#X — DASH GAMES

[aurea-fide]

dash game;;

favourite colour(s)

all green tones and deep rich tones. 

favourite flavour(s)

sweet, salty and savory. but i can NOT do spice. spice makes my stomach feel like shit and makes it impossible for me to finish eating anything. i have a very high metabolism and a small stomach. 

favourite genre(s)

i science-fiction and fantasy are my main genres. i enjoy creating alien species and i enjoy just space travel in general. im in the process of building a modern au ( glances at Jorvek and his band of idiots ) so hopefully that will jump off too. 

favourite music

i listen to whatever is on but i hate rap. and most hip-hop. i prefer Lo-Fi music and alternative music. 

favourite movie(s)

lfuck i havent watched any movies recently. so uh, none? 

favourite series

pfffft, same thing here. i haven’t read anything or watched anything in ages. so uh, i have none right now. but my go to series are usually para-romance, and sci-fi base. 

last song

Last Word; Cerulean Skies. I finally found this instrumental I been looking for. 

last series

ri been watching a lot of streamers youtube videos as of late; but an actual series was blishchen which is an minecraft builder. lots of relaxing music to listen to for building. ( have i been on a minecraft kick between rping? yes. )

last movie

hnnn Princess Bride I think? 

currently reading

i know its some sort of writing help novel;; since im trying to focus enough to get a writing career off the ground. ( nghhh such a dreadful progress )

currently watching

youtube videos/streamers on twitch. 

currently working on

uhhhh, potential references for a FF work i have in the background. and between that, some rp threads, some minecraft. im losing it. 

tagged by: @eggsmuses tagging: YOU. There. 

[msmk11]

Maybe

Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

WC: 1.3k

CW: Pregnancy, giving birth, Coryo being absent, some fluff, ANGST

Summary: You love your husband, but his growing inattentiveness becomes harder and harder to handle, especially with the arrival of your baby.

A/n: I don’t think I’ll ever have it it in me to write Coryo as perfect and sweet cuz he SUCKS. So you get a little fluff here, but a lot of angst still.

Day 8 of mk’s mad dash

The last certainty your husband offered you was on your wedding day when he said “I do.”

That was a year ago.

You knew he was busy. Coriolanus was rising through the ranks so rapidly you wouldn’t be surprised if he assumed the presidency within the next five years. Of course, you were proud of him. Not only was it your duty as his wife to wholeheartedly support him, you also truly, genuinely cared about his happiness and success. But as with everything, there was a cost. In your courtship, Coryo was so very attentive, loving, and dedicated to you. He made you feel special, and you had no trouble falling in love with him. But once he slipped that ring on your finger, all of it came to a halt. It’s not that he entirely ignored you- no, sometimes you saw the glimpses of your old Coryo when he was on top of you at night, or when you went to socialite parties- but you had often been left to fend for yourself this past year.

You absolutely tried to be understanding when your husband would remind you how busy he was, and how he was doing all this hard work for your happiness, but frankly, you missed him. And was it really so wrong for a wife to miss her husband?

Your loneliness and desire for your husband only worsened tenfold when you learned that you were with child. Coryo, of course, was thrilled that you sired an heir. But with him gone all day, and often at outings at night, you saw less and less of him as your pregnancy moved along. You went through your morning sickness alone, felt the first kick alone, learned the baby’s sex alone, and picked out the baby’s room decorations alone. You were desperately hopeful that the birth of your child, your son, would bring Coriolanus back into your arms, a paternal instinct drawing him into the realm of the domestic.

So when the day came that your water broke and contractions started, though you were overcome with anxiety about giving birth, the hope that fluttered in your chest for the return of your husband far superseded it.

You were out tending to the rose garden when it happened, your long, white flowy dress suddenly soaked. You calmly rushed inside to the phone and dialed Coriolanus’ office.

“Office of Coriolanus Snow, this is Lilith. How can I help you today?” A perky, feminine voice asked.

“Hi Lilith, this is Coriolanus’ wife. Can I please speak to him?” You said kindly as you rubbed soothing circles over your swollen stomach.

“Mr. Snow is very busy right now,” Lilith told you calmly, “can I take a message?”

“Lilith, please,” you answered a little more desperately, “this is an urgent call.”

You heard the clacking of her nails against the computer, “one moment.”

The line goes silent, and you know she’s stepped away to speak to your husband. Every second you had to wait to hear Coryo’s deep voice on the other end, the more anxious you began to feel. It was really starting to kick in- you were about to have a baby.

The line crackled and then, “Darling?”

“Coriolanus” you sighed, relieved.

“What’s wrong? I’m very busy here,” he told you seriously.

“The baby. He’s coming. My water just broke.”

Your husband inhaled sharply on the other side of the phone, “Oh, okay. Okay. Well, are you alright? How’re you feeling?”

You cupped your bump gently, “I’m okay right now, sweetheart. But I imagine contractions will start to kick in soon. Can you come home?”

And then, your voice slightly broke, “Please. I need you Coryo.”

“Yes, of course, darling. I’ll be home as soon as I call the doctor.”

“Okay, thank you,” you said, voice shaky.

You hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay.

*****

Pain. White hot, blinding pain consumed your body and you couldn’t stop the screams that were leaving your body. The doctor was saying something to you but you didn’t care. You just wanted it all to stop.

Tears were streaming down your face and you kept shaking your head, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

Suddenly, like an angel, Coriolanus was in your view, white light shining down on his blonde curls creating a halo. Your sobs quieted at his face.

“Coryo,” you hiccupped, “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

He placed his hand on your forehead, stroking your sweaty baby hairs away from your face, and your eyes fluttered shut at his touch.

“Darling, you can. I promise. You know why?”

You opened your eyes again and stared intently into his bright blue ones, “why?”

“Because you’re a Snow now. And Snows can do anything.”

“Snows can do anything,” you murmured.

Can. Coriolanus said can. The first firm answer from him in a year. If he could give you that, you could do this.

Your husband nodded at you, a soft smile on his face, “Good girl.”

He moved his hand from your forehead down to your hand and clasped it tightly. His encouragement is what allowed you to start pushing again.

As you pushed, your screams returned. But instead of hopeless, frail screams, they were determined and strong. Soon enough, smaller, whiny screams filled the air- your baby’s.

The doctor swooped the baby out from between your legs, “it’s a boy.”

Tears began to stream down your face again, but they were happy tears.

“Coryo, we have a baby,” you sobbed.

Your husband bent down and kissed your forehead tenderly, “well done, darling. Our very own baby boy.”

“Mr. Snow, the umbilical cord.”

Coriolanus stood and gave your hand one more squeeze before walking over to your baby. With slightly shaking hands he cut the cord, and then your baby boy was placed gently into his arms. He walked over to you, the softest look on his face.

“He’s here,” Coriolanus said, placing the baby into your arms.

Your son was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, and your heart swelled as you quickly noticed some of Coryo’s features and your own on the face of your son.

“He’s perfect.”

*****

After everything had settled and the doctor left, it was just you and your perfect little family cradled together in the master bedroom of your home. Your baby boy sat cooing in your arms, swaddled in a soft blue blanket, while Coriolanus sat behind you, arm around your shoulders and head peering over you to stare at him.

“We make a pretty good baby, Coryo,” you told your husband softly.

“Mhmm, that we do.”

You leaned into his touch as your husband began to run soothing strokes up and down your side. If everything could stay just like this, you would be perfectly happy. You’d never ask for anything else in your life.

“Sweetheart,” you implore softly.

“Yes, darling?”

“Do you think you’ll be able to take some time off work, to be with me and the baby?”

His hand on your side stilled and he inhaled sharply, “darling.”

You turned to look at him, big eyes soft and pleading, “Coryo, please. The baby needs his father.”

You paused.

“And I need my husband.”

Coriolanus hesitated, and you wished you could tell what was going on in that always-running brain of his.

“Maybe, darling.”

Maybe.

The death and birth of hope.

It wasn’t a no- the word so ingrained in your brain that you saw it seared on the back of your eyelids. And in that, there was hope. Hope that you’d get your husband back. That you’d get to be a mother alongside him as a father. That everything could be the way it used to.

But maybe wasn’t a yes either. One too many times now you’d gotten your hopes up when Coryo responded to one of your requests with a maybe.

Well maybe you didn’t like his answer.

Maybe you didn’t like feeling abandoned or alone.

Maybe.

But instead, all you said was, “okay.”

[markerm-00]

What if instead..

A food critic and a Fast food Owner meet eachother. . ?

[ Original AU called " Diner Dash " (Dead Plate fan AU By RM) ]

Did this while im trying to get through IRL Workloads 💀☝ this was a doodle that took a freakin Week to finish..

[asquareboywiththeknife]

I draw all music games I know :D (I'm too lazy to draw a background –_–)

and if possible. I will draw more music and rhythm games on this picture ;] ♡

[amywritesthings]

WIP Wednesday

I just saw this today, @themadlu, so I will definitely use it to showcase some more of my upcoming silly/sexy fic, Press Four For More! (tropes: sex worker!levi ackerman, phone sex, slow burn, etc.)

“Do you have a glass or bottle of water near you?” The switch up lessens the tension in your shoulder blades in an instant. His voice is just as crooning, deep and inviting, but it’s nice to simply be asked. “Nope.” “Then go get one.” The demand does something to you. Without thinking twice you begin to rock up on your heels, standing at full height. “Okay, Mr. Bossy.” “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asks with a sprinkle of sarcasm. “Someone who has their shit together, if I read right.”

npr: @eupheme , @inklore , @peachdues @littlerequiem !!

[kaasiand]

For a future Splatoon instalment, I want Squid Surge entirely replaced with a charge dash that you can use on both walls AND the ground. It'd be able to do exactly what Squid Surge can, and more

I REALLY want Splatoon to get far more physics-y in the future—it's such a natural direction to take the series in, considering a lot of what sets Splatoon apart (or at least used to) from other shooters is its focus on momentum. And now Splatoon 3 literally even has a far more sophisticated physics engine than the past games but it DOESN'T EVEN REALLY UTILISE IT

Also as an example to prove my point even further, you can IMMEDIATELY see just how much better the original Scorch Gorge concepts would work in a more physics-heavy game with this type of movement. Everything just lines up

Basically what I really want is for Splatoon to be more like the Fancy Pants Adventure games

[dashflashy-arts]

1080's so good at cleaning up after people that other governments want him to do it for them 🤦‍♀️

Aftermath (if ever they'd meet):

Uncensored version of the crime scene under the cut

[metalichotchoco]

Dashing thieves also steal hearts

[front-facing-pokemon]

[sonicattos]

i’m bored. poll time

What’s the best Sonic characterization? (part 1)

part two’s (gameverse) link will be added to reblogs a soon as i finish making it. i’m not forgetting anything. this is all i put down because it’s the limit. i didn’t add ones i knew didn’t stand a chance.

winner of game poll will be put up against this one. unless i want to go further and bring it down to specifics(if the winner isn’t already specific). maybe for a bonus round?

(sorry i’m not including classic GAMES but classic sonic will be there)

[pink-anonymous-person]

huggies!

pose taken from this base! credit goes to the owner ⬇️

[aurea-fide]

dash games;

aesthetic from various periods. rules: bold what applies to your muse. italicize what applies sometimes.

FOR JORVEK.

MEDIEVAL. tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening to the bustle of the city. unmade beds. loose ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards. dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock. hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.

RENAISSANCE. freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks. drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your socks on.

BAROQUE. dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you. intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colorless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.

CLASSICAL. chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup. laced clothing [modern]. modern architecture. light hair. watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble sculpture. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading about mythology.

ROMANTIC. compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors. attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles.

tagged; NA Tagging: ANYONE INTERESTED. 

[msmk11]

Five More Minutes

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

WC: 1.5k

CW: Fluff, angst, the games, illusions to death

Summary: Five more minutes. A phrase you say often but only now really mean.

Day 16 of mk’s mad dash

The cold waves crash against your legs as you run through the water away from Finnick. Two person tag is pointless, really, but at the young age of eight, practicality is not an important thing on your mind. You’re still at the age where you’re similar in height and strength to the blonde, so you pretty easily outrun his attempts at tagging you.

“Wah, wah, you can’t catch me Finny!” You tease, sticking your tongue out.

“I told you not to call me that!” he yells, a pout growing on his face.

By the way his brows furrow in concentration, you can tell that your best friend is more determined than ever to catch you.

You run back up onto the shore, your feet sinking into the wet sand beneath you.

“Hey guys!” A voice shouts distantly.

You stop running and look up to see Finnick’s mother at the back door.

“It’s time to come inside my loves, dinner is ready!”

Just when you’re about to respond, a cold wet hand presses your arm.

“Tag, you’re it!”

Finnick stands beside you, golden hair windblown and wearing a big smirk.

“Not fair!” You shout back, betrayal written all over your face, “the game was obviously paused.”

“Never said so,” Finnick answers, arms crossed bossily.

“I’m gonna get you!”

You look back at Finnick’s mom, “five more minutes!”

*****

“Five more minutes.”

You look up at Mrs. Odair standing next to you, arms crossed and an anxious expression on her face that she absolutely cannot hide from you.

“Five more minutes,” you agree, reaching out and squeezing her arm gently.

Five more minutes. Five more minutes until Finnick would finally arrive home from the Capitol.

Finnick. Your Finny. The Capitol’s newest Victor. The youngest too, winning at the young age of only fourteen.

After being gone for weeks, you’d finally get to see him again. You’d finally be able to rest easy, knowing that he’s alive, safe, and within walking distance.

You hear it before you see it- the horn of the large, silver train warning everyone to back away from the railway. As it glides smoothly into the station, your stomach erupts in anxious butterflies, equal parts eager and nervous to see Finnick after all this time.

The train door slides open and the first person to step out is Finnick’s mentor, Mags. But then, there he comes, your best friend.

It seems the entirety of District Four is crammed into the small train station awaiting Finnick’s return, so the whole platform erupts into cheers at the sight of him exiting the train.

Finnick, ever the charmer, immediately puts on his best smile, waving to the crowd. Though you know a lot of it is an act, you can tell a part of him is genuinely happy to be home surrounded by his neighbors and friends.

His smile turns fully genuine, however, when he sees his parents and you waiting for him near the front of the platform. Finnick runs straight into his mother’s arms. Though he already towers over her, he looks so small at this moment, relieved to be back with his mama after all the trauma he had faced. When he pulls away, he gives his dad a hug too and then turns to you. If possible, his smile grows even wider and he opens his arms to you. You run straight into his arms at full force and he catches you, barely even stumbling under your weight.

You bury your face in his neck, “Welcome back, Finny.”

*****

You’re already ready to kill someone and the games haven’t even started yet. Interviews, in front of millions of people, are starting soon, and you’ve never felt more uncomfortable. You aren’t against dressing nice, but as a sixteen year old girl from the districts, you’re certainly against dressing uncomfortably and so lavishly. The big, poofy, blue gown you’re wearing is supposed to resemble the ocean, but you’re sure your stylist has gotten it all wrong. One is pleasant and good and makes you happy, the other is a stupid-ass dress with itchy fabric.

Luckily, your team has at least given you a few minutes alone before your interviews to collect yourself.

There’s a soft knock on the door and before you can even respond, it’s opening and closing quickly. Finnick is upon you in a second, arms wrapped around your waist and his chest flush against yours.

“Finnick,” you sigh, “what’re you doing here? I thought mentors weren’t allowed to be back here before the interviews?”

He pulls away a little and gives you a wink, “perks of being the Capitol’s Darling.”

You roll your eyes and scoff at him, but secretly you’re grateful for his status in the Capitol. Without his unwavering support at your side every second of your games journey so far, you certainly would’ve cracked. You’re not sure how you’re gonna fare in the arena.

Finnick looks you up and down, “you look….”

“Like an idiot?”

“No,” the blonde says, suddenly very serious, “You look beautiful, really. Though I suppose you always are.”

“Finn-“

You’re interrupted by the door opening. A backstage assistant peeks their head in the room, “you’re on in ten.”

When the door shuts, Finnick squeezes your waist gently, “okay, we should probably go.”

You stop him before he can pull away, “wait! Five more minutes, please.”

Finnick nods and pulls you impossibly tighter, resting his forehead against yours. As you stare into his seafoam colored eyes, a wave of calm overcomes you.

You’re so close that your breaths intermingle, and your stomach does a flip.

“Finnick-“

But you don’t need to say anything else, because his lips are already on yours.

*****

Even though Finnick never has to work another day in his life if he doesn’t want to, he’s still up and off to the docks every day before the sun even rises. It’s a habit of his you used to admire, maybe selfishly so, because he always showed up on your doorstep after a morning on the water with some sort of gift or breakfast in hand. But now, now that you and Finnick live together, you hate it. Even though you’re happy he’s doing something he enjoys, you, again, selfishly, want to keep him in bed a little longer.

When you feel him start to stir next to you, you instantly whine into his bare chest.

“Where are you going?”

Finnick’s strong arms squeeze you tightly, “gotta get up and head to the docks, sweetheart, you know this.”

“No,” you moan tiredly, “stay here.”

Your boyfriend places a soft kiss to the crown of your head and mumbles into your hair, “you know I can’t. Gotta work.”

You open your heavy eyes and look up at him, chin still resting on his muscled chest, “but you don’t have to. You could stay here and lay with me.”

Finnick sighs and you know he feels bad, but you also know you won’t change his mind. You find his stubbornness endearing, even if it works against you sometimes.

“Sweetheart, I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

You huff dejectedly, “fine. But will you at least lay with me for five more minutes?”

The blonde pushes a strand of hair out of your face, “okay, pretty girl, five more minutes.”

The squeal of delight that escapes you makes your boyfriend chuckle, and you wrap yourself around him like a baby koala bear.

You look up at his pretty smile and long, soft eyelashes and place a soft kiss to his jaw, “Thank you, my love.”

*****

Much like all the mornings before, you cling to your husband tightly as you two lay in bed, preparing to face the day ahead.

But nothing about this morning is typical.

Instead of contentment you feel fear, instead of rested you feel restless, and instead of Finnick being eager to start his day, he clings to you just as tightly, head buried in your chest listening to the beating of your heart.

You mindlessly run your fingers through your lover’s curls, the only thing keeping you from completely breaking down.

Today is the day of the quarter quell. A day you never thought would come- when you have to enter the arena again. Even worse- when Finnick has to enter the arena again.

You’re still in shock over it all, and you can’t help the bitterness you feel towards the “girl on fire” for putting you and Finnick in this position again. Still, you try to keep your husband’s words in mind- it’s all for the revolution.

Only time will tell if you two would make it out alive.

Finnick’s rustling startles you from your daze and you look down at him, watching as he glances towards the clock on the nightstand.

“We probably should-“

“No.”

You pull Finnick towards your face, “just five more minutes, okay?”

Five more minutes. A phrase you’ve said countless times, but only now really mean in the face of death.

Five more minutes to hold your husband. To kiss him. To love him in the security of your bed. To pretend that the world doesn’t wait outside your door.

*****

Oh what you’d do for five more minutes.

[markerm-00]

when college beats you up hard mentally 💀

Anyways Some Diner Dash AU doodles i did awhile back [ Their Q & A will open up soon hopefully ]

↑ For context i have other DeadPlate AU's i hsve yet to introduce to the world.. Cause literally out of the majority of them he's one of the sanest ones.. ( For now Coughs)

[sheepalmighty]

Some more of that Chai joins Vandelay for half a day AU. Or just a picture of a kinda OOC Kale chilling if you wanna gloss over those comics. I'm still not sure if the colours are too garish or not.

These were mostly done with the premise of treating Kale's office like the hideout. I also really like how mundane, or familiar, the interactions between Chai and Kale can be in the game so I wanted to draw some stuff exploring more like that. But also, there's the ulterior motive of shipping so I included an out of context scene because I can't bother drawing the rest of it (though it seems like a huge jump in their relationship as a result. I think they're so big headed that they get stuck in a feedback loop of stroking the other's ego if an excuse comes up to do so)

[haywirehorse]

[old]

i love having hedgehog and pony brainrot while playing old hedgehog flash games