#google error

[tilbageidanmark]

Fuck what Google had become

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

got a worm nibbling my brain. can someone help me find a piece of obscure media?

webcomic/indie comic from the 2010s. basically a sci-fi short story about a young girl (with red hair?) who was being raised by scientists as part of an experiment. she receives a haircut/has her head shaved, in preparation for her annual brain scan/testing. it is revealed that while her body is human, her "brain" is artificial, made of computer implants throughout her skull and spine. at some point her biological mother (also a scientist on the same campus?) encounters her and is repulsed, viewing her as a machine who has murdered her daughter.

it was very poignant and it bruised my heart and i can NOT find it anywhere

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Thinking about the fact they had Bobby dressed as a vampire in the Halloween episode - as cap dracula. Literally the undead - and a character associated with blood.

Every single one of the other Halloween costumes has been a play on the characters narrative for the season and so Bobbys must be as well - the play on undead and blood being important - something which Bobby has already been connected to with the magic blood arc back in season 1.

[fbfh]

hey i was wondering how mischa from rtc would react to a reader being on their period- tysm!

Mischa... Mischa Mischa Mischa.... he calls you up because he's already on his way over to your place but he missed the sound of your voice too much to wait. Or as he put it, "my heart is a cathedral, your voice is the ringing of the bells, the doves that fly above. each moment I am away from you, it is no longer house of worship because there is no divinity, no angels to deliver salvation, no embrace of heaven's gates."

so he shows up and sees you all snuggled up on the couch in your crusty comfy bed rotting clothes, but the way he looks at you is so sincerely the way someone else would look at the most breathtaking supermodel. he looks at you with that raw ukrainian passion and rushes forward to you. he takes your face so tenderly in his hands presses your foreheads together before he kisses you.

"oh, my beloved, my kokhanyy..." your stomach always does that little twisty flippy thing when he calls you kokhanyy - beloved in ukrainian. he's been using the pet name for as long as you can remember, but it still makes you all flustered. he kisses you some more and notices you don't seem to be quite yourself. he crouches down next to you, holding your hand in both of his, kissing it and holding it to his cheek as he asks what's wrong. you tell him you woke up to your period this morning and all you want to do is curl up in a ball and not move.

"period, period..." he murmurs, trying to remember what the ukrainian translation is. "oh, menstruatsiya!"

"yeah, menstruatsiya." you chuckle.

"oh, my dove..." he says, pulling you close to him. he rests your head on his chest, stroking your hair or caressing your cheek. "it is a most beautiful thing. the blood of your womb gives way to the seeds of new life. It is like a kiss from the stars, it is telling you that you are a strong, fertile tree, bursting with the fruit of life."

you look up at him, smiling softly, touched by his words.

"besides, squeezing lining of organs out of bleeding hole is gangster as SHIT, yo!" he exclaims, jumping up before kissing your hand again.

"I go get you chocolates and medovik." he says as he rushes out, then turns around.

"honey cake. very good, very comforting." he clairifies. you chuckle to yourself as he rushes out to get you some sweets and comfort food. you really don't know what you'd do without him.

[iggyshippingcorner]

okay so the sickfic has spiraled wildly out of control. it's at 2k words right now and i think the final is going to be around 5k... (sigh)

in the meantime! 1k words of Stone cooking that I wrote after baking dessert for an event last weekend. features: domestic stobotnik, some named badniks, and food as love language. mostly canon compliant, takes place sometime in the crab era :3

working at the hardened mass of brown sugar with slightly damp palms. the cheesecake is in the oven, cyan watching it with rapt focus through the glass. he’s refilling the baking supplies in the crab’s kitchen while he waits for the timer to go off. the brown sugar solidified into a brick of molasses while it waited on the counter, and while there are quicker ways to soften the sugar, he’s always preferred this method. small crystals cling to the grooves of his fingers and palms as he kneads at the brick, humming quietly to the music oni plays from her vantage point. a large clump breaks off from the brick, and he rolls it between his palms until it begins to crumple, and he deposits his fresh handful in the waiting jar. 

he dusts his sugar-coated hands off over the sink. a quick rinse to make sure he isn’t leaving crumbs across the whole kitchen. the terracotta disc gets a quick rinse as well, the old clumps of brown sugar clinging to it sloughing off under the spray. he towels it dry, revealing the familiar sparrow with its forked tail and sparse plumage. it goes in the jar, pressed down into the sugar to tamp it flat. with its labelled lid screwed back on, it returns to its designated spot in the cabinet beyond the marzocco. after the brown sugar comes the flour, a hefty glass jar with a bail lid that came from his own apartment. nearly empty. he scrapes out the last two cups and sets them aside, rolling up his sleeves as he wrangles the new bag of flour. 

alpha’s bzzt-brrp! from his perch above the fridge heralds the doctor’s arrival. stone doesn’t turn around so much as he drifts to a more interruptible task and then allows the doctor to step comfortably into his personal space, arms winding around his middle. his chin digs into stone’s clavicle. they don’t speak, not yet, just stand swaying slightly as he sets the kettle to boil and begins perusing their steadily growing tea collection. as much as the doctor despises switching things up, he’s been surprisingly accepting of stone introducing some diversity to his caffeine intake.

there’s clementines in the bowl by the marzocco, and the doctor reaches past stone to snag one. he rewards the snack choice with a silent shift, his elbow squeezing robotnik’s forearm to his ribs more securely. there’s the gentlest rumble of a laugh against his shoulder-blades. he tips his head to one side, curious, but the doctor doesn’t offer any explanation. just leans in and bumps his cheek against stone’s ear, moustache tickling his jaw and lips. 

“back to the grind,” he says, a touch too loud for how close he is. stone squeezes him again just because he can, and then lets him disentangle himself. “ETA?”

stone flicks the oven light on, and they both crouch in front of the glass once cyan shuttles away with a dejected zzzrr. the cheesecake bubbles quietly. stone checks the egg timer. “another hour. hungry?”

“biding my time,” robotnik hums, and waves the orange at him. “curry tonight?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” stone replies, like he wouldn’t carve the moon from the sky with his bare hands if the doctor asked him to. “what were you thinking?” 

“surprise me,” the doctor says, all magnanimous, which stone knows to mean reasonably spicy, and containing either lamb or pork. he graciously allows stone to steal the clementine from his hands, watching impassively as he quickly, efficiently peels it over the sink, and returns the exposed heart of it to his waiting hand. he pops one of the slices into his mouth and when the flesh splits between his teeth, stone has to take a slow, measured inhale. robotnik eyes him, but he just smiles, easy, agreeable. “I’ll send cyan to you when dinner’s ready.”

“sounds good,” the doctor nods, and leans in for an entirely unprompted kiss on the cheek that leaves stone blushing in the artificial sunlight of the crab’s kitchen windows. he shuffles out of the kitchen, peeled clementine in hand. stone watches him leave. cyan beeps eagerly from her post in front of the oven, and it breaks his reverie. 

“alright, alright. let me get in there,” he laughs, grabbing the oven mitts. 

the cheesecake comes out perfect. he has to swat multiple badniks and one robotnik away from it while it cools, and wrestles it into the fridge to chill properly despite more than a few protests (“this is a perfect time to test the liquid nitrogen chamber!”). 

dinner is a quiet affair crammed side by side at the island, legs tangled beneath the counter. the doctor steals more than a few pieces of lamb off his plate, and begrudgingly eats a few extra pieces of bell pepper in exchange. when they finally cut into the cheesecake, stone drinks in the sight of his doctor’s first bite-- the way his eyebrows raise a little, the way he assesses and catalogues consistency, texture, flavour. how his nose scrunches a little and he grins toothily down at his plate in appreciation. 

“excellent again, stone,” he says. such direct and genuine praise calls for a little preening, even if it causes robotnik to smack his arm and nearly send his own slice of cheesecake flying. the doctor snickers as he rights himself on his stool again, and accepts the retaliatory forehead kiss.

they drink tea on the couch afterwards, watching some telenovela while pretending (badly) to not notice the way they gravitate closer and closer, until robotnik’s head is in stone’s lap and both mugs are on the coffee table. stone is trained better than to fall asleep while the doctor provides running commentary on the anarrative arcs at play in the episode, but he would be a liar if he claimed his eyes never drifted shut listening to the familiar cadence of his doctor’s voice filling the warm space between them. his tangents ebb and lull like the waves overhead, their quiet domesticity concealed within the crab, far from the prying eyes of the world.

[squeakadeeks]

its such a deep pain when you see the PERFECT fabric thats exactly what you need at a good price but its only available on the worlds #1 sketchiest webbed site

[yakny]

5/4/2024-5/5/2024: What a Heavy Burden, to Command Knives Where to Stab

[zoe-monster]

Ojo Ist Krank - Ojo Is Sick

“Achoo!” - Ojo keeps sneezing loudly. “You’ve caught a cold, Ojo.” Says Bear. He brings her a handkerchief

Ojo has blown her nose. She’s not feeling well; her throat hurts a lot. Pip and Pop wrap a scarf around Ojo’s neck.

Treelo and Bear make tea and bring Ojo a steaming cup.

Ojo’s forehead is very hot. Tutter and Bear take her temperature with a thermometer. Yes, indeed, she has a fever!

Ojo is lying on the sofa covered in thick blankets. Bear is reading everyone a bedtime story. This way, Ojo will soon get well again.

Ojo is now fast asleep. Bear tells Luna about Ojo’s cold. Luna wishes her a speedy recovery. “Good night, Bear.” “Good night, Luna.”

[nikisdaughter]

birthday of my second favorite frenchman🇫🇷🌼

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Too many wips… too many wips…

[mushroomflowerss]

A lil fragment of chaoter 20: The pack is fr kakashis biggest hater and also his biggest fan. They ship kakairu so much.

Edit: this chapter is now out!! You can find it in the comments of my pinned art 🫶🏼

[hungrydolphin91]

Font replicated from Dawn of the New World

Font replicated from Tales of Graces

[kavin0there]

After certains hours of the night Casper needs to close the chatroom because Micah would start writing some weird brainrot shit he definitely doesn't understand at all (Micah hacks him and talks to him anyway.)

Honorable mention to : @viaviv124 who gave me this shit post

[aetsiv]

read this in a vanitas no carte fic and omg it reminded me so so so much of yotasuke takahashi and his relationship with art

the fic name is incorporalité | vanoé by raemisa on ao3!!

[strawberrus0da]

why is everything i write about dream so depressing 😭