#if not now you know

[dyrewrites]

Pale Blood - your jealousy is adorable and we're all going to die in this cab

Upstairs, Den was fighting a laugh as he followed Delmas out of the bloodbank and the laugh was winning. “Did you and that,” He glanced behind him to assure those ears weren’t listening, “thrall have a thing?”

“His name is Ron and he’s a ghoul, not a thrall,” Delmas stated, throwing the lock as they passed it.

Den hurried ahead, stopping him outside the door, which filled the alleyway with a reverberated clunk as it dropped shut—a sound that sent the birds nesting in abandoned fire escapes and dusty windows chirping into the smog—but Den didn’t budge. 

“I’m sorry,” he accused, hot eyes glaring, “did I offend your boyfriend?”

Delmas bent to Den’s eye level and pushed his sunglasses up, “are you jealous?”

Dramatic lips and a huff preceded the answer, “Maybe a little, what of it?”

Delmas chuckled, wrapping an arm around Den’s shoulders as he continued toward the waiting cab. “Ron and I are just friends,” he assured him—with a small twinge of guilt, “who couldn’t date even if we wanted to.”

As Den moved to slide into the cab, Delmas stopped him, spun him around and yanked him into a kiss; tender, deep, and altogether breathtaking.

Namely from Den, who gasped when released.

“And I don’t,” Delmas said—those big hazel eyes too warm.

Without a word—lost to the taste of that kiss, the promise—Den took him by the hand and led him into the backseat of the cab, where he promptly curled up against him.

Ron took one look at us and knew, Delmas thought as he laid his head on Den’s, his arm wrapping around him on its own, without being asked but accepted, held, his hand kissed. And here I can’t tell if I’m catchin’ feelings, or just desperate for someone to want more than my ass but, “Gods do you feel good.” It was meant to remain a thought, a silent musing, but it slipped out.

And Den caught it with a smile and nuzzled tighter, “So do you...” 

Their cabby kept quiet—reveling in the sweetness of life, of love—as they turned a little too quickly off of Main Street, and a little too roughly for something not driving so much as flying.

And a new thought occurred to Delmas, one he voiced quietly—through the straw of his gifted bloodbag—to Den alone, “Did we flag this cab?”

He shrugged, “I figured it was the one from the club.”

“No, that one didn’t wait around,” Delmas said, careful to keep his voice low—draining the bag quicker than he ought before pocketing the empty.

“Well if it’s not that one, and you didn’t flag him down, and I didn’t flag him down,” Den asked, scooting to cover as much of Delmas as was possible—which was little, but he tried—while his eyes flared brighter toward the driver, “Where’d he come from?”

There was a pause, an uncomfortable moment of confused silence, that Delmas smiled through—what with a protective wolf on his lap.

Then the squawkbox crackled and the cabby said, “Bosch sent me.”

Staring at the hardlight separator, at the rough-cut hair on the back of the cabby’s head—visible only when he turned—no one moved a muscle.

But a growl grew in Den’s throat.

A growl cut with a gentle tug on his sides as Delmas slid him back into his seat and spoke to the cabby, “Bosch sent you?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, “short guy, looks a bit like a ventriloquist dummy?”

Den fell against the seat and covered a slew of giggles but Delmas sighed and leaned closer to the squawkbox, “When?”

“Half hour ago,” The cabby said, explaining further as the eyes of his fare narrowed, “Well, okay he called half hour ago screechin’ he needs his runner picked up from the bloodbank and I got thirty minutes ‘fore ya split. But, seein’ as I ain’t gotta worry of ID checks or locked streets, I got here in fifteen, right lucky too seein’ as any later and I’d have missed ya.”

Den stared, as did Delmas, but neither had anything to say.

Until Den did, “How’d he know we’d be at the bloodbank?”

“He couldn’t,” Delmas answered, grunting as the cabby took a turn too sharp—an impossible task for cabs programmed to follow specific paths, specific streets, at specific altitudes—and slammed him and Den into the door.

“Okay, that was another fib, or a series rather. There weren’t no time limit, I jus’ wanted to toot my own horn,” The cabby called back, voice travelling too easily over the sounds of real horns, blaring horns. “And he didn’t send me to the bloodbank, he sent me to that club ya’ll were at,” the horns of irritated drivers were fading but in their place rumbled the tell-tale sound of a people mover’s proximity alarm—a vehicle reserved for the airspace a few stories above the street. “But then ya went and got in another cab!” he shouted, swerving again and setting off a horn neither of his fares knew existed, “right rude of ya, by the by, knowin’ a ride’s comin’ and hoppin’ into another. I shoulda left ya.”

Gripping the back of the seat, and bracing against the door, Delmas failed to keep the nervous laugh from his voice, “Didn’t know you were comin’.”

“We’re going to die in this cab,” Den told the inside of Delmas’ coat as they swerved a third time.

The cabby laughed. And Delmas laughed, wrapping an arm around Den—hand firm on that seat—as Dolor blurred by too high off the street to see any other cars, the view of its darkened windows and flashing holos coming at him a little too close.

A sudden drop forced Den’s worry to catch and all of Delmas’ excitement—and a bit of that blood he drank too fast—bubbled out with a snapped, “Shit!”

“Oh, don’t worry ya silly little heads,” the cabby promised, “Ain’t no one dyin’ on my watch.”

Voice echoing through the squawkbox, Delmas looked harder through the separator, harder at the source until he could see the steering wheel through the man holding it. Squinting for the glitch and flicker of hardlight, or a beam leading to a transmitter, he groaned when none came.

Every nerve in Delmas’ face pinched tight as he accepted Den’s tighter grip on his chest. “Our driver’s a ghost,” he told him. 

Tensing with another swerve, Den continued to speak into his coat, “Great, maybe we can have his job after he kills us in this fucking cab.”

Again the cabby laughed, echoing through the squawkbox.

[separatist-apologist]

Wait what?? Domestic violence????

Yeah! Ya girl works with survivors, I thought that was common MB knowledge

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[yeah-yeah-beebiss-1]

in case you were wondering how things went down at the pokemon world championships this weekend:

-during the top 8 of the TCG masters division, chilean player fernando cifuentes was running a gimmick deck that consisted exclusively of four iron thorns ex and a whole ton of control-focused trainer cards in a strategy that either completely shuts down opponents or shits the bed entirely

-through skillful play and some good luck, fernando made it through 2 days in a tournament with over 1100 players to get to the quarterfinals

-fernando lost 2-0 to ian robb, who was running regidrago vstar (widely considered one of the best decks in the current format)

-in an overexuberant victory celebration, ian did what can only be described as a jacking-off gesture, on a stream with tens of thousands of viewers run by a company with very firm player conduct expectations

-the judges determined that this warranted a penalty of game loss, but for some reason, rather than applying it to ian’s next game in the semifinals, they applied it to the one he had just won in the top 8

-(it should be noted that the prize money for making top 8 is $15k while top 4 is $20k, so this jerking gesture cost ian robb $5,000)

-nearly an hour after fernando came to terms with his loss and the end of an impressive run, he was told that he was to get back on stream because he’s now playing in the semifinals due to winning by default

-the player he was up against in the semifinals was playing a deck (miraidon) that happens to get shut down hard by iron thorns’s gimmick, so fernando wins the semifinals

-said player, jesse parker, had notably had an undefeated run throughout the whole tournament up to this point, and likely would have continued that streak had his intended semifinal opponent not gotten a game loss penalty for miming a lewd act on stream

-meanwhile, the other semifinal winner is japan’s seinosuke shiokawa, running a deck (roaring moon) that players had largely written off as underwhelming months ago

-the grand finals are on the following day, so saturday evening was abuzz with a lot of people baffled by the absurdity of the situation

-come sunday afternoon, the grand finals are set to begin, with fernando cifuentes running iron thorns and seinosuke shiokawa running roaring moon

-it should be noted here that the roaring moon deck doesn’t rely very much on abilities, so iron thorns’s gimmick has very little effect - this is basically an even matchup

-fernando wins the first game of the set, and seinosuke wins the second

-the third and final game of the set is a bonafide cheek-clencher, with both players reaching a state where a single KO will win the game, but fernando manages to clinch it at the last minute

-and that’s the story of how a guy pretending to jork it led to the first instance of a pokemon world champion who also lost the quarterfinals

[perrieedwards]

i feel like people are skimming over the uk riots in a way that makes me want to tear my hair out. muslims in the uk are in active danger. immigrants in the uk are in active danger. refugees in the uk are in active danger. people of colour in the uk are in active danger. asian communities in the uk are in active danger. black communities in the uk are in active danger.

there are massive far right riots throughout the country right now and people like fucking elon musk and nigel farage are inciting it and still have a platform to speak. people have used three young girls deaths, people's genuine grief in southport, to try and gain traction for their own racist bullshit and it's working.

a lot of refugee charities have been forced to close leaving many people without support, homes, funding, food, etc. if you aren't able to donate please consider sending a message via the conversation over borders campaign! it will send a hopeful, welcoming letter to a refugee in the uk. there is also a guide to staying safe here.

please do your own research and donate to refugee charities, anti-islamophobia charities, mosques who are trying to rebuild after being destroyed, counter protesters, here are some i've heard positive things about but the list is extensive; southport strong together (support for the southport victims and their families), southport mosque rebuilding, riot repair fund, middlesbrough vulnerable residents, nasir mosque rebuilding, hull help for refugees, bristol welcomes migrants,

[0sbrain]

alternatives for ai to design ocs

hero forge

picrew

the fucking sims 4

your local furry artist

bitmoji

shitty photoshoped collage

DeviantArt bases

zepeto

making edits of your favorite character

searching "dress up game" on the app store

learning how to draw

[onefey]

you're going about your normal day when, suddenly, surprise! you've been pokémon mystery dungeon'd!

unfortunately, due to budget cuts, the pokémon assigning quiz has been canceled. instead, you must spin THE WHEEL, assigning you a random, unevolved, non-legendary and non-mythical pokémon. you must now go on some sort of world-saving adventure as this pokémon. good luck!

tell me in the tags what you rolled, and how you feel about it - for bonus points, you can spin the wheel again for (or just take your pick of) a pokémon to be your partner.

bonus rules:

you're not shiny unless the wheel tells you you're shiny

take your pick of regional forms and evolutions (for example, if you roll vulpix, it's up to you whether that means normal or alolan vulpix)

apply whatever logic you like with regards to gender

have fun and be yourself!

[lgbtlunaverse]

The world exists in such a baffling state of simultaneous sex-aversion and sex-hegemony. Every social platform on the internet is trying to banish sex workers to the shadow realm but I can't post a tweet without at least two bots replying P U S S Y I N B I O. People are self-censoring sex to seggs and $3× but every other ad you see is still filled with half-naked women. Rightwingers want queer people arrested for so much as existing in the same postal code as a child and are also drumming up a moral panic about how teenage boys aren't getting laid enough. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

[ginnyw-potter]

Feel free to use, or message me for more banners

yes, I'm self-aware thank you

[christadeguchi]

meanwhile notes put up by the guy hired by my dad to help with foreign guests at his little ryokan in rural japan (“my english is not perfect,” said the guy earnestly. “but i think i can always get the meaning across.” “great,” said my dad. “that’s all that matters.”):

[puncertainty]

you know that one team member who takes all the credit but does none of the work

[cordspaghetti]

some more of these two

[greykolla-art]

My blog has become infested with angst goblins, and they must be fed with some hypothetical scenarios!🙏💚

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

died and came back tired. died and came back exhausted. died and came back with manic energy. died and came back with malingering unease. died and came back twitchy. so many possibilities

[artkaninchenbau]

Crocodile finds a strange stray cat an 11-year old Nico Robin (AU where they met 13 years earlier. Robin's been on the run from the World Government for 3 years. Crocodile's 27 and has not set up base in Alabasta yet)

It seems like I have become possessed. By some sort of demon.

Bonus: