#but... close enough i guess?

[sergle]

i’ve had this in my files for awhile already but i got reminded of this phenomenon tonight and it just. makes me laugh every time. ppl’s online portfolios be like.png

[mushrooms-and-blooms]

[puppyeared]

act 4 :(

@chipper-smol and i came to a realization

[electronicmail]

Firefox-official vs electronicmail

Hydrogen bomb vs coughing baby

okay come up with a better idea then. firefox-official is gone asshole it’s electronicmail or nothing

[teaboot]

if ur a murderbot nerd now do u have any fun opinions abt it yet?

Oh my goddd you have no idea

I really, really, really like Murderbot because it comes at life with this perspective we don't often see that is very real among people who have already been through traumatic experiences, who developed skills and abilities to suvive that were once useful but no longer have context- that search that traumatized people go through to recalibrate and reorient ourselves in a world where we no longer really need those things to survive.

A bit personal here, but my own issues personally involved a lot of psychological abuse that made it difficult to trust my own perceptions of reality, and as a result I found I was very easy to lie to and manipulate.

To handle this, I became obsessive over writing things down, cataloging details and making notes of things as they happened- I'd carry recording devices and make audio recordings and stay up late at night to transcribe what they'd picked up, read those over and over again to reassure myself of things I wasn't certain about.

While doing this, there were others close to me that I felt responsible for, who I had to protect from others and protect myself from at the same time. Life was about two things: Evidence, and defusing threats

Over time, I learned to trust myself as my memories matched what had been recorded where their narrative didn't, but I never really kicked the habit. Like Murderbot, I had added something to my own programming that reassured me I was safe, that I was in control of myself, that I couldn't be mistaken or crazy or broken or used.

I'm only on book two, but already I see myself in Murderbot again. No spoilers here, but when I left home- left that dangerous context- I didn't need to repeat these patterns to survive anymore, but I still did, because I didn't know anything else anymore. It felt safe, comfortable, knowing knowing that the past couldn't repeat itself, because I'd written that flaw- blind trust in myself-  out of my programming and replaced it with something else.

Still, though, I'd become something specially suited to thrive in a very specific environment. Nothing else felt right like followinghigh-risk situations, like witnessing and watching and recording and knowing I had proof of the truth where others might not.

People took notice. I wound up in security by accident, but's an environment that I thrive in due to the same patterns and behaviours I originally developed when I had no other choice. I climbed the ladder pretty quickly, once supervisors caught on that my reports were the most accurate, most objective, most factual, detail-oriented and timely. I keep others and myself safe and prioritize public safety above all else, and I perform well under pressure

Now I'm in a position where I often wonder, do I enjoy this job, or is it just what I'm good at? I have a set of skills now, but do I have the option of choosing not to use them? What would I be, if not this? Could I be anything else? Can Murderbot be anything else?

It has a set of skills that set it apart, make it different, special. It does what it knows best. But is it free? Does it want to be? What does it want? Does it have to do what it was built to do? What if it didn't?

I know what I'm good for. The idea of deliberately leaving what I'm good for for something uncertain, that I might hate, that I might be useless at- the choice to give up what was so important to me for so long and become deliberately obsolete?

Let go of my entire purpose? The only thing I know, that I fit so well into but don't actually know if I enjoy? Now that I can choose? Now that enjoyment is a luxury I can afford to consider?

Yeah, that resonates.

I like the Murderbot series so far because it feels the way I feel: Like the most significant and formative part of my story, the part where I became what I am, has already happened

And now I have to just. Keep going

Into... what?

It feels absurd. Like a microwave giving up on reheating food and deciding to start a life around abstract dance.

So, uh. Yeah. It's really very wild to see this same philosophical-ish dilemma I've been digging over in the back of my mind and in therapy for the last forever laid out so plainly in a genuinely exciting and enjoyable story like this. I feel much less alone, and I... kind of really need to see how it resolves, I think.

So, uh. Yeah. Read Murderbot, I guess

[bastardlybonkers]

science rulez

[deerabigailhobbs]

Saw 2004 AU where Adam is Australian and Lawrence is British

(Lawrence, more britishly): "He doesn't want us to cut through our chains... He wants us to cut through our feet..."

"Hmm... yeah nahhhh, fuck that mate. Jigsaw can suck my dick, stupid cunt"

[spro-o]

guys please ,,, you need to understand, the patient needs Catholic-coded, religious trauma, god-complex, daddy-issues, sexual tension Chase and House content to live 💔

close ups and scene which inspired this :3 v

[deoidesign]

I met the me who made different choices

[coquelicoq]

what i like especially about the pronouns in the goblin emperor is that this language doesn't just have the T-V distinction (aka informal vs. formal second-person pronouns, in this case 'thou' vs. 'you'), it also has informal and formal first-person pronouns. having BOTH of these distinctions in the same language lets you fine-tune your tone by mixing and matching. with only one axis of formality, when you use informal pronouns, are you being familiar in an intimate way, or in an insolent or dismissive way? when you use formal pronouns, are you being polite or standoffish? you can't tell just from the pronouns; there's ambiguity. but a language where you can use a formal first-person pronoun in the same sentence as an informal second-person pronoun allows you to distance yourself (via the formal first) while also being familiar (via the informal second), thereby achieving the conversational tenor known to linguists as Fuck Thee Specifically.

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[vectorisheree]

Virus!Eclipse design for my fic 'And So It Goes'

Design notes under the cut ^^

Eclipse is mainly based on Baloon World Eclipse as well as the Puppet and MXES. It is primarily red to contrast with MXES since it's a virus and MXES is some sort of protection code

Eclipse is red instead of purple to differentiate between when animatronics are possessed by the vanny virus vs when their possessed by Eclipse itself

I like to imagine all dca variants have paws. The idea of them having human feet scares me

I've always associated this kind of long tailcoat with a corset (or corset like clothing) with bunnies for some reason. No idea where that idea's from, maybe becuse they kind of look like rabbit ears

Eclipse has bells attached to his ribbons but you can't really see them from that angle

Eclipse has faint hypnosis swirls in his lure state so that people can't really tell what's happening and assume he just has white eyes like Sun. It also likes to swing its 'tentacles' around to desorient prey

Eclipse's tenticles/wires are not a part of his body, there can be as many or as few as you'd like. They can also form from objects or the ground

As Eclipse is a digital entity, it is able to alter it's body on a whim. His standard form is shown above, it always has four arms

The average person reaches Eclipse's hips, most Animatronics reach his middle-lower torso. However, Eclipse is able to alter its size which is usually based on trust, it'll make itself bigger if it feels threatened and smaller if it feels safe

[seiwas]

for writing game, iwaizumi + assistance <3

hope this sparks some inspo and thank you in advancee

hi there!! thanks for sending in a prompt 🫶

contains: friends to lovers (ish), halloween parties, reader is dressed as catwoman, expletives, iwaizumi is thiiiiis 🤏 close to murdering seijoh4 (jk)

iwaizumi + assistance

this is a set-up.

iwaizumi knows he shouldn't have fucking believed anything the boys "promised" him back when they assigned him this costume.

the suit is fucking tight, spandex digging into his groins and all other crevices that definitely should be aired out after after a few hours. he's had to constantly readjust his stance almost every few minutes, the black fabric compressing his thighs and torso, significantly constricting the range of motion his shoulders and arms are typically used to. if anything else, it could double up as a back brace from how rigidly straight it's kept his posture all night.

he'll give it to makki though; he did outdo himself sourcing this year's costumes―this batman set looks pretty damn legit.

except for one tiny problem.

there's no fucking pee hole. it's a zip-up, zip-down one-piece situation. and that normally wouldn't be a problem, except that oikawa "accidentally" knocked over a cocktail straight into his pants, the sickeningly sweet liquid now seeping straight into the fabric and past his boxers―cold and sticky as it touches his skin.

and so, the problem: his pants are wet, it makes him want to fucking pee, and coincidentally, the only vacant bathroom is across the hall, at your apartment.

this is why he believes this is a set up. that, and the fact that you're dressed in an outfit strikingly similar―just with cat ears.

he's been asked five times in this party if you're in matching couple outfits.

it catches him off guard, flusters him because of how badly he wants to say yes. but, you're just friends, and he doesn't even think you like him that way (despite mattsun and oikawa practically begging him to confess. makki tells him he thinks you're going to do it first).

so he politely smiles and says no, but you look good, your costume clinging to you in all the right places. thank fucking god he has a cape because he's pretty sure he spent the first 30 minutes in the party hiding his boner.

"hajime, it's fine, i swear," you stand beside him in front of the conveniently locked bathroom in oikawa's apartment. from the other side of the door, he's pretty sure he hears mattsun and his girlfriend mumbling. maybe fucking? who knows. "you can just use the bathroom in my apartment."

he glances at you before closing his eyes, contemplating, before finally agreeing to you.

"okay."

if he's being honest with himself, friends is definitely an incomplete label to what you are. as oikawa's neighbor, you are conveniently around all the time; and oikawa being oikawa, the ever-social butterfly, he's somehow managed to carve a space for you in the friend group.

(never mind the fact that oikawa's sniffed him out from the moment he first introduced you.)

you were a crush, then a friend, and now you're someone he picks up from work and drives back home three times a week, because he "has to train oikawa." you don't question it, even when you both know he stays over for dinner way past the gym's open hours.

"you know where it is," you open your apartment and urge him in.

"sorry again," he turns to face you.

"yeah, yeah, just pee!" you laugh, shoving him towards the bathroom door.

getting out of the suit is manageable, and he's able to wipe off a bit of the cocktail that's leaked to the suit and his boxers just to make sure it isn't gross and sticky when he gets home later. peeing is a big relief once he gets it over with, but it's when he has to suit up again that things become difficult.

stretching out the spandex one body part at a time is a workout in itself―the hardest task being when he has to pull it over his shoulders, adjusting it to fit properly over his arms and chest.

but then the zipper breaks.

and he truly thinks makki has fucked him over.

iwaizumi contemplates what to do next for a good, good while. he tries calling oikawa, only to no success every time; no way in hell is he calling mattsun in the middle of having sex. and calling makki isn't even an option; he'd never hear the end of it.

then you knock on the door, your voice soft and concerned as you ask, "hajime? you good in there?" you hit it spot on, too, "do you need help with your suit?"

iwaizumi presses his palms to his eyes. he's a rational man, straightforward and logical in thinking. there is literally no other option for him right now but to ask help from you. again.

fuck.

.

it's 30 minutes later when oikawa barges in your door, and the sight that greets him is iwaizumi in nothing but a hoodie (the hoodie you borrowed some time ago) and his boxers, with his hands on your waist as you hover your hairdryer over the crotch of his batman costume―cat headpiece off and all.

"you finally got together?!"

[trashogram]

Kinktober Day Twenty-Two — Mutual Masturbation

Warnings: F!Reader, Sex toy/fleshlight use, Exhibitionism, Surprise Sex, Magic use

(This was a request on AO3)

Lucifer eyed the toy with trepidation.

He’d expressed his reservations to you the moment he realized what it was, unfamiliar and impersonal and…

“It kinda sorta uh… the idea of using it makes me feel like a creep.” Lucifer had admitted with gold-tipped ears.

“I don’t want you to use it if it makes you uncomfortable.” You’d taken him by the shoulders, patient as always. “But maybe give it a try one time and see if you like it?”

At the time, Lucifer had felt more than a little dubious, although a quick glance at your warm expression had banished any thoughts of throwing out your gift. It was something you got for him because you thought he’d like it, and to dismiss it entirely felt like a dismissal of your affection.

Rejecting you was definitely worse than a little shame over sexual gratification.

So he took the toy out of the box, hidden under your shared bed, and held it up for scrutiny with one hand. It was shaped like a flashlight of course, although the top was not a lens hiding an electric bulb underneath.

Instead it looked like a woman’s vulva; or at least, the labia minora, the clitoris and the vaginal opening of a woman’s vulva. The shade of it was quite similar to the shade of yours (not that Lucifer would ever infer that he’d memorized your pussy so thoroughly — not to you, anyway).

Lucifer raised his free hand, fingers poised to touch the soft-looking material that replicated one of his favorite things to ever exist.

It hung there for a good minute as that creepy feeling came back.

Lucifer grimaced, smoothing back his quaffed hair nervously. He’d only brought it out because you were busy helping residents downstairs, and the usual routine of playing with himself in the quiet confines of his workroom (when the depression he’d sunken into became truly stifling and he needed something to feel alive) didn’t cut it anymore. You were everything he needed and wanted, and that meant You — your whole being turned him on. Your smell, your smooth skin, the tenderness of your smile, the eager touch of your hands, the patience in your heart and, yes, the warm, wet solace of your pussy.

You. He needed all of You.

‘Don’t overthink it.’ Your voice echoed in his head. ‘Just explore it, try it out, think of it as a part of me if that helps you.’

Even the imaginary version of you in his mind was indulgent, if a little teasing. He could see you smiling, secrets hidden in the corners of your kissable lips.

The Devil’s exhale was strained, a noise of anxiety throttled from within. He set the fleshlight down on his stomach before reaching to pull his trousers down. His half-hard dick rose, twitching as Lucifer grazed over it with his fingers instinctively. Images of you were plucked and propped up in his mind — your flushed face, the careful way you took him in hand, your lips wrapped around him and your tongue swiping over the head of his cock curiously…

Lucifer’s heart rate quickened noticeably, and he could almost feel the way his blood began to rush within his body. He took his hand off for a split second to lick his palm and fingers, limb stuttering before he could palm his dick again to course correct and touch the soft end of his toy.

You stiffened in your seat on one of the lobby couches. Angel Dust continued to yammer beside you while Vaggie put all her strength into another eye-roll.

They were none the wiser to your incremental change in posture.

Lucifer prodded the silky, springy mouth of the toy, watching it become shinier with his spit. He’d expected it to feel like rubber or plastic, but was fascinated by the truly flesh-like texture.

The satiny feeling encouraged his desire to be meticulous, petting the clitoral hood and the sides lovingly.

Your eyes rounded, nails digging into the top of your thighs as invisible fingers caressed the inner lips of your cunt.

Angel’s gaze flicked to the movement briefly but it seemed involuntary as he continued to go over the latest porn awards show he’d been forced to attend.

The King of Hell’s expression brightened with wonder as he slid his finger inside his brand new toy. He looked guileless, mouth falling open at the tight but flexing walls within.

It felt real.

Tight and warm and smooth and welcoming his slow, searching fingers. Lucifer retracted the digit then slid it back in, humming at the pulse elicited by it.

He added another, noticing immediately that the pulse came faster, stronger and rippled into smaller contractions.

Lucifer salivated, drool pooling over his lips and down onto the toy. He watched it drip over the folds and into the opening. His fingers returned to thrusting, going faster as the motion drew out a loud, obscene squelching sound.

His cock twitched at the rapid pulses that followed every affectionate jab.

You swallowed, trying to breathe fast and hard through your nose. If you opened your mouth, you feared what might come out.

Vaggie turned toward you, pausing as you squeezed your fists until your knuckles discolored.

“Hey, are you feeling alright?”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed. He was glad for the impulse to press a kiss to the toy, as bizarre as it was. The flesh was warm velvet, so reminiscent of your pretty little cunt when he smothered it with kisses and relishing licks.

It felt a little weird to be holding the device up to his mouth so he could tongue it, but the novelty hadn’t worn off for him yet. Lucifer could feel himself (and his dick) warming up to the idea of using the toy rather quickly. It was so responsive, even greedy for his touch!

“Hhh — !” You bit into the heel of your hand, eyelids fluttering while you were licked. Your panties were soaked through now, a thin and superfluous panel of fabric that had undoubtedly failed to protect the couch cushion from a wet spot.

“Uhh…” Angel Dust looked you up and down before waving a hand in front of your face. “You okay there, Toots?”

Fuuuuuuck. You closed your eyes in time to hide how they rolled back.

“Ye-yeah, I’m… ”

“Nn— ahhhh-hahhh.” Lucifer sighed. “That’ssss — oh f-fuck. That’s good.”

His apprehension had all but faded away as he pressed his aching cock into the soft mouth of your gift. It swallowed him up, clinging to every new inch of the Devil’s cock until his balls rested against its rim.

Lucifer’s toes curled as he went still, enjoying the spasms that clutched at him avidly, impatiently, massaging his shaft to keep him inside at all costs.

He moaned, eyes shutting tight so he could see you lifting your hips. You looked so beautiful and desperate, chest heaving with every breath while you began to bounce on him.

‘I love you so much, Luci.’ You sung. ‘I wanna make you feel so good.’

“I love you too!” Lucifer gasped, vigorously stroking himself with the toy. “You always make me feel good, sweetie. You’re my good girl! So good to me-e-e!”

Hair frizzed, quivering on jellied legs, gasping intermittently and biting down on your hands and arms to keep from screaming:

You looked like you were being savaged by some wild animal as you struggled to get to the hotel elevator. When the doors opened, you seized the wall for support, dragging yourself inside and piercing the relatively calm atmosphere of the lobby with an abrupt wail.

The doors snapped shut as if to preserve what was left of your dignity before a ding to signal it was on its way up.

Angel Dust, who’d already been cracking up, burst out laughing.

“Holy fucking shit!” The spider held onto his sides with his four arms. “Didn’t think I was gonna see that bitch gettin’ edged when I woke up this morning!”

Vaggie growled. “¡Eres una gilipollas! She could be seriously ill!”

“Tch, Vags c’mon!” Angel scoffed. “I know you don’t do dicks but ya gotta know when someone’s gettin’ piped when ya see it!”

“That doesn’t — ”

“S’prolly got a vibrator up her snatch or somethin’.” The pornstar mused, hand curled under his chin like a great philosopher.

“Unless Devil Daddy can fuck people without bein’ in the same room as them…” Angel’s brows shot up at the possibility. “Kinky.”

[dailyjermasparkle]

[underratedgrapeju1ce]

had a dream the other night that wherever walter is being held in hi-09 gets overrun with starling matter. bucky finds him too late.