#pustulating

[vaguely-concerned]

I adore it whenever rook rests their hands on their hips like a handyman or mechanic about to deliver some bad news as to how much the repairs are going to come in at. the hero equivalent of a plumber. they're out there saving the world with the gently beleaguered air of an overworked janitor and I quite simply love that for them

[confectionate-candevil]

Refighting all the Archangels be like

[fascinationstreetmp3]

opens up the sims 4 for the first time in forever. looks at my nasty little creature. closes the sims 4

[e-rated-beardo]

Do we need another voice added to the conversation about The Thing? I guess it can't hurt.

I have about every feeling on Earth. I'm frustrated it's going to be shorter than we thought. I'm wary, because we've all learnt this year that a green light can be un-green-lit with no warning. I'm so relieved they've removed That Guy. I'm relieved we're getting something. I'm angry that That Guy had to secretly be a shit (judging from the info I have) which has caused all this bloody anxiety for all of us IN ADDITION to the actual proper shit things he's done to others in the past (given the info I have) and that his shittiness is going to sully people's enjoyment of this thing in big or small ways. I'm cautiously optimistic that we might get something faster, because fewer minutes means quicker work, maybe. I'm worried (as I always was) that it isn't going to be what I've hoped for. I'm frustrated that it's still so very quiet in media regarding what That Guy has done and mildly worried his ex-fans might never know a lot of things that might have led to closure.

I've never been in fandom before this and I have a vague understanding of how lucky I am that this was the one that sucked me in. I'm told not all fandoms are created equal. This one is a bloody marvel. A real fucking marvel. I'm not talking about the art and writing (which are just fantastic like I can't believe), but about how last night I first read The News in a Discord server and thus had other fans Feeling All The Feelings around me right from the start; how I went on Tumblr and found the early discussions and shock and complicated emotions from people whose handles mean something to me, and how I went on Reddit and saw other people gif-screaming in frustration while simultaneously trying to comfort each other. This is such a wholesome place. HOW is this such a wholesome place. Can we keep cultivating this? All of this? Keep welcoming the randos posting on Tumblr about experiencing the Final Fifteen for the first time with avalanches of emoji hearts and fanfic? Keep patiently explaining and re-explaining new and confusing news to commenters who haven't heard all of them yet? Keep showing strangers how to code on AO3 or how to be a lovely fanfic reader or introduce them to the metas people thought up in 2015 or encourage them to post their own loving, scrunckly first art piece and give them love and appreciation for it?

We've Had A Fucking Moment Year, haven't we? And somehow, as an overall experience, to me, this has been an absolute GOOD. Because there's a whole bloody world of other obsessed folks around me now, feeling the same conflicted feelings as I do, largely speaking, and mulling them over in open blogs and private servers and fanfics and comics and DMs.

I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. (Or more than half of you, more likely. We're not Hobbiton.) I really like y'all, anyway. You're neat. Can we be frembs? ❤️

If you want a little comfort fanfic escapism, I'm told this 7k-word, E-rated silliness I made once is a balm for S2-related wounds. (There's a podfic of it, too.) This thread on GOAD cropped up with great timing yesterday and is full of people's comfort fic recs. There's tons more of this everywhere. This fandom, man. This fandom. 🖤🤍

[borzoilover69]

flesh that hates

[rad-roche]

i got garuda kitted out so i fashioned her up two ways. 1) busty vampire runway girlie. 2) wet little freak

[luidilovins]

Straight people: stop your bitching you got your gay representation already

The gay representation:

[the-knife-consumer]

Read my prologue boy

[shelleysmary]

anyway, i hope celeborn is the HOTTEST elf to ever live. i hope it drives sauron up the wall. i wish it would drive him off a steep cliff and into an endless void. sauron apologist? i am a sauron HATER after 2.07. BITCH. celebrimbor and mirdania? i will never forgive, never forget, that maia deserves nothing but the inside of a volcano!!!!

[interrogatormentors]

a-ny words of ad-vice for some-one a-bout to be sent off to be-come a helms-man soon?? it was al-ways my dream.... un-til i found out what it tru-ly means - DS

ii'm not goiing two wa2te your tiime wiith condolence2 bc thii2 2hiit ii2 ju2t iineviitable for people liike u2. 2o 2ound2 liike you ju2t deciided two roll over and diie whiich mean2 you've 2ucce22fully 2kiipped over the fiir2t 2tep whiich ii2 enjoy the tiime you have left and pretend iit'2 not happeniing. bc that'2 not goiing two get you anywhere.

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Cry whIIle your lung2 can 2tIIll IInflate--

or ii gue22 you could 2ee iif a hiighblood wiill deiign two hook you up wiith a fake vii2a two the far coloniie2. never met anyone that triied two do that and liive though. once the drone2 arriive that'2 iit. my adviice ii2 two...

--a2 mournIIng the pa2t 2hall be dII2couraged movIIng forward IIn your career a2 a helm2man. DrIInk--

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...eat before you go 2o you can puke or 2ometh a2 one la2t act of rebelliion bc you're goiing two forget your own name iif the programmiing work2 riight.

--plenty of electrolyte2 2o they can fIInd your veIIn2 ea2IIer two make the proce22 a2 paIInle22 a2 po22IIble before you become part of our glorIIou2 EmpIIre

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iidk. ii'm not the be2t per2on two a2k bc ii got out. iit'2 not 2omethiing you can really prepare for.

Not 2ure why you a2ked thII2. II have been here 2o long that my corporeal lIIfe no longer hold2 relevance two me.

[yaoi-hate-machine]

my acne rn is worse than it’s ever been in my Life for no apparent reason and it’s making my search history look like:

🕑 how often can you use salicylic acid

🕑 ingredients that decrease oil production

🕑 why do both estrogen and testosterone cause acne

🕑 how to have no hormones

🕑 how dense do bones really need to be

🕑 is my skin barrier cooked

🕑 how to remove your face

🕑 skinning tutorial

🕑 discount surgical tools

[actualhumancryptid]

Me watching Scully with shit PPE during an infectious disease episode. Yelling at the screen. What are you doing! You need way more protection to enter that room. Is it super airborne??? You don’t know!

Mulder why are you touching that payphone handle to your face. Are you crazy???

…

So. The management of this contagion is going poorly, wouldn’t you say? Do you want to end up like Kate Winslet, Scully?

[sleepyfan-blog]

Rotten Hope (1)

Author’s note: Part one of the Typhus x Reader fics. I blame you all for the botflies that have spawned because of this.  Next

Tagged: @ms--lobotomy @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: fictional illness, quarantine, bodily fluids, body horror, vomiting, please ask me to tag anything that makes you uncomfortable that I missed

Summary: Illness ravages the sector you’ve been quarantined in. Desperate for help as supplies dwindle, you psychically reach out to a nearby Astartes Librarian, who promises to bring aid.

word count: 2, 677 words

In your centuries of life, you’d seen many things. Glorious heights and dizzying lows…  But this creeping, miserable sickness that weakened the bodies and minds of the non-perpetual humans around you was a whole new kind of awful that you’d have been happy to have never seen ever. You’d established yourself on this world as a mid-level rogue trader before the quarantine had gone in place. You were wealthy, yes, but not Very Well Known, as your perpetual nature might attract the attention of the Inquisition, and you’d spent long enough dodging their knives and gang-pressing into their service last century, thank you very much. 

You’d funded the research project into trying to combat and cure the horrible illness that started as excessive lethargy and the inability to focus on any one task for more then a handful of minutes. After a week or two of low energy, the person afflicted with this disease would suddenly get a strong burst of energy and the desire to go out and interact with as many people as possible, alongside a minor cough and the occasional but regular sneeze. After a week of increased energy, a terrible fever would strike, alongside a bright red rash that appeared across an afflicted person’s back, neck and shoulders.

The rash was incredibly itchy and, if scratched, oozed puss that was highly contaminated and spread the illness just as quickly as sneezing or coughing directly on another person did. It took another week for the rash to spread fully across an afflicted person’s body, with pustules appearing wherever a person scratched that often burst painfully, before regrowing. Within a month over half of the total population of the world you’d been visiting had caught the illness and were suffering through one of the first three stages of the illness. That was when the planetary governor instated the quarantine, even as the rash spread across her cheeks and faces, enforced by the arbites and the astra militarum in hazmat gear.

The governor had also sent out a shelter in place order, with rations being delivered to the shelters of the living at regular intervals, to further discourage anyone from breaking the stay in place order. Those who did not have permanent housing of their own were put up in hotel rooms for no cost. The medical and medical research staff on world who had not fallen to the illness were working frantically to come up with either a cure or at least a treatment that would delay the onset of further symptoms…

Especially as after the pustules on an afflicted person’s body had burst and reformed over half of their skin, they had to be put in full-body restraints, as otherwise the altered mental state that the sickness-afflicted person went into was both violent and difficult to stop with anything less than using lasgun rounds to each of their joints and melta-flames to prevent the gushing spurts of puss that sprayed from those wounds from covering everything in a ten foot radius in grey, highly infectious bodily fluids that stunk so badly of rot and death that made anyone improperly attired vomit. While in this violent state, if the infected person or people weren’t properly restrained, they tried to infect as many people as they could by forcibly trying to smear the puss into the eyes, mouth, or nose of any uninfected they could reach.

You’d used your contacts made as a Rogue Trader to desperately call for aid in combatting this illness… There was also the fact that, should things continue as they were, within about six months, all of the emergency stores of rations would be depleted, as the ill still needed to be fed, no matter how violent they became. Not that the sick seemed to be able to die of the infection itself - the only fatalities that had happened were due to the arbites having to kill the infected who broke free of their restraints and tried to infect the healthy.

You… You weren’t sure the fact that the sick weren’t able to die of the illness that ravaged their bodies and minds was a good thing, especially as both medical supplies and rations began to run low. You’d contacted your friends and allies you’d made as a rogue trader and found out that the fucking Inquisition had declared the entire system a no-go zone. Oh, the callous bastards were watching as the healthy of this and the other five living worlds scrambled and tried to keep themselves from succumbing to the illness they were trying to research a cure or at least treatments to ease the worst of the symptoms… But they refused to send so much as an unmanned ship of medical or standard rations, much less anything that would truly help the situation.

Bastards!

You did have ways of sending encoded messages to others that the Inquisitors who were heartlessly watching the people of this system suffer and break under the onslaught of this illness couldn’t intercept and stop. While you were still wary of the genetically altered creations of Neoth’s, you were keenly aware that many of the Adeptus Astartes who roamed the stars did try to protect humanity to the best of their abilities and many of them despised the Inquisition and would come to help in order to spite whichever Ordo of the inquisition was withholding aid to this system… Doing so, however, required that you use some of the psychic gifts that you used as sparingly as possible, in order to avoid detection as the powerful psyker you were.

Dodging curious Astartes Librarians was a small price to pay for aid for the mortals suffering in utter agony all around you… Which was why you settled down into a meditative pose, sitting comfortably on your ship, the murmurs of your frightened crew and anxieties a background hum that you needed to ignore in order to reach out psychically. You had been on semi-friendly terms with Neoth before he’d been interred onto the Golden Throne and did your best to guide humanity towards a better future in whatever ways you could… You also had the verifiable command codes that would prove you were a high ranking - if secret - member of the Imperial Hierarchy when you came into contact with an Astartes Librarian. 

You began your psychic search for an astartes librarian with caution - aware that the Inquisition had their own psykers and you had no desire to reveal yourself to them if at all possible. Time passed as you searched for the particular blend of determination, training and psycho-indoctrination that marked an Astartes Librarian, your mind wandering further and further from your body. 

You could not say how long it took you to find him, but he was a powerful psyker, and held the strict discipline of an Astartes. You lightly tapped on his walls - a silent request to speak, making sure that your pressure against his mind was just enough to be felt, while just as clearly also not being an attack of some kind. 

Less than a second passed before his mind focused on you. You could feel the way his mental presence shifted and stretched, grabbing a rough hold on your consciousness, turning you this way and that, buzzing with confusion and curiosity - and a little bit of indignance that a stranger would dare touch his mind in such a way.  {WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU REACHING OUT TO ME?} He eventually sent coherently.

You explain who you are, giving the psychic imperial codes that would prove who you were as well, before explaining {The inquisition refuses to allow any aid to come to the system I am in. A terrible illness has infected over ninety percent of the populations of the system I am in. The remaining healthy people are doing their best to try and find a cure or at least treatments for this disease. I am immune, but that’s because I am a perpetual. The immunity I enjoy is not something I can share with others.}

The Astartes Librarian’s mind surged back and forth, thoughts and emotions swirling together in a chaotic hurricane that you could only catch bits and pieces of, though you were trying not to peer too deeply into his mind - it was rude to do that without permission after all - and tried not to get overwhelmed by the intensity of his presence. {And so you sought me out because?}

{Most Astartes and the Inquisition do not get along for… Many reasons. I sought to call for help from an astartes whose mind I could communicate with. Please… the mortals are suffering terribly, though the illness does not seem to let them die…} You plead, offering up the memories you have of the terrible illness ravaging through the near half-dozen worlds.

The screams of the deeply afflicted as they throw themselves bodily at the healthy. Teeth and puss smearing against glass and plastic face plates. The awful coughing and sneezing. The low medical supplies and even fewer rations and food that was edible. The fact that the disease had mutated and afflicted the livestock and domestic animals, causing further vectors of infection and misery. 

{You are a perpetual Rogue Trader, mm? Caught between this illness and the Inquisition, unable to help, unable to flee. Very well. You’re in luck. I am in command of many brothers, and our… Specialty allows us a unique perspective into the nature of illness. We can bring all the aid these mortals needs. But in exchange, you will come with me, without fuss, without fighting. I have never met a perpetual before, except for the Emperor Himself, and I am… Curious.} Teh Atartes rumbles, his mind still wrapped tight around yours. 

You sense he has a number of motives he is hiding from you… But you’re also quite certain that he believes that he is telling the truth when he says that he can help the mortals suffering and agonizing in rotting, miserable stasis all around you. {Yes, I promise to go with you and your brothers without fuss after the people here are healed and well taken care of.}

The pleased rumble he makes and the way his mind caresses yours before letting you go back to your own mind makes you shiver and warmth suffuse through you {I look forward to our meeting, perpetual. You will know when I arrive with my brothers. If my younger brothers give you trouble, tell them that Typhus asked you, little Isha, to come to him.}

You’re not sure why his name - and the name Isha - bother you.  Warning bells ring faintly in the back of your mind, but you can’t quite place why. That and the desperation to get actual help fuels your relief {I understand. About when do you anticipate on arriving?}

{Again, you’re in luck, lovely flower. I and my brothers should arrive within the next month. Two on the outside, if the Inquisitors at the edges of the system you are in actually prove troublesome.} The astartes promises. Something buzzes beneath the surface of his mind, but you do not press, grateful beyond words for his aid. His mind squeezes around your tightly. His rifling through your memories is a little rough, and catches you off, as he gets from you where you are in the galaxy. {Yes, I will be there soon. The mortals’ torments will soon be at an end. You should return to your body, I can sense your exhaustion.}

You grumble a little to yourself, but he’s not wrong. This kind of extended mental contact with another person over such long distances in space is wearing on you. You withdraw from his mind and tumble back into your own body before exhaustion drags you into sleep.

“My lady! My lady, Lord Angels have arrived, and have been distributing food and medical aid to the sick and injured. They… Their armor is rather terrifying, I’ll admit, but their aid has been nothing but true and good. Their first captain has asked to speak with you, as soon as you are able.” Your second in command called out, between knocking rapidly on the door to your personal quarters, waking you out of the troubled dream that had been tormenting you.

Gilded flames had lapped at your feet, threatening to consume your body as creeping green rot choked your lungs and turned the mortals you’d been working alongside to agonized piles of mush and misery. You mentally shook yourself as you respond “I’ll be out to meet him as soon as I get dressed properly! Tell him I’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

You’re already stumbling out of bed and over to your extensive clothes’ closet. Considering the direness of the situation, you hope that the lord angel would forgive the fact that you’re going to be wearing simple clothes beneath the hazmat suit that while you do not need, you wear anyways when going outside, so as to not bring the disease back and potentially infect the mortal crew around you. You pick out a simple shirt and pants combo, along with sensible lslhoes that will fit inside the boots of the hazmat suit, not bothering with any make-up or jewelry, dressed well enough in under five minutes.

It takes three minutes for your to sprint your way through the ship, everyone else clearing way for you to get to the cargo hold, slugging back a small shot of recaff and breakfast rations handed to you by your SIC just before you get suited up into the hazmat suit (Which takes most of the remaining time you told the first captain you’d need to be ready to see him). Just as you step out of your ship, you ask your loyal and stalwart second in command “Which chapter are they from?” Depending on which chapter they were from, you could have a guess as to what the first captain might want of you.

“They say that they are part of the Death Guard legion, ma’am.” Your second in command revealed, oblivious to the bone-deep panic and horror washing through you. “I don’t recognize their markings or heraldry, but they’ve been an enormous boon so far.”

No! No no no… “Have any of you taken anything that he Death Guard has offered you? No matter how small?” You ask, terror and failure acrid tastes in your mouth. How had you not noticed the taint of chaos in his mind at the time? 

“Not yet, as our stores have been fine. Is something wrong, ma’am?” He asks, a worried frown appearing on his face. He can see the fear in your face.

Damn, need to work on your mask, which you quickly put on, radiating confidence “OH… I just… don’t accept anything they give you,  if possible. As soon as I start talking to the first captain, take off and activate the warp drive and get as far away from this system as possible. I can… I can guess what they want with me, and as of now, I am resigning my duties as a Rogue Trader. Everything I own, all of my titles, rights and responsibilities I bequeath to you. FLy far, and fly well.”

“W.. What? My lady? I won’t just leave you-” He splutters. 

You shake your head angrily and hiss “I was the one who contacted them, believing them to be angels! But they are not! They are demons! They feed on  illness and misery, delighting in strive and causing Chaos wherever they go. I have gotten their foul attention and cannot escape, but you and our crew have a chance to escape. Please, take it. I will endure.” 

“I… As you command, my lady. I’ll begin preparations to leave now.” Your former second in command acknowledges, bowing his head forward, trembling a little in the fear that you can’t allow yourself to feel as you leave your ship, walking toward your grim fate with your head held high, despite your trembling hands.

[itwasabeautifulwebbing]

after completing my first playthrough of dragon age: the veilguard, my principle takeaways are:

1) the things this game does well, it does extremely well, and those successes do a lot to make up for the game’s shortcomings. i’d die and also kill for my rook, no one touch my short queer elf son or his geriatric soulmate;

2) this is a game gift-wrapped for nerds who also really enjoy dr. pimple-popper’s youtube channel.

[atanxdoesstuff]

Here, some Ryley sketches ft. Cuddlefish skritches, Peeper, Bladderfish, and This Is Ozzy From The Cafeteria What The Hell Guys!

i haven't drawn in quite some time but yknow its exam phase so :/ ofc my motivation comes back when I really should be doing something else like idk study? or somethin

[aspiringwatcher]

spoilers for warframe 1999

jesus fucking christ. i do not want to do it again