge of the garden, there’s a patch with looser soil than the rest. It is poor behaviour, she thinks, to start messing around with Abby’s things without asking permission first, but Renee does not have the space in her yet to hold back. Abby will forgive her, which is not an acceptable reason to do something, but Renee is so angry. She spent her whole night transforming terrified grief into determination and a plan, and then the six-hours-and-then-some drive from Castle Evermore back home with nothing in her mind but Jean. The impossibiity of him.

The impossibility of him still being alive. The impossibility of her getting there in time, and even that’s still to be determined. The impossibility of how much she aches, looking at him and thinking about him and praying for him. Four hundred miles on the I-77, and all she could do was pray.

It was a very human thing, Renee thinks, to walk into Evermore to get him out. Stephanie had been proud of her, and Abby had called her brave, and Andrew had looked at her with that innate knowledge of someone who understood what it meant to take someone under their wing, and absolutely none of their thoughts and love and understanding change the fact that Renee walked into Castle Evermore with more fear than faith.

She digs. One hand into the soil, then the next. There is blood on her fingers still, beneath the nails. Part of Renee has the uncharitable thought that she hopes it’s Zane’s, stray flecks from when she punched him. More of her accepts that it’s Jean’s. She does not know when it is from: when she first knelt at his side on Riko’s bedroom floor, when he was carefully settled into her car, when she and Wymack lifted him into Abby’s house, when she sat beside him and held his hand as those broken, wounded sounds ripped their way from his throat and drove right into her heart, piercing it through, over and over, just as the way the ugliest part of her, buried beneath therapy and anger management and the most wilful calm she has ever had to cloak her body in, wishes it could do to Riko.

Jean’s blood beneath her fingernails, spattered across her hands, buried into the soil. She’s planting a flower she does not know the name of, and all she hopes for is that Jean will bloom.

Please, she prays, tugging the roots apart with a care and precision she did not feel capable of two hours ago, listening to Jean’s screams. Please, she prays, pressing the plant into the soil, cupping her hands together to scoop the dirt, helping it settle into its new home. Please, she prays, patting down the soil, warm earth meeting her palms like a balm.

Please, she prays. Stephanie says you are not done with him yet. She was right about me. Thank you for getting us this far. Please. Please. Please.

“Renee?”

It’s Abby’s voice, exhausted and haunted and utterly wrecked. She still manages a wan smile when Renee looks up at her. Abby doesn’t seem to notice that Renee has been co-opting her garden, or maybe she’s too raw to care.

“You can come back in now,” she says, like she knows it’s both a gift and punishment at once.

Renee nods, then stands, brushing the dirt off her trousers. She looks at Abby as she approaches, trying to choose her words. To ask how he is would only invite more sadness; to ask if he’ll live betrays how deep her fear has run.

“I’m sorry,” she says in the end, quiet but sincere. “That must have been… very difficult.”

The look Abby gives her is brief, but pained. “He breaks my heart as much as any of you,” she says, quickly, fervently, “but that is never a thing to apologise for.” Abby looks so sad. It makes Renee ache, but this is not the type of thing she can wipe away. “Thank you for bringing him here,” Abby says, and Renee feels rocked with it.

“Thank you for letting me,” she says in return, and neither of those are entirely what they mean, but it is enough. Renee will always walk into Castle Evermore to save Jean, and Wymack and Abby will always open the door when she arrives in South Carolina. There is no version of this story, Renee thinks, where they follow any other script.

This is what it is to be Foxes, after all.

“He’s still not quite himself,” Abby says. There is a part of Renee that finds this sentence amusing; Abby has never met Jean, not truly, only from Kevin’s stories. More of her is somber. She knows what Abby means. “But I think he’ll feel — perhaps only marginally, but I think he’ll feel more at ease having you beside him. I’ve done what I can, for now, and there will be more medication and treatment and dressing of his wounds, much more before the night is through, let alone before he is recovered, but —” She exhales, long and low. “He is alone, and in pain. We can’t do much more about the second one. But he can have you back.”

Renee nods, setting her jaw as Abby steps back to allow her through.

“Then he shall have me until I am no longer needed,” Renee says, and thinks, and perhaps some time longer after that.

Abby gives her a careful look. “That could be a very long while,” she says, but she does not offer any sort of objection.

“That’s okay,” Renee says. “I don’t mind waiting.”

[snailvibes]

Thinking about. Warren’s role in Max’s Nightmare Sequence.

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

I don't wanna be perfect (I just want to be good enough for you)

Heist!Mark x reader (can be read as platonic or romantic) | Words: 694

You are curled into your heist partner's side in the living room area of your shared base, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, when he asks you something out of the blue.

‘Do you think– are we… good people?’

You turn to face him, shutting off your phone screen, and raise an eyebrow.

‘Who are you and what've you done with Mark?’

‘Come on, I'm serious.’ You give him a baffled look and he sighs. ‘I never really thought about it all that much, I guess. I think I always just sorta accepted it? I sorta fell into this profession because it was fun and it paid the bills — I mean, don't get me wrong, I love what we do. I love the thrill, and I love the satisfaction of getting away with our loot scott-free. But I dunno… Recently I've been thinking. Is it bad that I enjoy this job? Am I a good person?’

It's a fair question, you suppose. You understand where he's coming from, but you're sure you both knew what you were getting into when you started this lifestyle, and once you've been doing it for so long it's hard to even begin to think of doing anything else, let alone the difficulty that would come with becoming an honest, working citizen without getting caught and sentenced for your many transgressions.

‘I mean, we're thieves, Mark — regular, organised criminals. We're not exactly heroes’ — you jab him lightly with your elbow — ‘as much as you like to act like one.’

He chuckles at that. There is a light-hearted smile on your face that is soon replaced with a more thoughtful expression. You cast your gaze away from him as you continue.

‘I think good and bad are kinda relative and subjective. The average person probably wouldn’t consider us good people, and yeah, I can't say we're necessarily good, but I don't think we're terrible either. I mean, I wouldn't want to actually hurt anyone. Would you?’

‘No,’ he says quickly. ‘No… Unless someone gave me a reason to.’

‘Well, that's fair. I think that's the same for most people.’

You pause, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. You don't recall at what point your fingers involuntarily found the edge of his clothes, but the familiar texture grounds you. ‘Yeah, we might not be good people per se, but I don't think that makes us bad people exactly, either.’ You meet his eyes again, with all the earnestness you can. ‘I don't think you are, at least,’ you add softly.

‘I don't think you are either,’ he says, and his tone is gentle but unwavering. You feel warm.

You offer a good-natured smile, attempting to turn the conversation in a lighter direction.

‘You know, in our defence, we mostly rob museums and super rich people. I don't think we need much justification to steal from the hella rich, and most stuff in museums is stolen anyway,’ you say matter-of-factly.

He laughs, loud and genuine, and the sound only warms you further.

‘Y'know, you're not wrong…’

‘But seriously,’ you ask, ‘what got you thinking about all this?’

‘I…’ he starts, voice low again, hesitant. ‘I don't know.’

But he does know, he thinks to himself, as he looks into your eyes. He often finds himself wondering what kind of person he is in those eyes.

It's you, he thinks. It's all you.

You break the entirely-too-long and yet far-too-short period of eye contact in favour of returning to your former position, nestled into his side. You lean into him and he places an arm around you, his thumb gently brushing wherever it can reach. You don't think all that much of it, but he's warm and comfortable and safe, and the way you fit together feels like home.

He thinks you're probably right; the idea of a good or bad person isn't something set in stone. And his and your standards measured against anyone else's would certainly differ.

But he finds that he doesn't really care what anyone else thinks of him.

As long as his best friend, his partner, still likes him enough to keep sticking around, that's enough for him.

[sansa-of-oldstones]

🎶 musical artist - favorite band/artist growing up

This is a really hard question for me to answer, but I’ll try. Sorry for the long answer, but music is a bit of a hyper focus of mine.

My Dad loves classic rock and my mum loves 80s hair bands and Billy Joel. Piano Man forever holds a special place in my heart, and so do Tom Petty, Bob Seger, and Journey. My aunt gave me a harmonica for my 5th birthday because I would not stop singing Tom Petty songs. That was the first instrument I learned to play.

She is also the one who played her Beatles 45s for me, and led to my love of them. I lost her when I was 16, but I still have those memories and songs. Here Comes The Sun is my “Vecna song”, and why my daughter is named Abbey. After Abbey Road.

I was the kid listening to hand me down cassette tapes on my bright yellow Walkman. Previously stated artists, along with: Elton John, Eric Clapton, and The Beach Boys (my aunt also loved them).

When I was 13, I fell in love with Something Corporate after hearing Leaving Through The Window. Hurricane, Punk Rock Princess, I Woke Up In A Car. I adore these songs. Andrew is a treasure, and I am so glad he survived what he has. His story really resonates with me, and I could talk about it endlessly. They were one of my first concerts. My love for them extended to Jack’s Mannequin. Everything in Transit is easily one of my favorite albums of all time. My Dog is named Delaney because of Miss Delaney. I went and saw Andrew last July in Orlando. He’s why I learned to play piano.

Through my husband (and high school boyfriend) I developed an appreciation for Jimmy Eat World, Death Cab, and Fall Out Boy. ITS TO JIMMY EAT WORLD AND THOSE NIGHTS IN MY CAR (anyone who knows what this is from let’s be friends). I Will Follow You Into The Dark is a favorite song as well. There are also songs from being in band that will remain in my head rent free. I played flute. My husband was a snare on the drum line. Alexa, play Crank That (Soulja Boy).

In 2006, I was 18 and a senior in high school. A girl from Reading, Pennsylvania released her debut album. That album helped me through SOME SHIT. I have loved Taylor Swift ever since. I feel like I’ve grown up with her. My husband took me to The ERAS tour in April 2023, for our Anniversary/My Birthday. Highlight of my life. I got to hear You’re On Your Own, Kid the very first time she played it live. I’m a sucker for track 5s. I could discuss her ad nauseam.

That pretty much covers the music I loved growing up! Thank you! Sorry for the long ask answer!

[fuzzyunicorn]

Tryin’ a lil experiment today but I already know my hypothesis is correct

[saturno-sol]

Yknow maybe it’s not a good thing to have kids with a ten year+ difference between them.

[blueish-bird]

sorry if I don’t remember your name or conversations/experiences or basic things about myself, every few weeks my brain gets factory reset and I have to relearn how to be alive

[whumpypepsigal]

hello my dear friends! it’s been a minute

🎶gloooooorioussssss new whump posts coming in hot🎶

✨hurt✨comfort ✨found family✨