#oh these boys rot my brain

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"Can you shut the fuck up for a second!" Pony's fists are clenched so hard the knuckles are white 'n Steve thinks suddenly it's probably a good thing the kid bites at his nails or they'd be diggin' into his palms.

"No, you little punk. What's your problem?" Steve's not really angry yet. He's still pokin' half-heartedly mostly on instinct then any real urge to piss the kid off. The problem is that Pony is decidedly way over the aggravated line 'n into pissed without any help from Steve at all.

"I just had a shitty fuckin' day ok! How about you mind your business! Actually, why don't you hang out at your own house? You're wanted there just as much as here." Somethin' flashes across Steve's face 'n he narrows his eyes. Pony's flushed, chest heavin', a look of triumph on his face.

"You take that shit back." Steve balls his hands up, forces himself to stay down on the couch instead of marchin' over 'n puttin' the kid on his fuckin' head.

"No." Pony tilts his head 'n flashes a cold smile Steve just knows he picked up from Dallas. Steve takes a long breath. Remembers that Pony has a tendency to be cruel 'n not mean any of it when he was livid like this.

He's fourteen, Steve. Do you remember fourteen? Darry had told him after one of their regular matches. And he did. The problem was that Steve hadn't said mean shit. He just knocked the offender on his ass. Pony's mouth was too smart for his own good.

"You know what? You don't get to take your shit out on me, actually. Fuck off." Steve settles back on the sofa, turns back to the TV like he can pay any attention. God, where was Darry when you needed him. He'd probably collapse from the shock of it.

See, Steve contents himself with imagin' his face, I can be the bigger man. But then it's spoiled some since Steve can clearly hear Darry's took you long enough, you're only three years older than the kid.

"The fuck? Steve c'mon." Pony finally drops his school bag, right in the middle of the floor where Darry's gonna holler at him when he trips over it later, 'n takes half a step toward Steve. Like he's wheedlin' for a fight.

"C'mon? Glory, Pony. What's your fuckin' problem?"

"I don't have a fuckin' problem! Ok! You're the one with the problem!" Pony's voice is hittin' an all-time high, shrill note of frustration. Steve tears his eyes off the TV, rollin' 'em with a sigh, but now that he's lookin' at Pony he can see the way his eyes are rimmed red 'n his lip is bleedin' from him bitin' at it.

"Pony? Chill out kid, what's goin' on?" Pony does not chill out. In fact, it only serves to get him more frustrated.

"Nothin'! Nothin' is goin' on! Ok! I just don't know why you always have to be here 'n actin' like that 'n in my house- 'n- 'n-" Suddenly hot tears are streakin' down Pony's face 'n he's scrubbin' them away with nails bit down so far they're bleedin'.

"Pony?" Oh, Jesus. Where is Darry when you need him? Steve flies to his feet 'n Pony flinches back like he suddenly doesn't want the fight he's been askin' for. "Oh, glory kid."

"Just leave me the fuck alone. I'm fine!" Steve grabs Pony's wrists 'n hesitates awkwardly. He wasn't used to havin' to comfort the kid 'n he was way out of his zone. So he just moves on instinct, pullin' the kid to his chest like he's watched Darry do a hundred times.

For a moment Pony stiffens up 'n holds his hands out like he's not sure what to do with them, a weak little sob half caught in his throat. Then Steve wraps him up maybe a little too tight 'n Pony lets himself go limp.

"Let me go, Steve!" Pony wails like he doesn't have his face buried in Steve's shirt, leanin' so hard against him Steve's gotta work to keep him on his feet.

"Fine." Steve squeezes him again 'n then unceremoniously drops him. Pony's on the floor before he knows what's happenin' 'n Steve crouches down 'n puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him there. Pony goes to scramble to his feet 'n Steve pushes him back down, gently. "You wanna tell me what's goin' on?"

Pony blinks at him, eyes wide 'n hair wild 'n Steve can abruptly see him at eight, runnin' to Steve 'cause he'd scraped his knee 'n didn't want to tell Darry 'cause he'd told him to put on jeans if he was gonna ride his bike. Steve had made him give him his dessert in exchange for silence but had snuck the first aid kit out the bathroom window 'n wrapped it up real good.

"I dunno..." Pony scrapes again at the tears fallin' down his face 'n Steve bats his hand away, pullin' his handkerchief from his pocket 'n pressin' it none too gently across Pony's cheeks. "Knock that off." Pony snatches it from Steve 'n wipes at his own face.

"Glory, someone's in a mood." Apparently, it was too soon for that.

"I am not! Look, Steve, I can handle it myself. I don't need your bullshit." Pony pushes himself up 'n Steve easily grabs his wrist 'n yanks him back down.

"Fine, you don't need my help which, by the way, I wasn't offerin'. I just think if I'm gonna get hollered at on my day off I should get to know why." Pony narrows his eyes, scowlin' hard before droppin' his sulk down to his lap.

"It's nothin'. I just- I dunno, sometimes I just, when I-ugh!" Pony throws his hands up, makes a low angry sound in the back of his throat. "I just had a bad fuckin' day 'cause like, I just, it's-"

Oh. Steve thinks. Ok. I know that.

"If you don't know... like, what it is-" Pony goes to cut him off 'n Steve whacks him on the hand 'n barrels on. "Or if you know what it is but you don't know how to like... say it. Don't worry about it. I'm not gonna make you figure it out."

Pony blinks at him again 'n Steve drops his hand off his shoulder. "Well. Alright." 'N just like that Pony wipes the remain' tears away, clambers up, 'n offers Steve a hand. Man, if the kid couldn't bounce back from anythin'. Steve tries to remember if he'd ever been like that. But he remembered fourteen 'n he'd always been more of a sulker.

"We good, kid?" Steve eyes him 'n Pony shrugs, shoots him a mischievously little grin Steve knows he got from Soda.

"Sure, as long as you get me dinner."

"Oh sure," He pulls Pony under his arm 'n messes up his hair 'n Pony whines," as long as you're payin'. After all it is your house."

[zerodoesartyay]

Have some Liams

[gay-robot-boyfriends]

I PLUGGED MY SCANNER! Some of these are from today others are from months ago!

[moregraceful]

EVERYBODY SHUT UP!!!!!! PAT SIELOFF IS PREGNANT!!!!!

1. Birthday cake from Sierra and Kelly; 2. Gritty soft serve ice cream cup; 3. Sign for Erik Johnson's 1k celebration; 4. Jersey Devil Christmas tree ornament.

[egginfroggin]

Hiya!! You said you wanted an ask? Hmmm what about the cryptid Emmet au? Where Emmet is vibing doing his own thing while Akari and Rei follow his tracks in confusion because he is doing their job??? What is he doing?????

Does Emmet become like a folktale legend in this au???

(also sorry if I haven't responded/interacted in a bit the Fog ™ is real hahaha Orz)

Thank you for existing!! All the luck to you in defeating the Fog ™!!!

Hi! Thank you! ^^ Ough, the Fog is so real, you're correct. orz

Emmet is doing a lot of things in the Cryptid variant, including but not limited to quelling nobles, terrorizing the local pokemon populations with his slightly-overleveled team, and trying to ignore the fact that he hasn't received human touch in an increasingly long time. And of course, as always, he is doing his best.

As for what else he's doing? Well. It just wouldn't be an installation in the series if someone didn't get hurt at some point, right? :>

I wouldn't say that he becomes a folktale, but maybe a bit of a legend. He's a bit spooky, and tends to avoid people unless he's quelling Nobles or befriending the Ride Pokemon (also referred to as Nobles in my fics, admittedly). When he eventually leaves Hisui, his presence remains in exaggerated stories children from the Clans and Jubilife share with each other, as well as in a few records put down for posterity's sake -- Professor Laventon's diary tells the most about him, and even that remains relatively vague, with his name left a mystery in order to prevent any Time shenanigans from happening should someone come across the records in the future.

I hope to touch up on more of the other characters' POVs, especially the little twins'. Not that there won't be bits from Emmet's POV, but a lot of it is turning out to be Akari and Rei.

Also, my estimate for the wordcount of the fic -- currently titled Blind to All but Gold -- has noticeably gone up, so despite the results of the poll, I'm heavily doubting that it will be a oneshot. ^^;

Thank you so much for the ask! Don't worry about not interacting too much lately -- the Fog is an insidious thing, and when it hits, it hits. I hope it leaves you alone soon, though, and I hope you have a very good day! Thank you again! ^^

(Blurb under the cut! Mild cw for blood and implied injury)

The Gabite all but glowered at them, claws buried in the snow, and all Rei could think was of how it was a dragon-type, it was weak to ice, yet here it was, tenacious and strong enough to weather what should have killed it. Chimecho tilted itself, sending a warning series of chimes. There was something on the dragon's front, he noticed – something painted along its tightly muscled, scratched-up chest – it was darker than the red already there, gleaming in the faint light. The Gabite lowered its half-raised claws down and to the side, exposing its front. It rumbled, stepping back into the shadows, and neither of them dared to breathe. It came back, shuffling the snow before its feet, claws still held harmlessly down and away. Its tail lashed behind it as it shuffled just a bit farther into their light. It was blood that was smeared on its front. Patchy and dark, but unmistakable in the better light and in its viscosity. Raichu’s ears lifted slightly, and the Gabite shuffled back. Then forward again. It swung its head around, twisting, and they could see its tail swinging an agitated arc in the snow, kicking up powder heedlessly. It looked at them and keened, and Akari let out a breath, Rei doing the same.

[lilowoof]

ngl gamers, I think I'm gonna inevitably lose to the hormones and depression in the near future XD

Can't bring myself to be active cause I'm using a lot of energy to not vent post all the time. But fuck it, into the tags I go!

[maybege]

btw i am still alive now that i have recovered from swiftkirchen and i hope you are all doing super well this summer! i am FLYING through my reading list atm which is amazing and i am feeling more and more inspired for things (footballer!paz anyone? roommate!paz as well maybe?) so hmu in the inbox it is TIME TO THIRST

[angelhummel]

karofsky taking sam to country bear night at scandals 🌈🤠🐻

[skitskatdacat63]

I HATE BEING BURNT OUT, JUST PLEASE LET ME DO SOMETHING CREATIVE INSTEAD OF ROTTING

[jacqcrisis]

So Ronan is a cleric. He's in the 'kill all undead' career, even as a war priest and especially under Best And Cool And Just Guy Bahamut, the most lawful good god to ever lawful good. So there's some missing tension between him and secretly vampire elf in the game that I have been pondering on.

In that first day, Astarion must have been paranoid. Extra so as he learned of his new compatriots chosen deity, his anonymity his only saving grace as he tails along after the dragonborn. He'd have to keep one eye on him at all times lest Ronan has a sudden spiritual clarity about his true nature. A nature that has changed drastically, but one that leaves him vulnerable to the perception and action of someone opposed to the realities of that nature.

But he does start to relax a little as they aid in taking care of the goblins at the druid grove. It's easy to forget oneself in the violence, in the viscera spilled on the ground. Especially when he catches sight of the dragonborn mid-swing, the crack of his mace against the skull of a goblin eliciting a satisfied sneer on his draconic face that is, in a way, breathtaking.

After, as Astarion is wiping down his dagger and fighting the real urge to get a taste of the blood on it, he's keeping that eye on Ronan. Always. Just in case, even though the cleric is busy seemingly examining his own handiwork, squatted down and investigating. Staring, until his eyes widen and he stands, something grasped in his hand.

"Astarion."

He pauses in wiping down the dagger as that glare is fixed on him. Tightens his hand around the hilt as Ronan stalks towards him, face indecipherable and tail swinging behind him. Astarion glances at the weak points he'd already spied in his chain mail, considers if it'd be enough to take the beast down before he reacted with a radiant vengeance, if he could even escape with the other two behind him-

He can't help but take a step back as Ronan comes to a halt before him, towering over him and his red neck twitching as if he means to bellow out whatever fire he has building in it. He smells of something burning as he lifts his hand. He smells like the blood welling from a cut on his chin as he opens his mouth.

"Here." Ronan holds out a pair of gloves almost shyly, the determination and fire in his stare lost as he finds difficulty meeting Astarion's weary gaze. "These will...help you in battle."

"Oh yes, of course." Astarion says breathily, almost wanting to laugh as he snatches the gloves quickly and takes another step back. "Not exactly my style but- yes, thank you."

At his forced smile, there's a curious noise Ronan makes under what could generously be called a grin. Somewhere between a hum and growl deep in his chest that Astarion can feel even as Ronan turns to address Lae'zel calling to him, saying they should move on and find whoever she's looking for. Astarion takes his attention off the cleric, examines the gloves before putting them on.

They don't make him feel any better, but there is power to them. Perhaps he will keep them for more than just keeping up appearances with the cleric.

[dizzybizz]

when your current hyperfixation has music from one of your other hyperfixations so you have to try so hard not to just zero in on the really familiar music playing faintly in the background

sitting there using all my brainpower to process what is being said and trying my best to stay calm

holding my fingers up to my temples, face all contorted as i desperately try to stay present for the story

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

When Soda leaves for Vietnam he gives Steve a patch for the army he'd gotten with that God awful draft letter. He'd taken a sharpie to it 'n drawn the only thing he was ever any good at drawin', a horse reared up, mane loose, eyes wild.

To remember me by. While I'm gone.

Like Steve needed anythin'. He'd sewed it over his heart on that busted up jean vest that had seen them through rodeos 'n doubles at the DX 'n the odd rumble or heart break.

When Soda comes back he tears that fuckin' thing off with his teeth. He never wants to see any of that pro war bullshit. 'N he cringes everytime his fingers subconsciously pass over the torn edges where the patch used to rest.

To remember me by. An ache

[shaniacsboogara]

poking at my dear evan hansen hyperfixation with a stick. STAY BACK!!! I ALREADY VANQUISHED YOU!!! WHY ARE YOU CREEPING BACK INTO MY MIND!!!

[mollsrdegreat]

Two disaster apocalypse twins just hangin' out. They both need late night chills. Just relax please 😭

Just some headcannons based on the drawing lolol. Hope you like the brainrot 😅

I feel like Donnie takes up smoking maybe after finding a packet while scavenging one day and just saying, "Well fuck it, what do I have to lose?" And it just becomes a luxury after that whenever they find some. I feel like Raph and Mikey would absolutely annihilate him if they found out but Leo shares one every now and then.

Even though they're chilling, I think Donnie would always have his battle shell on because it's hard to tell if they'll need to run under siege. Leo can still fight without his prosthetic.

I thought Leo's mask would be a lot more withered than Donnie's because he's always out in the field fighting and scavenging on a more regular basis while Donnie stays back to either work on tech or co-ordinate from the base.

That point leads to Leo being alot more scarred and beaten than Donnie. Donnie's only scar comes from an explosive that went off too early as he threw it and has left him deaf in that ear, another reason why he stays back. Meanwhile Leo had been literally mutilated and is constantly on the front lines.

[mercutiotakethewheel]

trans kendra would not bother to come out to stan but would instead simply gaslight him into believing that he’d genuinely forgotten she was his grandaughter. he calls her by her deadname in book one and she’d simply *pikachu face* “you dont know my name?” rather than risk coming out to her grandfather she barely knows.

and i believe this in my heart.

[johnfdonovan]

tagged by @sirgawin, thank you!

make a poll with five of your all time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. see which character is everyone’s fave!

tagging @gaypkins @blakescho @knifeprtys and anyone else who sees this who wants to do it (you can still tag me and i'll vote in your poll!!) no obligation as always though!! :3