#close enough whatever

[doodlecat19]

One yellow eyed blue robots and the godlike bitches they pulled by being batshit insane and murderous

[shootingstareon]

banging on the wall of my asylum room can anyone hear me.

[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

[glossc1]

ganymede doodles ft. zeus(?) 🍎 🦅

more ganymede

[sghr10423]

some Kierans while I try to re-figure-out how to draw... people.

ft. a small sghr doodle, some assorted pokemon, and some fun with screentones

[tezzbot]

I really like the headcanon that a very select amount of people are allowed to actually call Tails 'Miles' and Shadow is on that list, it's very cute to me ^_^

[stealingpotatoes]

confession one time i borrowed the a new hope novelisation from my school library and forgot to return it for so long they sent me three emails asking me to pay for it. i never did i just gave it back and ran out the door (away from the consequences).

cool did you send this to me so i could like absolve you of your sins like some kinda star wars priest?

[fashion4standusers]

Anyway, if I had a nickel for every time a series had six installments that gradually escalated in ridiculousness, only for the sixth installment to end with a universe reboot and the seventh installment to pick up in a new universe where alternate versions of the original characters now exist in the distant past, I'd have two nickels.

One of those series is JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. The other is Riverdale

[rimatsu]

why highlight tommy's longing and envy for a family and the family unit within the 118 specifically, not once not twice but THRICE, if it's going to amount to nothing 🤨

[marc--chilton]

house, in wilson's office, trying to rile him up because he's bored: sorry i can't fuck you like we used to, bum leg and all

wilson, who has not looked up from his paperwork since house came in: love finds a way

house: (zeroes in on wilson like he can see through him) i never said anything about love

wilson, still unbothered: we've been friends for close to twenty years. usually when you know someone that long you start to pick things up about them

cue house leaving without another word and wilson smiling smugly to himself for his Mind Tricks

[ekingston]

A chef!AU, maybe? In any case, a story in which Kara and Lena meet through one of them preparing/serving/etc food for the other and build their relationship based on that.

(also on ao3.)

“I’m telling you, Alex. It’s her.”

At three pm on a Tuesday their restaurant is characteristically dead, save for the one lone customer Kara is spying on from behind the kitchen doors. The woman is perched, a little perilously, on a barstool at the counter. It’s the one that’s closest to their register, the one with the wobbly leg that Alex keeps telling Kara to fix. One of her red-soled heels is dangling from an impatiently bouncing left foot.

“This is the fourth time this week she’s come in here,” Kara says. “You don’t think that’s just a little bit suspicious?”

Alex shrugs, fully committed to her task of mincing onions. “Maybe she’s just a big fan of Italian food.”

“No way,” Kara says. “No woman who looks like that would put something in her mouth that wasn’t clearly marked gluten-free and vegan. Give me your phone.”

Alex rolls her eyes dramatically as she elbows it over. “Tell me again how you’re totally over Siobhan.”

“Oral sex isn’t a moral issue!” Kara takes a decisive breath while she unlocks her sister’s phone with practiced ease. “Whatever. Water under the bridge.”

“Uh-huh.”

“A love for pasta also doesn't explain why I heard this woman answer a call yesterday with a different name than the one that’s on her credit card,” Kara points out, before snapping a quick picture through the porthole window.

“Okay, now you’re being creepy,” Alex says.

“Shut up,” Kara tells her. “I’m texting Winn.”

Kara eyes the woman at the counter while she waits for his reply. The subject of her suspicion—Lena, she’d called herself on the phone; Tess Mercer, it had said on her mastercard—twists a soft-looking lock of dark hair around her finger as she studies their menu. The way the sunlight sets it ablaze almost makes Kara take a second picture, purely for its artistic merit.

Alex dabs at her onion-induced tears with the cuff of her sleeve. “Let it go, Kara,” she sighs.

“Let it go? Let it—” Kara whirls back to face her, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Do you want The Tower to end up like Winn and James’ steakhouse? Or are you fine with getting swindled by this—this… villain?”

“Of course not.” Alex looks at her like she’s stupid. “But even if this woman is your so-called ‘food influencer’, what do you suggest we do about it? It’s not as if we can bully her into giving us a fair review.”

Kara squares her jaw and sets her fists firmly on her hips. “No,” she declares, her tone grim. “But we can teach her a little about journalistic integrity.” She blows at a lock of hair that’s fallen in her face. “And also, possibly, credit card fraud.”

Alex narrows her eyes at her. “Kara,” she warns, putting down her knife. Her voice is low and cautious, as if she’s talking to the rowdy raccoon that moved into their dumpster three weeks ago instead of to her baby sister. “Let’s just take a breath and think about this for a m—”

Kara is already gone, the doors to the kitchen swinging closed behind her. Sliding into the cluttered space behind the counter, she crosses her arms and then drops her elbows on the bar, leaning what she belatedly realizes is probably a little too close to her adversary. She’s close enough to make out the individual downy hairs on her chin and the lines in her painted lips, which are still pursed thoughtfully in what Kara is sure would look like an attractive pout to someone who didn’t know any better.

But Kara knows so much better.

“Let me guess,” she remembers to get out, much less biting than originally intended. “Today you’ll be having the fifth entrée down the list.”

As soon as their eyes meet over the miniscule amount of space left between them, Kara knows leaning in was a fatal mistake. Her nemesis blinks up at her with wide, startled eyes that remind Kara of the glass pebbles she finds on the beach on her morning walks, not-quite-blue and not-quite-green, and for a moment Kara’s brain sputters out as if someone abruptly turned off the flames that kept it cooking.

But the woman recovers fast, like the scheming scoundrel that she is. She guiltily shutters her eyes behind thick, charcoal lashes, and Kara’s temper revives at the observation that her enemy isn’t as good of an actress as she thinks she is.

“I’ve actually been thinking of breaking my own rule,” she says, with a smile that lands somewhere between self-deprecating and apologetic. “I may give in and order the same thing you served me yesterday.” Kara goes hot all over with righteous indignation at the rich timbre of the woman’s voice, the almost flirtatious lilt it takes on when she adds, “I haven’t been able to stop dreaming about it.”

Kara pulls back a little in an effort to escape that curious gaze, the enticing scent of the woman’s perfume. It’s sweet enough to drown out even Alex’s mountain of onions. “I know what you’re doing,” she blusters.

The—frankly unfairly beautiful—soulless grifter stares at her, stricken. “I’m—I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” Kara says. “I know who you are.” And then, as if she’s putting down the last card in a game of Uno, “Lena.”

The woman goes very still for a moment, and then the corners of her lips tug down in a bitter semblance of a smile. “I see,” she says. She’s rigid, regal; she’s royalty perched on a wobbly wooden stool. “And am I to assume that’s enough for you to turn down my patronage?”

Kara’s resolve wobbles, too. She hadn’t expected her adversary—Lena, she now knows—to roll over so easily. “Well, yeah, obviously,” she flusters, her energy suddenly too large and lumbering in the face of Lena’s deference. “Winn and James are family.”

“Family.” There’s a flicker of wistfulness in Lena’s voice, before confusion colors her features. “So the cold shoulder,” she says. “It’s personal?”

Kara scoffs. The fraudster doesn’t even remember the names of her latest victims. Typical. “It was their steakhouse that you razed to the ground last month,” Kara reminds her.

Lena blinks at her. “The establishment just up the road?” She raises a critical eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure they set themselves up for failure when they decided to name their restaurant Misteak.”

Kara huffs. Her air quotes are appropriately vicious when she says, “They were doing just fine before your slanderous ‘review’ went viral.”

Lena does a remarkably convincing impression of someone who is genuinely flabbergasted. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Liar.”

Lena’s shocked laughter is bright but brief. It’s the first time Kara has heard her laugh. It’s maddeningly attractive and deeply annoying.

“Okay,” Lena says. She folds her arms in front of her chest and leans back a little in her seat, unaware of its delicate disposition. A smirk tugs at one corner of her mouth. “Tell me,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Who do you think I am, exactly?”

Kara leans in close again, refusing to allow Lena to get the upper hand. She’d like to wipe that smirk from Lena’s face—manually, if need be—preferably, even, if it means she’d get to smudge that infuriatingly immaculate lipstick with her thumb—

“You,” Kara charges, in an effort to drown out that unhelpful thought, “are a fraud. You call yourself a ‘mystery food critic’ on TikTok, but really you’re blackmailing businesses into buying a favorable review.”

“Hey, um.” Alex has followed her out of the kitchen, holding her phone. “So. Winn texted back, and he says—”

But Lena laughs again, her guarded posture melting down to unmistakable relief. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice a high warble. “That sounds awful. And also extremely illegal. Have you reported this person to the authorities? I can get you in touch with an excellent lawyer, if you’d like.”

Kara doesn’t know if she feels more outraged or confused.

…Or possibly some secret third thing.

“So you’re telling me—” Kara barks out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re saying you’re not her.”

“This, ehm— Tic Tac person?” When Lena’s dark lashes flutter, something in Kara’s chest flutters too. “No.”

Impossible. “Then why have you been in here every day this week?” Kara interrogates, the full force of evidence she’s collected behind it. “When neither one of us has seen you here even once, since we opened?”

Alex rolls her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t sure whether I’d seen her here before,” she points out. “Also, Winn says—”

“Oh please,” Kara scoffs, her eyes fixed on Lena, who has propped her elbows on the counter again, closer now than she’d been the last time their eyes met. “As if you could forget a woman as beautiful as—” Kara’s gaze drops to Lena’s mouth, unbidden, when Lena parts those rude, ruby lips. “...You.”

Alex stares.

Kara swallows.

Lena blinks; two times fast, and then again, after a beat, slow and sticky, her eyes darkening.

“So you may as well come out with it,” Kara croaks out what little remains of her anger. “There’s something you want more than our fettuccine.”

Lena’s cheeks have turned a treacherously charming shade of pink. “I suppose you’re right about that one, at least,” she admits after a beat.

In Kara’s peripheral vision, Alex frantically slides her hand across her throat. Kara frowns at her, telegraphing a wordless what is your problem but finding no satisfactory answer in the crimson shade her sister’s face has taken on.

“Yeah, well,” she says, almost disappointed, fumbling to fill the space left by Lena’s confession. “I’m telling you right now that it’s never going to happen.”

Alex clears her throat with startling force. “Winn wants to know,” she says, reading from her phone, “Who’s the hot chick?”

When Kara returns her gaze to the woman on the other side of the counter, she gulps. Lena is somehow even closer than she was before. She’s also fully propping herself up now on the laminate surface between them, granting Kara a glimpse of freckled cleavage that in no possible universe could be interpreted as unintentional.

“So,” Lena drawls. “What you’re saying is you’re not going to give me your number?”

Kara’s throat is suddenly very dry.

“Huh?” she manages, but only just barely.

“I was hoping,” Lena says slowly, that maddening smirk once again tugging up the corner of her mouth, “that you’d maybe like to—”

Lena shifts in her seat, crossing her legs in what is bound to become a devastatingly seductive pose, but the barstool decides in exactly that moment that's it’s finally had enough. Lena yelps as it gives out beneath her with a dramatic snap, one of its rickety limps flying across the floor as if celebrating its first taste of freedom, and Kara’s never considered herself to be very quick, but here she is anyway, on the other side of the counter in what feels like less than a second, one hand gripping Lena’s forearm, the other slipping smoothly around her waist.

“—fuck,” Lena gasps up at her. She feels good, in Kara’s hands, slight but pleasantly heavy, like the santoku knife Alex has forbidden Kara from touching ever again. “Well,” Lena says. “That’s. Perhaps not the way I would have phrased it, especially in front of your friend—”

They both glance over at Alex, but she’s disappeared, the swaying of the kitchen doors the only indication she was ever there.

“O-kay,” Kara says.

Lena grins. “Okay?”

Kara mentally rewinds the conversation and feels her ears burn at the realization of what she just agreed to. “I mean,” she amends. “We could, maybe, grab something to eat first?”

Something devious sparks in Lena’s terrifyingly gorgeous face. She glances down at Kara’s arms before blinking back up at her again and smirking. “I thought you already had.”

And, goodness gracious.

Kara is about to be in so much trouble.

[humanmorph]

FatT pin-up week prompt 6: spooky

an invitation

[kiyomitakada]

"This isn't what I meant by 'bonding activities,'" Misa says.

L has his entire arm, up to the elbow, stuffed into the Jenga tower box. Light silently prays for his hand to get stuck. "Did you not say you wanted company, Amane-san?"

"Yeah, but I didn't mean with you," Misa retorts. "I said I was lonely without Light around!"

"Yes, and Light-kun is attached to me," L explains patiently. He successfully withdraws from the box; the missing Jenga piece dangles between his thumb and index finger. Damn it. "Many couples play tabletop games together."

"I don't want to be in a couple with this creep," Misa says. "You don't either, right, Light?"

Light sighs. "Misa, you're a suspect in a murder investigation. It doesn't really matter if you want to or not."

"What?! What about consent?"

Since when have you cared about consent? Light does not say aloud. Instead he says, "Whatever," because he's a nice person. "Let's just get this over with."

"Beh," Misa mumbles, but she settles down on the sofa to peer at the Jenga tower pieces L has dumped onto the table. Light and L sit opposite her; L, with uncharacteristic grace, places the last wood block on top of the pile.

"You know," Light remarks, "I'm pretty sure the pieces are already arranged as a tower when you first buy them. You didn't have to scatter them all out."

"Oops," L says without a hint of remorse.

No one moves. Eventually Light, with another sigh, leans over and starts stacking the tower up himself.

-

Light has played Jenga before, obviously. With friends during recess when it was raining outside, yeah, but more often with Sayu and Mom over the holidays. Mom is brilliant at it; Sayu's alright, but takes too many risks. Light's no strategic master, but he's also never lost, as far as he can remember — he just plays it safe and goes for the loose blocks in the middle.

Suffice it to say that this round is going to kill him.

"This should not be standing," he says in a desperate plea to the rules of physics.

Misa grins. She's only been taking blocks from the left side of the tower (and putting them on the right side, to be fair, but that should not nearly be enough to balance this structure). Even one piece in the base level is gone. "But it is!"

"Ryuzaki," Light says, gesturing at their inadvertent creation of the Leaning Tower of Pisa's inferior cousin, "how is — how?"

"Amane-san is quite a good opponent," L muses, neatly dodging his question. He leans forward with a smile, pressing his thumb into his lip. "I am honored to be playing against her."

Misa brightens. "Hey, Ryuzaki, you're not so bad!"

"I'm here too," Light mutters.

"Hmm." L tilts his head, thumb digging deeper. Light watches the way the strands of his hair fall out of and into place. "Let's see…"

Five seconds pass. Then ten.

Light, all of a sudden, realizes he's been staring at the way L's hair curls just slightly when it brushes against the nape of his neck for far too long. He drops his gaze immediately; it lands on the chain between them instead.

The chain. The chain connected to L's hand. He could end this hell with just one tug —

No, too suspicious. If he cheats at Jenga, L will surely jail him (again) for mass murder.

"Can you hurry up?" Misa crosses her arms, leaning forward. "It's only supposed to take a minute, you know."

"Not all of us have your reality-manipulating powers, Amane-san," L murmurs. His thumb has not left his lip.

"Or maybe I'm just better than you."

L's gaze flickers upward. "Did you often play Jenga in the past?"

"Not really." Misa shrugs. "My friends weren't all that into it."

"Then I find that rather unlikely." L glances back down to the pieces he's considering; Light lets himself exhale.

"No, it just means I'm a natural talent!"

Instead of responding, L reaches and plucks a piece away. It happens so fast Light has no time to blink, exactly the same way L eats sweets.

The tower wobbles and —

No. Still standing.

"Jeez," Light mutters.

"Unhappy I'm winning, Light-kun?" L puts his piece down on the top level. He puts it down vertically. (He's already placed five other pieces this way, packed together in a geometry that is apparently conducive to structural support. Light wishes he could strangle him.)

"Who says you're winning?" Light and Misa say simultaneously.

They blink at each other. Then Misa beams, putting her hand up for a high-five. Light meets it hesitantly.

"I do," L says, unconcerned. He tugs the chain. "It's your turn, Light-kun."

"I know that." Light leans forward, narrowing his eyes. Despite everything, this shouldn't be difficult. All he has to do is find a loose block, and then this tortuous game will continue on as usual.

He briefly considers collapsing the tower on purpose.

No. Light Yagami does not lose. He taps at one of the pieces; nope, load-bearing. Another one. Nope. Another —

Suddenly he's falling — wind whistles in his ears — and then he hits something bony and angular with a thump.

Light stares. He'll deny this later but he stares and stares and stares, until he finally registers that he is lying in the lap of quite possibly the second worst man alive and jolts back upright, pushing him away. "What the fuck, Ryuzaki!"

L's laugh is low and slow and amused. "I only moved my hand a little," he says. "I didn't know Light-kun could tip over so easily."

"You are cheating," Light accuses. "You wanted me to lose!"

"The tower is perfectly intact," L says. "No evidence, no crime."

Light tears his glare away from L to check. Yes, the accursed tower is still standing. Damn it all.

"That's the whole problem, isn't it," L continues. "No evidence…"

Misa slams her hands down on the table, making the tower judder. Light startles; he'd almost forgotten she was there. "You locked us up for two months and didn't even have evidence?!"

"There is plenty of evidence in your case, Amane-san." L turns to look at her. The loss of his gaze feels a bit like a punch, but a mild one that Light is not affected by whatsoever. "And besides, I was referring to Jenga."

"Well, what about my boyfriend? He never—"

"Just drop it, Misa," Light says. "He's not changing his mind."

For a split second, Misa glares at him. Light almost flinches — and then it's gone again, replaced with a pout. "But he's insufferable!"

"You'll only have to suffer me until we catch Kira," L says dryly. "So I suppose we'd best do that as soon as possible."

(Aizawa, muttering from the control room: "Oh, really.")

"Yeah, well, we will," Misa says. "And I bet Light's going to beat you to it, 'cause he's so much smarter than you. Right, Light?"

"It's still my turn," Light says. "If you pull me again, I'll break your nose."

"Hmm. Ten percent."

Light steadies both feet on the ground, clenches his chained hand into a fist, and reaches for the tower again.

He taps. And keeps tapping. With growing horror, he realizes that there are no loose pieces. Every level is made of just the middle block and the right block now, and none of them are pullable. They’re just not enough on their own.

…Wait.

Light takes a long inhale and holds it, just in case a breath would disturb the structure. He squeezes his eyes shut, then open. He reaches for the level 75% of the way up.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Light uses his thumb and index finger to maneuver the middle piece into a diagonal —

There! The right piece slips out easier than butter.

Light does not indulge his first instinct, which is to yell FUCK YES!!!!!. Instead he leans back, exhales, inhales, and then puts the piece back on the top layer.

The tower does not fall.

"Your turn, Misa," Light says, attempting to school his smile from "deranged" to "enthusiastic."

Misa claps in delight. "That was amazing!"

"Interesting," L muses. "Interesting."

"What?"

"I was under the impression that moving a piece other than the one played was a rules violation," L says.

"Wh—" Light nobly does not punch him. He weighs the possibility of claiming he had never done that, but the middle block is indeed at a distinctly unnatural slant now. "That's not true. You made that up."

L leans over the side of the sofa and plucks the manual out, flipping through it carefully. "'Any blocks moved but not played should be replaced'—"

"—'unless doing so would make the tower fall,'" Light reads over his shoulder. "And it would!" The middle piece is clearly the only one holding up the entire layer. "Take that, Ryuzaki!"

L frowns. "You, Light Yagami, are a sore loser."

"I think you're the sore loser here, to be honest," Light says, faintly giddy. He could kiss someone right now.

"Your turn!" Misa says triumphantly.

They both turn to look at her. Misa has removed the other side of the base layer. The tower is now standing entirely on one block, wavering uncertainly in the faint air-con breeze.

"What the fuck," Light manages.

Misa grins. "Good luck, Ryuzaki!"

[ @deathnotetober day 21: games ]

[doctorsiren]

Like with any media I get into, an AU is sure to follow, so here’s something @sleepysquib and I have been cooking up!

We wanted Haibara to live, that was it :D

Here’s a “brief” summary of his whole deal:

During August 2007, his second year at Tokyo Jujutsu High School, he went on a mission with fellow second year Nanami Kento. The mission’s level turned out to be higher than expected. Haibara received critical wounds, but was able to escape with Nanami with their lives. He was healed by Shoko’s reverse curse healing technique.

After his brush with death, he realized that he needed to be taking this more seriously. That, combined with Geto’s betrayal, led him to becoming less naive. However, he didn’t want to lose his positivity, so he focused on increasing his abilities through his emotions, eventually becoming promoted to Grade 1.

After graduation, Nanami still ran from the life of a jujutsu sorcerer, while Haibara stayed in that world. He saw his role as something akin to a superhero, and took it in stride, calling himself “Cupid” and being very public about his status. He quickly became popular and gained a fanbase, taking pictures and signing autographs for them when he has time.

Being received well by the media and being good on camera, Haibara became somewhat of a PR boy for the jujutsu sorcerers. He could make a bad situation sound less terrible through his natural charm.

Nanami and Haibara remained best friends during the time that Nanami was working as a salaryman. Eventually, Nanami learned the bakery lesson and realized his place was as a sorcerer. He returned to that life and was quickly paired with Haibara for many missions.

Haibara knows that the world isn’t the happy place he wishes, but he tries to be the change he wants to see and spreads positivity. He also does this in hopes of lessening the amount of cursed spirits created by the negative emotions of humans.

As a result of always expressing positivity, his negative emotions are naturally bottled up. He does this on purpose, stockpiling his negative emotions so he can release and harness their power if a battle becomes that dire. His last resort is to unleash his negative emotions, which increases his power greatly for a brief period of time. After this burst of power, he is left exhausted and drained and will need to recover. He is aware that he is being “toxically positive” but does so to increase his power with negativity later.

He doesn’t express joy all the time and doesn’t force himself to express it every moment of the day, but he will always express positivity in public and during battles to keep up morale and his image (although he doesn’t care about image in a narcissistic way).

He is liked by most people and others vent and confide in him. The personal sharing of their negative emotions adds to that stockpile that he can use if necessary.

Haibara tries to not express his own negative emotions to others because it will decrease that stockpile inside and he knows he needs to save that for dangerous battles. He knows it’s not healthy but he does it for the good of Japan, seeing himself as a superhero.

Much like a cursed spirit, his greater power increases when those around him have expressed negative emotions, but he doesn’t like to acknowledge the fact that he has something in common with cursed spirits.

Lives by the mottos of “With great power comes great responsibility” and “greet the world with open arms”

[emberlynn-sapphire-anarchy-angel]

Animated shows that deserves more attention and appreciation.

[undead-knick-knack]