#shrug shrug shrug shrug

[bobthedragon]

this week's doodling-while-watching-things dump is! lots of me learning how to draw Elliot for Reasons

not happy with a lot of the earlier ones but I love seeing progression things so maybe other people will too???

[sambambucky]

100% of respondents (ty @logicheartsoul & @firstelevens <3!!!!) said I should share a piece of a fair day's work and something upcoming from the they're always like this series soooo here is the latter

They come in late - of course - hand in hand and chatting gleefully. Neither of them acknowledge that the whole room has been waiting. Torres, Rogers, Natasha, even Banner calling in from some undisclosed location, all managed to make it here before the meeting started. Even Rhodey, dragging in a visibly hungover Tony by the elbow, was fifteen minutes early.  Wilson and Barnes don’t notice, or don’t care. Not that anyone is really making any real effort to chastise them. Barnes holds the door open for his husband and they stroll into the conference room, oblivious, stopping behind a recruit with two empty seats on either side of her. “Wow,” Tony says, resting his chin on a closed fist. “Did you two just get out of bed?” “No?” Bucky replies. His confusion sounds so innocent, it’s a little scary. “We stopped for ice cream.” “Frozen yogurt,” Sam corrects with the exasperated fondness of someone that’s had to make that distinction several times. 

[detectiveconnor]

@unrely / boop!

The coffee pot was empty. An unusual thing to catch on, because it was often empty, but Vin -- was usually one of the few who regularly refilled it, if he used the last. Connor didn't drink coffee. He didn't keep too close an eye on the coffeepot, after he put it on to brew in the mornings.

But Vin would typically refill it, and the knowledge that it had been left behind (his LED flashed, to find it there) was enough to have him stepping back out of the breakroom, like an afterthought, half-following after Detective Tserendorj:

"Detective Tserendorj." Not to chastise him. Just to... gauge his response, maybe. Connor had not had reason to speak to him properly in a while; busy. They were both just very busy people. His eyes shifted down, to the coffee in Vin's hand. Hm. "Are you taking lunch?"

[nirikeehan]

"Do we simply stare at what is horrible and forgive it?" for Thalia and Samson?

Hi, this burned a hole in my brain for months. Then I was feeling extra normal about Samson this week and here we are.

Awhile back I wrote a one-shot where Thalia goes feral on Samson after he wounds Cullen in a duel at the Temple of Mythal. This is a sequel to that I guess.

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1265

---

Thalia stood outside the damp cell. The roar of Skyhold’s foundational waterfall filled her ears, though nothing could be so loud as the pounding of her heart.

She did not want to be here. Everything in her screamed to turn and run, but she hadn’t been sleeping well since returning to Skyhold, the horrors of the Temple of Mythal fresh in her blood. 

She stepped closer, peering in through the bars. “Samson?” 

He was inside, leaning heavily against the stone wall. He looked worse than ever: skin a sweaty grey, face gaunt and emaciated. When she spoke his name, he let out a blistering cough that wracked his whole body. His feverish eyes met hers. 

“Ah, m’lady,” he said, extending a weak bow. “We meet again, eh?” 

Fury filled her, but also a plethora of other emotions: guilt, shame, even pity. She said nothing, remembering instead her agonized conversation with Mother Giselle earlier. The clergywoman had found her sitting by the shrine of Andraste off the courtyard garden, angry tears dripping down her face. Thalia bore complicated feelings for Mother Giselle, and had been outright hostile to her in the beginning. The Chantry mother never flinched, treating Thalia instead with gentleness and patience. Over time, Thalia had come to begrudgingly respect her, if not entirely what she represented. When they’d spoken this morning, Mother Giselle had listened to her frenetic ranting with a serene face, and offered calm advice. Not that it was advice Thalia wanted to hear.

“So do we simply stare at what is horrible and forgive it?” she had demanded.

“Yes,” Mother Giselle said. “Every time.”

Thalia laughed wryly. “But it’s hard.”

“Of course it is. You do not think we are called to do these things because they are easy, do you?” 

She stared now at what was horrible: Samson’s trembling arms; his body, stripped of its armor, being worn away to nothing; the guarded yet curious gaze — the defeated waiting for the victor to speak. 

“I’ve come to apologize,” Thalia blurted. Her hands tingled with the vulnerability laid bare, waiting for him to seize upon it and twist it to his own ends.

Samson quirked an eyebrow. “What for?” 

Thalia inhaled sharply, straightening. Surely he hadn’t forgotten? No. He was making her spell it out.

“For striking you while in custody.” She kept her tone cool and formal, her best diplomat’s voice. “For… hurting you. That was unbecoming of any agent of the Inquisition, let alone the Inquisitor herself.” 

Samson leaned his back against the wall, crossed arms over his concave chest. There was a hint of a smirk on his lips. “No offense meant to you, m’lady, and your—” he paused, eyeing her, “—surely sizable strength, but ‘hurt’s’ a bit of a strong word for what you did to me.”

Thalia narrowed her eyes. “What? What do you—”

The smirk widened, accompanied by a guffaw, which turned into another fit of coughing. As Samson bent over to hack into a fist, she understood: he was taller, wider, with decades of warrior training and the benefits of red lyrium, even as it ebbed from his system. She was a small, young mage who had slapped him with her staff in a fit of fury. She had split a lip, maybe blackened an eye, but he’d already been injured in the battle. He’d probably barely felt a thing. 

“Are you mocking me, ser? For trying to make amends?” 

The cough abated, and Samson righted himself. “No. I’m just saying, you needn’t worry your pretty little head about doing me damage, that’s all.”

Thalia dug her fingernails into the flesh of her palm. Of all the things she hated, being patronized by the likes of him threatened her composure the most.

Before she could think of a quick retort, Samson said, “Hey, m’lady, tell me something, will you?” He approached the bars and curled thin, bony fingers around them. “Cullen. He gonna be all right?” 

Thalia nearly snapped, What do you care? Instead, she took a deep breath and tried to exhale her anger. “Yes. He’s expected to make a full recovery.”

Samson nodded absently, staring off into the middle distance. She couldn’t tell if he took this as good or bad news. Then his gaze snapped to hers and the wicked smirk returned. “S’pose you wouldn’t be here apologizing if he wasn’t.” 

“You suppose correctly.” She wanted to inquire further, but another fit took hold of him, the coughing so violent she worried he might collapse if he lost his grip on the bars. When it finally subsided, she asked softly, “How’s the withdrawal?”

“How’s it sound?” Samson snapped. His chin had flecks of blood on it, or perhaps something else. She did not wish to think about what the red lyrium had done to him, that it might be calcifying his insides as they spoke. “Won’t be long now. Wait a few more days and you won’t even have to sentence me to death.” 

Thalia pressed her lips together. “Perhaps my reputation does not precede me as much as I thought, or else you’d know. I don’t sentence criminals to death.” 

“Ya don’t, eh?” Samson groaned, lowering himself into a sitting position. “Just my luck. Guess I’ll try and make it quick, then. For all our sakes.”

Thalia stared down at him as he raked fingers through his thinning hair. She felt as though something had reached into her chest and was squeezing her heart. It hurt more than even the revulsion she felt to behold him. 

“There could be another way,” she said.

Samson laughed and did not look up.

“I’m serious,” Thalia pressed. “There’s ways to beat lyrium addiction. I’ve seen it.” 

Samson shook his head. “Not the red. Not the blue, neither, far as I can tell — but never the red.”  

“Cullen did.”

“Did he?” Samson squinted up at her. “Or is he just in between highs?” 

“Currently, he’s in the infirmary with three broken ribs and thirty-seven stitches,” Thalia said crisply. “ All of it your doing.”

Samson grunted. “Lyrium would help with the pain. He’d be a fool not to take it.” 

“And you’re being evasive.” 

“What is it you want, m’lady?” Samson drew his thin arms around his torso, rocking slightly. “You’ve not offered me anything, just sweet platitudes. They said you were an idealist, but I must confess I am surprised by how much.” 

“You don’t wish for a chance to start over? Free of addiction, of doing other people’s dirty work?” 

Samson chuckled. “Now who’s to say I won’t be doing your dirty work instead, if I accept whatever deal  you’re cooking up behind those lovely baby blues?” 

Thalia gritted her teeth. “All right, you’ve got me there. But you’d be alive, for a start. If I understand correctly, leaving you here untended means you’ll be dead soon. That’s not an acceptable way to handle prisoners of war, regardless of what I plan to do with them later.” She stepped closer. “Let us treat you. If you survive, perhaps you’ll be grateful enough to consider repaying who it was that saved you.” 

Samson watched her for a long moment, then smirked. “Whatcha gonna do? Put me in an infirmary bed next to Cullen?”

“If necessary, yes.” Thalia tried not to think of Cullen’s ensuing outrage, though any shouting would at least be tempered by the broken ribs. “But it would probably be easier on everyone if I didn’t.” 

For the first time, Samson let out what seemed like a genuine laugh. “Ah, fuck it. Sure, m’lady, what else have I got to lose?” 

[crystallizedtwilight]

People I met for a few moments that live in my head forever.

[bone-free-as-the-wind]

Fossil of dragonfly larva or I don’t know.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Abby finally meets FNAF game Michael Afton

[sboochi]

*sips tea* it's dumb crossovers time

I guess here King Arthur was a real dude who became legend after his death (in which demons and angels might have been involved). Our heroes now have a mystery to solve, with the help of a certain sorcerer.......

Part 1 >> Next

[z4g-3us]

i think ppl will enjoy these so im sharing the experience of studying a tbh creature in the wild.... fascinating creatur.......

[saltoru]

being a jujutsu sorcerer and a parent rarely ends well. sorcerers who have to fight for their lives everyday barely have any time and energy even for themselves. adding babies to the picture is hard to imagine.

but gojo was determined to balance his work and personal life when you entered his life, which is why he has a baby girl strapped to his chest as he holds up his hand and crosses his fingers, already to send a special grade curse into his domain.

"daddy~" his baby babbles, cheek squished against his purple uniform.

"yes, baby?" gojo smiles down at his baby and gently sweeps her hair out of her eyes. he pays little to no attention to the curse, who had already spread out their domain and is currently sending wave after wave of attacks, all of which gojo repels with a touch. "this is domain expansion," he gently explains to her, smirking at the curse who is obviously offended that he wasn't taking them seriously. "in a second, you're gonna see daddy's domain."

his baby blinks and shuffles around in the strap, whining a bit as she tries to get comfortable. for all she knows, it's too dark and hot and she misses mommy's smell.

before she knows it, the space around her begins to look like the night sky, and she can't see the curse anymore.

"this is my domain," her daddy says, but she misses seeing the sun. why is it nighttime all of the sudden?

"nooo" she whines as she kicks around. where's the ice cream he promised her earlier? and where is mommy? she doesn't want to go to sleep yet!

"not easily impressed, hm?" he laughs, protectively holding his baby's head against his chest as he closes up his domain after finishing off the curse.

"let's go get ice cream, yeah?" he ruffles her hair and holds up her hands, dancing them up in the air with a huge grin. the sunlight hits her face again and a smile quickly reappears. "you did so good today. did you learn a lot about jujutsu fights today? did'ja enjoy our little adventure together?"

"ice cweam" she smiles, doing a few happy kicks. and that's how the tradition of getting ice cream after missions started for the daddy-daughter pair.

[headspace-hotel]

*grabs both your hands in gesture of sincerity*

Don't let this die. Taylor Swift is the Pollution Queen now. We need meme edits with her photoshopped onto backgrounds of wildfire-ravaged landscapes and oil refineries chugging out black smoke.

Photo of smudgy black eye shadow? That's THE Taylor Swift-inspired look now, it represents fossil fuels.

We need parodies of Taylor Swift songs about pollution and killing polar bears.

Give her representatives a full-time job for the rest of their lives defending her from the phrase "Pollution Queen." Make this meme a the figurehead of an entire fleet of other celebrity-terrorizing memes.

"But this doesn't dismantle the system that—" Shut. Don't care. Isn't it great that such a huge portion of environmental damage is being done by human individuals with egos, whose feelings can be hurt when people are mean?

Money can save you from physical harm, but can it save you from looking ridiculous?

[bugsquish]

it really sucks that the "planet of the bass" guy got popular on TikTok solely for making fun of autistic people. like, all of his "pov: you're sat next to the weird kid" videos got him popular, and all they are are him talking with an exaggerated speech impediment and displaying behaviors typically associated with kids and teens with autism to be seen as "annoying". and all of his comments are just people laughing and making fun of people with those traits (i.e, autistic people.) ive had him blocked for almost a year now, and seeing him all over my dashboard is just. idk. shitty ig. im not gonna like, be mad at people for thinking the meme is funny, but its just upsetting that someone who is that awful still has a platform big enough to push him onto multiple social media

[cherubytes]

[parameddic]

hmmm an open, deal with an emergency for TK while he walks your muse through it 'cause he cannot!

"Hey - hey. Hey. Hey, listen to me, okay." Panic was the last thing they needed. Panic was, absolutely, the least useful way to respond to a situation like this and TK was taking deliberate breaths to try to keep on top of it, even with this metal pipe lodged in his thigh (not through the artery - if it had nicked the artery he would not still be alive, so not the artery). "What you need is not. To move. Okay? We need to stop moving, it isn't steady, we're not in a rush and we don't want to trigger any more falls, you gotta stop, okay? Stop moving."

He couldn't think. Right now the vehicle they were in was balanced precariously on a cliff-face and threatened to fall further, and TK did not know what was below them just as he did not really know what was above them. He wasn't even entirely convinced he knew which way was 'up' right now. Just - just...

With a second to think he found that both hands were currently being used to press, firm, around the iron bar, and when the pressure relented or changed it was both ten times more painful and bleeding way too rapidly to be left unattended. It needed to be stabilised and wrapped up. The bar was only a foot long, at most.

Still impossible to move around with.

"TK?" the radio on his shoulder asked.

"Okay," he said. Okay. "Okay, I need you to radio back for me, all right? I can't move my hands." That was their first point of business. His team needed to know they were, both of them, still alive down here.

[shivroy]

werewolf!!