this is levi doing his spin attack by the way

Juno is so strong if I was in his shoes I would not be able to handle it. Helping the love of your life ‘save’ the love of THEIR life, (and how the hell are we even going to do that) all of which might get you killed or hurt you so bad emotionally you wanna just curl up behind a bar and die???

Venture bros oc!

Throwback to April and May when I used to draw silly MSM pictures like this

I love adult Plixie.

Inside Andrei Svechnikov’s grueling ACL surgery rehab: ‘He’s just a specimen’

TW: canon-typical graphic violence for The Quarry (all under the ‘keep reading’).

Particles and Waves: A Ghost/Love Story

Dylan Lenivy knew he was going to die.

Not in the abstract way that everyone knows they’ll die eventually, but right now, today, in about the next 30 seconds. To say he was too young to die would have been a cliché, sure, but it would also have been true. He’d graduated high school in May and turned 19 in July. He’d just finished two months working with his friends as a summer camp counselor. He was supposed to be starting college in a week, he’d already packed for his move before he set off for camp. He’d kissed his crush in a game of truth or dare beside a campfire just that evening, his heart in his throat and cheap beer on his breath. He’d even managed to save his friend Kaitlyn from a werewolf attack in front of the Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp lodge. He’d lost a hand that night, too, so it wasn’t all highlights, but, on the whole, Dylan felt like he had kind of a lot going for him. He would have preferred to stick around.

Since not dying didn’t appear to be in the cards anymore, though, Dylan hoped his end would at least be quick, that the grotesque, oddly fleshy werewolf, drooling and snarling inches from his face, staring him down with its demonic red eyes, would rip his throat out in one bite and be done with it. Unfortunately for Dylan, this beast had other plans. It gave him entirely too much time, sitting there in the cab of the magnetic crane at the Hackett scrapyard, to anticipate what would be an unrelentingly brutal end. As soon as it had knocked the blowtorch from his right hand, his only hand, he knew the fight was over. His one available weapon had flown to the left side of the cab, where his handless arm dangled uselessly, at the same time that the wolf had grabbed his remaining intact arm in its jaws.

The werewolf (was it Nick, he wondered. Or his boss Chris Hackett? Or another of his friends who’d been bitten and turned while he wasn’t looking? Surely it hadn’t been long enough since Dylan had seen him for it to somehow be Ryan) was taking its sweet time gnawing through what had been Dylan’s good arm, tearing muscle and sinew, splintering bone. And there was absolutely nothing he could do; no way to fight, no way to flee. He could only curse and cry and scream, so that’s what he did. The pain was indescribable. It was so much worse than the chainsaw, worse than anything he could have imagined, and it just would not stop.

Dylan wished that Kaitlyn could have come put a bullet in his head, euthanized him. That would have been a relief. Failing that, though, he hoped she was running already, hoped she’d gotten a decent head start out of this werewolf choosing to finish him off so slowly. Run away Kaitlyn, he urged her mentally, run!

He’d expected to pass out from the hemorrhaging by this point, especially given that this was Dylan’s second bloody attack of the night, and the last one had come complete with an amputation, but no, that would’ve been too easy. His stupid, stubborn body was so determined to keep itself alive that it just kept sending out bursts of adrenaline that he could do nothing with but shake and suffer. He remained conscious and screaming for several more unbearable seconds.

Though the pain and the terror wouldn’t quite allow Dylan’s all-too-short life to flash before his eyes like a movie montage, he did get momentary visions. He saw his mother, who he knew would be devastated beyond all consolation, and the packed bags and boxes that would never make it to his college dorm. He thought of his ginger cat purring on his lap, of Ryan’s smile and that little beauty mark at the corner of his mouth that Dylan thought might be the most attractive thing he’d ever seen on a human face, and of how it felt to be on the receiving end of Kaitlyn’s infectious laughter. He thought of everything he would miss, the blazing blue summer skies and the sound of boat paddles softly churning the surface of the lake, the faces of his friends in the bonfire light, all the songs his favorite bands would put out that he would never get to hear. And none of this distracted him from the pain, it only piled on another layer. It filled him with longing and sadness and, worst of all, guilt. He was dying, through no fault of his own, really, and he felt so damn guilty about it, about what it would do to everyone he loved.

Eventually, the monster ripped his arm in two and tossed the severed forearm to the side. Dylan might have made a ‘no hands’ joke now if only he hadn’t been too busy with the whole dying in agony thing. The creature then grabbed him by the throat with its huge, clawed hand and he was ready for that, he welcomed it now. But instead of crushing his windpipe and ending his torment, it merely used the leverage to hold him still (wow, really? he thought, this is just gratuitous). Then, it switched its attention to his other arm, the one that had arrived to the scene of his demise already down a hand, and proceeded to slash that one completely off at the upper arm with its claws. He felt the arm tearing away and the gush of blood, but he didn’t cry out then—the blackness had begun closing in on him too quickly, and Dylan was grateful for that. He was barely even aware that the beast had ultimately gone for his throat with its teeth because it did so only in the very end, once there was not one single shred of mercy left in the act. His last thought, as his heart stilled and his breath left his ravaged body, was oh, finally, thank fuck.

Dylan Lenivy had died, but that was only the beginning.

————————————————

Redoing the landing pages for my fics because I finally learned how to use tumblr semi-properly. 😅 Late to every party. Don’t mind this if you’ve already seen it!

The recent Foghorn Leghorn memes are actually genius cuz he fits in EVERYWHERE in EVERY situation. You could put him in any book, tv show, or movie, and it’d make it 100x better. Especially if he’s talking to a villain 😭

I’m already thinking of him dissing Belos from The Owl House about how stupid his plan to kill all the wild witches or him scolding ROR from Monsters University after the prank at the party. He could honestly work in Monsters Inc and Monsters at Work too, imagine him annoying the shit out of Randall or him blabbering to Tylor about whatever

Oh my god could you imagine him in TLK/TLG????

Giving Scar a piece of his mind during his reign like

“My question is what, I say what in tarnation are you doing, boy? Yer land is dryer than an Arabian desert in August! Why, there’s nothin’ but walkin’ skeletons and slobberin’ dog/cat/bat hybrids you call your friends! There ain’t nothin’ to eat here no more. Even the worms have packed up all their stuff and moved on! Listen here, son, you better do somethin about it or the only subjects you’ll be rulin over are corpses! You wanna rule over corpses, boy? I swear, if your brother were still alive he’d teach ya a thing or two. Maybe you could gaze up at the sky and ask him for advice-“

Or him going off on Kiburi after his failed assassination attempt

“Well of COURSE you were gonna get caught, boy! Ya just told the entire land about your evil scheme. What’d you expect son, a cake? Tell me boy, in what universe would you still be allowed to stay in the Pridelands with no repercussions? Nothin, I say, nothin I tell ya! And what’s even dumber is that you decide it’s a good idea to go after a guy with plot armor, not to mention you thought you had a chance against a croc with a redemption arc! Boy’s slower than a snail covered in molasses…”

Cassian Andor is ruthless, and I’m obsessed with him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a character written like him, ruthless and willing to do whatever it takes, but not bloodthirsty or cruel. Literally who is doing it like him,,,

Made some Attuma memes 😳🫣

~Got the templates from Pinterest~

IM SORRY ESTIE BESTIE CAN BELLY DANCE ??

“it’s just how I’m made” ⁉️

wished I’ve never learned how to read

Draven really just stood up, half asleep, and dove from one couch to the other.

Lucius Fox is in the drive thru for some coffee, and like. He's just. He's had a time, okay?

He's stuck on some equations in regard to the amount of torsion a joint would go through if it's half in his dimension and half in another, and it's driving him up a wall.

He's been up for like forty-eight hours, he's tired, he's thirsty, he just wants a coffee, and also how to solve this dilemma.

He doesn't expect the barista in the drive-thru he's ranting about the engineering issues to actually provide decent feedback, and give him a few alternatives.

So he rushes to the pick-up window, not even caring to order, to look at this godsend of a barista.

It's a scrawny kid with black hair and blue eyes, looking startled. Boy can't be more than eighteen.

He asks what college the kid is going to, or plans to go to.

To his absolute horror, the kid-Danny, according to the nametag-says he can't afford college. That he'd had a stint in highschool where he just hadn't been able to focus, and his parents had spent every penny they had on their own inventions.

So that was why he was a barista; because if he worked there for four years, they would offer tuition assistance.

Which.

No. No no no no no.

Lucius pulls around to march into the store, Bruce Motherfucking Wayne already blearily on his phone.

He is getting this kid, and any friend of his, into college.

If Bruce won't foot the bill, he will.

That's the wrong FNAF Mike, Vanny

this is how the post-lqq interaction went right