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#and that I’ll never have that again

endermagpieart · 4 months

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What do you mean I’m a bit late for Janus’ big day? Of course not, how could you say such a thing! I definitely didn’t forget all about it in my absence and only get reminded in the incorrect quotes video live chat; that’s not like me at all ;]

Anyways I decided to dress our sassy snake in some different outfits I think he’d like. He seems like the type to get all dolled up on his birthday and it goes with Thomas posting pics in outfits inspired by the sides on their appreciation days!

@thatsthat24

#sanders sides #janus sanders #ts janus #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanart #my hoard #I’ve returned!#the newest asides came out and I remembered how much I love it #so I’m hyperfixated again and I’ve not now peace since #it is nice to actually finish something again tho #I’ve been pretty busy working lately and now I’m starting to pack to move into my first apartment!#so not much time to really sit down and draw #and when I do have time I can’t get the motivation to actually draw anything #I want to get better about posting stuff on here #(even though it feels like I’m just dreaming into the void a lot)#even just silly little things or rough sketches I’ll never finish #I hope it’ll help me continue to draw and make things again #I forgot how nice it is #anyways if you’ve read this far thanks #have a cookie :] 🍪

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lokiiied · 7 months

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ngl i got so scared they were gonna make mobius a fucking white picket fence two kids and a loving wife…and then they gave us “single dad” mobius “wife is long gone” hmm you’re really my friend? okay i ain’t arguing with a tall, handsome, dark haired stranger guess i’ll just follow you anywhere.

and then i was happy bc sylvie is so happy in her life!! by herself!!

and THEN i got so scared when loki & sylvie went for a drink and i was like alright here we go…and then i got “of course i know you. your friends are where they’re supposed to be. we’re writing our own stories. write your own.” and “i want my friends. i don’t want to be alone”

and then i was happy again bc she left to go listen to records!! and the record shop guy is cute! maybe she thought so. maybe not! she’s just vibing!!

and then i got, “it’s about who” while staring right at mobius.

what a fucking rollercoaster.

#i genuinely dont know what to expect next ep #like they could very much still turn around and be like ‘here’s sylki again!!’#BUT they could ALSO very much make the gays happy #like they don’t even have to make them kiss yet just don’t give me sylki #let loki choose mobius and let mobius choose him they are SO CLOSE #to fixing this #please please please #ill be so good i swear i promise i’ll never complain again #loki season 2 #loki spoilers #loki #mobius #lokius #anti sylki #sylvie

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crybaby-bkg · 6 months

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Bakugou asks you to join him during one of his photoshoots for a pro hero campaign. he doesn’t understand the point of it, nor why he has to only be in his underwear, but he doesn’t mind it much when he gets to look over to your shy little face.

you’re propped up in a corner on an old couch, laptop perched in your lap, its glare bright despite the way you never really look at it. you’re supposed to be catching up on some work, but you’ve been distracted by the glorious sight that is the love of your life.

when he looks at you, do you duck down, eyes suddenly focused on your screen again. it only makes him smile a little, step away from the assistant of the photographer who comes up to him, calls out your name.

“Huh?” your head whips up with a quickness neither of you expect, goes to show just how invested you really were with your work. but Bakugou only grins at you now, jerking his chin over to you as he grabs the bottle of oil the assistant was trying to pour over him.

“C’mere and gimme a hand, won’t ya?” he asks you, boyish smile gracing his face as he tilts his head at you. immediately, your face warms as you put together the request that’s suddenly dropped in your lap. everyone in the studio looks at you, with both envious and excited gazes, and it only makes you shrink in on yourself.

“I hate you.” you mutter under your breath when you finally rise up from your place on the couch, which he somehow hears. but Bakugou only laughs at you, grabs you by the waist when you’re close enough to kiss you breathless in front of everybody, before he’s handing off the oil to you.

“Such an attention whore,” you whisper when you’re close, the air between the two of you thick. everyone tries to look away, give you guys a bit of privacy, but it’s hard when such a soft and amused look passes over the usually rough and hardened hero’s face.

“Only for your attention.” he grunts back to you, holding his arms out for you to start dripping the oil down his skin. it’s a sensual gesture, the softness between you two sliding into something more, something that you only ever reserve for the bedroom.

you tip the bottle over his shoulders until it drips down his chest, massaging it all in with your hands in crude, circular motions. you can see the way he bites his lip, ignore the way he looks at you down the bridge of his nose lest you two create a scene not meant for the public eye. you gather more oil, warm it between your palms, kneeling in front of him to help massage it into the defined muscles of his stomach.

you ignore the twitch in front of you, swallowing thickly, glancing up to Bakugou who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet. you mouth at him to behave, but he only grins, something feral.

“We only need it above the waistband.” the photographer suddenly calls out, snapping you back to attention. you stand on shaky knees, nodding with your eyes casted low, ashamed, that your freak of a man had you doing something so…so—

“Go wait in my dressing room, yeah?” Bakugou asks you, pulling you in close to peck at the corner of your mouth. “Gonna wrap this shit up.” he promises you, and you can only nod silently, mind going a mile a minute. but before you go, you remember to grab the oil. just in case.

#I hope this makes sense and sorry that it’s This.#I’m sleepy and having an allergic reaction and it’s HELL!!!!!!!#and I’m also coming on my cycle life just won’t stop beating my ass #on the other hand I really enjoyed my schoolwork this week which was a nice relief #I have a week left and I’m so happy bc I’ll finally have more time to write what I want again!!!#bakugou treats! 🍬#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#also I’ve talked about model bkg before but I can never get enough of him I fear #him as a model or even just modeling in general does something to me #mr pretty face with such a terrible attitude and such a brat bc he wants only you for everything #I need him terribly so

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absolutekillswitch · 5 months

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no alarms and no surprises (please)

pairing: luke castellan x thanatos!reader

tw: major TLO spoilers (honestly tho if u haven’t read it yet, begone), major character death, discussions of blood and death, Luke was reader’s first kiss, mentions of past manipulation, lots of crying, and also i made [REDACTED] take way too long to die for the sake of dialogue. Sorry. Also! she/her pronouns are used, but I tried to steer clear of descriptors outside of that so this SHOULD be woc friendly

word count: 3.4k

It was cruel, this end he was facing. Y/N had felt it long before she’d seen it, that deep intrinsic tug within her, that sixth sense that had begun to go haywire since New York had fallen asleep, since the final countdown for western civilization had officially started running. The tug that alerted her to a new death in her vicinity. The curse bore by the children of death, the chained god, to feel the string of fate being cut, to sense lost souls being carried to the underworld by their father. To mourn, but not to see. She’d never felt it as frequently as she did now, feeling like threads tugging her in countless directions, so much so that her aim with her sword was affected. She’d been coined the best swordsman back at camp, after the previous titleholder had vacated the position, but now, it was like she was jittery, like a newborn zebra with a sword in their grasp, trying to learn how to stand and fight all at once, her battle senses being overridden by the unavoidable emotional pain of the fact that every tug she was feeling, was the feeling of a fellow demigod dying.

But then she’d felt that one.

The strength of this particular tug wasn’t lost on her. It was stronger than any she’d faced yet— stronger than the tugs of those she’d slain herself, and stronger than the tugs of those who had been close to her, when they were alive. It was so strong that the metaphysical tug had felt like a real, physical one, like she was physically being pulled in its direction. The proof of it is the crude slash on her forearm, where the kid she’d been fighting back had gotten a lucky shot on her due to her presently distracted nature.

It had to have been him.

She wasn’t sure just who she’d been fighting, and in the end, she doesn’t think it really mattered all that much, if they were a former camper; a demigod, or if they were an armored monster, as with a wave of her hand, the ground rumbles, opening up under their feet, boney, decayed hands dragging them into the earth, only for the ground to close up on them halfway through their forced descent. Y/N didn’t even notice, nor did she really care. All she knew was that she’d put an end to her own fight, allowing her feet to carry her to his side, numbness flooding her body, with a whispered command to her undead soldiers,

“Protect them.”

She’s not even sure how she found him, exactly. She’d just always been able to find him like that. Now seemed to be no exception to the rule, as she followed what she would consider to be the string of fate to his side. The sight she sees when she does is an unwelcome one, however. There’s three of them— she sees Percy and Annabeth crowded around a figure on the ground. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is.

“Oh, Gods,” Y/N whispers, hesitating to get closer. She doesn’t know if she can. At the sound of her voice, Percy turns. He looks pale, eyes ringed in red. It looks like he’d been crying, exhausted, eyes wide, as if he were afraid he’d collapse if he even blinked. Y/N wouldn’t blame him, if he did.

“Y/N—“ He hesitates to speak, to try and explain, but Y/N doesn’t let him. She’s already marching over, ignoring the dread building in her gut, the tears in her eyes. And that’s when she sees him.

“Luke,” She whispers, the single word bordering on a gasp. Internally, she’s vaguely aware that this is the first time she’d used his name in years, preferring to call him by his last name, or traitor, at best, or whatever random curse she could think of at the time, at worst. She’d gotten pretty good at it, honestly— the coming up with insults to hurl at him every time they’d crossed paths since his betrayal. But now, all of that is gone. It seems that at that moment, Annabeth and Percy disappeared. It’s just them as she crumbles, falling to her knees before he can even protest. It’s him, not Kronos, she knows. They’d all learned how to tell the difference between the two, when Kronos had taken Luke’s face. Kronos had a colder air about him, eyes golden. Just pure evil that seeped into your bones, that seemed to change even the people around you. But this? This was Luke Castellan. Soft, soulful brown eyes, and a welcoming air about him. This was the guy who had been like all of Camp Half-Blood’s big brother. This was the guy Y/N had been in love with ever since she’d arrived at camp, even if she realized it far too late. Even if he was currently trying to get Percy to make her leave, not wanting her to see him like this. Never like this. Her eyes take stock of his appearance against her will. He looked just as bad as Percy did— worse, actually, given he was bleeding, Annabeth’s knife clattering from his hand to the marble below him. It makes her heart ache, the picture in front of her painted so clearly, even if she hadn’t been present to see it herself.

A hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

They’d realized what the prophecy meant, clearly. Luke had to be the one to take Kronos— and to an extent, himself— out. And when Luke had done it, when he’d touched his own Achilles heel, Kronos had run. So now, Luke Castellan was dying. Alone.

Well— not alone.

She was still here. She always would be, even if he’d insist otherwise. He hated how she always had made him want to be a better person. Even now, as he lay dying, covered in sweat, blood, and ash. If she tries hard enough, she can almost pretend that they’re back at camp, that they’d had an extremely rough day playing capture the flag, that the pair of them are in the infirmary, making up ridiculous stories for the scars they’ll have as a result of their adventure, shedding tears from their short lived pain in the name of glory but laughing anyway as they stitched each other up, letting the Apollo kids deal with those who didn’t have someone to back them up like Y/N and Luke did— someone to dote on them, and someone to dote on in return. But it gets hard, keeping up this fantasy. They’re both far too battle-worn, both with eyes that had seen far too much, faces years older than they were the last time they’d seen each other. And in spite of it all, all she can find herself thinking is,

‘Oh, love, you grew up without me’.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Luke tells her plainly, his brown eyes fighting to focus on her through his tears that he’s fighting to push back. Had they always done that?

“Yet I’m here anyway. Deal.” She responds, brows furrowing, focusing on the wound in his side. Prophecies be damned, she won’t let him die. He sits up straighter, slumped uncomfortably against a marble wall at the sudden pressure to his side, the daughter of Thanatos trying to staunch the blood flow, trying to give him more time, tears clouding her own vision, hands shaking. She knows deep down that it’s all in vain, but she won’t let him go. Not like this. She’ll fight her father back herself, if she had to.

“Y/N…” He whispers uncomfortably, hating how blood spurts past his lips, onto his chin, as he utters her name. He’s going to die, he knows, he can almost feel the fates beginning to prepare to cut his thread, but there’s some things he can’t leave unsaid. “My— my heart, it was always yours. You know that, right?” He notices how she flinches, expression troubled. “Take care of it, for me. I know you’ll do better with it than I ever had.” It’s true— his entire time at camp, since she’d arrived, he’d stupidly ignored it. He let hate and anger and jealousy cloud his mind for so long, he never really appreciated what was in front of him. It was just unfortunate it was taking his death to realize that.

“Don’t— don’t say that, not to me,” she sobs, shaking hands still covering his wound, stupidly, naively, believing she could still save him. “Don’t make it sound like you’re dying. You’re not dying, damn it,” she still sounds determined, one hand leaving his wound to touch his face, holding his cheek, accidentally staining it with his own blood. “Don’t— don’t leave me here, please, I just got you back,” she pleads, glassy eyes blurring with tears. She thinks, honestly, that this is the first time she’s talking to just Luke, free of Kronos’ influence, since he’d stolen that lightning bolt from Olympus years ago. It’s the Luke she remembers, the one she so sorely missed.

He laughed quietly, reaching up to touch her fingers. Even now, as she was sobbing over him, unable to look him in the eye, she’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were so plump — as if made to be kissed, even in this moment of peril. “The gods might not want me, but I’m glad they’ve given you to me,” he whispered, squeezing her hand in his again. “I’m dying, Y/N. You can’t save me.” This makes her squeeze her eyes closed, shaking her head lightly, as if she isn’t listening. She isn’t, not really.

“No, nononono— stop that,” She cries, her eyes squinting shut in an effort to banish her tears, but it doesn’t work. “I’m— I’m the daughter of Thanatos, damn it, what good am I if I can’t do this? If I can’t keep just one person alive?” She seems to be talking mostly to herself, not giving up her mission on keeping him with her. Not after everything that’s been said, not with everything that’s being left unsaid. “I know this isn’t what I do, that I’m not a fucking sunshiney Apollo kid who can heal someone on a whim. But this is kinda my thing, is it not? Just… Just one. Please, let me save just this one. I’ll never ask for anything again.” She’s looking up at the sky— praying, it looked like, while blinking away her own tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she prayed to the gods for anything, but she was now. To anyone who would listen, though Luke gets the sneaking suspicion she’s talking to her father. The one she blamed, for being unable to save anyone. She couldn’t heal, the best she could do was sit by and watch.

Luke laughed again, but it’s humorless— and it was so cruel, to die when he could feel his heartbeat quickening as Y/N was so close, her lips so near to his, her eyes so lovely. He wished he could kiss her right now, in this moment, on the marble floor, with blood running over his fingers and the dagger still next to them.

“Y/N, promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” Y/N nods softly, her attention turning back to him. She hates how the simple act of saying her name still affected her so much, after all this time. Her tears were cutting through the grime on her face from a hard fought battle, covered in her own and the blood of others, trembling. Still, she finds it in her to make a promise to the dying boy she loved. “Anything. Just—“ she drifts off, nodding, knowing they don’t have time. Luke took a breath, his eyes fluttering shut. For the first time in his life, he genuinely felt like a young man. A teenage boy, holding his girlfriend's hand and wanting nothing but her to keep safe. For a moment, he can pretend. But only for a moment. His breath hitched, and slowly, he felt the life fading from his body — as if it was being drawn from him like water in a cup. He hesitates to speak, but knows he’s running out of time. He can feel it, being sapped from his bones. But in spite of that, he’s not… afraid. He isn’t angry. He almost isn’t even in pain. He thinks it’s her, that it’s Y/N’s aura as a daughter of Thanatos, that no one in her vicinity will feel pain, a divine remainder of her father’s power flowing in her veins, the guide to the underworld, before they’d meet the ferryman. A walking shot of morphine. He’s heard stories from his spies, about how when Camp would lose a camper during their fight with Kronos— with him—, Y/N would stay with them until they passed, holding their hand, telling stories, bringing them peace, so they would go out with a kind face. Much like she was doing now, for him. The Thanatos of the waking world, the guiding light to death. It’s much more than he deserves, and he knows it.

"Promise me.... you'll meet me again... at the River Styx," He whispered.

“I’ll find you in Elysium.” She promises softly through sniffles, brushing his hair out of his face, a forced soft smile on her own face. She wants him to go out peacefully, wants to remember her smiling, even if she wants to scream at the sky and cry until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She’d been pretty good at it, feigning calmness and serenity with the campers they lost on their own side. It made their passing easier. But this? With him? She doesn’t know if it does. He’d always been far too good at reading her, for that. “I swear it, on the Styx, that I’ll find you in Elysium.” She sounds sure of herself, that even after everything he’d done, he’d earned a hero’s afterlife. That’s what the prophecy said, after all, right? Somehow, she knows she, too, will find herself with a hero’s death. Life wouldn’t be so kind to allow her to die of old age. She’d die hard, with a sword in her hand, and anger in her heart. Luke's eyes flickered open to meet the softness of hers, of lips he wanted to taste, of skin he wanted to cover with kisses. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of mourning the future he could’ve had with this girl, if he hadn’t been so hellbent on his never ending quest for glory.

Kleos. The word feels like poison, now. Maybe it always had been.

"No —" He whispered, head shaking lightly, "I won't be in Elysium. I’ll go to Asphodel—" He choked. That's where he'd likely be, being punished for his treason. It’s the least he deserved, after everything he’d done. "— and then the Fields of Punishment. But promise me... that you will wait for me, at the River."

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, adamant. He should probably take her word for it— she’s the daughter of the god of death, after all. She had a sense for these things. “Elysium. I’m sure of it. You’ve earned it.” She promises, tone soft. She doesn’t mention how she’d never let her father live it down if anything else took place. She’d tear Hades apart herself, find his soul and bring him back, somehow. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, except she’d succeed. “Regardless— it doesn’t matter. I’ll always find you. No matter where you are, I’ll find you. I swear it.”

He laughed, and it was a sad one. He was so weak, so very weak, his eyes flickering once more, his hand squeezing hers as tightly as he could, wanting to burn her imprint into his flesh. "You are so stubborn, you know that? You always have been," he whispered. Images flash through his mind against his will— her face, always her face. When she’d learned of his betrayal, then later when he’d attempted to sway her to his side. When they would train together in the arena— camp’s two best swordsmen. When she’d have nightmares, constant images of the dead trying to use her, both for her powers and as revenge on her father, who they felt claimed them from the mortal plane far too soon, to crawl their way back to the world of the living, and how, terrified of closing her eyes again, she’d crawl into his bed with him, the only place she felt safe enough to fall back asleep. When she’d kissed him for the first time, on her seventeenth birthday. Because ‘most demigods don’t get to make it to seventeen, so I’m making seventeen count’, as she’d put it. Then, later that night, after his surprise wore off, when he had kissed her. It pains him to think about how he’d only been manipulating her, back then. Had he loved her? Sure, but his mission always seemed more important at the time. He’d do it for them, he’d told himself. The gods would regret every unclaimed child, and every claimed child resigned to the Hermes cabin because they weren’t born with the luxury of having a parent that had a throne on Olympus, one of the big twelve. For kids like Y/N. His hand slipped from hers, and he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Instead, he'd watch her, as if he could lock her into his memory. "Will you... will you stay here with me, until my life..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

“Until the very end.” She promises softly, her voice cracking with the effort not to cry. She’d almost given up on trying to staunch the bleeding, one hand resting on his face, brushing languidly, lovingly, over his cheek, just around the edge of his scar. She’s not sure what possessed her in that moment, as she leans down, placing a soft, chaste, yet romantic kiss to his lips. After all, he’d been her first kiss, it felt fitting that she would also be his last. As she pulls away, she whispers against his lips, “I love you, Luke Castellan.”

He was breathless, the kiss like a dagger to the chest, biting deeper than the blade that will end up taking his life. In a matter of minutes, his heartbeat would skip its last beat, and her face will be the last he sees, the last thought on his mind. His hand came up to the back of her neck, holding her as he whispered in return, "... I love you too." He managed only that, before his heart failed him. He was gone, and he didn't make a sound.

Gone with a whimper, not a bang.

The blood that fell from his wound was now staining the pristine marble flooring beneath them, the last remnants of life and love, of devotion and betrayal. Y/N hoped that it would stain forever, a constant reminder of his sacrifice.

Y/N felt his final breath fan across her face, and she knew he was gone. Her eyes remained closed, steady tears rolling down her face, their foreheads pressed together. She can feel him growing cold as she sobs. “No,” She whimpers, his hands, now gone limp, still in hers. “No, please no—“ Vaguely, she’s aware of the rumbling of the ground under her feet, a telltale sign of her powers coming out to play, a throng of undead soldiers aching to burst past the earth’s mantle, to await her command. Her face screws up into an expression of anguish, though she forces the feeling down, knowing that if she didn’t reel in her own emotion, her legion of death wouldn’t hesitate to grab every demigod in her vicinity and drag them into the earth, to take their place in the afterlife. Maybe they’d take her, too. Maybe she hoped they would.

The thing about being the daughter of death, was that when a soul left a body and you were near enough to it, you could feel them leaving the mortal plane, accompanied by her father to the underworld. She could feel it, feel him, Luke’s soul leaving his body. She always did, with the campers they lost during the war, but this one hits too close to home. It’s a startling, chilling, terrifying feeling, that only makes her sob harder, knowing the boy she loved was now in her father’s hands, and out of her own. This was always the hardest part. “Take care of him for me, pops,” she whispers, voice trembling, knowing her father was with Luke’s soul right now, the pair watching over her mourning over Luke’s body. As that realization passes over her, she sits up straight, a ragged scream of mourning threatening to tear her vocal cords apart. In the background, she’s vaguely aware of the voice of Percy Jackson speaking,

“We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

Notes: and with that, we’re done. This was super fun! I feel like I could go on forever about Luke x Grim Reader (I’m calling them deadwings/grimwings), and if there’s enough of a demand, I just might. Feedback is obviously appreciated !! Drink some water, hug a friend, and don’t forget to pirate PJO 🫶

#JAZZ HANDDSS #happy Friday have some soul shattering angst #and for my next trick I’ll disappear into obscurity never to be heard from again #jk #unless???#pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan angst #luke castellan x you #PJO angst #x reader #PJO imagine

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donald-trump-official · 9 months

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When the mugshot drops, will you use it as your icon? :3c

Better write up my 5th indictment because it’s a crime I hadn’t thought of this yet

#I have NEVER changed my profile pic #but goddamn if there’s any other picture it should be #it should be that one #ugh idk I’ll have to think it over #trump speaks again #satire #donald trump #parody #ask #anon

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no-brain-just-good-omens · 3 months

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genuinely crying again they love eachother so much TwT

LOOK AT THE WAY AZIRAPHALE IS LPOKING AT CROWLEY!!1!! I AM SICK!!! I AM DYING!!! THAT IS A MAN WOMAN PERSON NOT PERSON ANGEL THAT IS SO SEVERELY IN LOVE!!!!!

#anyway what im saying is im lonely #i’ll never have anything as good as what they have #why am i genuinely crying over how much they love each other #good omens #good omens s2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable divorce #ineffable husbands #good omens brainrot #good omens is making me sad again #i need to stop doing this to myself #HOW TO STOP THINKING ABOUT THESE GAYS

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foldingfittedsheets · 6 months

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I got Leeloo when she was seven weeks old. The owner lied, or miscounted, and I got her a week too young. She was pretty well adjusted for all that, feisty and fierce as a kitten. I got her right as my ex and I were splitting. She was only a month or two old when we broke up. It was pretty wretched, finals week at college, both of us heart sore, and then we both came down with the mother of all coughs.

He was sleeping on the couch. I offered to share my cough suppressant and he set it on the table. We weren’t used to having a kitten under foot yet.

I was brushing my teeth when I glanced out the door and saw one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen, my beloved kitten on her side seizing, the pill capsule punctured and empty beside her. He burst into panicked tears when I shouted and I practically shook him to get in the car while routing to an emergency vet.

We sat clutching each others hands in the waiting room. Neither of us had known who would get the kitten in the breakup. But sitting there, both of us sobbing, he said it should be me. The doctor told us she had a fifty fifty shot of pulling through. She’d almost asphyxiated, her tongue was blue when we’d gotten her in the door.

After what felt like centuries they came out and said she’d made it. She was going to live.

It was only a few months later that I noticed her not walking around. She barely played anymore. I took her to the vet again and they said she was just constipated and didn’t follow up. Another pestering a week later led to closer examination of her X-rays. Turns out, the asphyxiation had led to a very narrow blood vessel leading to the head of her femur dying. So her bone had snapped off in the joint.

Horrified at the amount of pain she must have been in I got her in for surgery to remove the bone fragment. In a human we’d stop being able to walk, but cats have enough muscle to overcome a simple thing like lacking the ball for their ball and socket joint.

The surgery was a shit show. They called me after putting her under anesthesia and cutting her up open only to realize they were missing a tool. Then they sent her home with an open wound instead of stitches and I had to bring her back yet again to go under and get stapled shut. Then they tried to charge me for all their fuck ups while I was already sobbing over vet bills.

I had a loft bed at the time. Usually she climbed a cat tree to join me in bed at night but after her surgery I made a nest on the ground so I could cuddle with her every night. Her dopey little face looking at me from her cone was worth my back hurting every day.

I felt so bad watching her try to eat with a cone that I hand fed her every meal. To this day she’ll go sit by the food dishes, looking at me longingly to remind me of my little nest on the ground where I’d hand fed her.

That was a decade ago. But she still remembers.

Today I got her new medicine for her horrible cough, fretting about her lungs collapsing. I lovingly rolled each pill and brought them to her an hour early because I couldn’t stand having medicine on hand that I wasn’t giving her.

It was only after she’s happily eaten her pill pockets that I remembered the pills saying to give them with food. So I walked back upstairs and stood beside the cat bed while she ate from my hand again, and when she was done she looked at me with love. Because she doesn’t feel good but I’m still here to hand feed her.

#ramblies #Leeloo #she’s had so much medical bullshit #and this is already going long but I was living paycheck to paycheck when things broke bad #and a friend anonymously donated to pay for her surgery #I found out who it was years later and I’ll never stop being grateful #and I’ll never stop being grateful for that act of generosity #it sucks being poor again fretting over leeloos health again #but at least this time I have a credit score and a savings account #I want the antibiotics to just magically make her feel better instantly #ffs foibles

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trashhole · 21 days

Text

Tfe season 2 situation hot take

you can stone me, cancel me, send me threats for this I don’t care I’m saying my opinion.

Earthspark isn’t ruined just because your blorbo isn’t in it or isn’t perfectly written.

Tfe is about the terrans.

Everyone jumping to conclusions because of a rotten tomatoes synopsis that’s 2 sentences each is craaaazy. We haven’t even seen batch two and you guys are saying the season is trash? People worked hard on this to make something and we’re judging it before we’ve even watched it.

Have hope, not everything in life is immediately bad, and I’m sure the tfe team worked hard to make something great even if it’s not perfect.

And if the whole show is ruined to you because your side characters blorbo isn’t done justice you were never watching the show for it’s main purpose anyway so don’t expect it to cater to you. You can be mad but don’t be surprised. It’s not about them and never was.

I love idw but it’s not the end of the world that I won’t see my faves in tfe, because that’s not what it’s for. Ultimately it’s about the terrans, and the plot will suffer if they aren’t the general main focus. (Especially Robbie, bro is 2d, flat, and static. He needs to join an emo band.)

TLDR: stop sending hate to tfe before we even know what batch 2 looks like, it’s about the terrans not your faves y’all look like clowns for this, my daughter twitch did not die for your sins just for y’all to ignore her smh 😤/hj - sincerely, that one guy who drew almost exclusively tfe starbee for half a year

#transformers #earthspark #transformers earthspark #earthspark season 2 #maccaddam #i will die on the hill that the terrans should be the focus #we’re never going to see them again #and if I don’t get a season three because of your hate im going to punch a wall #the Terran’s deserve their show #y’all behave or I’ll eat your popcorn #let my kids have their lime light before I never see them again #trash yaps

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