#random ponderings

[cemetery-grl]

Various fantasy blinkies

[thebunnylord]

Okay, so you know how some people have little railroads in their backyard with model trains big enough for them to ride on?

Imagine if one of those engines is sentient and was brought to Sodor, and they get carried around like a cat by their owner and basically act like a spoiled chihuahua towards the bigger engines because “they have to work all day long no matter what the weather is, and everyone likes miniature engines better than real ones.” Even towards the miniature engines because they classify as big engines in their book, and have to do dirty work all day long.

Basically what I am going with is the smaller the engine, the more angrier they get, just like dogs.

[dumplingprincessextraordinaire]

Antis be like “touch grass!” Bro I live in a small town out in the country. Touching grass is like 70% of all there is to do here

[hatterladz]

My fav thing about Leo from any iteration of TMNT is explaining to people that Leo is a Daddy's Boy whose morals and values are more reliant on what he learned from Splinter [yes even ROTTMNT bc Leo still acts cocky and lazy and just like his dad, his lack of interest in hero work is bc he's still so similar to his dad]

And then also explaining the reason he's such a good "strategist" is actually bc every single version of Leo has anxiety, sure they're good at hiding it but every single one of them has had spirals about the worse case scenario [asides maybe Mirage and 87].

[poorlilpubby]

Hiiiii this is my horny blog <33. Posts range from mild to intense, heed with caution.

Minors will be blocked. You'll also be blocked if you're a jerk/discriminatory.

I'm a bi (mostly post gay stuff here tho) trans guy but any identity/orientation is welcome. I'm also a verse switch.

My Cashapp is $Pubbyuwu if you wanna buy some pics or vids :) dm for prices

Likes: Pet play, CNC, daddy kink, age gap, pain, intoxication, degrading, praise, breeding (and much more)

Limits: Scat, Beastiality, Race Play, Real Pregnancy

My posts are tagged as #pubby post

Anything from my asks are tagged as #pubby ponders

Random posts of me ranting abt anything will be tagged as #random ruff

[sharptoothed-gaze]

A part of me wonders how old Creation is?

Q!Tubbo was originally found frozen in ice and locked away in a Fed facility. I can only assume as a direct result of a failed attempt to run the island many years ago. The questions have always been: What even happened? Why?

Maybe Creation did exist in the Before. Maybe Creation was considered a threat to the Federation or Resistance? One worth neutralizing.

Is it possible Tubbo was frozen in an attempt to end Creation? Creation has powers which might cause issues for an authority and Tubbo has always been against the system.

Maybe the ice was a mesure to contain. It’s possible that forcing the Creator to forget their Creation limits their existence and power.

When Creation mentions how his Creator’s discovery might result in a reset, could that be it? Maybe Creation is concerned that discovery will end in resetting Tubbo’s memory and life on the island entirely?

[ducktracy]

QUESTION FOR MY FOLLOWERS.

[snurtsnurtcreations]

I want a scene where the Ghosts think they’ve got Fed Logan in the bag, they’re ready to take him in, you’ve just finished a mission to get to this point all secretive and covert-like, sneaking your way past patrols and enemies, and now you’ve finally zeroed in on the target, Logan.

The anticipation of it, the tension, the relief as they find him exactly where they expected him to be, he’s right there in their binocular sights. And then he turns right towards them. And gives em a lil obnoxious wave. And they realize its an ambush

[sentientstump]

that melting expression spoke of troubled analysis of surroundings, it appears on my face every day too. (translation: ayo, my eyesight is also goofy!!!)

doodle page with exploration of the theme for this comic below 👇🏼

literally drew that face and was like "huh, i will implement this idea into the very core of my being. no one can stop me " or something like that- xD

[i-mybrunettelady]

What if I made Nika a descent of the Hero of Nightfall... the elonian one, because Nika in gw2 is of Elonian and Orrian descent! It'll be hardly relevant (same way Nyra being a descent of Doric is largely irrelevant to her story) but it'd be a cool way to ground him in a new world!

[joyousjoyfuljoyness]

First Poll!

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

i can't tell if i'm just not paying attention or if mouthwashing just doesn't make any sense

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Wait a minute wait a minute.

I just realized I’ve been on this site for two years now. That’s insane.

Wow. Ok, then.

[hatterladz]

Ok now my actual thoughts

Spoils for 357

I'm gonna focus this on the fight. Now as much as Oswald completely INFURIATED me this chapter, I can't just walk away saying he's the worst. Listen I analyze problematic characters for a hobby I can't just wash my hands and walk away because someone did something that made me mad.

I can see why it spiralled so quickly on both parts, Fanny is struggling to get a foothold in her life [god the part of her wanting to cry about getting actual support bc she never had any is so SO relatable]. I mean she left her husband the previous night, is now being bodyguarded by the brother of the person she barely gets around to apologizing to, got fired got hired again at the Quester's House and is watching and seeing how unique every one of the sick are when her ex walks in out of nowhere.

She's reeling, I imagine her emotional regulation is shot to hell and back and then Oswald tells her hey you know this super nice good thing that JUST happened to you? You don't deserve it.

Now onto Oswald. Oswald walks in trying to help Felix. And I mentioned it before reading the chapter, Oswald has the worst habit of assuming and acting on his preconceived sense of justice before actually figuring things out. He has good intentions just the WORST way of acting on it

And to him, the Fanny he knows is the one from his toxic relationship with her. The Fanny he remembers wasn't ever a nurse, hadn't gone through the same recent events that she just did to make her the very slightly better person she is now. As absolutely rage enducing that he was, there wasn't a sign of him trying to start something.

He was trying to avoid other people being hurt. Through terrible means. Because he remembers how much Fanny hurt him.

Fanny, after having everything happen to her that just did and then her ex walking through the door and saying "You're too bad of a person to have this good thing" AFTER Cup just tried to assure her she just had to do better AFTER Red offered her a job because her friend knows and AFTER she just got invited to this warm family dinner. And the more Oswald pushed the more he emphasized that point.

And the more he said it the more Fanny fell back on both of their old patterns. Snapping back over and over until Oswald threatens to bring in her awful father and until she also brings up Felix.

Now I'm going to be honest while the threat is there along with the intent, I'm sure Felix and Oswald will be fine. There's a good chunk of zanies, who won't care, people who live with zanies who will be forced to get over it and the questers maybe not without knowing from the others, have long since grown past being homophobic [asides maybe Boris but I don't see him being homophobic] or weren't in the first place

The house will keep the gossip under control, there might be a slip but I doubt Red or Oddswell will let that fly. But I could be wrong we'll see. At the very least Bendy won't be and we've already seen how much sway he has over the household.

Now onto the respective parties reactions. Felix running out isn't surprising and I doubt it's just because he's bi. He just watched the man he brought into the house to come support him start harrassing this woman seemingly for no reason, and then got outted and told he looks like Ortensia. Because let's be real, although Felix is told he is REMINDED of Oswald's wife he's never been told he looks IDENTICAL to her. And he just watched said man try to hit this girl.

Now I'm going to give Fanny some credit here, she's dealing with her toxic ex but not ONCE does she let Cup get involved. Every moment it looks like he's about to prior to Oswald's attempt to hit her, she sees it and cuts Cup off. And I'm happy for her for that, she really does care about Cup's wellbeing that when she sees him about to get involved in her mess she prevents it from happening.

Now what took me by surprise is it wasn't Oswald that left, it was Fanny. Fanny was the one who left out of shame [who could blame her], and Fanny was the one who tells Cup to leave since she's in a toxic mindset. I was also curious as to why Mugs didn't try to follow her out instead of Cup, since Mugs is her bodyguard and seemed pretty insistent on keeping Cup uninvolved. Something tells me he's sticking around for the Oswald situation, or maybe that's wishful thinking.

Still maintaining my love hate relationship of Cup getting further and further involved with Fanny. He's trying hard to be a good friend to her, he cares a lot and he wants to help because Fanny's situation is one he can try to understand and help with. However it does mean it can get messy, especially with the divorce and people see the two together.

[vanlegion]

A while back after I found the QvA PSAs and watched them all in a row. . . and just cacking at the time about how they just embraced the Grimmons. . . There was one about the Best Villain. It was funny as hell and I laughed. Just, Caboose. BUT... some time shortly after I kinda had a thought. Something kind of made me go 'hmm'.

Simmons thinks The Director was the Best Villain. . . . . Do you think he thought The Director was the best villain because his own life and experience the worse villain he's dealt with personally was his own abusive fuck of a father who's expectations he could never meet? Or do you think it's simply because Dr. Leonard Church pretty much fucked over not only his own family but had a reaching negative impact across countless people's lives?

Eh, I kinda see it being both, but there's defiantly some personal animosity there.

[zmediaoutlet]

The Omaha Journal Star runs an obituary for Marshall Hall on their website. Short, unrevealing. The bigger death that day was of a grandmother, ninety-nine when she passed, beloved by twenty grandchildren, fixture at church, pillar of the community, and so on. In the print version of the paper Marshall Hall merited maybe two inches of grey space. Maybe just an inch.

"What are you doing?" Dean's tired and it doesn't come across mocking or nagging or pointed or—anything. He's folded onto the further bed, TV light playing across his face. "Got a job lined up?"

Some daylight scene on the show Sam hasn't been paying attention to and Dean's washed out paper-white. Too much like the hospital bed. Sam says, "Looking," which is vague enough that he could arguably not be lying, but Dean doesn't seem to care either way. He nods, eyes fixed on the television but who knows if he's taking it in, either.

Pale skin, pale lips. Sam's gut twists to look at him but they got the all-clear from the doctor—his heart, mechanically, is one hundred percent fine. If Sam asked Dean would say he was fine, too, and Sam would want to smack him except that Dean looks like he'd crack in half with any additional pressure. Although lately—Sam doesn't know. When they were kids he would've said he could predict every single dumb thing Dean would say and he'd make bets with himself sometimes on what'd come out next. His odds were better than even. After the years apart it's—different. Sometimes Dean gives him this look and Sam doesn't recognize him; sometimes Dean opens his mouth and what comes out is—not something Sam would've ever thought could be said, in their family. On this particular night he might ask, and Dean might say—anything.

The show goes to commercial. A Chevy dealer in the county over has offers you can't believe with zero cash down. Wells Fargo wants to extend you a line of credit with low APR. Dean rolls off the bed and goes into the bathroom and closes the door, quiet, and Sam looks at the cheap maple veneer and then goes back to the obituary.

Marshall Hall, 1979–2006. Beloved son, believer in justice and truth. Pursuing a JD; active in his community. No mention of a wife, or kids, or siblings. A 'celebration of life' to be held on the following Saturday. In lieu of flowers, his mother requests that donations be sent to the legal aid organization where Marshall volunteered his time. That's all that's fit to print, about Marshall Hall.

Sam's been to more funerals than most. He can imagine Marshall Hall's. Shocked relatives, gathering around the gray-faced mother. More-shocked friends and colleagues around his own age, most of them faced probably for the first time with that appalling and unavoidable truth—that it could come at any time. That any of them could be standing in their kitchens or riding their bike in the sun or just at work, doing their job, and death when it came was unspectacular and uncompromising and then—that was it. There had been a Marshall Hall and now there wasn't, and the people milling through whatever empty quiet house would be murmuring how it just seemed impossible, and how they'd just talked to him last week, and how could it be true? But it was, and it was impossible to go back to the world last week, when he'd been loud and bright and fierce and there, and each of them would have to face that in their own time, and worse, would have to look at the people standing in front of them and think—what if—?

When Dean comes out of the bathroom Sam's abandoned the laptop. "Thought you were going to fuse with that thing," Dean says.

"There'll be jobs to look for tomorrow," Sam says, and holds out a can of beer.

Dean squints at him. Comes over slow, and sits on the other bed, and when he takes the can he doesn't open it but just holds it between his two hands, looking at the top. White light on the side of his face pooling strange across his skin, his other eye so dark that it looks hollow, and Sam reaches for the remote and snaps the TV off so it's just—his brother, sitting there, in inadequate lamplight but at least not being dragged off to nightmares Sam can't currently stand.

"I was watching that," Dean says, and Sam says, "No, you weren't," and Dean looks up at him and opens his mouth and then closes it, and sighs.

"Dean," Sam says, and then hangs there, not sure how to say it—true. "I wish—man, I don't know. I wish it'd been different."

Dean's thumb runs around the aluminum rim of the can. When he looks up he looks into Sam's eyes, and then at his mouth, and then he sits back and his shoulders are a low curve and he shakes his head, eyes cutting off to some misery. Whether it's Layla or Marshall or Roy or some combination of all three—or something worse—Sam doesn't know, and the not-knowing's got this pit growing in his stomach. He puts his own beer down on the nightstand and reaches out and gets his hand on Dean's skin—grips the inside of his wrist, his thumb on the knob of bone. If he pressed hard enough he could feel Dean's heart beating but the warmth of skin is enough, for now.

"Hey," Sam says, raw.

Dean huffs. "Hey yourself," he says, and Sam doesn't know if it's wanted but he leans across the space between the beds and kisses Dean anyway—close-lipped, firm, his other hand under Dean's jaw so he can't duck away. Dean lets him. Return pressure, after a second, so Sam doesn't feel like he's kissing a lifeless thing. Sam breaks away with relief dumping down his spine and presses his temple to Dean's temple, and Dean turns in so his nose brushes Sam's cheek and lets him breathe the same air and then pushes him away, gentle. He meets Sam's eye and it's okay—well, it's not okay, but they are at least—and then he opens his beer, and heels back to sit up against the headboard of his own bed, and that's going to be it, probably, about this day, and this week, and Sam'll have to be content with that, or risk the terror of asking.

He sits back on his own bed and turns the TV back on. A cop show. It'll pass the time until they sleep. He wishes it had been different. Given how it was, he wouldn't have made a different choice. He opens his own beer, and sits in quiet with his brother.