#n e way...

[gludgenbell]

You know when you get stuck in like a rut for a couple weeks (or months, y'know) where you just kinda feel blah and like you're doing the same thing over and over and it's stressing you out and then one day you realize "wait I can just do some human things and no one's gonna stop me". Have you ever feel this?

Mhm! So these past few months I've been in said rut where I more feel like I'm not living and I'm rotting away blah blah blah my life is an endless round of monotony that I don't know when it will stop but it will and I have to trust that

And then I watched Hairspray

Kid you not! I watched Hairspray and then I watched more movies and then I started to create again and do art practices

And I'm still not. Living

I'm still in limbo

But it's getting better, very slowly it's getting better^^

[kaipassedgo]

every day i wake up and am mad at the end of steves storyline and the full and complete lack of people who GET IT

[ghosted-jazz]

I hope they got that microwave in the break room

Bonus version with different outfit colours:

[bacchuschucklefuck]

a totem pole of hopeful idiots

[pineapple-frenzy]

Book 2 au: sparring sessions and short hair katara

They like to have sparring sessions in order to keep their bending skills sharp. They allow themselves to go all out and not hold back at all cause they know if anyone got hurt, Katara could just heal them

But anyways, wouldn't it be kinda funny if Zuko accidentally burned Katara's hair tho? Aofkqldkkajfjd

The "I think we can save the hairloops" line is from @linnoya-writes thank you for that!! :>>

[trashcreatyre]

Yuri wedding officiated by Sonic the Hedgehog

[irrealisms]

everyone in mcyt fandom talks about bad inventories but i feel like we don't talk enough about the different types of bad inventory & the ways that inventories can be characterizing. i took most of these screenshots but one or two of them aren't by me and i've just had them saved for a few months sorry. i'm taking inventories from various people across various servers (wild life, dream smp, hermitcraft, lifesteal, and 2b2t) to illustrate my point here

like there are inventories that are bad because they're empty:

but then there's also inventories that are bad because they're full:

and, like-- the different ways an inventory can be bad are also characterizing? an inventory can be bad because the items aren't stacked; or because it's empty of anything useful; or because it's so full of building/fight supplies that there's no slots left for doing anything else; or because it's full of random junk. it speaks to a character's position (compare tubbo's diamond sword and empty inventory to ranboo's netherite sword or zam's full inventory of potions) and the rules of the server they're on (tubbo's not wearing elytra because elytra aren't allowed on the dsmp; zam's inventory has chorus fruit and wind charges but no ender pearls because ender pearls aren't allowed this season on lifesteal) and what their priorities are (building, pvp, lore) and how organized vs scattered they are and so much more. another inventory i like:

like!!! that's so instantly characterizing, for both the character and the server!!!! 5 stacks of end crystals + obsidian. 6 stacks of tnt. 3 stacks of god apples and a stack of chorus fruit as your only food. the bucket of lava and bucket of water for lavacasting. the fact that the flint and steel is enchanted with unbreaking. that's a STORY--of the character but also of the server! this is not the sort of inventory you have on most servers! it's so focused around griefing--explosions, lavacasts--and pvp, and the stacks of god apples as primary food source are an instant warning sign for widespread duping. the chorus fruit not for fights--ender pearls are strictly better, and he's got some so he clearly has access to them--which means it's for escaping traps, which means that's a live concern. it's got a lot of pvp supplies but it's so wildly different from the lifesteal inventory in ways that speak to the differences in server rules and cultures. like, horrendous inventory in many ways. also, very good inventory in some ways. also also, delightful inventory! fascinating inventory!!! inventories are such a delightful source of instant characterization i love them so so much

[zehrbear]

Bones and All

pairing : Dragon!Sylus x fem!Reader

cw: smut, monsterfucking, predator-prey, blood, double P in V, being restrained with his tail, reader has tits and a vagina, sylus wants to eat you :3

Sylus is obsessed with how soft you are.

He’s enthralled by the curve of your hips, the way you yield beneath his claws that leave hollow indents behind on your flesh with every squeeze. You’re his favorite possession, his greatest indulgence to hoard.

The reminder strikes him as he watches you lounging atop the velvet settee, oblivious and serene, against a backdrop of gold and glittering that gleam in the dim light of the cave. His reptilian gaze lingers, drinking in the way your body bends and twists, the natural grace of you as you stretch when you think no one is watching. The lazy roll of your spine, the shifting of your thighs, it all leaves his claws twitching with the need to claim you. He pictures your body beneath him, all pliant and willing, as he maps each curve. He imagines mouthing at your jaw, his lips grazing down your neck to drink in the scent of you.

You’re always so sweet. So soft. So warm.

So fresh.

The thought teeters on the edge of something darker. A place where the line between desire and hunger blurs into a bloody haze as he grapples with his conflicting feelings. As he finds himself unable to discern between his mate and his feed for the night. 

Your head snaps to the side when you hear the sudden shifting of gold, the sliding of coins that lay scattered across the ground against one another, as they do when pushed by something heavy. 

“Sylus?” Your voice is higher than you intended, raw with unease. 

There’s no response. His name echoes back at you, hollow and mocking before the sound suddenly stops. You turn sharply, pulse roaring in your ears, only to meet with nothing.

It doesn’t feel right. Every instinct screams at you to run, but your legs feel like they're in quicksand; lethargic, heavy, unable to move. It feels like you’re sinking into the gold beneath you shifting right below your feet. Your breaths come shallow, rapid, each one colder than the last as you look around for the source of your panic. That is, until your gaze lands on two scarlet eyes, wide and predatory, gazing right at you from the shadows before it disappears once more. 

He’s stalking you.

Coins spill and clatter, tumbling in a slow cascade down mountainous piles on either side of the cave’s walls. You spin again, your movements frantic, and it’s as if the shadows are alive - seeping into every crevice, pooling at the edges of your vision.

You feel him circling you. You swear you can when a brush of heat grazes against your arm, making you jolt upright. Your head jerking to the side to catch a glimpse of him, but once more, you’re met with nothing but the ghost of a touch and the roaring of your blood in your ears.

“S-Sylus?” you whisper this time, a breathless sound barely audible, and in that moment you don’t know if you’re calling for him to reveal himself or begging him to stay hidden.

A growl rolls out of the dark, low and resonant, reverberating through the cave and into your very bones. And in that moment, every part of you screams prey. The frantic thrum of your pulse, the quivers of your body, the way your breath comes shallow and quick betraying the fear you can’t possibly hide.

It’s intoxicating to him.

The world blurs as something crashes into you, an overwhelming force that knocks the breath from your lungs. The gold shifts violently beneath you as you’re thrown back, coins scattering and clattering in a deafening storm. Your body hits the ground hard, sharp edges biting into your skin. You gasp, chest heaving as panic flows through your every vein. 

Before you can even process it, he’s on you.

Sylus looms above you, all dark scales and burning lust, his massive form blocking out the light with a presence that eclipses everything else. A claw makes its way to your face, tilting it upwards and baring your neck to him as the other holds you down by the shoulder, pinning you down easily. You twist and squirm trying to break free, but it’s futile as his scorpion-like tail wraps around your middle, sinuous and heavy, and locks you in place.

His chest heaves, his breath hot and heavy against your skin as he lowers his face to yours. His eyes are blown wide, the red of his irises swallowed by darkness, fixed on you with a singular, unrelenting focus. He’s panting, his jaw unhinging just enough for his fangs to glint in the dim light as the slick heat of drool drips onto your skin.

You’re so small beneath him, fragile in ways that ignite something primal within his system. His jaws part as he leans closer, the sharp points of his fangs grazing your neck, teasing the delicate skin stretched thin over the artery thrumming wildly beneath. The sound of your racing heartbeat filling his ears and stirring up a hunger so deep it makes his chest ache.

The conflict burns in him, a raging fire that twists his hunger into something far more dangerous, a carnal need to consume you. Your soul. Your flesh. Your very bones. His tail curls tighter around your middle, possessive and unyielding, locking you in place like a predator fearing his prize might escape. You’re so soft, so flush with life, and it would be so easy to take that all away. To have you fill his mouth another way. To hear your cries warp into screams and see your wide eyes filled with terror.

His hips shift, pressing his arousal against you, the ridges of his twin cocks sliding along your trembling core. The slick heat of his pre smears against your skin, marking you in ways that send a shiver through him as his claws flex again, almost breaking skin this time.

It’s like your every nerve is alight; sparks flurrying throughout your body in flashes of electricity as you feel the weight of him pressing against you. Your cunt tightens as he moves closer, as he prods against your entrance, stretching you out with just the tip of him as your walls flutter around him and you grow lightheaded with fear, or is it anticipation?

Could this heady feeling a mix of both?

“You’re afraid.” He growls low, satisfied with the way you gasp and arch beneath him as if your body is betraying you.

The sound of his voice curls in your ear, cutting through the fuzz as his teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck. Sharp points puncture the delicate skin, wrenching a cry from your lips as ruby beads spill and trickle down your throat in a warm, sticky stream. You tremble, caught in a storm of sensation- each spark, each bite of pain, tangled with a pleasure you can’t understand. One that thickens as he shifts his weight, as his hips roll against you with deliberate pressure and the burn of him stretching you open wrenches a choked cry from your lips. He shudders at the sound, growl deepening as his hunger sharpens and it takes everything in him not to give in, to tear you apart and savour the feel of your flesh between his teeth, your blood , metallic and warm in his mouth.

Soft, so soft, and so sweet.

Will she feel this warm when she’s no longer moving? 

As he sinks into your heat, stretching deliciously around both cocks despite the fear in your eyes and the tremors wracking through your body… as he feels the slick coating your inner thighs and your clit pulsing below the tip of his tail, he realizes the truth of it. 

This hunger of his will never go away, will always linger just beneath the surface where it threatens to break and envelop him completely. But this unbearable need to make you his over and over again, is stronger.

Though it’s too much, too overwhelming - your body still clings to him, greedily taking more as though you were made for this, for him. It’s a feeling that coils around you, binding and inescapable. Like a tail wrapped around your middle, tethering you together while he feasts on you.

The pull of something neither of you can suppress.

@awwitschuu <3

[just-bee-lieve]

a peek into the au where mike works at the pizza plex and he and vanessa are work besties :^}

BONUS

[donttellunclesam]

new holiday pfp!!

[rathonk]

coming out as a reani fan with screencap redraws

[formulanni]

The Safety Car as The Tower:

The Tower is commonly interpreted as meaning danger, crisis, destruction, and liberation. It is associated with sudden unforseen change.

@st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls

[starry-bi-sky]

bruce and danny being fuckign nerds together,,,, they are being the BIGGEST nerds. geeks. if you will

these losers are color-coding the most inane bullshit. they are making diagrams for things you've never even thought of. they are having the time of their lives

"what are you two doing?"

Danny, sitting criss-cross on a table, hunched over a spread of papers and a bunch of different jello cups, his back is gonna hurt SO much: color-coding jello

Bruce, sitting in a nearby chair, also criss-cross, scribbling on a graph paper: hm [agreeing]

Alfred, already exasperated and SO fond: may i ask why? and on what parameters?

Danny: we're basing it off which flavors are the most mentally stimulating and for which subjects :}

Alfred, SO fond: ah. i see.

Danny, snapping his head over to Bruce and leaning over: wh- no-- no. Buzz, I told you: lemon-flavored jello stays strictly in the 'smelling salts' category--

Bruce, still writing on the graph paper: mn. no.

Danny, nearly sprawled across his back, faux-outraged: strawberry is NOT good for math-- you fucken HEATHEN--! Give me that pen!

Bruce, did that solely to rile up Danny, now trying not to smile: hnm.

[dreagine]

Ithinkweregonnahaftakillthisguy

[mimzy6bunny]

Silly dogman comic

versão em português

[meatgrinder-0]

something that ive found myself thinking about a lot recently is the loss of autonomy that you have over your identity and what makes you "human" when you die.

(as has been said before by multiple different people) technically ford does not die when he goes through the portal, but as many have said at this point--in a metaphysical way when he goes through the portal he is dead in the eyes of his dimension, so i find in the narrative he experiences a similar loss of his humanity and in the same way that might've occurred with his death, his memory for any that have access to any form of it constructs him into an idea rather than a person.

and really anything can be said and done with him by the people who are still "alive" when this occurs. since he is in all aspects dead people can use him to justify their actions, as a figure in their concepts, and imagine him up to be whoever they want him to be for as long as he remains dead. the audience of course also partook in these same things prior to his reveal by theorizing about what type of person he was or how he might fit into the narrative as a person but to be more specific to examples of this idea in the show is how stan and dipper see ford as an idea.

due to being absent ford had no possible way to influence what stan thought he would want him to do about the portal outside of his existing warnings in his journals so stan is able to twist ford into a justification to work towards opening the portal, and during the length of his work on it according to alex's statements about stan "expecting ford to be weak and in need of help when he came out of the portal" (i feel the likely useless need to say whatever a creator says about their work is always only as canon as one wants it to be but this is worth mentioning here and i think it makes sense contextually within the text) the ford who comes back is so jarring because in his "death" he's become an ideal of what stan wants to see in him to play into his hero fantasy and hopes of earning back his appreciation

and of course as i think about a normal amount of times per day--the duration of the show presents the author as a figure that is wrapped up in a concept of ford while presenting him in a much more mythical format--another one of gravity falls' mysteries. pretty much every main character that isnt stan views him in this mystical light throughout the show with dipper being the prime example and uses the idea of "the author" as a driving force to pursue the questions that the town begs them to ask. there is something to be said about how creators of the show refer to journal 3 as "its own character" in a way that clearly separates it from it's author. even outside of the universe of the show itself, even in the show's own writing team ford--somehow despite being already being only a concept by virtue of being fictional--is stripped of humanity and becomes an even further abstracted concept.

but even to the ford who is alive the self who had gone through the portal is also a concept. i know this idea isnt explored much in canon if at all but bear with me here while i make shit up for fun--in a way, we ourselves the way we are now are dying near constantly. when we wake up each morning we of course have access to the same memories and the same body and the same experiences as the self we were before we fell asleep, but if we were to get existential, how can we be sure that we are the same consciousness that we were before?

even if this is a bit too absurd of a concept to be applying to a messy braindump "analysis" of a fictional character theres something about how extreme change in a person (often from trauma as ford has experienced for Obvious reasons) or even just the passage of time leaves the former self as nothing more but a memory to even the body that it once inhabited.

as i said theres not much to connect this to in the canon of the text, but i do believe that ford does see his past self who wrote the journals as an idea just as much as anyone else in his life did.