#hc speedrun!!!!!

[skillbattle]

calling all besties !!! KILL

[hinamie]

post-graduation trip airport looks

[brighteuphony]

A moment of mourning for Sakura for words she would have once given anything to hear from Sasuke....

Kind of followup to THIS comic.

But she and Saeko have had their revenge for Enji, and Sakura has had time to heal and find closure. She won't be any good to Sasuke because she's already left that path, and she won't abandon her coven/responsibilities either.

She's learned alot about Konoha over the past few years, and has to a big degree, deprogrammed herself from the Leaf's propaganda thanks to all her teachers and some brutal life experience, so she doesn't actually care if Sasuke were to raze the entire council/kages to the ground- but there ARE people (ino, Kakashi, lee, naruto etc-) who she loves and wants to protect, so she'll stay, for them.

Sasuke, for his part, is happy to have someone just verbalize that they empathize with his pain and that his desire for revenge is justified, though he's doesn't have the bandwidth to really understand where Sakura is right now, emotionally.

In this AU I kind of had an end for Sasuke where he is pardoned, but never returns to the village, though he does pass by once in a blue moon. When he does, Sakura (who doesn't end up living IN the village as much as in the forests of Konoha like their own little witch of the woods) is there to help with healing/supplies and they do end up as good, yet distant friends.

Once again, thank you so much for all the support and really nice questions/kind words for this AU!!! <3 <3

[isjasz]

[Day 173]

There is a way to end it (Have you really succeeded?)

[fluffyartbl0g]

HERE IS MY INCREDIBLY SELF INDULGENT CRACK TIMETRAVEL AU!!!!! This is heavily inspired by geokat’s fic Take The World By Storm.

For reasons,,, the gang has to get to raftel AS FAST AS POSSIBLE

LET THE SPEEDRUN COMMENCE!!!!

Speedrun/Time Travel AU masterlist

[python333]

your writing is literally the best in the cod fandom. we need more injured reader angst. it's too good

don't breathe — python333

— — — —

synopsis [reader] gets buried alive after refusing to give intel to enemy soldiers and *slips up and writes reader almost dying again* oops how did that happen haha

relationships platonic!price & gn!reader.

characters cap. john price.

word count 2.7k

warnings suffocation [reader], just generally really depressing thoughts, near death??, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note aww tysm :(( dont say its the best im gonna get a complex LMAO but i appreciate it!! and yes i agree injured reader angst ftw :3 i present to you: reader gets very injured and theres a lot of angst and its basically just you suffering for a good 3/4 of the fic while the last quarter has the actual comfort!

“Hello?” You try again, your voice cracking and your tone as desperate as it can get, “Please, God, say someone can hear me.” 

You’ve been trapped in a casket for about five minutes now—at least, you woke up five minutes ago. God knows how long you’ve been stuck in the stupid thing, but realistically, it’s probably been much longer than five minutes.

The last thing you remember from before you were buried is being in the interrogation room of some small terrorist group’s facility, one you and the others were led to believe was abandoned weeks ago. 

Unfortunately, whoever gave you the information must’ve either had incredibly outdated information or was setting you all up for failure, because the facility was very much not abandoned and was instead full of enemy soldiers.

You all had already gotten into the building before you knew that, because of course you all had to be in the same spot at the same time—practically sitting ducks for the enemy—and of course you all had to be clueless about the possibly hundreds of people in the facility until it was too late. 

As far as you know, everyone managed to escape. Everyone but you. They didn’t mean to leave you behind, of course they didn’t, they were more focused on just booking it out of the facility. However, because of that, you were now stuck—you assume—several feet underground in a casket that has a limited amount of oxygen that drops every time you take a breath. 

You let out the breath you’re currently holding and suck in another deep breath, holding it as you think. Your strategy of holding your breath until you no longer could mostly worked, but it wouldn’t for long, you knew that soon you’d suffocate in all of the carbon dioxide gathering in the enclosed casket.

You don’t know how long you’d been unconscious in the casket, breathing in oxygen carelessly in your slumber, which made the whole situation worse. You didn’t even know how much time you had left. 

You hate to waste your breath checking your comms, but the enemy soldiers had accidentally left your earpiece in your ear—the small device apparently going undetected under their radar—and you wanted to make the most of it. You move your arm from your side and press onto the PTT button on your earpiece, wincing a little at how cramped the casket was.

“Does anybody copy?” You ask again, staring up at the almost pitch black space above you, “I repeat, does anybody copy?” 

It’s a vain attempt at contacting your team, really. You don’t know if they’re thinking about you, if the signal is going through, if they even have their earpieces on—you know nothing, and that terrifies you because you really don’t want to die right now but there’s literally nothing else you can do besides helplessly talk into your earpiece, not knowing if anyone’s listening. 

Your lungs start to burn and you let out the breath you were holding, taking another deep breath and beginning to hold that one. The air feels… thick. It’s starting to get harder to breathe, and you know you shouldn’t panic but you can’t help the few worried thoughts that come to the forefront of your mind. 

What am I going to do when I run out of oxygen and the only thing left for me to breathe in are my own discarded breaths? What will I do when all there is to do is suffocate? Am I going to try, in one last desperate attempt, to break out of the casket, or am I going to just lay here and die? Will my team try to find me, or will they forget about me? Have they already forgotten about me? 

Before you can listen to any more of those depressing thoughts, a voice comes from your earpiece. 

“H—lo? [c/n]?” It’s hard to tell with the static and the cuts in between the words, but you think it’s Price talking. 

“Price?” You ask immediately, all thoughts of preserving your breath forgotten. “Holy shit, you can hear me?” 

“Je—s— whe—e—” He cuts out for a moment and your stomach drops when all you can hear is static for a moment. 

“You’re— You’re cutting out, Captain, what did you say?” 

“Wher— —re you?” It takes you a moment to realize what he’s saying, your mind working much slower than it usually does, but once you do you shake your head negatively despite him not being there to see you. 

“I don’t— I don’t know,” You respond, taking a deep breath before adding on, “I think I’m underground, I just know I’m in a casket and it’s getting harder to breathe and—” 

“Okay, o—y,” You hear Price’s voice crackle, his voice becoming more distant and sounding almost muffled to you, “Sa— —ur bre—th, I’ll try to g—t some—e to track your— —tion.” 

With the constant cutting out of his words and the distortion of his tone, you can barely register or process what he’s saying, and that only panics you more but you refuse to let your emotions get the better of you even in the state of disorientation you’re in, so you keep holding your breath. 

A minute later, Price’s voice crackles through your earpiece again. 

“Okay, we’ve got your loc—tion,” Price’s voice sounds… oddly far away, “We can—” 

His voice slowly becomes muffled, and you release the breath you were holding without realizing it, slowly blinking up at the ceiling of the casket. A sort of haze falls over your mind and you can barely even hear Price anymore before you suddenly snap back to reality and hear his now much clearer voice loud in your ear. 

“[c/n]? [c/n], are you still there?” You recognize his tone now, and you’re just a little shocked at the sheer amount of worry in it. 

“Haven’t moved an inch,” You breathe out, before lying, “You cut out for a second for me, sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, “I said we got your loc—tion and we’re hea—g out th— —w. It’s not t— far away from where —e alre—dy are, we’re ba—ely three clicks away.” 

“… Clicks?” You ask, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Yes, clicks,” Price replies, sounding concerned, before hesitantly asking, “… You know what those are, right?” 

“I don’t—” You struggle to find words for a moment before you speak again, your own voice starting to sound distant, “I don’t think so?”

“What do y—u mean you don’t thi— —o?” Price asks, his voice sounding freakishly close, “Are you okay?” 

“No, yeah, I’m fine,” You lie through your teeth, not wanting to worry Price further, “I just… how far away are you?” 

“Just ab—t two cli—ks now,” Price says, before pausing and clarifying, “Two kilometers.” 

Two kilometers… how far is that? “And that’s… is that far, or?” 

“No, it’s not too far. It’s just a mi—te away, we didn’t ge— —o far before Laswell got your loc—tion,” Price tells you, “We’ll be there soon, ok—y? We’ll get y— —ut of there.” 

“A minute—” You cough and feel tears pricking at your eyes from how hard it is to take another breath, “A minute?” 

“Yes, a minute— [c/n], are you okay?” Price asks again, before laughing nervously, “You know what a minute is, do— —ou?” 

“...” You struggle to answer the question, thinking long and hard for a few seconds before hesitantly answering, “… Yeah, I do, sorry. It’s sixty seconds.” 

“Why’d it take you so long to answer?” 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry, I—” You take a few shallow breaths, and feel a headache start to build up, “How far away are you guys?” 

“We’re alm—t there,” Price promises you, “The heli’s ab—t to l—nd, and we’ll dig you up, and—” 

Why is it so cold? Price’s voice cuts off and when he stops talking you realize that you’re shivering. You ball your fists up and can’t even feel your nails digging into your palms, your hands having gone numb from the cold, and realizing that makes you discover that your lips feel numb too. 

Your ears start to ring and you feel that uncomfortable pins and needles feeling in your hands, the sensation slowly traveling up your arms, making you both wanting to peel off your own skin and also grateful that you can at least feel something besides the cold.

In the midst of your thinking, you hear muffled thumping coming from above you—whoever buried you couldn’t have buried you anything below six feet. 

“—llo? [c/n]? Are you still there?” 

You bring your hand up, the movement slow and sluggish, and you try to search around the side of your face for your earpiece. You eventually find it and when you do you press against it until you feel the PTT button being pushed. 

“Still here,” You confirm breathlessly, coughing again as you take a few more shallow breaths, “I think I’m running out of— of… what’s the fuckin’ air that you can breath in, it starts with an o…” 

“… Oxygen?”

“Oxygen, yeah,” You slowly blink up at the ceiling of the casket, “There’s— I think— I don’t… I think… I think I’m gonna pass out, Captain.” 

“[c/n], don’t you fucking dare,” Price growls, “You stay awake, I swear to fucking god.” 

“I can’t—” You take a few more shallow breaths, before coughing, the tears escaping your eyes reaching the corners of your mouth. 

You can hear Price briefly talk with someone else, his voice the most serious you’ve ever heard it, before he talks directly to you again, “How much longer do you think you have before you run out of oxygen?” 

It takes you a moment to register the question, but when you do, you answer, “Uh… I don’t— I think… maybe a few more minutes? I can’t tell, it’s just hard to breathe, I can’t…” 

“Okay, okay,” Price softly says, gusts of wind blowing into his mic as he talks, “Give me a second, okay? We’re almost there, kid, we’ll— we’ll be there in just a minute, we just passed over you, I just need you to stay awake.” 

“In a minute,” You repeat to yourself, before taking a deep breath, hoping that you have enough oxygen to make it out of this casket because you really don’t want to die here, not when there’s help just a minute away. 

After what you assume is a minute or two, instead of thumping, you hear something cut into the dirt above you. The sound, however, is heavily muffled, so muffled to the point where you don’t know if you’re hallucinating or not.

Is that a symptom of CO2 poisoning? Hallucinations? You lay still in the casket and can’t help but release the breath you’d only just taken, the ringing in your ears starting up again and growing louder faster than they had before. 

Your entire body is numb, your chest is heavy, and you can feel a sort of fog fall over your mind. You can distantly hear Price yelling through your earpiece, but you can’t find it in yourself to respond, instead simply laying there, your blinking starting to slow down before it eventually stops, leaving your eyes closed. 

— 

For a moment, you think you died and went to heaven, which would be weird, considering all the things you’ve done in your life. Not saying you’d go to hell, just saying God would probably hesitate for a second before letting you in through the pearly gates. 

You blink awake, slowly but surely, and the first thing you realize is that you can feel things again. You tilt your head down to the bump under the white bed sheets laid on top of you, and squeeze your hand into a ball, watching the bump move and feeling your fingers dig into your oddly sore palms.

You let out a sigh of relief and pull your hand out from the sheets, bringing it up to your face and feeling the oxygen mask that’s been placed over your mouth and nose.

“Don’t mess with that,” You hear a voice say to your right. You turn your head and see a very tired Captain Price, dark eyebags hanging under his eyes and arms crossed, his hands having a white knuckle grip on either one of his elbows. 

“…” You don’t say anything, instead you simply stare at him until he sighs and gets up from his seat. You watch silently as he leans over your bed and bends down, before pausing, and then quickly snaking his hands under your back to pull you up just enough for him to properly hug you. 

You reach up with shaky hands and tentatively hug him back, not nearly as tightly—not that you don’t want to, but you physically can’t with how weak your arms are right now—but with just as much sincere affection. You can feel Price’s beard rubbing against your neck and hear his small sniffles as he embraces you tightly. 

Maybe it’s his sniffling, or the way you can finally feel warmth for the first time in what feels like forever, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s holding you with so much care and affection that it almost makes you burst at the seams, whatever it is, it causes you to tear up as well. 

Those tears quickly become sobs that bubble up in your throat and crawl their way out of it, forcing you to tuck your head into the crook of Price’s neck and muffle your sobs in it, muttering a small ‘sorry’ after each one. 

After each ‘sorry’, Price responds with, “It’s okay, let it out, sweetheart, you’re okay,” and those reassuring words only make you cry more because God, you didn’t even think he’d find you, yet here he is, letting you cry into his neck and is reassuring you after every apology that it’s okay. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” You mumble a litany of apologies into Price’s neck, your breath stuttering and hitching as you try to hold back your sobs. Price only shushes you and rubs his hand up and down your back in a comforting gesture, bringing his head up to kiss the top of your head. 

He tucks your head under his chin, “Don’t apologize, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

And fuck, you know it’s just words, but it only makes you cry more. 

Your sobs eventually stop, leaving you hiccuping against Price’s neck, silently crying as he continues to rub your back. 

“I thought you died,” He whispers, his hand stuttering on your back, “I thought you died and I was going to dig up your dead body, when you didn’t answer me.”

You stay silent, letting him continue, “I thought you were dead when we dug you up and needed to feel your heartbeat for myself to confirm that you were still alive.” 

He pauses for a moment before continuing, “I’ve been here ever since they put you in here. I haven’t slept, I’ve just stayed here, waiting for you to wake up so I could tell you that I—”

He chokes up for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I’m sorry for not even thinking to drag you out of the facility with me when we all ran out. You were— you were right there, and I couldn’t just grab your arm and take you with me, I just had to leave you behind and I—” 

“You watched me while I was asleep?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows drawing together. 

Price pauses and pulls his chin off of your head, and pulls you away from his neck so he can properly give you the most incredulous look he can pull, before saying, “I’m pouring my heart out to you and apologizing for practically leaving you for dead, and that’s what you’re worried about?” 

“Well, I’m not worried, I’m just—” You shrug, not knowing how to explain it. Price sighs and chuckles quietly before tucking your head back under his chin. 

“You’re insufferable,” He mumbles, sniffling a bit. 

“… I forgive you, by the way,” You say after a moment of silence, “I didn’t really blame you in the first place.” 

“You had the right to.” 

“Sure I did.” 

“But you didn’t blame me.”

“Right.” “…” Price stays silent for a moment before pressing another soft kiss to the top of your head and saying quietly, “You should blame me.” 

“Maybe,” You mumble back, “But I won’t.” 

Later, maybe an hour later, if the others see you asleep in Price’s arms while he keeps your head tucked under his chin and rubs your back affectionately—no they don’t.

[six-legged-sea-leopard]

happy pride

[vexdraticc]

[Image ID: A digitally painted portrait of cubfan135’s character. He is pictured facing rightwards at a 3/4 portrait view, and has his head angled up in a way that allows him to look down on the viewer. He has a closed-lip smile made to look slightly creepy. He is wearing his typical white labcoat, blue button-up, and tie. He has dark hair, glasses, slightly pointed ears, and his fingers fade to black and sharpen into claws at the tips. Only his left hand is shown, and is in a relatively relaxed claw position near his face with his pointer finger slightly more extended than the rest. The entire piece is extremely dark, contrasted greatly by the bright blue vex magic being cast from the pointer finger of his hand. The magic itself looks like glowing lighting, and wraps itself around and behind his pointer finger before making it’s way all the way across the picture and off of the bottom left side of the piece. The same glow also makes up the entirety of his irises, and also emanates from his crystal earring. The entire piece is effected by the light of the magic, the glow being cast onto Cub and his clothes. The work is painted in such a way that the brushstrokes are still visible. The background is dark blue and fades to black at the top edges, then lighter blue towards the bottom. /. End ID]

come closer. he doesn't bite (much)

[honestlyobsessed]

HEY MINECRAFT FANDOM!

plz specify in the comments if you need to! :3

[divinemackerel]

Also on the topic of the Player getting sucked into a game. Thats my favorite headcanon, because its so like, weird but fun and makes sense for the hand thing. I like the idea though that it specifically happened during the ambush.

There’s something viscerally horrifying about just playing a game, but then feeling an actual fist punch you in the dark. The lights go out and the Player, “Gordon,” reaches to remove their headset to see if it broke, but just as their fingers brush the edge of the space where it should be, a punch hits them.

Fucked up. 10/10 horror. Local man trapped in a videogame streaming for 30 hours or something. Make that dilf (temporarily) lose his hand.

[jils-things]

you are pretty, dearest!

[saika077]

Y'know if you think about it, it doesn't matter if Yuu/MC was academically smart in their previous world or not, they'd still fail their classes bc girl what the fuck is Animal Linguistics

[vizziefizzie]

Sillies and Sweets!

reblogs appreciated!

[sammy-writes-sometimes]

Word count: 445

---------

“So, this is it.” Impulse says lightly, leaning against a wall. There a few shulkers scattered around, filled with a mix of personal belongings and items leftover from building.

“This is it.” Bdubs adds as he looks through one of the shulkers, gently placing his art supplies inside.

The dryad sighs, shutting the last of the boxes before standing up.

“Well, this isn’t it.” The demon motions between himself and Bdubs.

“My love, you make it sound like we’re breaking up.” Bdubs points out.

Impulse chuckles, scratching at his scalp.

The dryad, his husband, easily strides up to him before placing their hand on his chin. It’s a small motion that he can’t keep himself from purring at as Bdubs starts to lightly scratch.

“I hope you don’t get rid of this.”

“Eehhh… bad texture…” Impulse says cautiously. “I might, just not this long.”

Bdubs almost pouts, but still he smiles. “Fine.”

There’s a small, swift kiss to his lips before Bdubs steps away.

“You gonna help me or what, stupid?”

“Wow, way to talk to your husband.”

“We’re not newly weds anymore, Impulse.” Bdubs laughs.

And yeah, they weren’t. It’d been a year and a half since Double Life and a year since Impulse re-proposed to Bdubs after deciding he truly did want to spend the rest of his life with the dryad.

As if Bdubs could read his mind, like they were still tied by a soulbond, he moves to play with the pocket watch Impulse had made for him.

“Hey, Bdubs?”

“Yeah?”

“A lot– a lot has happened this season… but I’m glad it led me to you.”

His husband stands there, almost dumbfounded as he stares at Impulse. But so easily, he breaks into a wide smile. “Oh you–...” He laughs awkwardly, almost backed into a corner. “Impulse?”

“Yeah?”

“I– I say– gods, this is hard.” He rubs his arm. “I– I love you so much. I love you more than the earth and sun and the moon.”

“I love you…” Bdubs’ smile turns small, soft and gentle. “And I’m– I’m more than happy that we’re together– that we’re still together.”

Impulse holds his hand, squeezing lightly as he kisses Bdubs’ cheek.

“We’re staying together, no matter what.”

“You better promise not to kill me again.”

“I, uh… I can’t do that.”

Bdubs glares before shoving him away. “Okay, alright, I see how it is.”

He can’t stop himself from giggling, and he can’t help but notice the smile that Bdubs tries to hide.

“I love you Bdubs… promise…”

Bdubs is silent for a moment, playing with the pocket watch – their wedding ring – before turning to Impulse. “I love you too.”

---------

Our ko-fi

[xxe123spiderfreakxx]

im sure someone has already made this joke but imagine sonic and shadow become rival speedrunners in like wii sports or something.

like the kind that are just in their own league that ppl are just watching repeatedly duke it out and no one else is trying to compete with them, just watching these two weirdos homoerotically outdo each other each day by like a second or two. and it seems moot or whatever to just inch each other out but theyre both so serious about it.

yah. gay ppl and their drama <33

[mango-dolphin]

waddling towards u shyly can i request sous chef Greg please … thank u 🥹🫶

a sketch before i head to work!

and actually here's a gregor convention while we're at it