#sizable one this time

[chimerahyperfix]

The spot of endless night-time in the sky mocks you. It chases it's way to the House through the sky like a snake approaching its prey. Because that's what the King is; a predator coming to feast on the weak. It's the sign of the end. The end you can't seem to stop. A big old "crab you" for even thinking of trying.

You try anyway. Try to climb the mountain with your bare hands. Push the boulder up the hill. You tackle the situation from all angles, but nothing works. You've worn yourself thin throwing yourself at the equation, and it's killing you. Literally.

It's stopped being as painful, which sends alarms ringing through your brain. Your nerves are frying. Dying. Being frozen in time has thawed to the sensation of pins and needles instead of being bone-chilling. Caustic liquids don't hurt to chug down as much. You can phase out of thinking when the King attacks you. You can simply turn your thoughts off and move through the day like a phantom. It concerns you and you just don't care at the same time.

Your blood sings and your voice rots and you go and go and go, pushing yourself thin until you are a walking corpse.

It's just you, though. One for many. You have you have you have you have to remember that. Remember that. Just you just one, saving everyone else. Just you. No one else will remember this.

No one else will remember this.

You sit in the big room with the big window and all the dot charts. You don't remember what it's called-- did you ever know? Who cares? It's not important right now. Sit on the floor and look out the window like a child looking over the ocean.

The King, you can see him now. His tall, dark shadow appearing over the horizon, lit by the moon. His armor shimmers like the stars he seems to love so much. [Because that's what they are, right? Is that the correct term? Stars? You're not sure. There's a torn page in your mind where it should be.]

Just seeing him drives you up a wall. Echoes of pain from how he's killed you run through your body, even though you know its imagined. Mashed to gore painted on the walls screaming howling make it stop make it stop. You don't care anymore. He can come, and he'll kill you. Or you'll kill him! Eventually! It has to happen!

Maybe he can feel your stare. It looks, to you, like he looks up just a little bit, to look in your direction. You, alone, sitting behind a giant window under a shaded masterpiece, clashing sky of sun and moon and all his stupid stars. [Stars feels like the right term, it feels nice in your mouth, but you're not sure. You don't know, if it's right or wrong or if you've just crabbing made something up to describe simple spots in the sky.]

You want to kill him. You want to make sure no one ever has to hear his stupid wails again, or fight his monsters, or be frozen in time or look at his stupid crabbing sky ever again. Make that armor of his a cradle, a grave, a casket or a cage, it doesn't matter, you're going to bury him in it. Trap him six feet under like time has trapped you, a squirming angry animal of a thing behind bars of a birdcage.

No one will find you here. That's fine. The other housemaidens have started to avoid you, because you've become an angry little thing overnight. You don’t bother Mirabelle and some loops you flat out avoid Euphrasie, because they shouldn't have to see you like this, clinging to what was you from over a hundred today's ago. You don't want to worry the two of them, overstep a boundary you can't remember or something, because you've done this all for them and the consequences of your capital-C Change can come later when the King is gone and you don't have to do today over.

For now, you will wait. This loop probably won't be the one because, realistically, when will it be? When will you win? Are you going to be trapped here forever, doomed to repeat the same day over and over in a cage made of craft and wishes and pure spite?

You just wanted to help. Look where that got you. Over and over, forever.

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

(x) David - bisexual with a strong female lean. but he describes himself as “straight but also not opposed to any random impulses that may arise”

I kind of overlooked this for a very long time admittedly, as I assume a lot of people did because I rarely appear to see this discussed in depth minus one, but like. I know this is an Andrew Garfield quote, but the actual prospect of David being fifteen feet in the closet makes so much sense. He is an incredibly notable figure in the universe of DRDT, his whole character is basically built upon that fact. Something else that's pretty obvious is that David is someone who cares a lot about how he's perceived by others. He works hard to make himself as palatable and uncontroversial as possible to other people. It's no wonder that he would hide and/or sugarcoat his attraction to men when describing his sexuality to the public, or even begin repressing it himself. And not only that, but it makes the inappropriate way he responded to Nico being forcefully outed make so much more sense

(x) David: So then, revealing your secret was a good thing, right? That way, you won’t have to be misgendered anymore. Nico: … Nico: I wasn’t ready. David: This is definitely an improvement. It’s good for everyone to be open with their secrets.

Like no wonder this man cannot be trusted to handle queer identity in a respectful way, he's repressing his own so far that it's going to come out of his ass.

[roseverdict]

don't cry. pour a small-seeming serving of any pasta noodle you'd like in a deep microwave-safe bowl, just barely cover the noodles with water, microwave for roughly 2 minutes 30 seconds, stir, microwave for 2 more minutes, carefully drain the pasta water from the pasta, liberally mix shredded non-mozzarella cheese into the hot noodles, and pour small amounts of milk in (maaaybe a school milk carton's worth or two at most) to taste and to make it creamier, okay?

[nugatorysheep]

My nuanced and totally unbiased ranking of SU characters

Also the link to do it yourself

[romance-rambles]

would just like to confess my undying love for this particular shot of ayn

[fishtank32]

currently trying to avoid becoming obsessed w dc comics. if you see me rbing anything dc related please just send ur thoughts and prayers

[xcziel]

if anyone has recs for 21+ bldrama, kdrama, or (bts-friendly) kpop discord servers that tolerate lurker-types and slow typers i'd appreciate a heads-up

[transingthoseformers]

I'm just imagining mers basically forming pods of different types of mers. Like Megatron, going against his generally solitary species, forms one.

And him just having pups with several of them. Probably picked up Starscream, for example, while they were both still fairly young. Totally got Dreadwing and Skyquake from him because there's only so many twins to go around. And then Soundwave. Shockwave. And so forth.

Vehicons as like, sardine type of fish? Basically only they can tell the difference between themselves.

And then he takes over part of the ocean.

This was kinda my idea with the shark nursery baby pooling system? Just a bunch of mismatched children. He's got a pretty fair range of territory imo, with it overlapping with //several// other mer's (such as the dolphin mers or Optimus's!) Which definitely gives us a lot of diversity!

I can also seriously see Ratchet developing a pretty strong friendship with the dolphin mers (Roddie, Bee, Jazz, and perhaps more?) And definitely interacting a lot with Optimus oh definitely.

I feel like we can make him being oddly social compared to the other megalodon based sharkformers a ~thing~ and it'd be intriguing to explore? I could tbh say the same for Optimus, as I'm fairly sure mosasaurs are also typically considered to be a solitary species?

[dogmatik]

Three Seconds.

Rick runs his tongue across his teeth, finds a split above his left canine sluggishly oozing blood. He presses into it, the wound covering his soft pallet with liquid-iron. He used to love the taste of blood, it was exciting, made him see red. That was a long time ago, back when he was with the flesh curtains, doing mostly earth coke in the galactic equivalent of shitty truck stops. Now the taste just pisses him off, reminds him that some nameless waste of carbon actually got a hit in. He can feel a drop of spit and blood plop onto his thigh. He spits and the blood splatters a lurid pink against the concrete floor. He'd wipe his face, but his hands are tied around his back, zip ties of all things dig irritating impressions into the thin skin against his wrist. His knees ache where they're pressed against the floor below him, the cold seeping in through his pant legs and promising a good week of creaking pain if he manages to make it out of this shit hole alive. Fuck, he's too old for this shit.

Rick is pulled very sharply from his thoughts when he hears the door open behind him, followed by strong, steady foot falls and much lighter shuffling ones. He recognizes the later, and his guess is confirmed when Morty stumbles into his line of sight. He doesn't look hurt, his clothes are dirty and there's dust sticking to the tear tracks along his cheeks, but no pain graces his features. Just fear. If it weren't for Morty he'd already be out of here, fucking plastic zip ties were the last thing that would stop The Rick Sanchez. His captor knew that though, and they both knew that the ties were really more of a formality anyway. So yeah, he could've left an hour ago, but with the couple of blows to the side of his head knocking loose his augmentation controls he wasn't convinced he'd find Morty wherever they were keeping him on their ramshackle compound before they decided to take him out back and put the sorry little bastard down.

Speaking of, there's a laser gun pressed snug against the base of Morty's skull. Their kidnapper is a Melvonian, bipedal and mostly humanoid apart from their second set of arms, eyes and various other appendages. Wink. This one is male, about middle aged for his species, his skin tone an admittedly pretty shade of mauve. It's a shame, the guys hot, too bad as soon as he lets his guard down he'll be dead. "Morning Sanchez, I've brought your little buddy. Say Hi little buddy." The man grins, shaking Morty by the bruising grip on his bicep. "Ow, H-hi, grandpa Rick." he winces. "So here's the deal. We've got a really important fight coming up, and that portal tech of yours sure would come in handy." "I don't get involved in interstellar politics, and neither does my badass tech. Bite me." The guy shoves the gun harder against Morty's head, eliciting a squeak of fear and causing his knees to wobble like a new born calf. "Don't interrupt me." Rick rolls his eyes, but stays quiet. For Now.

Rick can see the twitch in one of the mans four eyes, he's still smiling, but he looks angry, a little crazed. Damn, it really is a shame this dude's gotta die. Forgive him for thinking with his dick here, but crazy is pretty much the only type that can keep up with Rick for too long, and the guys got two sets of pecs. Drool. "As I was saying, your tech would help us a lot. Someone from my group has tried and failed to get the machine from you peacefully. Clearly peaceful is not a approach you sway to. Now it's my turn. So here is my ultimatum: Give us a working portal gun and blueprints to build more, or I send a laser through your grandson's head. Simple, no?" He cocks his head to the side, tone light, like he's discussing which restaurant he wants to go to and he's not the perpetrator of a goddamn hostage situation. Morty has been so quiet, eyes trained on Rick. It unnerves him, the genuine panic on his grandson's face. He needs to focus.

Rick's been doing some mental math, trying to figure out how to get through the zip ties and the gun out of this big idiots hand before he pulls the trigger. He can see the safety is on, but he'd recognize a Fentel 16 anywhere, and you can bypass the safety by pressing down the trigger and holding for three seconds. Kinda always struck Rick as defeating the purpose of the safety, but the Fentel series is pretty much exclusively used by criminals, so the company only put a safety on the thing in the first place to get past Galactic Federation manufacturing guidelines. He's not sure he can get to Morty in 3 seconds from here. He needs to think of something, fast. "Listen muscle man, I'm telling you I'm not giving you or your little gang my portal tech. I don't care how righteous you think your cause is, there's a billion other warmongering douchebags in this star system alone who think the exact same thing. I'm not contributing to that." The guys fucking built. Rick isn't short by any means, a cool 6'4" un-slouched, but this guy has at least a foot or so on him. Plus he's pretty sure the dudes forearm is at least the size of his thigh; side note again: Drool. Anyway, he's not sure he can take him in a wrestling match for that gun, especially considering the two extra arms. If Morty reacted quick enough maybe, but the kids little wrists are bound like Ricks are, and he looks scared enough to be nauseous. Rick can't count on him on this one.

"I've been following you a long time, I can tell when you're stalling." Rick can talk a fish out of water on good days, but revolutionary types are a notoriously stubborn breed. He'd know, he was one. Still is, though its been a while since he's been in a fight over anything but his own self-interest. That thought stings just a little. Don't have time for that one, Back in the vault it goes. Rick can see Morty trembling, and can see his chest stuttering when he holds his breath to stop the shakes. It makes Rick's chest hurt a little, like something in there was knocked loose the same time his augmentations were. Rick stops looking at him. "Morty's a shit bargaining chip by the way, Broh. I've got a coupon for a new one from the citadel in my back pocket right now." Rick bares his teeth, smells his own blood on his breath. "Besides, I've been to your pitiful little planet shit for brains, I know your species has a thing about killing kids. You're all too sentimental." Their captor laughs, two of his four eyes squeezed shut in mirth, the other two still diligently trained on Rick "For The Rick Sanchez? I'm willing to make an exception." He grins, double canines glittering blue-white as he switches the safety off and the gun comes alive with a mechanical hum, neon purple lights flicking on incrementally, indicating the charge.

Fuck, there go his three seconds.

[bomnun]

canceling the cb (I know it’s bc the company couldn’t afford it) and putting pitigi through hell was a mistake for blue box if they’re desperate to convince them they’re flops and disband them and keep, like, hvi and kino, in the company bc the group discovered that a good chunk of their fandom are roaches 😭

[gladibones]

BlueWater Maribago

[sarasa-cat]

When I get a few free moments (read: a short series of consecutive, uninterrupted, totally me-time evenings), I am itching to finally finish something I have been thinking of doing (for so very long-- far longer than you might guess):

Learning a few new editing tricks in Photoshop (or procreate) so I can mimic the style of Something(tm) that I already have in mind.

Applying that knowledge to making a few new icons and then selecting one of those for my tumblr account ... and maybe using another one of those icons for a side account that I might have created shortly after I caught the CP2077 bug but have since ignored bc time, what is it?.

Messing around with tumblr themes because -- lol -- I need to use my shitty CSS knowledge for something better and more exciting than that Obsidian Monstrosity I've been custom theming.

[emp-blast]

do you guys remember how every year on caustic's birthday there would be people celebrating and being happy because, to some people's surprise, he actually has fans?

and how on fanart and posts, people would be annoying and make fun of others... just because caustic was their favorite character??

no? just me? okay.

[nomairuins]

no sims 5 . guys im gonna

[jankillbride]

There is something to be said about the fact that half the time, marginalized characters end up being the "normal" ones in fanon when that is so clearly not the case.

[theirwolfbicanthrope]

finished a book that was very much for my Id and was self indulgent junk food and it was enjoyable but the age of the FMC nearly ruined it for me. she was wayyyyyy too young for someone in her position, she definitely read as at least a few years older, and it made a plot twist reveal about another character FUCKING RIDICULOUS to the degree it almost stopped me from finishing.