#reblog goodies

[locusfandomtime]

with all the mlp and hermitcraft crossovers recently, especially with the whole “everyhermit” thing, may I propose: rainbow factory au.

[gessshoku]

☀️Sun and Moon🌙

Gess felt artsy but only in the traditional sense, I have a tooooon of sticky notes so I decided to put em to good use. I didn’t have a plan for the composition I just began sketching on the train (bumpy ride so ignore the possible mistakes)

[vickorydickorydock]

Off the top of my head, here’s (an incomplete) list of the things Don stole over the course of tmnt 2003:

An armored car

Shredder’s helicopter

Stockman’s suped up robo arm

A spaceship

A train car with alien tech

Another helicopter (Bishop’s this time)

03 Donatello likes to steal the big toys, lol.

Bonus: things his brothers have stolen in his honor

The space cruiser they used to sneak into Triceratons homeworld and rescue him

That deleted scene where Raph stole a mech bot thing expressly “for Donny”

The mystic gem amulet from Karai in Good Genes

[royalarchivist]

I love how it’s so much harder for Bad to pretend he doesn’t find Quackity’s dirty jokes funny when they’re together in person

[shepherds-of-haven]

On Vacation!

Hi everyone! Just letting you all know that I'll be out of the country from now (May 16th) until June 2nd. That means I won't be available to answer messages, PMs, bug reports, or what have you until I'm back! I'm going completely offline! 🛫🗺️ My younger sister graduated from college, so my family will be going on a celebratory trip for the next two weeks to celebrate her accomplishments before she moves away to start grad school in the fall. :) But not to worry, I'll be back soon, and until then, please feel free to keep sending in asks to my inbox: I always love receiving them, and I'll try to get to them when I'm back! (And if you post any of your own posts/fanart/fanfiction/edits/etc., please be sure to tag me in them so I won't miss them in the notifications that will pile up while I'm away!) I've also queued up my own posts as well as some more oldie-but-goodies, so this blog will still be "active" and posting in the meantime!

Thanks, and I hope you all are having a great start to your summer! ☀️😎

[boyobjectifier]

“We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want,

so I said

What do you want, sweetheart?

and you said Kiss me.

Here I am leaving you clues.

I am singing now while Rome burns.

We are all just trying to be holy.”

— Richard Siken // Snow and Dirty Rain

[safyresky]

Scrimbly Jacqueline 13/52: In which Jacqueline impresses the Lady of the Lake and gives her Blacksmith Guardian a heart attack and a HALF.

COMPLETE with SILLY LITTLE DRABBLE BELOW THE CUT :O

Disclaimer: I know nothing about Arthurian Legends. HASHTAG WINGING IT!!!!

-

"What happened to the one in the anvil?!"

"Broke it fairly fast in a duel if you can believe it."

"He BROKE one of my SWORDS?!"

"He did stick it back in the anvil after drawing it out the first time."

"He did WHAT to my SWORD?"

"And then pulled it back out again. After multiple people took a go at it. Merlin was a bit late to the whole affair. Wizards, y'know. Terrible timing."

"In AND out of the anvil?! MULTIPLE TIMES?"

"Deep breaths, Bastion! Red's really not your colour."

The dwarf took a deep breath in; held it. Breathed out. The wind from his exhale ruffled his sooty beard. He frowned to himself; the lines in his forehead creased deeply as he tugged his beard in thought, the gaggle of young magibeans he had taken in running around the shop behind him. Sparks flew as the older ones worked to make various weapons; some worked on aesthetic details, piles of gems and precious stones gently strewn about the benches. Water hissed as weapons were cooled, clanking ringing out from the far recesses of the shop.

"Well Bastion? Up to snuff?"

"We'll get it done. It may take a little bit to forge a fresh one—"

"Not to worry! I came prepared." The woman in front of him grinned. She lifted her hand. Bastion watched, head tilted in interest as her palm glowed turquoise and suddenly, CLANG! CLATTER! A pile of swords appeared out of thin air and landed right on the counter top, water sloshing and spilling off the sides of it.

Bastion gawked.

"You wouldn't believe how many people dump their swords in the lake. Nasty little surprise, having one of these buggers hit you right on the noggin. Enchanted, too, most of them!"

"Most of them?" Bastion picked one up, admiring the craftsmanship and the inlaid gems. "All of them, I'd say! This pile is radiating magic. Between the lot of us and this pile we should have the new piece done to your specifications in, oh, about two weeks? Belinda, what do you think?"

A tall, elvish woman came over, magnifying eyepiece in her eye. She hmm'd, examining the gems inlaid in the sword pile quickly and closely. "Maybe more. Some of these enchantments have worn away completely, and they'll need replacing. We can do that in house, of course, but there are a handful we'll need to procure out of shop. The anti-fatigue one, we'll have to pop over the wall to get. The strengthening one, that'll be in the mountains."

"I can grab that one meself," Bastion volunteered.

"I can send Maggie over the wall. She does well with the fairies here. Hmm. Breathing underwater? Now, that one may be a feat—"

"Oh, not to worry! I took care of that one." Another glowing turquoise hand lifted and a small gem appeared in front of the pair, suspended in a bubble of water. "One of my specialties," the lady teased, winking as the bubble popped. The gem landed in Belinda's hand, the water bubble popping right on Bastion's nose.

He wiped it off, completely unbothered.

"I can procure a seeing stone. That should be simple enough. That just leaves the resistant gems. Most of which we have here...all but the cold resistant one. That'll be off in the far frozen."

Behind the pair, one of the magibeans by the anvil perked up. The Lady of the Lake watched as the girl tilted her head, listening in.

"We can send Tristan—"

"TRISTAN?! NOT TRISTAN!"

Belinda looked amused as the girl—a sprite, the lady noted—ran over to their little group. Bastion looked very, very tired. And perhaps a bit anxious? The girl pushed right through the pair of them, indignant, hands on her hips. "Tristan is STINKY! And ANNOYING! He's not even cold resistant—"

"But he is older and has much more experience with these sorts of environments—"

"HE'S GONNA MELT ALL THE ICE! I won't! I can just waltz right through it! Can't you send me? I wanna go! You know I can do it!"

"I know that if I send you and something happens, your father will kill me right dead! Send me right off to Rosehaven, personally! He's trusted me to take care of you!"

Well this just got interesting, the lady thought to herself, watching in amusement. "Does he usually go around killing people?"

"No. Not that I know of, at least. See, he's in a position of power."

"Oh?"

"One of the Governors back home."

"Oh."

"He won't kill you, honest! He's the nicest person I know! "

"Her mother may, though," Belinda pointed out.

Bastion hummed. "Fair point."

"What? No it's not! She'd be super okay with it and say it was furthering my spritely education—"

"Did someone call for me?!"

"UGH nooooOOOOoo go AWAY TRISTAN!"

"Always a pleasure to interact with you, squirt."

A taller sprite had appeared now, shoving the girl to the side and taking her place between the pair of smiths, armour shiny, surcoat barely creased or smudged or dirty. "Fair Lady of the Lake, I would be HONOURED to fetch this gem for you." He bowed deeply, holding his hands above him and summoning a little flame.

The Lady of the Lake barely repressed her snort in time. The sprite rolled her eyes, a sentiment shared with Belinda. Bastion exhaled loudly through his nose.

"That's enough of that. Up you go. It's off to the far frozen for you. We're out of cold resistant gems and we'll be needing one for the new King's SECOND," he shot an unamused glance the lady's way, "sword."

"I will venture to the far frozen mountains! I'll leave at dawn, after procuring the finest cold resistant clothing and warmest warmly enchanted sword we have here!" He dropped the grandeur, looking giddy and very much like the under two-thousand year old sprite he was. "This'll look great for knights looking for a new squire."

"I'm sure," the Lady of the Lake replied, biting her tongue very, very much.

"It will take me but two weeks time—"

"I could do it in one! DAY even! Not week! Come on, do we really have to send him of all people? Of all SPRITES?!"

"That's enough Jacqueline," Belinda spoke sternly. "Mind our guest."

The girl huffed, blowing an errant curl of off her forehead and stomping away, disappearing into the back recesses of the workshop, mumbling something about elements versus what sounded very much like "a whole ass season".

The Lady snickered to herself.

"So sorry about that. She's a..."

"Piece of work?" Tristan suggested.

"Adventurous sort," Belinda spoke over the young squire, glaring daggers at him.

"It's quite all right. Kids. So! Sword. About a month, then?"

"If you'd like the opal then yes, about a month. If not, two weeks."

"Brilliant! I'll be back in a month. And you can keep whatever swords you don't use. I've no attachment to any of them. Cluttering up the lake and hitting my head and interrupting perfectly relaxing mud soaks," she tsk'd. "I'll be off then!"

And before Tristan could abase himself any further, the Lady of the Lake was out the door and well on her way down the lane.

-

The moment Melusine shut the door behind her, she cackled. What an absolute wanker, that Tristan. She had far more faith in the delightfully outspoken sprite than she did in that sorry slip of a squire.

Sword issue taken care of (both of them, thankfully) she made her way back to her humble abode (lake), thoughts returning to her next task: find who had thrown the last sword into her lake and jinx their arm. Terrible aim for a thousand days, perhaps. Or maybe turn it into something wiggly. Like an eel. Or a tentacle. Somewhere in that wheelhouse, for sure—

"HEY! HEY! LADY OF THE LAKE. YOUR LADY OF THE LAKENESS, THAT IS."

Mel turned abruptly, watching as the sprite from before wriggled her way out of one of the windows and ran towards her, waving her down.

"WAIT UP! PLEASE! DON'T GO BACK TO YOUR LAKE YET I WANNA TALK!"

She fell mid run, flat on her face. Mel winced, about to ask if the sprite was all right when she sprung back up (a chilly wind flitting through the lane way) and continued running, unbothered. She skid to a stop right in front of her, breathing heavily for a moment, her coiled braids swinging, little hairs trying to escape the neat loops.

"Alright?"

"Yeah! Absolutely! Just catching my breath. Hi! Sorry to bug you, um, your lakeyness," the girl bobbed a quick and lazy curtsy.

"Not at all."

"Oh! Good! I thought maybe it would be—I wasn't very polite back there. I usually am! Tristan just bugs me a LOT."

"He's a knob."

The girl grinned, laughing. "RIGHT? And it's very annoying that he gets to go on that fetch quest cuz like, ice and snow is my SPECIALTY. Anyway, I wanted to ask you if Bastion and Belinda gave you an estimate? For time, that is."

"With that sop going on the fetch quest? About a month. I can wait, though! I've tons of other things to do in the meantime. Which is more inconvenient as an arm, do you think—tentacle or an eel?"

The sprite looked thoughtful for a moment. "Eel! Because it has a mind of its own! Harder to control if it doesn't think like you. Unless that's not the aim here?"

"No, it is! It is. Good point about the eel."

"Thanks! I try. Without the cold gem thingy. Did Bastion say how long it'd be?"

"About two weeks."

"Oh! Good! So come back in two weeks and it'll be ready."

Mel quirked an eyebrow. "Really now?"

"Mhmm!" The girl nodded exuberantly, an excited glint in her eyes. "I'm gonna go get the opal."

"Didn't your guardian tell you not to?"

"Mmmmmaybe—"

"I heard him myself."

"—ooookay so YES he did BUT! He is OVERREACTING and Tristan is gonna WALK. I CAN TELEPORT! I CAN POOF IN AND OUT AND BE BACK SO FAST!"

Mel served her with a stern look.

The sprite bristled. "I'll be okay! Really!"

"Now I'm all for giving men like Tristan the old what-for, but Bastion's the best swordsmith around. Not to mention a stand-up magibean. I certainly wouldn't like to see him sent to Rosehaven by your parents should something happen to you."

"Nothing's gonna happen! I've survived WAY worse!"

There was a brief pause; a quick emotion passed over her eyes. But before Mel could discern anything other than she meant it when she said she'd survived worse, it was gone, and the sprite continued as though nothing had happened.

"And my parents won't hurt him, I've been out and about for like three hundred years at this point and they have their hands full with my younger siblings. Even THEY could do a better job than Tristan, and they're not even four HUNDRED yet."

Despite how funny the sprite was being, Mel tried very hard to keep the stern facade. "Have you told Bastion you're going?"

"Would you believe me if I said I did and he was okay with it, totally changed his mind?"

"No."

"Look, your lakeyness—"

"Mel."

"Jacqueline!"

"Charmed."

"Me too! You're like, one of the coolest magibeans around these parts. All of the littler kids are losing it in the back," Jacqueline said, giggling. Mel smiled to herself. "Anyway. Please don't tell him! He'll get all over protective and stuff. Which I appreciate of course," she said, sticking her palms flat in front of her. "I'm really glad he let me apprentice here! And he teaches us all how to use the swords which is great! I'm very thankful. Don't get me wrong. I just...really wanna do this, y'know? And telling him would make it really hard for me to do this."

"Hmm. You're right. Perhaps I should cut out the middle man and go right to your parents myself?"

"Please don't! I really, really wanna do this!"

"Ah, so they would stop you?"

The sprite made an unsure noise, tilting her hand back and forth in front of her. "Fifty-fifty."

"Interesting."

"What?"

"Oh, plenty of things. You think I know your parents?"

She shrugged. "Most people do! It's kinda obvious, actually." she flushed a bit, scratching her head. "Anyway, I really think someone needs to knock Tristan off his high horse, and since I don't have jousting mastery yet or the means to get a lance and corner him, I was thinking that if I showed him up instead, it'd lay him FLAT on his BACK!"

"I admit, that does sound very appealing."

"Really?"

"Oh, absolutely. I deal with his type all the time. They're all knobs, really. It'd be fun to see all those big airs pushed right out of them. Do you think they'd make a rather rude noise as they deflate?"

The sprite giggled. "I hope so!"

"Then it's settled! I'll be back in two weeks time for my sword, complete with cold resistant opal."

"Really?" she brightened. It was rather heartwarming.

"Truly."

"Ah, thank you thank you THANK YOU!" she hopped forward, almost hugging the Lady of the Lake before stopping herself with a sheepish grin. "Sorry." she cleared her throat. "Anyway, I'm gonna head out now. I'll be fast! They won't even know I was gone," she winked. "See you in two weeks?"

"I'll be there bright and early for the sword."

"Yay! Okay! See you then!"

And with a cheeky little salute, the girl continued her run down the laneway, a scabbard on her back bouncing with each footfall.

She's got it, Mel thought to herself, as the delightfully outspoken sprite crested the hill and disappeared in a flurry of light blue sparks and what looked to be an actual flurry of snow.

-

Two weeks later found Melusine at the front counter once more, requesting to see her completed sword from a delightfully confused Bastion.

"I mean, it's done as done gets, but Tristan isn't back from the far frozen just yet so the opal is missing—"

"No it's not! TA-DA!"

Mel grinned to herself as Bastion turned. She could picture the jaw drop when his whole body seemed to sag in shock as he looked at the person who had just spoken up.

It was Jacqueline. She stood in a very wide horse stance, proudly holding up a small opal, maniacal grin on her face.

"You didn't."

"I did! And I did it in a DAY. And nothing happened to me at all! And you didn't even notice I was gone! I came right back nice and safe! And my parents won't be doing a murder because I told them what I did and they were very proud, which is what I THOUGHT and also KNEW would happen!"

"Well done," Belinda pipped up from her workspace. "And I suppose this is the reason why I couldn't find the sword in question amongst the others?"

"I stayed up all night getting it ready so that I could do THIS!" With a flourish, she pulled the sword out from behind her, placed it gently down on the counter top, and placed the opal right into the setting she had carefully carved for it last night.

It slid right in and glowed a brilliant, bright white. Then, the other gems glowed; the entire sword, in fact, was glowing, an iridescent rainbow. It lifted up off the counter, shaking for but a moment before flying into the scabbard when Jacqueline held it out in front of her.

The glow diminished; the smithy grew silent.

"Your sword, your lakeyness," Jacqueline said, bowing down and offering it to her. "It has been a great hONoUr to BEQUEATH to you this BLESS-ED OBJECT, for I journeyed SOOO FAR to procure the far frozen opal IN BUT A DAY FOR YOU! WITH NAUGHT BUT MINE OWN TWO HANDS—"

"That's quite enough, Jacqueline," Belinda interrupted, amused.

"It was good, right? I sounded just like Tristan."

"Well I'm impressed," Mel said, taking the scabbard and throwing it over her shoulders.

"And I am most definitely having a heart attack," Bastion decided, clutching his chest.

Belinda rolled her eyes, placing her eyepiece down and coming around the table. Carefully, she turned Bastion around and sat him down, looking him over. "You'll be fine."

"And what of Tristan?"

"I see his type all the time. He'll be right as rain. Oh, sure, his ego will take a hit and he may bemoan and grovel and do all sorts of silly it's the end nonsense, but he'll bounce back. They always do. We can only hope he'll be a little more subdued." Mel shrugged.

Jacqueline looked delighted. "Then we'll see who the piece of work REALLY IS."

"Should we call him back?"

"Nah. It'll be funnier if we leave him alone and he comes back all like OH! WOE IS ME! I HAVE FAILED YOU! And then DEFLATES! With GAS NOISES!"

"He'll be so upset," Bastion mused.

"Gas noises?" Belinda would regret asking, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah! Y'know, like, PFFFT," Jacqueline blew a very wet raspberry, hopping up and sitting on the counter. "Maybe Mel will come by to ah, soothe his ego?"

"And by soothe you mean—?"

Jacqueline grinned. "Watch him cry like a big baby and die a bit on the inside when he realizes he was bested by THIS GAL!" She hopped up on the counter, pointing at herself with both her thumbs.

"Jolly good! I'll be sure to pop on by in the next fortnight. Now! Bastion! what is it I owe you?"

Still shocked into silence, Bastion barely managed to utter a puff of air. With a sigh, Belinda pat his head and turned to Mel. "Given his present state and the materials you brought for us to use, consider this one on the house. And Mistress Frost? Off the counter, if you please. That's more than enough out of you."

---

My god, that got out of control. Delightful! I'm sure Mel and Jacquie had a ball when Tristan came back as he very much did think he was BESTED by some DEVILISH FOE. And you know what? He wasn't wrong!

Anyway, this SCRIMBLE was requested by @definitelyy-not-a-vampire a haute minute ago:

The drabbley ficlet smile shot thing just. It just. haPPENED. Whoops! Sorry not sorry!

She WAS gonna be scruffy and grubby and full of soot but then when the Lady of the Lake came into play (who in my mind is 100% @kscribbs Melusine of Miller's Law fame), Jacqueline was like "nah. I'm gonna impress the SHIT outta her! >:D"

And that went from IMPRESS to FUCK AROUND WITH AN ABSOLUTE FOP OF A SPRITE WITH HER in like. 100 words while writing the ficlet, lol.

Enjoy! Here's the un-scanned/edited one:

And you bet your ass I have some design notes >:)

I stole a fashion through the ages textbook from the library (and by steal I mean I have renewed it every semester and it has lived on my bookshelf since about 2019) and scoured through the middle ages chapter to figure out this fit

NOBODY TOLD ME IF SURCOTS WERE SHORT OR LONG SO I YOLO'D.

Wanted to throw in some purpleish pink bc I think purple is in Jacquie's palette, she's THAT GOOD at ice >:)

The hair is not short, it is simply in those braided coif. Things???? And it is a MIRACLE they are staying put

This is between 1350-1450 so she's between 1255-1355. IDEAL Gremlin age lmao

I don't have enough experience/markers to make the opal look opal so YOLO lmao

And yes this is uh, up very late lol. BUT YOU CAN SEE TAGS FOR DEETS! AND THIS JUST MEANS DOUBLE SCRIMBLES THIS WEEK LMAO

[gumnut-logic]

Waking up was a fifty-fifty situation. Fifty percent of the time it sucked and this rise and shine definitely fell onto that side of the scale.

He was cramped. All of him was cramped. What the hell? A groan and he attempted to unfold his body.

“Oooh, Virg, don’t break yourself.”

Gordon.

What?

He pushed his eyes open and was immediately blinded by sunlight on white walls. Ugh. There was a reason why he had blackout curtains in his room on the Island. A blink and a scrunched-up face and, augh, pain shot up his neck and bounced around his brain. What the hell was he doing sleeping in a chair?

“That’s right. Hold that position.” Something electronic beeped. “Woo, that’s a good one. Definitely saving that for the archives.”

What?

His brain was its usual slow self upon waking. It took several solid attempts to recall where he was and how he had gotten there.

Scott.

His shirt on fire.

Hot chocolate.

His room.

A shower.

Sleep.

Tracy Two.

The hospital.

Gordon asleep.

Waiting.

And now.

The conclusion was obvious. He had fallen asleep, too.

In the chair.

Ow.

“You gonna hold that face much longer, bro? I’m expecting a wind change at any moment.”

“Shut up, Gordon.” Now that came out raspier than an un-greased chainsaw.

“Ho, and hello to you, too, dear brother.”

He forced his eyes open, blinking at the light in the room. Gordon had a grin on his face brighter than the sun. His tablet was also in his hand.

Virgil eyed him. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying some entertainment. Why?”

“What entertainment?”

“Did you know that that scar between your eyebrows has a following?”

“A what?”

Gordon’s grin was ready to split his face in half. “Oh, you were asleep just long enough for me to set up a social media account for Thunderscar Two the Triumphant. He already has over five thousand followers and has only been live for, oh, fifteen minutes.”

“What?”

Moving hurt like hell and Virgil groaned, but Gordon obliged by turning his tablet around to show a series of photos titled The Many Moods of Thunderscar Two. The photos consisted of various shots of Virgil’s eyebrows. There was even a short video of those eyebrows bouncing up and down...it was the most recent and the number of likes was still going up.

“Ooh, we just hit six thousand. Wow, I never knew you were that popular, Virg.” A laugh. “Hah, Vegetina wants to kiss your scar all better.” Gordon cackled. Maniacally. Like a villain from a B-grade movie.

“Gordon, what the hell?”

“Do that again.”

“What?”

That same electronic beep. “Niiice. They’ll love this one.” Gordon busied himself with his tablet. “Two does Dopey. Sleep is the enemy.” His brother was prodding his tablet. “Posted. Aaaah, they definitely love you, Virg.”

Virgil resisted the urge to rip the tablet from his brother’s hands. Exasperation or anger or not, the playing field was not level. He bit his lip instead. “You are not in a position to escape, Gordon. Are you sure you want to challenge me?”

“Challenge you? I should kick your ass.” And all the humour disappeared.

“What?” He appeared to be saying that a lot.

The tablet was dropped to the bed covers. “What have you been playing at, Virgil? I haven’t seen hide or hair of you since I’ve been here.”

Oh.

“Sorry. Busy.”

“Doesn’t cut it, Virg.” Gordon picked up the tablet again. Another electronic beep and his brother stabbed at the glass. “Scott’s the busiest of us all. Yet he’s been here nearly every day.”

The thought of the flight time his brother must be clocking up hurt somewhere deep in his gut.

“Sorry.”

“Virg, I don’t want you to say you’re sorry. I want to know what is wrong. This isn’t you.” He stabbed at the tablet again. “This, however, is bonafide Thunderscar. Look at that frown.” The tablet came up and yet another photo was gaining likes by the moment. Followers were clocking eight thousand and rising.

He ignored it. Couldn’t really do anything else. “Gordon, I don’t know. I am sorry.” He was still tired. “Just wanted to fix your ‘bird.”

“At the exclusion of everything else?”

Virgil shrugged. He hardly understood it himself. “Just wanted to help you.”

Gordon reached out with his good hand and grabbed at his fingers. Surprised, Virgil let him have them.

“You know you’ve thrown us all for a loop. You’re the steadfast one, Virg. The one everyone else leans on. You disappear and Scott falls on his face...and if you’ve seen his face lately it appears he’s been dragging it around on the ground. Now, John. Do you realise I had to yell at him the other day? That has always been your job, bro, but you haven’t been playing.” A bit lip and Virgil was confronted by a pair of unusually earnest russet brown eyes. “I’m going to be fine, Virg. I’ll be home soon, out of the reach of the local vampires, and I’ll need you to be you. Virgil the Rock, my big bro. Four can wait. I’m not going to need her for a while.”

And there it was, the heart of the matter. Something must have shown on his face, because Gordon yanked him closer to the bed. Virgil didn’t miss the wince that bounced across his brother’s face at the movement. Shit.

“Careful, Gords.” His hand landed on top of his brother’s, sandwiching it between his two.

“There you are.” It was quiet, whispered, and Gordon was still staring up at him. “That’s my big bro. The big softie who will be playing me the piano when I get home whether I like it or not.”

“You like it.” Virgil frowned at him.

Gordon smiled. “Yes, I do.”

-o-o-o-

His brother demanded he stay to keep him company and Virgil found himself holed up with a maniac with a camera and an obsession with his eyebrows. But they talked. Shared. Gordon fell asleep eventually and Virgil was left alone with the tablet, watching the followers count pass the one million mark. Twenty-five photos of his eyebrows, that scar in every single one.

He should be annoyed. He should be yelling. But instead he sat there listening to his brother’s soft breathing and stared at pictures of his own forehead.

Something had lifted.

His heart felt lighter.

He didn’t know what or why, but the how was sleeping beside him wrapped in bandages.

Gordon was a goofball. A loveable goofball. Seeing him hurt...

Virgil closed his eyes.

The door opened quietly and Scott peered into the room.

Placing the tablet on the bedside table, Virgil quietly walked over to his brother, nudging him gently back out and following him through. He closed the door silently behind him.

“Virg? You okay?”

Virgil didn’t answer him, not really sure what to say. Instead he grabbed his brother in a hug and buried his face on his shoulder.

Scott grunted as Virgil hit him with a little more enthusiasm than he had planned, but immediately wrapped his arms around him. “Hey.”

Virgil just held him tighter.

“He’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” Muffled.

“We’re going to be okay.”

“I know.”

Scott apparently ran out of words because for the next minute or so, neither of them said anything. Virgil just clung to his brother.

The foot traffic around them was ignored.

Eventually Virgil pulled away. He found he couldn’t look Scott in the eye. It wasn’t embarrassment, but it was.

“Virg?” Blue eyes seeking. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t know where to put his hands.

Pressure on his shoulder, he looked up and was caught by that blue. “You hungry?”

And suddenly he was. A single nod. “What about Gordon?”

“Grandma and Alan will be here in a moment. Kayo and Penny will be by later. He’ll have company. We can come back later.” The hand on his shoulder slipped around to a one-armed hug. “C’mon, let’s get some nutrition into that stubborn ass of yours before Grandma gets hold of you. One look and you’re locked up with home remedies for a week.”

He couldn’t help, but smile a little, and, with a prod, fell into step with his big brother.

-o-o-o-

“You know, if I had known they would be this popular, I would have started this site years ago. We could be millionaires.”

Virgil didn’t even bother to look up at his little brother. Head first in Four’s thruster assembly, he stuck out a hand. “We’re billionaires, Gords. Hand me that wrench, please.”

“This one?”

“I can’t see what you’re holding up.”

A chunk of metal landed in his hand. It felt about right. Folding his arm proved it to be right. Jamming it around the stubborn bolt, he gave it a shove.

“I know we are, Virg. Can’t really miss it. But this would be for something special.”

“You’re talking about a series of photos of my eyebrows.”

“They are very popular eyebrows. That scar has been nominated for president.”

“Considering most politicians, my scar would probably be just as effective.” An electronic beep. “If you start putting pictures of my butt online, the Gordon Tracy Hall of Embarrassment will go live immediately.”

“Hah, what have you got on me that could possibly outrank anything I have on you.”

Virgil didn’t say a thing. He simply straightened, yanked his phone out of his back pocket, searched a moment and, with a smirk, held it up for Gordon to see.

It was most satisfactory to see his brother’s eyes widen in shock. “You wouldn’t.”

“One picture of my butt and the world discovers this.”

“Okay, okay, I get the message.” An electronic beep. “And Thunderscar is triumphant!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “All monetary gain goes to charity.”

“Already set up. You are rehabilitating the Supreme Barrier Reef as we speak.”

He stared at his tablet absorbed brother. Perched in his hoverchair, the man was still pale, still wrapped in plaster and bandages. Virgil would have to see him back to his room shortly as his stamina just wasn’t there yet, but he had to admit, to have him home and safe and...here...

“Good to have you here, Gords.”

Gordon looked up at him and grinned. “Great to be here in the presence of Thunderscar the Magnificent.”

Another eyeroll. “I thought he was ‘The Triumphant’.”

“Only when I let him.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yes, really.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re always welcome.”

“Well, hand me that screwdriver so I can finish this off and send her for coating tomorrow.”

Gordon grabbed the tool and handed it to him. “Painting?”

“Yep, which pink would you prefer?”

“Virgil.”

“Yes?”

A pause. “Love you, bro.”

Virgil blinked and turned back to find his brother eyeing him.

A small smile. “Love you, too.” A shrug. “But she’s still gonna be pink.”

The sound of Gordon’s laughter meant more to him than he could express.

-o-o-o-

[rayneing-on-your-parade]

Exciting update! We've hit 10% of our top surgery fundraising goal, thanks to your amazing support! 🌟

In other news, my Etsy shop is now live! Explore here for unique handmade items and help fund my journey towards authenticity.

If you'd like to contribute directly to my top surgery fund, you can do so here .

Let's keep the momentum going – every donation and purchase brings us closer to making this dream a reality. Thank you for being part of this transformative journey! 💖

[strangefable]

Which Art Motif is Your OC?

Tagged by @voidika, @direwombat, @sukoshimikan, @socially-awkward-skeleton, and @fourlittleseedlings to do this uquiz. Thank you lovelies <3 <3

Tagging: @legally-a-bastard, @somethingclich8, @detectivelokis, @henbased, @adelaidedrubman, @inafieldofdaisies, @jacobseed, @kittiofdoom, @marivenah, @aceghosts, @harmonyowl, @passinoutpieces, @baldurrs, @damejudyhench, @turbo-virgins, @afarcry5fromstraight, @i-am-the-balancing-point, @florbelles, and anyone else that I've missed! I tag you <3 <3

a lonely person. though you may be quiet, your heart is full of longing. you spend much of your time with your own mind, and that may very well be a beautiful thing. art reference: automat by edward hopper

blood in religious depictions. you think in violence, but not necessarily antagonism or hatred. it is more just in the physicality, the vulnerability of it all. art reference: prometheus bound by peter paul rubens

the moon. you're a lover, a dreamer. you gaze wistfully at the sky, seeing the infinite gorgeousness of the natural world and wishing it could translate to your real life. art reference: the starry night by vincent van gogh (because, of course, what other moon could i possibly include?)

dappled sunlight. you see all the beautiful things in life. you're always looking to learn and be better, especially from the world around you. thank you for believing so strongly in goodness. art reference: woodland glade by david poulter

[cerumoce]

Here are some KH heart shaped buttons that are avalaible in my shop !  I had a lot of fun drawing all three trios ❤️💚💙 Etsy shop

[hoodoo12]

Teaser Teaser

Slight NSFW one shot reblog for @drmccoy-ruinedmylife and everyone else missing Beetlejuice x reader

“Well, since you promised me that today I get to have you all to myself …”

“Mmm-hmm. I did promise that, didn’t I?”

“That means I get to decide what we’re doing. Right?”

A tiny bit of worry crept into his voice. “Yeah …”

“Well then …”

You took Beetlejuice by the hand and led him to the bedroom. You watched a look of dawning surprise alight his face as he took in everything you’d laid out for him. A collar. Leather wrist cuffs. A new bottle of lube. A spreader bar. A series of straps and buckles that would attach to each thigh, go behind his neck, and keep his legs up. 

“You going to be a good boy for me today, Beej?”

As if his throat was dry and without taking his eyes from the equipment on the bed, he swallowed and gave a half nod.

You took his chin and turned his head to look at you. “Because if you’re a good boy, I’ll tease you and tell you how sweet you are and let you taste me as you come. If you’re a bad boy, though, it’s going to be a long day. You’ll get teased, of course, but you may not get to touch me at all.”

It was easy to see the war of indecision on his face. Good boys were treated well and got to have their mouths on your pussy. Bad boys might be spanked and treated roughly, and an orgasm wasn’t guarenteed; and if rules weren’t followed and he came without permission, it would be worse the next time. There were appeals to both options.

Beetlejuice swallowed again. “I … I’ll be good,” he told you.

You smiled and kissed him quickly on the mouth. “That’s a good lovebug. Clothes off. Let’s get you trussed up. Wrists cuffed to the headboard. I want your knees up for me, so I have access to every part of you. I’m going to make you feel so good, Beej.”

“I know you will,” he whined, and in a blink, his suit was gone and he was scrambling onto the bed. 

His arousal was evident as you strapped him in: not just a throbbing, leaking cock, but the trail of hair on his lower abdomen was hot pink too, like the roots of the hair on his head. He licked his lips as you eased him into position, and when he was spread before you, vulnerable and open, you couldn’t help but smile.

You loved that he loved this so much. 

“Let’s begin, shall we?” you said rhetorically, as you settled between his raised legs and squeezed lube into your hand.

Beetlejuice whined wordlessly in his eagerness, and moaned out loud when you started.

[ceaselessbasher]

sometimes i do think

what if i worked in tumblr

i could work in tumblr

[boyobjectifier]

being good doesn’t get you anything 🥰🖤

• they/them •

[fatedevour]

in-character clipping from the live signing with Dottore’s VA

[frecklesandfanfics]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33039475/chapters/82010122

“It’s my birthday tomorrow, and I’m having friends over. A party.” Clarke swallows. Bellamy’s face is unfriendly, almost irritated. “I wanted to invite you. Octavia said you don’t know a lot of people around here, and my friends are great. So--around nine? At my place?”

He’s silent for so long Clarke begins to shift uncomfortably. His jaw clenches, and then he finally says: “I get that my sister probably told you I’m pretty pathetic, but I’m not some sort of charity case. You don’t have to invite me to things.”

Clarke holds up her hands in protest. “No, that’s not what she said, and I just thought...that you might want a friend?”

“Well, I don’t.”

She’s never had a door closed in her face before. It’s not a feeling she wants to repeat.