#((the kids are trapped >;3 ))

[acecroft]

DINA MEYER as Detective Allison Kerry in Saw III (2006)

[leaky-heart]

WAKEY WAKEY ITS TAPEGIRL AND VANESSA TIME

[mrgriffiths]

"𝑼𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐, 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓"✨️

Thomas Ian Griffith as Terry Silver in Cobra Kai Season 6 Part 2

This..THIS!

Tig speaking in Spanish is everything!

Find me on X and Instagram!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 184

“Well damn.” 

Jason wrenched his gaze from the mess of red and green spattered across the room, searching for the source of the voice. His head hurt, he wanted his Dad. He wanted Bruce. He… his head hurt. His everything hurt. 

“Honestly, didn’t expect them to find another half-breed. Didn’t think there was another halfa out there…”  

He tore his gaze away from the floor- when had it gotten there- finally finding the other… person? The person giving him an empty smile through some sort of muzzle and missing an entire arm. Well, he couldn’t judge, he’d torn his nails off while digging out of his grave before… this. 

“Hey, kid, don’t sweat it, it’ll grow back,” the man apparently noticed where he was staring, shoulder twitching as he shrugged and more green pouring out. Jason couldn’t stop staring, eyes slipping from the growing pool to the rest of the chains apparently keeping the person on that side of the… room? Cage? Cell? 

“Shit, hey, kid, kid, don’t cry, uh, fuck, shh, kid don’t cry-” the person made a noise, some sort of hum or croon that caused him to relax. To his already brain-damaged confusion. “C’mere, away from the door now, shh…” 

Oh, when had he started to move? It was like he blinked and was stumbling away towards the chained person, practically tripping over a limb before the person managed to catch him. “Ope, oh you’re just a little baby-” a hand, clawed, carefully ran through his hair, tucking him against a rumbling chest that nearly made him tear up again. He wanted Bruce. 

“It’s alright kid, shh, they won’t get you,” the man rumbled, everything about him green to his rapidly closing eyes. Pale skin like a corpse, black scales like rot, hair white like snow, all stained green with blood.  “They’d have to kill me again for that.” 

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

i think its insane that bmo is getting a preschool show. i know hes made to take care of kids but every bmo episode is like

"bmo kills his sibling on his birthday and has to deal with th trauma all on his own forever"

or "bmo is lost in the woods and watching his own biological clock tick away he cant protect the baby he found he cant protect the man he just fell in love with and then his fiance is killed in front of him by the people he promised would protect him"

and "bmo and his reflection just established that they love each other, but they dont love each other more than freedom, now bmo's trapped in the mirror dimension while he and his reflection try to either kill one another or destroy any means of escape"

like i cnat stress enough. every bmo episode is like this. bmo noire, guardians of sunshine, orb, they are all like this. the only lighthearted bmo episodes are president porpoise and always bmo closing, and even president porpoise has bmo forcing dark shit into the game. him and ice king are like yay yay yay little colorful submarine trip:) and then bmo is like SOLDIER WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF AIR AND THE ENEMIES AR E SHOOTING.AT US WE ARE. DYING I WILL GET YOU HOME TO THE KIDS YOU SPEAK OF SO FONDLY

like, i dont think preschool kids cant have a host like bmo i just think its insane. if they strip all the darkness from his character he'd be so weird. hes a sad traumatized little guy. hes cute and sweet and hes good at taking care of kids, but every bmo episode in advtime proper is dark and wild

[blue-eli]

Ink October day 3: Sophistry

An argument that seems plausible, but is fallacious or misleading, especially one devised deliberately to be so.

[chipistotallysane]

the forever knights have "facts" about him.

[esterigermaine]

AU where durge and Gortash have a kid together so Gortash gets stuck with a feral little bhaalspawn at his own coronation.

[dragongirlafro]

not to be mean but a lotta y'all have GOT to start turning off anons. permanently. for your mental health and sanity and overall wellbeing, especially if you are trans or otherwise queer

"but what about the ppl who wanna flirt and be horny but are too shy" that is an honest to god skill issue. if they have to hide their name and face to build up the courage to say something risqué to you in a public space (which lbh, is not the best system) they're probably not worth your time. DMs have been a thing on this site and others for a decade. imho a handful of strangers saying they think you're hot is nowhere near worth three dozen transphobes sending you death threats bc they read your post in the worst faith possible

[ccleniiiz]

Out the canvas ^^

[chaosinthecloset]

The long distance hear me out cake

Discord crashed about 500 time

Me and my friend are deranged

[sysig]

Let him dad her!! (Patreon)

[silverskye13]

There’s a saying: Character is what you are in the dark. Its meaning is simple. Anyone can be a hero when the world is watching. When the world isn’t, when you could get away with murder or mercy and it wouldn’t matter, when there is no one to point and judge… that matters. That is the measure of your humanity. 

Helsknight is sharpening his sword. He has been sharpening his sword, alone in his home, for over an hour. It was already sharp when he started. The edge hasn’t seen enough wear to be anything but. It’s been days since his last bout in the Colosseum. He made a ruthlessness of himself there, in front of hundreds -- thousands of people. He shouldn’t have done that. He remembered the showrunner criticizing him as he fled down the steps into the cells below.

“You could have at least tried to put on a show, Hels!”

He hated when people called him that. Hels. It felt… wrong. The place, hels, was the pit of everything left behind and unwanted. Stuck in some facsimile of the nether, inhabited by the dark unvirtues of a thousand different worlds. The place, hels, wasn’t even important enough to warrant a capital letter. It was a proper noun wasn’t it? A place. Calling it hels made it feel like something lesser, made it feel like a nonplace. Not the World, land. Not a God, deity. Not a living Hels. 

He was knighted for a reason. 

Knighthood puts a lot of stake by character. Doesn’t matter what kind, really, as long as it follows rules, and Helsknight is good at following rules. Putting order to the universe feels… nice. Like scratching an itch. That’s another good saying: scratching an itch. An itch on the skin is so easy to underestimate. It’s just an itch, until you can’t scratch it. Then it’s agony. Then it’s skin crawling off skin crawling off sinew and bone. An itch can be anything. It can be an allergy, an insect, a mortality. Once his only warning before a respawn in the Colosseum was the itch that told him a hit to the back of his head had gone through his skull instead of skipping off his helm. The itch had been blood running down his neck, before realization and void. Finding order felt like that; the itch from a trickle of blood, felt like scratching the itch and mending the wound.

It’s an interesting exercise in restraint, not scratching an itch. It’s also an exercise in madness, futility, and pain. The itch gets uncomfortable until it hurts. Sometimes it spreads. Your body twitches. You start to convince yourself you’ve never known what it's like to live itchless. You start to feel empathy for people that you’ve never met -- those mystical people with skin diseases or allergic reactions or plant rashes. You start to wonder if pain is really, actually the worst thing you can inflict on someone.

Sometimes, Helsknight itches underneath his skin. That is real madness. An itch so deep even peeling your skin can’t scratch it. 

Helsknight takes his sword off the whetstone, holds it up to a lantern to inspect it. The blade is sharp. The netherite is pristine. The enchantments glitter. He tosses it none-too-gently to the floor, listening to the ringing clatter as it tumbles across the floor. One of the tiles chips and goes plinking off like a dropped penny. The netherite stays sharp. It’s a good sword, the kind that feels indestructible. He was told once by a smith that a good netherite sword with the right enchantments can cut through iron like a knife through butter.

Helsknight always has a sharp sword. It’s expected of him. It isn’t a knight’s expectation, not really. Knights do more law keeping in hels than the lawmen, and less dangerously. There’s something to be said about a person in plate armor. No, people just expected Helsknight to have teeth. He couldn’t blame them, when he reacted the way he did on the Colosseum floor. Temperamental people have teeth, get dangerous, and bite. Even people who like him treat him like he’s rabid, only docile and slow right before the lunge. He doubted any of them had ever really seen what a rabid animal is like. Uncanny. Or maybe they had, and that was why they tiptoed like that. Maybe he is uncanny. 

Helsknight stands and runs his hands through his hair. He doesn’t like sleeping in this house. It’s too quiet. That’s why he’s awake, sharpening his sword, but it doesn’t feel right staying in the Colosseum cells. Unwelcome. People talk about him, or they don’t. It’s hard to tell. People just kind of… fall silent. Paranoia dictates they’re talking about him. A rabid animal itching in its skin longs to bite and spread the disease. They watch him like he’s about to bite.

He doesn’t know how to smile, put them at ease. It feels weird on his face. Besides, it’s not expected. Helsknight doesn’t smile. When he does, surely it's a bad thing. Helsknight doesn't talk. When he does, he must be angry. Helsknight carries a sharpened sword. If he doesn't, something is wrong. Helsknight is. Hels isn’t. 

Helsknight was knighted for a reason. He’s good at following rules.

Helsknight crosses to his lantern and turns out the light. In the dark, he stands alone in an empty room, listening to the world outside, and suddenly very aware of the sword he’s sharped and cast away so carelessly on the floor. He could stand here forever and it wouldn’t matter.

Outside, a group of people laugh uproariously as they walk down the street. It’s night in hels, or a late hour at least. They sound happy. They talk so easily to each other, conversations rolling around hiccups and stutters of joy, rivers running. There truly is still water in hels, nether or not. There’s an itch under Helsknight’s skin.

There’s a saying: Character is what you are in the dark. Its meaning is simple. Anyone can be a hero when the world is watching. When the world isn’t, when you could get away with murder or mercy and it wouldn’t matter, when there is no one to point and judge… that matters. That is the measure of your humanity.

In the dark, Helsknight wonders if he even exists.

[kipperlillyforpresident]

the rat grinders as they induct buddy dawn into the group (i couldn't get this video to embed for the life of me so i'm just making it a jumpscare.)

[modernvintage]

Honestly I dunno how Nicola did it bc if I saw Luke Newton’s eyes - up close, in person - for even .02 seconds I’d lose my fuckin marbles

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about fallout 4 against my will