#my brain wouldn't let this go

[max-verstappens-lip-freckle]

A very good boy ♡ might bite

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

A wild mafia au appeared!

Don't expect any more out of this au, but this post, this conversation wouldn't leave me alone. This is very NSFW, but no sex actually happens, just a lot of shameless gossiping. Kandicon, you won't like this one.

Cody burst into Frankie's room, very out of breath. He closed the door behind him and sat at her vanity, Frankie closing her English paper and setting her laptop aside. She didn't even get to open her mouth before Cody blurted out the events of the past 24 hours.

"Apparently, my family is a part of the fucking Mafia."

"Cody I-"

"No, no, I am not done. Graham and Boulder have been making meth and nuke in the tunnels for almost a year now, Dani's been 'getting rid of' any rivals and making Blades dump them in the lagoon, Heatwave is somehow not in on it, and both my dad and Dani have been fucking their rescue partner's holoforms in their cabs."

"We know, Cody!" Frankie shouted. "My dad made the holoform tech. He was building up the anatomy coding at the dinner table for the past few years while I tinkered with your dad's guns."

"Oh ew! That's just - eugh."

"Oh grow up! It's not like you don't carry shit for me half the time."

"Excuse me for being a little shell-shocked that my dad and sister are both monster fuckers"

Frankie snickered. "Don't you mean metal fuckers?"

"OK, but what the fuck do you mean by anatomy?"

"This stays between me and you, but the bots wanted multiple settings, with different ... sets of equipment, if you know what I mean."

"Gross. But now that I think of it, Boulder might show up asking next. They are just a little too close for comfort."

"I'm not surprised either, but Graham ain't interested." Frankie said.

"I am gonna choose to ignore that. The Decepticons are coming tonight to pick up the nuke for the DJD, whatever that is, and the meth is being shipped out tomorrow. I have no intentions of leaving my family, but I don't want to get involved with the family business. Frankie, I am staying over tonight, and you won't say a word."

Frankie sighed and took out the duffel bag from the last time Cody stayed over. "Got it, boss."

[enchantedpencilcomics]

my friend sent me a screenshot from the show with menacing ゴゴゴゴ over it and I just had to redraw it

[thebrainrotsreal]

Drew this real quick because I fucking love these two so much ???? Especially Bee. I wish they interacted more so badly. PLEASE.

Also learning how to draw these guys.. slowly.

[pianokantzart]

Okay, so I've compiled a quick list of reasons why Helen Gravely would work really well as the main villain in the next Luigi's Mansion game

Aesthetically??? 11/10. Absolute icon.

King Boo has been the main villain three times now, and his dynamic with Luigi isn't like Bowser vs Mario where they can just rinse and repeat over and over. King Boo shows a clear path of escalation, getting more unhinged and determined each time he's defeated. There's only so far he can go, and having a different main villain for a spell might shake things up a bit.

Hellen has more reason to go after Luigi than just winning the heart of King Boo at this point. Having had her staff defeated and her hotel destroyed, she doesn't strike me as the type of woman to take that sort of blow to her pride lying down. Not to mention the fact that Luigi was the first (and perhaps only) person to get her so riled up that she revealed her true form, so just add that to the list of reasons why she would like to wipe him out of existence.

Polterkitty has a very interesting (and terrifying) gimmick that... while having served its purpose well enough in Luigi's Mansion 3... could be played with and expanded on in future installments.

The way Hellen expresses herself, perceives herself, and interacts with others makes her an anti-Luigi in a way that Waluigi could only dream of, right down to the way that she willingly plays second fiddle to someone who would otherwise be her peer in terms of power and abilities. But while Luigi and Mario have a very respectful and warm relationship built on love and trust, Hellen is a megasimp for someone who coldly uses her affection for his personal gain.

[cinamun]

For the sake of consistency and the raging virgo who lives inside of me, we made a minor change.

[hollowsart]

-turns myself into a Paper Mario Partner-

I'm a Pokey :>

Note: the sprite is incorrect, the regular cactus tail is perfect.

I gave myself arms & hands cuz I thought it'd be funny and tbh I really vibe with the look of it.

you can see my design concepts and 2 other ideas for what species I'd be that I got from 2 different quizzes I took.

In the end I felt like the Pokeys deserve some love, they're just funky little cacti creatures <3

almost forgot the sprite sheet below:

[75th-hero]

*throws Deathduo at you and skitters away*

[blueteller]

Me, wondering: Why do I always get a weird feeling when I'm reading "Alver" instead of "Alberu"? It's not like I care about the specific translation all that much, or have a specific association with the name "Alver" or... anything... ... Wait a minute – "Alver"... "Alvin"... chimpunks... squirrels... ... ... Me: ...No wait that pun doesn't even work that well in English since flying squirrels and chipmunks are different words in this language- My brain: DO THE MEME ANYWAY

(Based on this old poster)

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

When dave "don't read too much into it" chella was first announced I would have said there's no way the Irving playlist would ever contain anything with "heaven" or "angel" in the title. Way too on the nose, right? This is supposed to be serious. However now that he put The Secret Marriage on the Bridgens playlist all bets are off. I'm almost certain there will be one put there specifically to harm and torment us.

But what exactly will it be I wonder. Tears In Heaven? Angel Of The Morning? Will he throw us a curveball with a Stairway To Heaven?? HALO BY BEYONCE??? If Spirit In The Sky is on there I'm legally allowed to throw myself into the ocean.

[harrylights]

a study in rainbows by harrylights

[piratekane]

(post-3x05 kacy scene)

Warm fingertips press down against the thin skin on the inside of her wrist, a melody she knows that she knows but can’t quite place in the early grey of the morning, the sun rising, muted, through the low clouds outside the window. She was asleep a minute ago and there’s a dream quickly fading away as her eyes open slowly and the room shifts into focus.

“Morning,” Kate whispers, still sunken in her pillow.

“G’morning.” Lucy pulls the words from the back of her throat like she’s pulling cotton from a cattail. “Time s’it?”

Kate doesn’t roll over to check her phone. “Early,” she guesses. “Too early for our day off.”

A day off. A present for her jungle excursion, courtesy of Tennant. A whole day to let her body come down from the high of being chased through thick vegetation with a life hanging delicately in her hands. Lucy lets her eyes close again and sinks back into her pillow. She goes back to focusing on Kate’s fingers looped carefully around the wrist between them. Tap, tap, taptap. Tap, tap. A song, then. One that she knows but can’t quite place.

“Is that Boot Scootin Boogie?”

Kate exhales a short laugh. “Taylor Swift.”

“Who else would it be?” Lucy feels the bed shift as Kate slides a little closer. She can feel the soft heat coming off Kate’s bare arms and wants to reach for it, pull it back over her, close her eyes and slip back into sleep for just a little bit longer.

It was a long day yesterday, her nerves pulled to their breaking point. When she stepped over the threshold to their apartment, the weight she had been working so hard to push off came crashing down on her. She doesn’t remember tasting the pizza Kate ordered, doesn’t remember picking Love is Blind on the TV or queuing up where they left off. She doesn’t remember brushing her teeth or turning out the light.

She does remember Kate’s body warm behind her on the couch, her own body pressed to Kate’s front as they sat wrapped up in each other. She remembers Kate’s arms and how they wrapped low around her waist in bed and held her tightly. She remembers soft lips to her bare shoulder and I love you against her skin as she let the exhaustion take over.

She remembers the Kate of it all, the steady and warm and loving presence she’s come to need like oxygen in her lungs. She remembers the overwhelming feeling of love—one she thought she’d never find in a million years.

“I could sleep another hundred hours,” she admits, eyes still closed.

She feels Kate’s smile against the back of her hand. “You can. We have nothing planned today.”

The thought is so tempting. She could pull Kate’s arms around her, drape them over her like the light comforter they’re sharing, and let herself sink back into sleep. It’s not too far off; she could reach for it and be asleep in moments.

But Kate is awake and tapping out a Taylor Swift song against her pulse point and that usually means banana pancakes and a Golden Girls marathon and pressing Kate against the counter edge and kissing her until either their lungs start to burn or the pancakes start to smoke. Lucy loves those mornings and the way Kate tastes like the bites of bananas she snuck before mixing them into the batter.

“Did I dream yesterday?”

“Only if we were having the same nightmare.” Kate’s free hand pushes back some of Lucy’s hair. “Otherwise, it was real.”

Lucy slides her foot forward, curling her ankle around Kate’s calf. “I thought so.” She opens one eye, studying Kate’s profile. She’s committed it to memory by now. “I feel like a truck ran me over.”

“It did,” Kate murmurs. “That very much happened.”

Lucy sighs. Yesterday wasn’t a dream. She can see it vividly in her mind and she closes her eyes against it again, trying to fill it with Kate—Kate so close and so warm.

“I’m not ready to talk yet,” she admits. She isn’t. She can’t. She’s still working through her family in her own mind; she can’t possibly put into words what they’re like and what they’ve done to her and to each other.

“We don’t have to talk.” Kate’s voice is soft and genuine and Lucy thinks again—again and again—how lucky she is. “We can just lay here. We don’t have to do anything at all.”

Lucy knows Kate isn’t lying. She knows Kate won’t push and she won’t prod and she’ll let Lucy set the pace for when and where and how. And it sounds perfect—a whole day in bed with Kate and their bodies pressed close together, hidden away from the world.

But someone told her to live her life yesterday. Someone who had the courage to throw theirs to the wind and start over from scratch. Someone who proved that there are still good people in the world who want to do what’s right for the sake of doing the right thing. And even if she can’t talk about it yet, even if she’s not ready to unlock the ugly parts of her past and lay them out on the table, she’s not going to lay in bed all day and let the world just pass her by.

“No.” She opens both eyes, staring deeply into Kate’s brown ones. “Let’s get up. We can make pancakes.”

“Banana or blueberry?”

“Both,” she says, feeling greedy and not caring. “And bacon. And toast. And—“

Kate laughs. “Okay. Remember we can only eat so much.”

“I can eat so much. I’m from—“

“Texas, yes.” Kate laughs again and leans in, kissing Lucy softly and pulling away too soon.

Lucy thinks about chasing her, pressing her deep into the mattress and not stopping until she has to come up for air. But she settles on letting Kate pull away and slide out of bed, pulling her hair up into a ponytail that exposes the long line of her neck. In her thin tank top and her soft shorts, no one has ever looked more beautiful than Kate does right now.

Lucy may be holding some things back, may be keeping some things close to the vest, but this? This she wants to scream from the rooftops. This she wants everyone to know. This she wants to tell Kate.

“I love you.”

Kate looks back over her shoulder, a smile on her face that threatens to break through the grey clouds outside their window. “I love you too.”

Live your life, Lucy Tara.

Lucy smiles as she gets up and stretches her arms above her head, feeling the tension break in her shoulders. She is going to live her life. She’s going to take every moment and hold it tightly in her hands. She’s going to love Kate with every part of her that’s capable of it and when she’s ready she’ll tell Kate everything she wants to know.

“Lucy?”

Lucy looks up. “Hmm?”

“I said, we can make toast too. If you want.”

She thinks about it for a moment before she smiles. “Life is too short to skip the toast.”

Kate rolls her eyes, pulling the sheet back up on the bed. “Where did you read that?”

“That’s a Lucy Tara quote, free of charge.” She winks when Kate laughs and scrubs her hair back off her neck into a bun. “There’s more where those came from, by the way.”

“Lucky me,” Kate grumbles, still smiling.

“Yeah,” Lucy says softly. “Lucky you.” She holds Kate’s eyes for a moment. “Lucky us.”

Kate’s smile slips into shy before she clears her throat and gives the neatly-made bed one last pat. “Lucky us,” she echoes. She slips out of the bedroom and heads towards the kitchen, humming something under her breath.

Lucy watches her walk away and thinks: this is a good life. This is a life worth living.

She follows Kate.

[flaming-toads]

You strike that pose, Miss Cackle!

[lemonadehtwooh]

Arjuna and Nanda :3c they're silly

[blackjackkent]

Sunset

Pairing: Jaheira/Khalid Characters: Jaheira, Khalid, Jon Irenicus, Imoen Rating: T Warnings: Major Character Death Descriptors: Angst, Fluff, Tragedy, Bittersweet, Torture, Missing Scene, Backstory, Character Study, Canon-Typical Violence, Flashbacks Word Count: 8.4k Setting: Beginning of Baldur's Gate 2, with flashbacks to pre-BG1, start of BG1, and Siege of Dragonspear Summary:  "I am in no danger of forgetting how my husband died. But I choose to remember how he lived.” The death of Khalid of the Harpers, and the love that brought him strength. read on ao3 | send me fic requests!

For a long, long time, Khalid has only the vague impression of hectic movement. The drug-tipped darts have not given him the mercy of perfect unconsciousness; instead, he exists in a never-ending world of shadow, dimly aware of being bundled head over heels into a cart which dashes off into the night to the sound of thundering hoofbeats. 

Somewhere in that long twilight, he feels himself torn from the cart, placed on another, then another. Then a ship briefly, a different rolling motion punctuated with a brutal chill, and then more carts, each somehow a more violent journey than the last. Every now and then, he feels a gentle prick of pain - at his neck, on his thigh, in the crook of his elbow - and then the shadows deepen for a while and he can see the taunting edge of oblivion. But awareness always creeps back, unrelenting, inescapable, and when he drifts near the surface again, he knows some time has passed, but not how much, nor where he is.

After a while, the movement stops. The drug starts to wear off, the shadows receding bit by bit. Vision returns, and then the sense of lying prostrate on stone, his cheek glued to the floor by a layer of damp and stinking dust.

He attempts to squirm, to roll onto his back. The room spins dramatically around him, sending his stomach in a nauseous scramble up his throat.

"Wh... where..." The muscles of his face feel wooden and stiff from lack of use. "Where..."

He is dimly aware that he should be frightened, even more so than usual. The fear, numbed by the lingering effects of whatever drug kept him sedated all this time, waits to pounce like a muzzled beast at the back of his mind. For the moment, he instead feels only a sort of dazed horror, and the creeping sense that something terrible and irrevocable has happened. 

He makes another fumbling attempt to move, and succeeds in rolling over onto his back. He's in a cage, and not a very large one; trying to shift from his curled position knocks his boot heels against the iron bars. The air is deathly cold, like a tomb.

"You're awake. Good," an icy voice growls from somewhere above him. Khalid squints up into the dimness and can just make out the voice's source - a tall, broad-shouldered man, his eyes obscured by the heavy hood of his cloak. "It is time for the work to begin."

Read More on AO3

[coconut530]

BAD “BOYFRIEND”