not to start whacking the hornet’s nest but i think the most tragic part of ahsoka and anakin’s story together is that from the very first moment, it’s all based on a lie.

ahsoka meets anakin after aotc - he’s already committed an unjustifiable atrocity. he’s already slaughtered the tusken people, and as far as we know, ahsoka never finds out about that. and you know, that would completely and wildly screw up ahsoka’s perceptions of anakin

and i would go so far as to say it would screw with her image of anakin more than the vader reveal. because the vader reveal is like. oh shit your older brother/ best friend has turned into a monster and has committed genocide and is currently trying to kill you

but the tusken massacre reveal is like. oh shit your older brother who tucks you in bed when you’re sick and who makes you laugh so hard your ribs hurt has, for the entire time he’s loved you and you loved in return, been a murderer, and has actively been hiding a horrible, unjustifiable secret

the vader reveal is tragic because the anakin that ahsoka knows and remembers is, to her knowledge, gone forever. the tusken massacre reveal is tragic because the anakin that ahsoka knows and loves is based on a lie

I know Gligar is supposed to be a vampire bat but uhm. What if it was a sugarglider

it is i, one who drew mob rob for your other blog. remember when i said i couldnt draw old men? yeah apparently i fuckiNG LIED-

what happened to me. first gilf ive ever drawn. i drew these both in one sitting. this man has consumed me. i like his hair but drawing it makes me wanna cry. probably helps that i found a new lineart pen. i like drawing his hands. im writing fanfic about this motherfucker. thanks for infecting me im having a great time. thanks im losing my shit fr fr

WHEEEEEZE CONVERTING GAMERS INTO OLD MAN ENJOYERS LMAOOOOOO

I fucking love tue way you draw Miko, and I humbly request you draw her in her natural habitat:

Under two blankets to shield her from the sun, gaming and looking like she hasn't slept in weeks.

Please and thank you.

hehehahhjdshgsdhdshcd yayay

I was gonna make this drawing look nicer (in particular: add the sunlight she was avoiding) buuuuut I wanted to play splatoon instead soo

Unconstrained

Pairings: Lando/Carlos

Rating: E

Tags: Background George/Alex, Grad School AU, Friends With Benefits, Explicit Sexual Content, Service top Carlos Sainz, tender horny, exhibitionist tendencies, slow burn but they're having sex the entire time, Recognizable background characters, A dash of miscommunication, Minor angst but a full happy ending

From what Lando can see through the half-open door, there’s a guy sitting at a large table looking down at his keyboard. All Lando can plainly see is a head of dark hair, his nose, and a large bottom lip. Lando thinks he’s seen the guy around even if he doesn’t know his name. He’s beyond intimidating in a way too-attractive people often are, but Lando’s desperate. The guy’s head shoots up, eyes wide in surprise, when Lando knocks on the open door. He’s probably in the middle of office hours and not expecting anyone to need him. His gaze is as piercing as Lando remembers from the previous few times. “Can I help you?” the guy asks, probably realizing Lando’s not one of his students. And while Lando’s seen him, he doesn’t think he’s ever heard him speak. The sound of his voice is a deep timbre that curls around the English words. Lando wonders what this guy teaches and if he would be allowed to audit the class just to get more of it. Or: Lando and Carlos are in a Ph.D. program navigating both graduate school challenges as well as an ill-advised friends-with-benefits situation that has no chance of going wrong.

Read on Ao3

oooooooohhugyghh the springtrap brainrot is hitting real hard today. specifically the angsty parts.

my headcanon is that his actual body, the corpse, is still technically, somehow alive. he's still breathing. he still feels hunger and thirst and tired, but he just...can't do any of them. his body is essentially forced to breathe even with the springlocks puncturing his lungs. he's starving and exhausted and suffocating but he can't die. he is on the verge of death at all times but nothing can push him past that. and that's just the physical side of things. the complete loss of any sense or communication or stimulation while stuck in that room for 30 years wouldve been so, so much worse than any physical sensation. he's stuck in this pitch black room, in his own pain, with nothing to do except think, or do some mindless movement like pacing. he'd tried everything- trying to scream for help until he couldn't make noise at all. throwing himself against the door to force it open. nothing worked. all he could do was hope and beg that someday that door would open and he'd get himself out of this damn room- but until then it was the same every day. forgetting who he was. forgetting any language skills, forgetting people. forgetting how to be a human. delusions and hallucinations constantly tearing at his sense of what was real and what wasn't, until the line between that room, himself, and the outside world became blurred. he wasn't in that room anymore- he was that room. feeling the walls closing in pressing harder and harder until eventually leaving the room was merely a forgotten memory.

you will never leave this room.

“Welcome back, friend. We’ve been waiting for you...”

I am HYPED with the new fnaf content coming out and got completely overtaken with the need to make some fanart. And, the dlc trailer? ECLIPSE?? HELLO?? SO HYPED.

hi it's me again. drops this like a mixtape

https://tinyurl.com/mrx88wbt

its done :) sorry if its not good

- jummbox anon

YOOO⁉️⁉️⁉️ THIS IS SICK AS FUCK OMFGGGG I ADORE.

I LOVE IT SO SO SO MUCH I THINK IT FITS SMG8 SO WELL AAGAHRHEGGRGEGDB

IM GOING BANANAS

He's jammin JAMMIN I SAY

looking at a cute popstar post

Ben talks for Logan.. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

lyrics to my latest most life dominating obsession:

little pee-wee polka dotted pig 🐖 🐷 polka dotted! (polka spotted ☝🏽) tiny little pig 🐷 it's smaller than a fig-let! 🗣️🔥 pee-wee polka dotted pig 🐖 🐷 he'll hold your toothpicks (❗️) he likes to hold your toothpicks put him on the counter ☝🏽🔥 the spotted tiny dotted, sweet little toothpick pig! 🐖🗣️🔥🔥🔥

Thinking about their babygirl 🫰🏼🩷💀

Summary:

Rune’s not so good with romantic words. He’s not so great with romantic gifts either. (inspired by this prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting)

Read on AO3 here / @ficwip

—

Since he woke on the Nautiloid, words have been difficult for Rune. Perhaps it’s the head-trauma and the parasite burrowing into his brain, or perhaps he’s always been a lumpen-tongued creature, unable to translate thought to coherent speech. So far he’s scraped by, bludgeoning his way through conversations like a back-alley boxer, bare-knuckled and brutal, but now he finds himself in need of more than a fistful of words.

Astarion gives him a headache with all the thoughts he can’t get from one side of his scarred skull to the other. Compliments and pet names and assurances flow from his—partner? bedmate? lover? friend?—companion like wine. Rune skips being drunk on it and goes straight to the hangover, unable to reciprocate. It’s infuriating. He killed a fucking orthon, why are a few affectionate words so damn difficult?

There are other ways to speak. Pictures say a thousand words, or so it goes. Items can be your voice, say what you can’t. Rune’s no painter, but he knows what Astarion enjoys.

His gut churns as he crosses the camp, his unspeakable words clasped in a clammy fist behind his back. Astarion glances up from his book, smile half-shadowed in the firelight. It makes him look Rune’s favourite kind of dangerous; a night-predator, eyes aglint and aglow.

“Need something?” he asks, setting his book aside, then blinks at the object Rune drops into his lap. “What’s this?”

“Affection,” Rune says. Astarion snorts a laugh.

“Darling, this is a knife. It still has blood on it.”

“You like knives. And blood.”

The snort becomes a full-bodied laugh, head thrown back, mouth wide enough to show red tongue, white fangs. The hollow core of Rune’s head turns in on itself, growling to cover the whimper of humiliation. Go somewhere dark, cut something open and crawl inside, this never happened, this never happened, this never happened. He starts to turn away—Astarion leaps up and catches his wrist.

“You’re right,” he says. “I do like knives. And blood.” Hesitation. “And you.”

Rune swallows. “I want to say things. To you. And I can’t.”

“Thus the knife.”

Astarion examines it for a moment, considering, then tosses it aside. It hits his discarded book and thumps off the cover—the sound reverberates in Rune’s head, but before it can crescendo to murderous levels of anguish, Astarion takes his face in both hands.

“Don’t worry so much about saying things, sweetheart.”

He pulls Rune into a kiss, and Rune grips his waist tight, holding him close. There’s a knot just left of his heart, a tangled, bloody skein of firelit eyes, the white arch of a brow, the shift of weight before the throw of a knife; of skin pale as bone and soft as silk, a sharp laugh and sharper teeth; of need and want and fear sunk in like claws.

Astarion draws back.

“I hear you,” he says. Taps Rune’s temple. “And even without these little go-betweens, you’re loud enough.” He puts his palm to Rune’s chest, over his heart. “I hear you, love.”

The knot unravels ever so slightly. Rune lays his hand over Astarion’s.

“So no knives?”

Astarion grins. “Well, I’ll never say no to a decent blade. I do so enjoy a good stabbing.”

Rune barks a laugh, and lets his vampire drag him into their tent, where they speak without words until the sun comes up.

Can't stop thinking about....

*Claus being a little baby girl*

Dorian : Lol, I'm not into wimps

🪄✨

*Claus becoming a fcking brutal sex machine*

when the jaw bits moved around