#holy fuckin' shit

[agoobersretreat]

"Hrrrmgle..."

"I just ate a whole pizza by myself a bit ago. I am very full, but very satisfied with myself. It was a large/extra large...~."

[blorbologist]

SCREAMS

THEY

DID

THE

BATH

!!!!!!

[taylorftparamore]

for me, it keeps coming back the now deleted scene in anti-hero where taylor first openly used art about something that directly impacted her mental health. and i get why it would be triggering and uncomfortable to see a thin woman portray herself as "fat" on a scale. i understand the "problematic" edge to it. and yet... i still hate y'all for thinkpiecing her into deleting the scene. it was art about something that directly impacted HER mental health and folks felt entitled to tell her how she could make art about something that impacts HER. that HER MENTAL HEALTH was distressing them, could she pretty please censor it so it would stop triggering them.

like fuck y'all. i hope she never feels the need to censor herself again to cater to you fuck ass bitches. some of you DO need to be told you're being overbearing and entitled, sorry! you don't get to censor art just because you don't like who's making it or feel the person who made it isn't allowed to use art the way they used it.

[kristiliqua]

CHUNSIK MY BELOVEDDDDDD

[greenglowsgold]

The List.

Based on the Cass Apocalyptic Series.

The first part of this has been rumbling around in my brain ever since that Super Sad Scene a month ago, but yesterday’s update gave me the other side of the coin, so to speak, and finally pulled it all together.

@somerandomdudelmao thanks for the fuel, friend

                              -----

                              Donatello’s days have become a series of checklists, as of late.

No, that’s not exactly true. His days have always been about lists: what he’s done, what he can delegate to someone else, what still needs doing. But these days he’s been doing less and listing more, piling tasks from the first category onto the second as fast as he can manage, hoping he has enough time to empty the queue.

The full catalog is written out in a series of files, reorganized for accessibility to the layperson and meticulously up-to-date as of yesterday. He meant to run through it again this morning, ensure all the relevant instruction manuals were attached to each item and double check his protocols, but he wasn’t… he couldn’t…

He’s going to die tonight.

It irritates him, his own miscalculation of the timing more than the stark presence of his oncoming demise. The latter has been inevitable for quite some time, long enough that he’s gotten used to the idea. But he thought he had another week or two, and he doesn’t like being proven wrong. He wonders if his brothers know.

Probably not. They know it’s bad now, obviously, because they’ve piled him with pillows and blankets and surrounded him on all sides, and Leo has finally gone quiet. But they trust him, they’ve always trusted him, even when they shouldn’t, so if he swears he’ll last a few more days, they’ll believe him. He thinks. He’s pretty sure. If they knew it was tonight, he doubts they would choose to sleep through it. Donnie thinks about waking them up, but only for a moment. He’d like to say it’s a noble act, to leave them in peace a little bit longer, but the truth is he’s just too fucking tired to move.

There’s something settled bone-deep in his chest, a heaviness that sits on him like a stone, a peine forte et dure pressing him down and down, stopping his voice and his breath and his heart. He wonders if this is what dying usually feels like, or if it’s unique to the Kraang. Raph would know.

He cranes his neck to the right, to catch Raph’s face out of the corner of his eye. Raph’s working eye is half-open, staring down at the floor. Donnie could ask him. (He won’t. Let him fall asleep.) The movement of his head is so slight it doesn’t even catch Raph’s attention. He’s too tired for anything more. He’s so goddamn tired.

His lists are out of reach at the moment, with his physical interfaces back in the lab and his ninpo locked behind a wall of oh-god-it-sounds-too-exhausting-to-even-try, but he memorized them all long ago.

Raphael: Maintenance (delegated to Casey, who has it well in hand). Plans (tucked away in a dedicated folder, long term, but someday they’ll have the materials, and Raph will have a proper body again, someday). Honey (yes, he passed that along last week).

Raph has access to the tracking programs, so he can keep an eye on everyone himself, even when Donnie can’t pull up locations or vitals for him anymore. He has his own space in the base once more, somewhere to close a door when he needs to (he insists he doesn’t, but Donnie isn’t a fool). He has more excuses to spend time with Casey, who’s taking over his upkeep. Donnie hopes it fills in some gaps for both of them.

He runs through the list, double checks each item. It’s his last chance to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything important.

He looks down, finds Mikey.

There’s a stockpile of the anti-aging serum in his safe, the formula in his database, plans for the permanent solution clearly labeled. As long as they have his lab, his systems, Mikey will be as young as his years. He’s walked him through the greenhouse, even if most of it is controlled by the computer system. Mikey misses the world being green; it’ll do him good to spend more time around the plants. He has his tea, his candles. He has Draxum, who by now should have received a — mildly — threatening message warning him not to pull any disappearing acts anytime soon. He has their ancestors, just a short call away.

Donnie’s sure Mikey will call on him soon. He doesn’t plan to stray far.

Up a bit. To the left. Leo.

The arm — Leo knows how to take care of it, as does Casey.

The passwords — reset, something even Leo will be able to remember without resorting to blackmail.

The schedule — reshuffled for the next few days, he’ll have a hard enough time sleeping as it is.

The photos — everything they have, even the embarrassing ones. He even managed a couple of prints, and one precious shot from their pre-apocalypse days, something for Leo to tuck into a pouch and carry with him, when they’re not around.

Raph, Mikey, Leo. He doesn’t think he’s missed anything. Donnie lets his head fall back, too exhausted to hold it up any longer.

Is it enough?

His mind stretches further out. He’s unraveling.

What about April? Her prescription is up to date, they just checked a month ago. She has the latest in his combat tech, which has kept her safe in the field this long, so he has no reason to think it will falter now. He’s leaving her a few extra pieces, since he won’t be able to use them anymore. Leo will find the time for a movie night once in a while, he’s certain, even if his taste in Jupiter Jim movies is horrendous. They still have coffee; he’d die before he let that particular supply run out. He will, actually.

Casey. Fuck, Donnie’s gonna miss his birthday. But he did plan for this, his protocols will kick in. The mask is finished, everything is in place. He’s reconfigured his workstations, fit them for a tiny human instead of a seven-foot turtle. Casey has a better head for mechanics than any of his brothers ever did. Kid likes to be useful, so Donnie’s left him as much use as he can. He’s taught him everything Casey can learn and left instructions for more, when he’s a little older and wiser. His family will take care of him, they’ll make sure he gets there.

The base. It has to hold, to give them somewhere safe. The infrastructure is sound, and they have people to manage repair work. Supplies are decent, the most critical items in stock, everything that can be made renewable is. Their allies — Leo handles interpersonal issues and leadership, but Donnie’s checked the list with a pragmatist’s eye, left notes and rankings for priority. Security is the largest concern, but he’s spent nearly half his time with his assistants since his self-diagnosis (he could have spent it with his family), running them through the programs and adjustments, trying to bring them up to somewhere in the realm of his own expertise (a fool’s errand, but still). They’ve been rigorously instructed, they understand that the little things like sleep are secondary concerns. It has to hold.

Is it enough? For them to be okay?

He’s done everything he can. He can’t do any more. So it has to be enough.

Donnie blinks, and for a moment isn’t certain his eyes will open again at the end of it. But they do. At least one more time, they obey him.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home. He rolls back through the list. It’s his last chance. He can’t miss anything.

Mikey’s hand tightens unconsciously around his wrist, fingers meeting easily on either side. Donnie feels only the echo of the pressure.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home.

Something bright sparks at the edges of his vision before it fades. The last gasps of a dying brain, he supposes. Synapses firing one last time before they’re snuffed out.

Raph.

Mikey.

Leo.

                                                            April.

                                                                                                                        Casey.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Home.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Light.

                                                                                                                         There’s light.

                                                            It hurts.

                                                            He thought dying would stop the pain, but it’s risen to a fever pitch instead. His brother’s arms are gone, but the disease wraps around him in their place, consumes him. It rages like a wildfire, burning through his center until pieces start to flake away like ash.

Oh, this is what it does, what it was built for. The Kraang could have killed him in a lot of different ways. He’d wondered why they chose this one.

He hasn’t planned for it. This is something he didn’t even know to fear.

It’s bright and it hurts but it’s quiet as he crumbles, folds in on himself like a black hole in the utter silence of outer space. It’s quiet enough that the voice that breaks through does so clear as a bell.

His head turns to follow the sound, instinct. He’s lost half his field of vision, but what’s left is enough. He looks, and finds Casey.

Casey looks at him, at him, not the body. Donnie opens his mouth to ask a question — What are you doing here? How? Why? — but something else sloughs out instead. Not blood. He doesn’t have that anymore.

Casey calls his name once more and starts running.

Donnie’s questions fold back into his mind. His mouth clicks shut, he swallows back the putrid rot and pushes himself up. His arms are shattered but they’ll have to hold him. They have to. Because Casey is here and he needs something, which means Donnie missed something, which means he isn’t done.

His spirit disagrees with him, doesn’t see the logic. His arms don’t hold.

Casey reaches to catch him as he falls, and the touch ruptures him instead. He scatters. Into the air and the ground and Casey. For a moment, he’s just pieces, fumbling around and latching onto anything that welcomes them, and Casey does that. They flow into him. They’re him. They’re…

He’s…

Casey, he’s…

Donatello pulls himself back together. Most of himself, anyway. The infection hasn’t followed him but the damage persists. He’s run through with cracks and crevices, shaking bits away into infinity with every movement. But there’s more of him here than not.

Unexpectedly, Donnie is not gone. He’s still dead, but that’s fine, he planned for that one.

                                                                                                                         Casey has him now. He wraps himself around Donnie in layers, helps hold him together with a kind of sheer will that makes up for any lack of mystic knowledge in spades. Casey asks him to stay, and Donnie takes up the task like Sisyphus sizing up the hill. This time, this time I’ll do it right.

Even better, Casey has taken him to another time, one where all of Donnie’s long-term plans are now completely-fucking-reasonable plans. Casey’s going to fix it, so Donnie can fix everything else. Whatever else needs it. He hasn’t really asked. And he knows he’s missed something, but he doesn’t think too hard about what, not yet.

First thing’s first: he needs a body.

It’s so simple to accomplish that it seems like the universe is mocking him. Just a quick 1-2-3, ticking off the list. It feels almost stupid, like running back through the early levels of a video game after unlocking all the ultimate weapons and burning through enemies and obstacles, laughing, shit, did I used to think this was hard?

In no time at all, his own face has formed in front of him.

In no time at all, he’s gasping.

It’s only been a few hours since he last breathed air, but he’s missed it.

Another thing he’s missed? Functional musculature. Casey slams into him and Donnie is startled to find that it doesn’t knock him over. His arms and legs look like actual limbs again, not fragile little sticks disguising themselves as such. He stands, dragging Casey along without a second thought. The weight barely registers. It’s amazing.

The power trip is heady, but it only lasts a few minutes before reality kicks it in the ass and pulls him back down to earth.

We lost, Casey says.

They’re dead, Casey says.

It wasn’t enough, Casey does not say, but Donnie hears it just as clearly.

All those plans, the preparations, the precautions and protocols, they only borrowed a year or two before they fell apart. He sees the timeline spiral out before him, tighter and tighter until it collapses in on itself, rendered all the more insignificant from his own point of perception. He was alive yesterday. His family is dead today.

Everything he did, it wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t. He was stupid to think otherwise.

(Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Casey’s still here. It was enough for him, at least.)

It cuts at him a little, to have been so wrong. But he’s strong again, now. He can take the wound. More importantly, he has another chance to get it right.

Donnie breathes. His chest expands smoothly, easily. The air doesn’t rattle in his lungs. He’s alive, he’s a genius, he can fix anything.

He pulls up a list.

[kijeu]

stray kids "chk chk boom" m/v teaser 1 ⋆

[linddzz]

Jayce is literally a guard dog from the moment he met Viktor and I just know that he can be wayyy worse in fics if people weren’t playing it safe

So small disclaimer that I can't say much about how he's portrayed in fics or if I have any thoughts there. Tbh when I'm first getting into writing my own stuff for a ship I don't read or seek out a lot of other fics for a mix of weird brain reasons. A mix of a lot of doubts from comparing myself, but also I like getting a solid feel of my characterization without too much general fandom influence getting in there or end up accidentally stealing a concept/dialogue that just sticks in my brain.

(exceptions tend to be made for mutuals who I know are excellent writers already in which case I will psych myself up to not fall into the self comparison issue dkdjdkdk)

ANYWAY!!! Tbh I'm not surprised that there's not a lot that goes super dark on the possessive Jayce OR possessive Viktor just because they are such a weird little mix of legit fun and goofy and dreamy eyed for each other, AND canon pretty much laid out the dark side of their relationship I think. Jayce had already been confronted with Viktor's impending death, they already had their conversation where he had to promise to destroy the hexcore, which was them both in a way accepting Viktor's death. And he immediately broke that the second he was actually confronted with that death.

It's not dark to me as in "grr no one can touch you but me I'm going to lock you up in the lab to make sure you can never leave me and nothing can ever hurt you" which is how most dark possessive fics/romance lit tend to go. And I guess it can be hard to tap into what IS very dark and fucked up about Jayce and Viktor's codependence in a way that doesn't erase how wholesome they can and do come across in canon.

The dark is in the devotional romance of it, the almost instant codependence, it's in how beautiful it all is (like how Viktor's evolved forms are both beautiful and deeply unsettling for all their elegance). It's in thinking for just a liiiittle bit and realizing that Mage Viktor is knowingly dooming timelines by sparking Jayce's fascination with magic (and by making himself the thing that starts Jayce's obsession).

The dark possessiveness for Jayce is best captured when the partner he broke his biggest promise to, whose heart he replaced with the hexcore, stumbled out as something metal and inhuman. The dark side of Jayvik is; when Viktor's voice came out warped and mechanical as he stared at his own hand with confusion and fear, asking "What am I?"

Jayce smiled, laughed with that bright loverboy earnestness, and said "You're alive!"

[lifemod17]

I AM SCREAMING!!!

[front-facing-pokemon]

[agoobersretreat]

Stomp, stomp. Fubuki was generally pretty active for a girl so utterly ginormous, waddling with speed and excitement. The happiest little mountain of flab one would ever see. Best to bring that energy to her first lunch, after a-

Whoop! CRASH!

"Ough... Mmmmphm..." Fubuki lay collapsed on the floor in a humongous heap, spread out over her side and her face hugging the ground. Did she trip?

"Mmmnngh... Hhhngh, oh, my..." The hefty bunnygirl wobbled and kicked her legs as she tried to right herself, failing to flop either onto her back or right both of her hands on the ground; too much of her own fat was in the way, complicating things, and she was feeling significantly heavier than usual. "Huff.... A hand, please?"

Someone willing to brave pulling her up volunteered. Fubuki grabbed onto their arms, straining. "MMMMnghhh!" Almost barely pulling them down into the softness currently bogging her down, she successfully got on her feet and slowly rose, sighing hard with relief.

"My apologies... perhaps I ought to walk slower..." Fubuki slowly stood up, still panting. She rubbed her belly, which had taken the brunt of the force from her fall. Somehow, it felt more distended than usual. Well, anyways, onto lunch!

Hmmm? Where was Miq, one might ask? Nowhere special.

Just inside her stomach.

A day out while the weather was beautiful was just what the doctor ordered, so to say! Nice and sunny, the cool breeze and no rain! No humidity, either! It's perfect!

Miq was walking along the path just taking it all in, enjoying all the nature and people out and about. It made such a wonderful time out even more special! Though, she definitely wondered why she felt a sort of rumbling coming her way. She soon sees the source, albeit a little too late! They crash together and Miq is knocked back...but not far enough.

Before she knows it, her sunny day is plunged into darkness. It sort of happened so fast that she couldn't figure out what had taken place, at first. As soon as she could hear and feel a heartbeat all around her, the other sounds and feelings of being inside someone's body like she's used to and how dark it was? She knew exactly what had happened.

She had been accidentally shoved into that giant cutie's stomach somehow and now here she is. An accidental meal for the poor girl who also fell face-first onto her, which means being squashed and jostled around good as the poor woman is struggling to get up on her own. Thankfully, someone comes to help and they're soon both upright enough.

The poor goober is stunlocked into embarrassment and flusterations, unable to really start fighting or pushing around to get the larger woman's attention. Hopefully she will, eventually, but for now? She is unwillingly joining Fubuki for a lunch date, even if the mountainous cutie also doesn't realize she's there.

[introspectivememories]

damian favorite superhero being the green lanterns is so real to me!!!! the idea of bruce who fucking hates that he has to see hal jordan's irrationally annoying handsome face beyond the jla meetings is so funny to me. and damian waddling after hal jordan at the station and he's like "you can make anything with your mind?!" and hal smirks smugly bc he's got spooky's "blood son", whatever the hell that means, eating out the palm of his hand and holy shit who knew that having a kid look up at you like you hung the stars themselves was so... affirming?

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 80

 So Dan knows that there’s heroes that have gone back in time, he’s aware of that fact. But he doesn’t exactly care and has more important things to worry about. Like the fact that Danny and Ellie are now three years old, right when he’s moving, though maybe that’s a blessing in disguise seeing as the GIW are searching for them in Amity. 

  But still, he has more important things to worry about than the speedster vibrating five feet away from him. Like making sure Ellie and Danny are alright to visit (ugh) Peepaw Clocky while he goes to work. 

  Ms. Mercy is not messing around, which he appreciates in a workspace, but he has to wait for another opening in the daycare before he can bring his, as far as everyone else is aware, siblings who he got emergency custody of. 

  What with how Jazz is interning in Gotham, they figured Metropolis would be safer. Now if the speedster would stop following him, he would really appreciate it. He’s literally just an intern under Ms Mercy as an assistant, not even one of the scientists, and it’s not like his timeline of the end of the world exists anymore! 

[lovelyrotter]

ill probably delete this in a minute but ive just been fuckin boggled by what ive seen across tumblr in the last few days in particular. its why i havent really been around. like holy fucking shit, its really like some of yall just dont want a chunk of the trans community to exist. like some of yall are thisclose to saying it verbatum. way too many already have. 'shut up sit down be quiet and smile for us' type shit, gee where have i heard that before. oh yeah my entire life cause i was forcefully gendered as someones daughter. shock horror i know. you might be surprised to remember and/or learn that very few trans folks know theyre trans before we're 5, or even 10, and that that gendered experience stays with all of us in both/either small or large ways. either bc we literally dont have a solid identity yet (bc we're very small children), dont have the words, we're repressing it out of fear from how others will treat us, we're actually enjoying or enjoyed being another gender in our childhood, or we just genuinely didnt fuckin know until shit lined up later in life. weird isnt it that transmascs dont pop out as 6'1 brick shithouse cis men when we're born so yall know for certain that we're confused lost girls/women oops i mean big dangerous scary men. its almost like we're transgender too. none of yall actually know what intersectionality is or means

[nyanbinary-87]

hey wandersong fans. do you ever think about the baron. how, in so little time, wandersong clearly establishes four things: one, the baron fucked up an Entire Town. two, he did it trying to bring that town happiness, because it was once His community. three, hes kiwis father. four, they do not recognize each other.

do you ever think about how profoundly sad that is? the baron, presumably already estranged from his community, decided to try and bring it joy. he abandoned his wife and child to do so. he spent years, decades, even, working on his factory, his toys. but the factory fails. the community comes together, rallied by a bard he does not know, to tell him that hes done them wrong. that hes done something downright evil, even. he looks at a determined community he does not recognize, and backs down. he goes home to his wife, their child nowhere to be seen. thats to be expected, after decades. they must be an adult now.

and kiwi...ohhh the ways the baron parallels kiwi...the both of them, estranged from the communities they live in, doing whatever they can to bring the people around them joy, but its never enough. theyre never Part of the community. so they leave, on their own journey. one to save the world, one to save the town. and they fail! theyre not the heroes of their stories, no matter how hard they try. but kiwi went out making friends on their journey. kiwi has miriam to lift them up and help them out. the baron has no one, not anymore.

[hazy-egg]

Day 29: Peter and Caroline

themmmm!!! <3

[eemolu]

smiling like an idiot that entire episode of msn. lineup fucking crazy. guys who love each other. brennan getting to do TWO prompts about new york delis?! i believe i just had a perfect 40 minutes