#Debatably

[rookeryyy]

REINVENT

YOURSELF

tumblr HATES my 44.1mb image swag so it has SO MUCH COMPRESSION and downsizing here. :') peep the actual intended size & quality (or as good as i could get it exported)

post-return Q!Tubbo :] Tee hee.

un hamburgesa para tubbo (he lookied ungry)

[toothpaste-for-the-skin]

Who’s this?

The Great and Powerful Trixie?? (And Starlight lol)

My friend asked me to draw Trixie so here she is!! I gotta say I love her design and color scheme so much

[cjsees-art]

local men who are 2 seconds away from breaking out of jail and murdering everyone involved

[nidoskull]

[marshmallow-artsy]

Days one, two, and three of @amphibianaday's Amphibuary! Dragon with a hoard of frogs. Pretty simple bc I've had the flu, but hopefully future days will have better frogs

[0xywave]

drawing i didn’t finish in time for valentine’s day yesterday so this is just normal non holiday movie jeremike please enjoy

[paimt]

i heard we were babygirlifying the paynes??

[nomsfaultau]

Dark SBI AU where Philza’s human children were replaced by monsters. Start of ficlet is here.

(sorry for repeating a part im new to formatting ficlets)

The Lambs Wolves Wear part 4

Once the truth came out, “Tommy” was the least likely to wear the skin of his child. The shapeshifting demon slipped in and out of forms like water, powerful and sleek. To him, Tommy was nothing more than another form to play with. Discarded like a toy the demon lost interest in, like Tommy wasn't Philza's whole world. "Tommy" only ever wanted the form to manipulate humans, to appear small and vulnerable and precious. Perhaps the shape changer knew it felt like a gut punch every time Philza remembered those soft blue eyes were only a mask for the monster hiding in what used to be his youngest son.

It helped that his true form hadn’t a chance of fitting inside the home. So Philza found himself spending more and more time trapped in doors so as to force “Tommy” to a smaller, more manageable size. At least he’d learned to be more benign near the cattle and hens, though at times he stirred them into a frenzy, sharp teeth laughing at the chaos. Yet more often than not he wore a corrupted version of the real Tommy, clinging onto Philza’s hip. “Tommy” did little to suppress his four demon horns, mangled wings at time materializing to further ensnare Philza. He was often left covered in shallow scratches and a few nip marks. Nothing dangerous, mind, simply a reminder that at any point "Tommy" could rend him limb from limb.

As often as he confined himself to the home now, it had become nigh impossible to tend the fields, though “Technoblade” had taken to it with glee. The undead legions flickered between rows of grain, having declared war on the weeds. It was harder than it used to be with fewer tasks to distract himself with. Philza found himself stripped of work, the monsters stealing it so that he was left with undivided attention for them.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. But the monsters found a use for him. A flap of tattered demon wings and a small earth quake signaled “Tommy’s” return from a long day of terrorizing mortals or whatever it is he did in his free time. The door slammed open, wind rushing in a gale as a terrible eagle ripped through the home, wings smashing things off the walls and tables. Red eyes gleamed as they found Philza sitting before the fireplace, and at once it dove towards him sharply. Midair, the demon enlarged, smoothly converting from a dive to a pounce. A chimera slammed into him full force, knocking the air from Philza’s lungs. Sharp claws pinned him in place as a lion head began to butt against him roughly, goat horns jamming into his soft underbelly.

“What have I said about shapeshifting in the house, “Tommy”?” A deep growl froze Philza in place, bared fangs inches from his face. The chimera circled a few times, then flumphed into his lap, settling in. “You can’t just-“ a wing shot out, slamming across his face in retaliation. Something hot trickled down his lip. Fire glowed in the back of “Tommy’s” mouth as Philza clutched his bleeding nose. It grew brighter and brighter, “Tommy’s” hackles bristling, but Philza stubbornly tended to his injury. At least, till the lion’s maw part in jagged fangs and the fireball in the chimera’s throat threatened to devour him in flame. Philza jolted, and quickly began to pet “Tommy” with shaking hands covered in his own blood.

Bristling fur smoothed, and “Tommy” snuggled in, tearing large rips through the couch and gurgling a thing that couldn’t quite be considered a purr. “You can’t intimidate me every time you want something,” Philza said the moment his voice worked again. Each word tasted like the blood quickly beginning to coat his front.

“Of course I can,” “Tommy” rumbled. “It’s how Hell works.” The viper’s tail wrapped around his ankle, venomous fangs poised above his arteries. “I could say ‘scratch me behind the ears or I’ll poison you’ and you’ll do it.” And so Philza did, after the hiss of a snake nearly buried itself in his flesh. “Tommy” stretched, satisfied, though the viper curled around Philza remained.

“That isn’t how love works, though. If you keep being mean, I might stop loving you.”

Hellish red eyes whipped towards him, shock rounding them. “It can be revoked?” At Philza’s nod, all four of “Tommy’s” ears flattened, a snarl building in his throats. “If you stop loving me I’ll rip you apart.”

“A-and that will just ensure you’ll never get love again.”

The growl died. Confusion twisted the monster’s features, the demon trying to find a way he could threaten Philza without ‘being mean’. Or more aptly, how to weasel out of threat he couldn’t actually fulfill without losing his perceived power. The bafflement only increased exponentially, the demon becoming distraught. “How do I get something if not by force or deception?”

“Love is reciprocal. You have to give it if you want to receive it.” The demon was distrustful of the notion, squinting at Philza as if waiting for the catch. He slowly peeled off the mortal he was crushing, till Philza was face to face with a lion head, demonic eyes piercing him for truth. “That means- that means you can’t hurt me. Or threaten to, either. You have to be nice, like I’ve been to you.”

A giant paw rose, hesitated, then raked across his chest. Philza flinched, pressing back into the couch as much as he could. “Tommy” batted at him over and over, tearing Philza’s shirt and streaking light crimson scratches across his chest. The demon ignored his yelps of pain, his strength unmatched as he pinned the panicking Philza in place. He’d pushed his luck too far, and now he was going to get gutted. He should’ve never tried to set boundaries with a demon. “Stop squirming,” the chimera growled. “You’re making it hard to pet you.”

Philza grit his teeth. Nice. Warm. Fatherly. He bit out a strained smile so he couldn’t scream. “You’re playing too rough, son. You gotta be gentle with me, remember? You’re making me bleed.”

The chimera paused in its attack, frowning. “But blood is how humans bind their vows. You promised to love me, so you must bleed to keep that oath.”

That. Yeah, in retrospect that explained a lot about how cuddling with “Tommy” usually went. Philza had always ended up bruised, nipped fingers and scratch marks. “Humans can keep promises without a blood pact. In fact, that’s how most of them are done.”

“Then how will I force you to uphold it?”

“If you are kind I shall do it of my own volition.”

“Tommy’s” hackles raised. “No you won’t. You would betray me at the first opportunity.”

“Perhaps in hell. Not here.” Philza stroked “Tommy’s” muzzle and slowly began coaxing him to be more gentle. He distrusted Philza’s words, scoffing at them, but seemed willing to try so as to not lose Philza’s affection. Eventually he persuaded the demon to don a weaker, safer form, particularly after the lion head’s nuzzling started trying to bite his arms. A fox curled in his lap, happily purring as Philza ran his fingers through too-hot fur. Occasionally "Tommy" rubbed against him to show affection. Or possibly just to make sure Philza was paying attention to solely him.

“What was Hell like?” Philza asked curiously. Fishing for information was the least dangerous with "Tommy", and given how unintentionally (?) lethal he was that was saying something. But the others were far more conniving in a way the straight-forward demon was not. And Philza needed to figure out how to get his real children back as quick as possible.

The purring stopped abruptly, hackles bristling as the beast grew. Philza braced for an attack that never came. “Tommy” simply looked away from him, resting his head on his paws. “…really, really awful. That’s why I want to stay with you forever.”

Next>

Art for this part

[gumbuk9]

idk if you listen to femtanyl, but could you make the femtanyl creature in blender? thanks!!!!!

sorry for taking like a month to reply to this i was doing this on and off and got burnt out in the middle and was working on this in parallel with some other things and it's still not done yet probably but as of now here it is

i tried

all in all this model was a pretty decent learning experience for blender functionality i never touched before; like rigging, shape keying, and rendering (rendering iv'e partially touched)

under the cut; 11 renders, 9 editor screenshots, 2 editor gifs, and a lot of text

base pose

fuckem!!!!!

leaning forward

jump for joy (with & without torn off ear)

death

lab animal finds camera

"hey girliepop how many times did you hit your head against the ceiling girder today?"

i don't know what to call this

hiiiiii!!!! heyooooooo!!!!!!

(extra nerd shit inbound!)

full scene tree

i'm very new to posing and as such am pretty bad at it

everything is split into individual segments because of how i chose to do things

i was planning to add a face with different frames for eyes & mouth you could mix and match but i didn't have the time, mental capacity, and confidence to do it, but i might update this model later with more things including a face

a friend said she doesn't need a face and i agree but i don't stop thinking about it

closeups of the "emo" details (this was a suggestion by a friend)

closeups of the bandage & suture

do people even read this far into these long ass posts? let me know if you do or something

also let me know if you'd like me to do anything with the model, like make an extra pose or add more optional cosmetics i guess, i'll try to follow through with it as best i can,

i'll post updates on this model in a reblog to this post most likely, look out for that i guess

[thatfinewine]

Silly little oneshot that turned in a direction I hadn't intended but went with anyway. Prompt from @potetosaradas was "Blips and Chitz", and the pairing Rick Prime/(young) Rick C-137. It isn't explicitly shippy, but hopefully it's still enjoyable. 🙏

Every so often Rick has to acknowledge that he can't handle all of who Prime is.

(Prime truly does not give a shit. Rick gives too much of a shit.)

“Eh, you win some you lose some,” Prime shrugged nonchalantly as he tossed the helmet game controller down onto the dashboard of the machine, where it landed precariously close to the edge.  He got up from the cramped-but-plush seats and made a show of stretching his long legs, while Rick followed and stood up after him from the opposite chair.

“We wouldn’t ‘lose some’ if you’d quit making us lose!” Rick snapped as he (much more carefully) set his own helmet down and readjusted Prime’s closer to the center of the console without thinking.

Prime reached down and tore off the measly amount of tickets the machine spit out for them.  “Hey; I was having fun shooting Space Fascists—”

“—Instead of protecting the civilians!  Like the objective told us to do!”

“I mean, you made it sound like you had that part pretty handled—”

“—until you blew the whole left wing of the Feds’ ship off and it crashed down on top of us and killed everyone!”

“—which wouldn’t have happened if those pig bastards knew how to steer their own ship.  They drive like male Obravadians!  Man, it’s like they were aiming for you guys – actually, it was kinda funny.”

Prime had already started moving on towards his next objective, leaving Rick to catch up with him.  Rick, mood visibly soured from the loss, didn’t find any of it even slightly amusing.  When Prime caught the look, he rolled his eyes in a comically obvious way.  “Anyone who has taste would find it funny, anyway,” he grumbled, purposefully loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise of the arcade.

“Sorry I don’t find watching innocents being crushed to death funny.”

The air around Prime shifted, the growing tension seemingly choking out the oxygen between them.

“Rick,” Prime said, emphasizing the name with the condescending sort of tone of a teacher who’s disappointed in a student.  “You know you can’t let yourself get all tangled up in small stuff like that.”

Rick felt his face and chest grow hot with embarrassed anger.  Prime spoke about other living beings as if they were hardly more than a footnote to him, but the loss of life never felt ‘small’ to Rick.  That was a conscious being, snuffed right out of existence, losing the most precious thing ever gifted to any of them – life.  A single life that could never be brought back once it was gone.  But the two of them had argued about this so many times before, and this was supposed to be a fun, low-stakes day out playing video games…

“I know,” he answered quietly, sounding simultaneously defeated and bitter about it.

It was moments like these that were chilling reminders of what Prime was like to everyone else.  He was generally good to Rick because he liked Rick.  But Prime didn’t harbor any sort of meaningful fondness for anything else besides creation and discovery.  Rick was an anomaly to him, something that had such a low chance of happening that it was basically a nonexistence; an impossibility.  It made the heat inside of him run cold; as if a block of ice settled into Rick’s ribcage, where it slowly melted into his veins, as he stood in the face of their reality.

Prime found the universe fascinating as he watched life crop up and die as if it were nothing but cells under a microscope.

Rick thought it was wrong to see a disaster happening and do nothing to stop it when he very well had the power to.

Prime said that ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ are societal constructs and aren’t even real.  In the beginning he thought that Rick’s ‘planetary mindset’ was… cute.  But as the same conversation kept circling back around… he was getting annoyed at having to repeat himself.

“You’re not stupid, Rick.  I know you’re not stupid.”

Rick hated those words so much it made him feel sick.

“I know you’re not stupid.  So why do you keep acting like it?”

The feeling of how finite the universe truly was became heavier around Rick, putting pressure on his heart to the point where it hurt to keep beating.  How could two people stay by each other's sides and make a relationship work when their fundamental moral compasses couldn’t align?

“Why does it matter, then?  I-I-I’m not asking you to— to do anything, I’ll do it all myself.  If nothing matters, why does it pi-p-pi-piss you off so much that I want to save lives?”

“Is that really what you’re going to spend the rest of your life doing?  You could be inventing literally anything!  You could be doing anything!  And you’re choosing to waste your own invaluable time simply postponing death for some thing that’s not even going to benefit you?  They’re going to die, Rick.  They’re all going to die.  So you spend a week stopping a flood and helping rebuild a town – then what?  You’re going to leave, feeling all proud of yourself for earning these hero points you invented as a reward and to feel like there’s a balance to the universe and it’s not all chaos – and after you leave, the dam breaks again, or a volcano erupts, or an asteroid slams into the planet, or a burst of solar radiation hits them and wipes out everything.”

“That’s—” 

“—Or another space-faring alien shows up and decides they want the resources and have no use for the people and pick them all off!  Maybe sell them as slaves for a quick buck!  And this is happening to millions of planets - all with sapient life - right now, in this very universe, right this very second, and here you are helping none of them.  So then what, are you choosing which life deserves to survive with your benevolent help?”

“No, I-I’ll—” 

“—Are you going to clone yourself so you can be in billions of places at once, stopping every single disaster on every single planet?  Are you going to lay awake at night beating yourself up over the ones you didn’t save, wasting even more of your time?”

“...”  

“…Do you see how ridiculous you sound to me now?  Come on, Rick.  Look out for yourself - and if a stupid fucking species is going to wipe themselves out with nuclear war, let them.  You’ve fooled yourself into believing that you care.  …If you want to then just do it, but don’t act like it makes you a saint.  You’re not.  You’re Rick Sanchez.”

They usually don’t talk for days afterward.

“I’ll give you time to calm down and actually use that brain of yours.  I know you’re not stupid, Rick.”

Rick didn’t even look over as he heard Prime let loose an exaggerated groan.  “Oh my God,” he complained, drawing out the title into a word that took two whole seconds to say, “stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Rick snapped back, as he actively made an effort to stop pursing his lips and slumping his shoulders.  It wasn’t pouting.  It was… it was…

“We came here to have fun – it’s a fucking space arcade!   You really can ruin anything, huh?”

The good times were so good, but the bad times were so bad.

“It’s a talent,” Rick muttered, trying not to sound like he was marking up a list in his head of the pros and cons of choosing this man as his partner.

Prime shot him a sidelong glance and gave his cosmic twin’s face a quick once-over.  Rick often wondered what Prime’s mental list was.  How long did Rick even have before the scales tipped out of his favor and he lost his appeal?  What would happen to him then?

Existence was finite, after all.

Even for Gods.

[random-bakwaas]

they tell you to touch grass to get rid of negative energy, because all your excess electrons get earthed. L conductor get neutralised

[adhdo5]

Mmmm. Curdled milk

[another-whump-sideblog]

I’d kill someone to see any form of Jane whump

YES YES YES

I made a new friend today.

I've been avoiding getting close to people for a while. It hurts too much when they die. But being alone hurts too, so really it's just a matter of choosing what's slightly less painful, and today it was making a friend.

He's a scientist. He asks me lots of questions about my powers, and some of them are things I haven't even thought about! I think he wants to figure out how to become immortal himself. It would be nice to not be alone, but I don't think it would be a good idea. I think he's really ungrateful for the fact that he can die, that he has an emergency exit if things get too bad, but I don't try to convince him. If he decides he doesn't want to be immortal, he might decide he doesn't want to talk to me anymore, and he's interesting. I don't want to stop talking to him.

We run lots of tests. I've done most of them before, but he seems to like figuring stuff out on his own instead of trusting my word, which is fair. I show him how if I cut off a limb, some force always pulls it back to where it should go, increasing until my body is whole again. We cut off one of my fingers and lock it in a safe. It takes twenty minutes for the force to increase enough to break through the safe walls.

"Fascinating." He says. I like it when he says that. I like to pretend he thinks I'm interesting and not just my powers.

Eventually, I tell him I think my blood is important to the immortality somehow. Usually the way my healing works is reversing wounds, but I seem to just make more and more blood the moment I need it, no matter how starved or dehydrated my body is. I can't produce new tears if my body doesn't have enough water, but I can always, always produce more blood.

He immediately wants to have a transfusion of my blood. I tell him no, of course. Eventually, he convinces me we could try watering a plant with my blood to see what happens. Plants can't suffer from being immortal, they don't have feelings or thoughts, so I agree.

At first, it doesn't seem to be working. I don't think it will work, but we do have access to infinite amounts of my blood, so we just keep doing more and more. I make sure it only ever goes into the plant, and he has no opportunity to transfuse any into his own body. When I think the plant is more likely to die from being in a pot so filled with liquid than it is to become immortal, we do the daily test, and... it works. He cuts a tiny piece off of one of the leaves, but it never falls. He cuts off a bigger piece, and we can see with even more clarity how it reattaches.

Oh, I don't like that at all. I don't like the look on his face when it finally works, I don't like that my blood has the potential to hurt people so badly.

I have to convince him not to try eating the plant by reminding him that it's too big to eat all at once and that something inside you trying to reattach to something outside you can only have negative consequences.

He lights the plant on fire, and it burns endlessly. That's pretty cool, but I'm worried the fumes will hurt someone, so while he's asleep I put it out and bring it into my void. I've never been able to do that with something living before, but I guess since I can go in my void it makes sense that something so made of me can go in there too.

He's furious, but there's not much he can do. He can't even land a blow on me, with my ability to teleport.

He's not a very nice person. I like that, I think. It won't hurt so bad when he dies, and I still get some company for the next few decades.

A few weeks later, he drinks a vial of some kind of poison in front of me and says that it'll be my fault if he dies because I don't give him a transfusion of my blood.

"You fucking idiot." I tell him. "Did you not notice that the pieces we cut off the plant before it became immortal never grew back?? Even if I was willing to make you immortal, chances are you'd be immortal and constantly experiencing the effects of being poisoned."

He's already looking sick, so I don't think he faked drinking it.

"I can help you if you want. I'll give you some charcoal, or a more specific antidote if you tell me what that was." I'm trying to sound unbothered, but I really thought I'd get a few more decades out of this guy...

"I'll fight you the whole way." He says. "And if you manage to save me, I'll just do it again until you make me immortal."

And then he collapses and vomits all over himself.

"I was just a tool to you this whole time..." I knew that, and he was just a tool to me too, so why does seeing him curled up on the floor in pain hurt? Why do I want to fix it even though I know he'll just keep trying anyway?

I should just leave. He's a nasty person trying to manipulate me using a suicide attempt and he deserves to die alone. But I don't leave.

I sit beside him and stroke his hair and tell him that I will miss him, that he was my only friend for a while, that I wish he could've been smart enough not to do this, not to seek out immortality.

I tell him all about how much immortality sucks as he dies. I tell him how lucky he is, how he'd be in this much pain forever if he was immortal. I tell him about all the people I've loved and watched die, I tell him about the loneliness and the boredom of being immortal, I tell him about how I've used poisons like that on myself before just to feel something for a few minutes. Forty-five minutes after he drinks the poison, his heart stops beating.

I go into my void and cry.

[the-avaricious-meddler]

POV you're a LF protag and you look in a mirror

[housemarcellus]

[GLaDOS voice] still alive