#or i think you're sleeping now?

[r2y9s-notartblog]

evening boop!

Afternoon boop! :)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

my father the ghost

[naffeclipse]

I've been musing over a few thoughts inspired by this ask about a mafia-ish style of Apex Polarity without it being too close to Pearl Eye, and after watching a few videos of Orcas hunting their prey (which included dolphins), landed on a sort of Mafia inspired Apex Polarity AU

Also not to add another Y/N to Orclipse's growing collection but this Y/N is a white-beaked dolphin. Look! They're so beautiful!

Sirens are cunning, brutal, and take everything with teeth and claws. The strongest kill and maim at a whim. As a siren who's not particularly strong, though incredibly agile, with a tail streamlined and dark gray with white patches, fins curved and mostly black, you're somewhere at the bottom. You're doing your best to survive and avoid trouble. You pick your battles and you pick your escapes, and most importantly, you stay alive.

But then you do something really stupid: you venture where you shouldn't have.

You don't usually swim so far up north but you're hungry, and the thought of a few tasty squids distracts you from the silent waters and vast, blue emptiness. You realize a bit too late that you're not the only one hunting.

You catch the first orca siren in the distance as a dark figure, and then another. Two who immediately cut through the water, charging straight for you like shadows. Though you turn tail and bolt, you quickly spot them in the corner of your vision. They easily keep pace, their size and strength overwhelming as they flank you on both sides, wide grins flashing their deadly teeth. You can hardly look at the mismatched color of their eyes as you dodge and weave, diving down only to be cut off by one with midnight blue colors at the tip of his flukes, and shooting off to the left just to almost be snatched by the black-bone claws of a siren with bright yellow fins framing his head.

They're toying with you. You know that for a fact in how they just barely keep back, corraling you onwards, draining your already spent energy, and picking at your panicking pulse. You have no choice but to avoid the edges of their jaws and the tips of their talons, and swim in the direction they want.

You near a field of ice floes floating on the water, and though you cut into the jagged structures dipping into the sea, the orca sirens never lose you. A desperate need for air pushes you onward. One small drop of hope still burns in your chest. Despite the aching of your muscles, you steal a gulp of oxygen and dip back down once more, charging away—

Only to run smack into a third orca siren.

This one grabs you, his burning red and orange colors filling your vision. The other two orcas join to help their kin keep you in place long enough for you to truly regret ever venturing here. Between the three of what you can only assume are brothers, hands hooked over you shoulders, claws clutching your wrists, and palms pressing into your hips, you're a fish caught in a net.

You brace for a voilent end. It never arrives. Instead of digging into your sweet meat, the sirens offer you a deal. The tips of sharp fingertips trace your jawline and the soft inside of your arms and down your slick tail while they explain.

You keep watch for human ships and report back when they're getting close, and in exchange, you get the best food you can imagine, the entire Arctic Ocean to swim, and anything else you'd like. The best benefit? You're under their protection. Of course, they expect utter loyalty from you. You are no one else's. Failure to devote yourself to this work and the brothers would mean a grisly fate, but hey, you're nothing if not eager to not be torn apart. So you agree.

You have a few questions about this whole arrangement, struggling to understand why they, powerful orca sirens, bother with a smaller fish like you when they could rip you limb from limb and be done. What's with the human ships? Why task you to this? Are you just fodder so they can keep their fins nice and unscabbed? They reassure you that they'll explain in due time (the sunny one booping your nose, much to your chagrin), but for now, all you know to know is that the human ships are a problem, and you are their solution for it. You've never really encountered humans before, but they've never really encountered sirens, or so you thought.

The burning red one lets you go, but you don't slip away too far before he tugs on your flukes and tells you to follow him. It's not a request. The darker blue one leaves for a moment, jetting away as the other two guide you to a nice resting place on an icy shore. They introduce themselves, and then their brother reappears with a squid in hand, half dead, and an insistence that you eat—they could tell during the chase that you didn't have all your energy.

And that's how you unwittingly join a very powerful pod of orca brothers who may or may not be teasing and taunting you simultaneously.

[somegrumpynerd]

A lil doodle of the boys as rats from @thebad-lydrawn-sanses

[inkskinned]

maybe i'm a bitch but if i hear you go out of your way to judge someone's weight, i immediately lose trust in you & will probably forever find you a little unbearable . yes also the little floating bar over my head will start reading [hostile]. this is natural and u caused it.

[heycallmeplease]

She was forever unexpected and I was drunk on that about her. She was the love that came without warning, she had carved out my heart before i could've said no, and she always had that look in her eyes, the brightness of love and kindness and that everything was possible, i felt it too — when I was with her. I want to fall in love with her all over again, I want to get ruined again, only if she's the one breaking my heart

[melonyfelonyfellonme]

Imagining Davrin waking up in the middle of the night and hearing Assan chirping a bit more than usual, and someone trying to shush him.

He walks through and finds Rook sneaking him extra treats and Rook's just like, "...I can explain"

[gotchibam]

WAH thank you sm for the help & support so far!!! ;_; I wasn't really expecting much help right away so I was surprised but thank you!! It helped a lot esp. w/ the loans I've had to pay ;;

I still have a lot of stuff to catch up on so I hope you guys can be patient w/ me 🙏I've opened patreon as a way to earn & also as motivation to finish my backlog. Tbh it's still overwhelming when I think about the backlog of work I have to do (it's a lot...) but hopefully I'll get things done eventually. For now I'm working on the preview for my patreon promo post so have this very messy & illegible wip for now:

My page is now live here if anyone would like to check it out :)

[theloveinc]

I am in love with the idea of sugar daddy bakugou, he would have to physically drag me out of bed to class, I set like 5 alarms and then still not go

IT'S ABSURD, like you can't even lie to him abt it either because he has your whole schedule memorized!! You think you've finally gotten away with missing one morning class just to sleep in and cuddle, but NOPE, after one hit of the snooze button he's pulling off your blankets and flickering the lights on and off.

You're like, "can't i just be your housespouse, stay home and do chores???"

And he's frowning, "first you were beggin' me for tuition, now you don't even wanna go???" (i'd immediately get up to argue with him but that's another story)

He is so annoying lmfao. Has an argument for all of your complaints, and will try to slap your butt if you don't get up. And the worst part is that he really does want you to do well !!! and get a degree in case you need to support yourself ever. Good LUCK not feeling guilty and trying to get out of homework, too.....

(and LITERALLY ME THIS MORNING, my alarm rang for an hour and apparently i just did not give enough of a fuck to notice😭😭😭)

[ratatatastic]

"ive played in a canadian market ive been in st louis in the summer they won—ive never seen buzz like this" "we're really lucky we get to play hockey in such a nice place" the C and A clocking in on their Praise South Florida as a Hockeytown shift

2024-25 Media Day | 9.18.24 (x)(x)

[writinggremlin]

How's about a whumpee who desires pain?

A whumpee who wants to be stressed and panicked and hurt. Everything's been too good for too long, and maybe that frustrates them a little bit.

Why do they feel this way? They don't know. All they do know, is that that risky and/or hurtful scenario is looking quite tempting.

If nobody's going to make them worse, they'll do it themself.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Riz has counted four casseroles this week alone. Five, if one goes by the method of cooking, but Yelen's scary when she's crossed, and calling her burek by its proper name is important to her, so Riz does her the courtesy and doesn't include it in his mental tally.

He holds the tupperware over his head to keep it out if the way as he takes careful steps over the piles of notes in his path. The dockman case just closed, relevant documentations handed over to relevant personnels, evidences dealt with as needed; all he has lying around now is just record of the process and traces of himself thinking through it. Unsurprisingly they still haven't invented a surface more convenient for people under five feet who like to pace to put pieces of paper on than the ground.

Actual records go into the case folder with the other documents. Anything else with at least one side still blank is going to the school kids in the block - they chew through an astounding amount of paper just learning arithmetic. The rest is for the recycling basket.

Later. It's his mandated lunch break right now.

Riz sits down in front of the corner file cabinet. In an office often overrun with papers and strings and sometimes even thumbtacks, he's never really managed to clutter up this exact square of surface like every other ones. Ever since the bottom drawer rattled for no discernible reason a day long past, his eyes have always just kinda decided to slide across the space without acknowledging it.

It's years out, now. Riz doesn't know why he thought it such a big deal anymore, back then. He wasn't scared, he doesn't think. Not anymore. Maybe just uncomfortable with the idea that certain things persist despite all efforts to change.

He opens the tupperware. Dame Carabelle's experiment greets him with enough spice in the aroma alone to knock out a small mammal. When he chopped the vegetables for this casserole he couldn't really imagine the eventual heft of it, evident even through just these few ladles' worth, maybe weighing heavier for being still warm. His folk eat more through the smell and the textures and the aftertastes than the taste itself. His folk's meal is really the cooking rather than the eating. The eating is the meal's end.

"Hey," he tells the file cabinet's bottom drawer. "Um."

It's the anniversary. Riz doesn't know the exact date of his dad's death; nobody currently alive does. He and Mom both use the date of the funeral, though as he moved out to Bastion and then got more directly involved with Interplanar he hasn't really been going to Dad's grave as much. Doesn't seem like very efficient use of his time, catching a train or borrowing a car or spending a whole spell slot on going somewhere he knows Dad isn't at. They're sorta coworkers now. They talk on and off every other week between missions. When he goes now, it's just to clean up the place, keeping the landmark tidy and respectable.

Without that work to mark the date he doesn't really know what it serves anymore. But he still remembers it. Still takes note, absently or not, when it comes around.

There's not really a good way to tell the drawer that. Riz looks for another way to start the... conversation, hopefully. The question at play, he'd guess, is why he's doing this. He's been pretty content ignoring all the rattlings and the knocks from inside and the times it sits slightly ajar without him ever opening it himself; hell, he still uses the three drawers on top of it. Space is fucking precious in Bastion.

Precious enough to finally fix this damn drawer so he gets his turn to use it? Riz asks himself. Is that what we're getting to? Then he dismisses the thought - he didn't manage to fix it the times he actually tried, let alone-- now. When he doesn't really care that much to.

That's probably a good place to start. "'s fine if you keep being in there, turns out," Riz says.

The lunch hours are quiet in the block, sleepy and bright with the brief window of sunlight that manages to break through roof overhangs and extended balconies and laundry lines and climbing vines. Riz's work isn't loud here (the loud parts happen away from his office, if everything goes right), but the fragment of early summer heat reflected in the steady warmth his meal still carries compels him to lower his voice even more. It makes the words feel intimate, in a way he's never been familiar with - if he says something he just says it. He doesn't whisper. If he gives his friends something, he gives it open-palm. He's found out, along the way, that people usually don't think of rituals and courtesies the way he does.

Small voice for a diminished monster. "You know why I think so?" Riz asks. "Because almost two decades ago you kidnapped me and almost killed me, and now you rattle a drawer in my office."

It doesn't sound as much like a taunt as Riz wanted it to; the drawer has made a lot of noises again this morning when he checked the calendar, and he was definitely annoyed at it. Now, though, facing it like this after cooking the whole morning with more grandparents and peers from the block than he can count on both hands to cater for a tenant union meeting, he thinks the annoyance has morphed. Changed shape.

It has the shades of something like pity. Riz is not prone to pity, and especially not at these kinda matters. It's slightly maddening that he coheres perfectly outside of this one spot. That he commands his spaces, except for a drawer.

He puts the tupperware onto the floor between himself and the cabinet. "I know we're aware it's the anniversary," he says at the drawer. "You do this every year. You make a ruckus every time I decide to go do my job instead of mooching off my friends' aircon, and every time I get an invitation to some stupid social thing I want to turn down, and every time one of the old people tries to introduce me to a child or a nibling, because being a bachelor over thirty is weird," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have three fucking jobs. I love doing my fucking jobs. I'm forcing funds into infrastructures. You're never leaving, are you."

The drawer vibrates lightly. It's a very, very mild acknowledgement, considering the history of reactions Riz has gotten from this thing. Riz thinks it's emanating joyous agreement, or satisfaction.

It only sharpens the pity. Riz doesn't like that, but it's how it is. That's, ultimately, the lesson he's been taught over and over and over again, just by existing as himself, turned every which way by space after space that don't see him eye-to-eye: it's not like he'd quit living over any of it. It's not like any of it can sand off these fundamental pieces of him.

He's outgrown a lot of things, he's found out. Again, and again, and again. A childhood home, a yearly trip, a monster.

"'s probably scary for you, huh?" He asks. "Because I left."

He thinks he hears joints creak that sound like you did. Probably the way a scorned lover would say it, in a movie or a yellowback. He has no more connection to the idea than he did as a kid. Less, because it doesn't even scare him.

"That's what it is, right? That it's the anniversary, and I'll never be like Dad." He raises a knee from the floor, pulls it back closer to him. Slings an arm over it. "You love to remind me. The thing is, Dad also left. He loved Mom and he loved me, and none of us wanted it to happen, but it still did. Because love does fuckall to make anyone stay on its own."

He's long past being bitter about it. It's just the facts. Once upon a time he looked into the future and the specter of his friends' happily-ever-after casted lightless, fathomless shadow over him. Love, marriage, that kind of devotion, to a fifteen-year-old with more solved cases than friends seemed so eternal. Final.

But you can only watch your friends build up apps' worth of jilted lovers for so long before getting over it.

"You know what I learned?" Riz tells the drawer. "Love doesn't make anyone stay. Project management does."

He stands up, and picks up the tupperware of Dame Carabelle's casserole, that he helped make, that he helped share with a block's worth of neighbors and members of a community he's at home with, and goes sit at his desk to eat. "Last chance to get any," he drops an offer over his shoulder as he walks away.

He doesn't eat all of his share in one go. What he's spared he leaves on the desk when going outside for a smoke break. Baron looks the exact same as when he saw them last, when he catches a glimpse; they haven't grown at all. They aren't there when he comes back inside, but the leftover has gone days-old cold, like someone's sucked the future out of it.

[blookmallow]

torn between "deacon is a Cat and will fully lay on you if hes decided you're one of his people" or "deacon claims to be averse to physical touch and is never physically affectionate with anyone. however, he is actually extremely touch starved and no one would have ever guessed it until sole survivor discovers it" what do y'all think. im leaning toward the second one. kinda want to draw a thing. can i even draw deacon. who knows probably not

i also think hancock is very casually affectionate with anyone he's close to. he's a "puts his arm around you anytime you're standing close enough" guy. a "rests his head on you when he's tired" guy. he is not concerned about being too affectionate at all unless you're giving signs you dont like it. i mean in a What Will People Think way

i feel like... nick valentine is emotionally affectionate but never physically until, one day, suddenly, wordlessly, he takes your hand without thinking. bizarrely automatic even though there was no precedent for this before. the second you acknowledge it if theres Any Hint of a negative or mocking response he drops it immediately and never does it again. but if not, could be slowly, cautiously convinced into a comfortable kind of unspoken unacknowledged closeness. holds your hand in the dark when he can tell you're scared. i think it doesn't come very naturally to him. i have no evidence for any of this but i feel it all in my heart

[megaawkwardhuman]

the only reason you're still alive is cause I let you live

yes yes I know this is the pilot and that's a season 3 quote BUT IT FITS OK?

this drawing oh THIS DRAWING

I thought hey I like fucking around with lighting and shading this is going to be fun

but oh boy

OOOOOOOH BOY

the amount of times I wanted to throw my laptop out of a window is far too many to count

goes to show that fuck it we ball ISN'T the best drawing philosophy to live by some times

below cut is the sketch that started it all

[hotasfahrenheit]

[SHINee - View] May 18, 2015

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some (late) holiday photos of the boye~!