#that man is absolutely starved

[oliskyesisdaddy]

to all the people who just bindged the 3rd season of Bridgerton, let me ask you and shondaland this: WHAT THE FUCKING CLIFFHANGER!?!?

[shushmal]

Robin has a love-hate relationship with Steve-and-Eddie. Love, because those are her best friends and her best friends are in love with each other and they never leave her out of anything. Hate, because sometimes she wishes they would because she keeps accidentally third-wheeling herself.

She doesn't hate it that much though, if she's honest. It's just fun to complain, especially because it riles the both of them up.

But right now, she's being quiet so she can witness one of her secretly-favorite Steve-and-Eddie rituals—of which there are many, but this one is silly and endearing.

It starts like this:

The waitress sets down their drinks, lemonade for Robin, coca-cola for Steve, and a cherry soda for Eddie.

"Don't you dare," Eddie says, even as Steve reaches for Eddie's drink, slipping his straw in next to Eddie's and slurping obnoxiously. Eddie doesn't even pretend to stop him anymore. "Unbelievable."

"I just want to taste it!"

"You could just get a whole glass of it! All for yourself!!"

"It's too sweet, I don't want a whole glass."

"What, so you think you can just help yourself to mine?"

Steve's grin is far too smug, even for Robin, even when Steve slides it to her so she can take a sip. Steve is right, it is really too sweet and she wrinkles her nose, but it's worth it for the offended gasp Eddie makes when she slides it back to him.

The diner is their favorite, because everyone who works there has given up on understanding their weird dynamic: Robin and Steve squished into on side of the booth while Eddie's spread out on the other, Robin making gagging noises whenever Steve brushes against her, even though they never sit in any other configuration. The staff has long since stopped asking which of them was her boyfriend, and that's perfect for her.

Besides, she knows that under the table, Steve and Eddie have their ankles locked together like the disgusting love-sick dorks that they are.

The Steve-and-Eddie show continues when their meals come out. Chicken fingers and fries for Steve because he's an actual child, and breakfast for dinner for Eddie because he likes to be contrary. And then the real performance begins.

They "fight" over the ketchup bottle, which really means that Eddie picks it up and Steve snatches it out of his hands—only for Steve to spread it over Eddie's scrambled eggs (gross) for him before he adds a disgusting amount to his own basket.

Eddie makes a game of stealing Steve's fries when he thinks he isn't looking (Steve is, he's tallying each one up in his head, Robin knows this because she's doing it too), and when he finally "catches" Eddie in the act, he steals Eddie's last piece of bacon—the one that's sat untouched for the last five minutes for this very reason.

Then, Eddie's "forcing" Steve to try his grits, like he does every time, and game eats a spoonful of it, every time, and then complains at length how much he hates it (and he actually does hate it, the texture is just not for him, Robin knows because it's the same for her too).

And then they do the worst, most disgusting thing ever: they split the pancake in half. Without fail. Without argument. Every time.

Robin, slurping on her strawberry milk shake that she will NEVER share with anyone ever, thinks that stupid pancake is like the symbol of their love or something. Sh's sure if they weren't in public, they'd be feeding it to each other.

"What?" They say it in unison, and Robin hates when they do that to her.

(Eddie complains about it right back at her, because she and Steve do the same thing to him all the time. They should blame Steve, since he's the common denominator, but he just looks so pleased about them both that they can't rag on him for it, so Eddie remains Robin's sworn enemy and vice versa.)

"What what?" she sneers at them, voice quiet. "You two are disgusting, it's like you're making out right in front of me right now."

"What are you, homophobic?" Eddie hisses back, just as quiet. "I'm in love with your best friend, Buckley. I'm making out with him in front of you for the rest of your life."

"Ugh! I hate you so much."

"Right back at you."

And then they start kicking at each other beneath the table, no doubt catching Steve's ankles in the crossfire. He doesn't tell them to stop though, and Robin can see that pleased, sappy smile on his stupid face out of the corner of her eye, so she lands an exceptionally harsh blow to Eddie's shin in retaliation for making her best friend so happy. He digs his heel into her toes in return.

[ratwithhands]

Hi, Viewer Discretion:

This AU is about a nonexistent fictional mental health condition. There is imagery of straitjackets and other restraints, as well as mention of discrimination based off of health conditions. If you are uncomfortable with this content then please feel free to click off and enjoy something else. Thank you.

Dressing Sketch

Uniform Sketches

League Party sketch

Sketch dump for Battle Addict! This art has been gathering dust for a few months 😭 only just remembered to post it here.

These sketches are from Ver. 3 of Battle Addict, aka Battle Addict Twins, where both of them get the HCCM diagnosis.

The base idea for Battle Addict is that while most people enjoy Pokémon battling, there comes a certain point where one's love/obsession for battle starts bleeding into the rest of their life and becoming detrimental to their everyday life. This is usually called Combative Mania (CM), which is present in a large part of the population (40%-60%) hence why battling is so popular and so many different forms of it are made to keep people satisfied. The extreme form is Hyper-Competitive Combative Mania (HCCM), wherein a person spends so much time and energy for battles that it starts to affect their physical/mental health as well as their social life, since they neglect them in favour of their obsession.

Often what divides CM patients from HCCM patients is what they're willing to give up for battling and the extent of their knowledge regarding battles. CM patients usually only have a casual interest in battling or just enjoy the thrill of battling, but operate normally and have other interests outside of battle. They have basic to intermediate knowledge of battling, and can often partake in research or battles.

HCCM patients will often forgo food, water, sleep, school, work, and relationships in favour of researching and competing in battles. It is the only thing they find interest in and they devote most of their time towards it. Patients often memorize entire charts of statistics and different strategies and counterstrategies for battle, with different patients often having a certain subject they specialize in. Most patients with HCCM are unaware that they have it, they either assume that they have CM or that they are completely normal and just enjoy Pokémon battles. They often go into fields that work directly with researching Pokémon or battles, such as professors, scientists, gym leaders, elite four members, league workers, battle facility operators, and so on.

Ingo and Emmet do not know they have HCCM. They engage with battle and researching battle in a way that they think is typical for a hobbyist. Ingo tends to read on academic papers, textbooks, and study guides regarding the statistics and capabilities of Pokémon, whereas Emmet takes a more hands-on approach in studying Pokémon anatomy and battle strategy. Ingo often charts and studies natures, EVs, IVs, stat spreads, abilities, moves, and their properties. Emmet sketches anatomical diagrams and studies of Pokémon, including skeletal structure, musculature, organ systems, and physical appearance, highlighting pressure points in the body for executing the most damage and for keeping his own Pokémon protected. He also tends to read into psychological studies as well as conducting his own long term tests to predict a person's strategy in different situations. The two feed into each other's interests, teaching the other of their own discoveries and celebrating breakthroughs together. As a result, their total knowledge of battling is immense, which led to them becoming Subway Bosses straight out of college.

The two lived and worked fairly normally; they were very passionate about their work and it provided a way to sate their need for fighting on a regular basis, as well as giving them the space to experiment with different fighting styles and analyze others' strategies. Of course they still continue their studying outside of work, which often leads to them trying different methods or revisiting recorded battles to see how they could improve. The twins still believe their hours long discussions, piles of notes, and stacks of study materials littered around their house are perfectly fine, only stopping to reconsider after a comment from a coworker highlights how they must be crazy or incredibly disciplined to have as huge of a win : loss ratio as they do.

They end up taking the issue to a psychiatrist after dwelling on the idea for a few days, which is where they get diagnosed after a few tests and a description of their lifestyle and interests. Their case is considered moderate but could easily escalate into severe if left unchecked, though the main concern is whether this would make them a threat to other people due to their work and prominence. Obviously they don't want to lose their jobs, but this kind of thing could get them removed from the League Council if it got out, so they have to consider whether they share this information with their employers or not. Ingo thinks it'd be best to keep it under wraps, but Emmet fears that this could be used as blackmail and argues that they need to release this information themselves before someone else ruins their lives with it. Eventually they do take the diagnosis to the League Council and it gets out to the public.

Emmet takes the fall for Ingo, claiming his case is severe whereas Ingo's is mild so that the League Council will be more distracted with him to bother Ingo. That ends up with Emmet getting a new restraining uniform because the League no longer trusts him to handle himself in public based off his diagnosis. Neither of them are particularly pleased about this, but Emmet tells Ingo to look on the bright side. Emmet actually starts to find the jacket to be more of a little challenge than a hindrance, as it adds an extra level of difficulty to battles that he's been looking for, but Ingo still thinks it would be better if he hadn't had to wear it at all. This unfortunately extends to League parties where he has to be restrained to even be allowed entry, which he is much less happy about.

This post is getting ungodly long as it is but there's also a branch off of this concept where Ingo and Emmet land in Hisui together and Emmet's uniform looks like this. He deconstructed the uniform he was given to modify his jacket since by that point he had a bit of a sentimental connection to it and didn't want to just swap it out.

(Bonus fun fact: Ingo and Emmet decided to pull the biggest gag on the Pearl Clan when they first land by pretending to be one person under the alias Eki. Ingo is the polite one in the dark coat by day, and Emmet is the energetic one in the white coat by night. "Day Eki" is more popular with other Wardens and older clan members, whereas "Night Eki" is more popular with the village children and insomniacs.

The whole Warden Eki concept is technically its own AU in the background but it did originate from Battle Addict. Also I already drew Emmet in the Pearl Strait I can't take that back)

Anyways uhhh there's more let me see if I can condense it:

The twins went to a University specifically focused on battle (Champion's University), where they ended up studying subjects in their specific interests. Emmet took psychology of battle and Pokémon anatomy to learn about the weak points in trainers and Pokémon, and Ingo took general statistics and study of moves which are exactly what they sound like

The twins use the Vs Recorder all the time, both to track their own progress and to observe how passengers fight. It's often stuck to the glass windows to catch the Pokémon in the middle of the car, though they have considered buying Rotom Drones expressly for this purpose

Emmet actually has a stack of different studies on weak points in the human body but he doesn't share that with anyone, not even Ingo

Emmet's study of trainer psych has led to him often predicting tactics before they happen and dodging/countering them with his Pokémon. He often challenges himself to predict a person's team, moveset, and strategy based on appearance, gait, and body language, sharing his guesses with Ingo in case he makes any useful observations

Ingo and Emmet are possibly the first instance of causing "learned HCCM" in their Pokémon because after the training that they do together, the Pokémon have developed their own independent bloodlust and have started memorizing the move strategies that the twins have them use

Sometimes to celebrate fully completing a study on a particular set of Pokémon, the twins will eat one. This is mostly as a treat and an inside joke, but they will research what's in season/allowed and go hunt for one. Ingo is usually the one to catch it, and Emmet is the one to cook it. There's some really goofy shitposts about them going after pseudo-legendaries overseas, or Palkia's leg in Hisui

The twins can perform full medical care on any Pokémon and can often grind for hours nonstop since they can heal their teams themselves. They also save a lot on healing items this way

After releasing their diagnosis, the perception of the twins have gone in wildly different directions. Some people treat them as subhuman or as monsters, some people don't care, some people call them psycho yandere boys on twitter. Emmet tends to get more of the negative connotations, Ingo tends to get the more "positive" ones. Emmet also tends to get a lot of stares due to his restraint and status as a crazed fighter, which he pretends doesn't get to him

I think that's everything, I'm going to go collapse. Hope you guys enjoy 👍

[shalpilot]

hey haurchefant it’s great to finally be back in camp dragonhead

[chiquilines]

I really wish i gave a shit about anyone other than them, but i dont

[insomniiuh]

I AM SICK!!! I AM DEEPLY ILL!!! IT IS FATAL!!! KILLIAN I LOVE YOU. TRISTAN MCFORD I AM GOING TO DO THINGS TO YOU THAT WOULD GET ME BANNED FROM EVERY PUBLIC SPACE... I WOULD DO THINGS TO YOU THAT WOULD LEAVE YOU TREMBLING... I AM GOING TO DEVOUR THIS MAN I SWEAR TO GOD. HES CONSUMING MY BRAIN. THE ROT IS SPREADING. WHY IS HE SO SHAPED. I LOVE HIM PAINFULLY.

[abessive-art]

on a tma rewatch and holy shit this is so good. 2016 me did NOT understand what was happening at all.

[absentlyabbie]

man i remember when my time at sandrock was still in development and there was some dev update introducing the town doctor character, fang, with his pretty delicate facial features and long shampoo-commercial hair, looking like every cliche of a "cold, reserved anime pretty boy" distilled

and then the update where they said they would make him romanceable/expand his backstory due to popular demand, and i rolled my eyes in utter disinterest at what looked like the same cardboard cutout love interest we've all seen a million times, cuz that is just not my bag, personally

and then i played the game and well fuck, so he's actually disabled due to deep childhood trauma, and you help him through his struggles to a place where it's less debilitating, learn he's extremely, passionately motivated to help others not suffer the way he did, and is in fact kind and awkward and a little bit of a dork

and oh no, whoops, i've tripped and fallen and married him

[capsules-rot-box]

vash x male!reader

☆ mini - vash’s first kiss

“Well I- I’ve uh, never actually kissed a guy before. Thinking about it, I haven’t kissed anyone at all.”

“And that’s okay.”

He closed his eyes as you pulled him in closer. Lightly scraping your fingernails over the skin of his neck, you felt Vash shudder as your lips made contact. It was soft, but passionate, as Vash pressed his lips against your own. It was his first kiss and his undoing.

His hands hovered over your arms, the ghostly touch of his fingers tickling your skin. Vash wanted to stay like this for as long as he could. He felt like it was only right, after all, that this moment could be shared between the two of you.

You pulled back, only slightly, to catch your breath and as you looked to Vash you swore you fell in love all over again. As his eyes fluttered open he quickly averted his gaze, the sunburn on his cheeks making his blush stand out.

“That was good.”

“Yeah ?”

He took a small step towards you.

“I’d like to keep kissing you, please.”

“How could I ever say no to that face.”

[maxblonda]

swirls - maxlie

the older man groans in annoyance once he throws off the last layer of his stained costume, and it's then and there when charlie sees it: a ghastly pair of scars that adorn his sides like an ornate little joke the universe played on him. scars on a part of the body he can't even look at properly. it's like nothing she's ever seen before: a pair of large, atrophic scars that lightly kiss each other against the spine that rounds outwards at her when the magician bends down once more to reach for something else to wear.

such peculiar scars. marks that are simultaneously alluring and hard to look at. there's an inky black at their core that she can't tell is a consequence of the dim lighting or if these were strange aesthetic choice. a tattoo cover up job gone wrong... or something.

she wants to ask maxwell what happened to him that earned him those dark sunken marks, but something tells her that after fumbling the last performance and getting ink all over his nice suit that maxwell would not be inclined to answer. it doesn't even seem like something he'd want to answer had the performance gone perfectly and charlie had exceeded his expectations. even a great mood and a nice meal would not guarantee maxwell would share much about himself.

she sits at the vanity, staring down at the lines in the wood to keep from looking where she shouldn't have been in the first place. it seems like she has a knack for that kind of thing: poking around in places she shouldn't be and being given a reason to regret ever sticking her neck out. she can hear her sister nagging her in her mind, telling her how she should have been more careful and how sometimes its better to say nothing at all about a person's appearance if what you're going to say isn't something someone can fix in five seconds.

there's also the fact that there's no way maxwell would have ever exposed any part of his body beyond the wrist if it wasn't for the urgency required to keep the ink from soaking through more than just the first layer of his clothes, and there's no way charlie would have been there to see it if it wasn't for her insistance on following him as he left the stage to apologize profusely. those suits don't come cheap.

it's quiet in the dressing room. usually she fills the air with whatever words she can, turning around occasionally as she puts her makeup on to check if the silence means maxwell is thinking or laughing quietly. but this time around, she knows not to say anything. staring at the wood grain until the darker lines begin to swirl into the lighter ones. and to think about it, she could have sworn the longer she looked at his scars, the darkness within them had began to swirl too.

[united-as-one]

it's friday, you know what that means... vampire prince appreciation day

[lenientravesty]

DO YOU LIKE THE WAY YOUR SKIN FEELS ON YOUR BODY? YOU DON'T? WHY DON'T YOU PULL IT OFF?

----

FUCK YOU TUMBLR IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE TRANSPARENT >:(

i made it black instead to match the vibe better lol

[themothsnest]

Formal reminder for Xisuma fans to watch Xisuma's DOOM (2016) playthrough before the 31st!

"Xisuma would be very confused and somehow would speedrun red life if he became a traffic light and we love him for it" - valid. Almost perfect even

B U T

DOOM has taught us that Mr Snapshot is simultaneously the most competent and most incompetent person ever in a combat situation while also being so chill that its actually hysterical to realise the man who screamed in lowercase at the sight of scar's fake creeper is completely chill with ripping and tearing a Cacodemon's peeper out of its mouldy melon.

[phantomdecibel]

FUCK you: re-canonifies your Flower!AU

Anyways what if Polites actually still dies flower au au (bit o context in the tags, just so this drabble makes a bit more sense since it doesnt exactly follow canon aha-)

Rattlesnake Root

shield, step carefully.

Watching Ajax rush across the deck, calling out orders while cradling little Astyanax in his arms, the realization hit Odysseus like a brick.

This is what Polites had meant.

Eurylochus’s voice still echoed in his ears — but Odysseus wasn’t hearing any of it. Everything sounded muffled, like he was listening to (one of) his best friend chew him out from underwater. He must have started yelling louder, because the teenager glanced over at the two of them, something Odysseus hesitated to label as anything other than concern written across his face.

He wanted to yell.

He wanted to scream, keep shooting venom like arrows, jump up and pace, even.

Instead he stood, hands clasped over the rail, staring blankly past the blurred shape of his friend. It was both too loud and yet too quiet and annoyingly chilly and somehow everything was way too bright. It felt like there should be a storm brewing overhead, yet the only rain falling came from his eyes. The sun shone down unapologetically overhead, and Odysseus fought back an unintelligible scream.

This is what Polites had meant, what he’d pleaded back in that forest.

If you don’t talk to us, if you don’t trust us, then how can we help?

He’d thought he’d had it all under control, that his own hangups weren’t affecting anyone else, but clearly he’d been wrong. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or just plain ignorance, but Odysseus had fucked up, pushed too far.

He wanted to sob.

He was already crying, Odysseus realized in a vague, sort of detached way. His face felt… damp, and tight from the salt already starting to dry. Something hit his hand; again and again and again, and rolled down his knuckles.

Eurylochus yelled again, throwing his arms out, and Odysseus flinched.

How long had this been brewing?

How long had he been pushing his crew, his friends to the edge? For how long had he been pushing them to the side, ignoring their concerns and needs, forcing them to pick up his slack?

…when had his efforts to protect them start to hurt instead?

Slowly, Eurylochus’s face came back into focus.

His mouth moved and Odysseus could, technically, hear him still, but the words themselves were lost to the buzzing in his head. The tilt to his eyebrows would have looked angry — really, really angry — to anyone else, but Odysseus knew his friend. Eurylochus was angry, sure, but mostly he was just worried (and tired, so tired, and grieving, too). The man’s eyes glistened wetly, shining with unshed tears.

Odysseus barely noticed as he started to shake.

He did this. This was his fault, the result of his negligence. Polites was dead because of him, and now he was driving away the other person he should be supporting, looking after the most.

Odysseus clenched the rail tighter, clearly hearing it creak under his grip. Eurylochus’s voice faded in and out, nothing but background noise.

He’d failed.

Odysseus blinked once, twice, trying to alleviate the pressure growing behind his eyes. The tears, which had been slowing, built again, suddenly, and everything was just too much.

Oh. He dimly realized again. I did this.

And Odysseus…

…Odysseus broke.

Odysseus broke, tears falling like a waterfall. He choked on a sob, shaking violently, as his knees wobbled and knocked together. Eurylochus’s voice, angry and harsh, snapped back into focus, and Odysseus keened weakly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, falling to his knees as he swallowed back another sob. “I’m sorry-“

Desperately, shaking all the while, Odysseus clutched at his friend’s chiton, head pressed to Eurylochus’s knee. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-“

Eurylochus’s angry rant trailed off into shocked silence as Odysseus tripped over his words. Apology after apology spilled from his lips as he sat shaking on the wooden deck of the ship, legs collapsed awkwardly beneath him. He didn’t dare look up as silence crashed against the ship like Polyphemus’s club crashing against men and stone, just kept choking out desperate apologies into the empty, oppressive air.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sobbed, like a mantra. “I’m sorry,”

The moment seemed to stretch for an eternity; a terrifying, heart-stopping eternity.

He couldn’t do this.

Odysseus- he couldn’t. He’d tried, fuck he’d tried. Tried to carry every burden he could, tried to protect his people, and look where they were now.

It was all a mess, a fucking disaster.

And- and Polites was gone, now, really truly gone, never-coming-back gone.

Dead.

And Eurylochus would be too- not dead, not if Odysseus had any say in it, but gone, leaving.

Leaving him, because Eurylochus would do what was best for the crew.

Odysseus was just dead weight.

The leg he leaned against, clutched in desperation, was pulled back, and Odysseus let it go.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, trying and failing to blink away his tears as his hands dropped down to dig his nails into his own knees instead. Something thudded against the ground ahead of him, but all Odysseus could think was ‘this is it’.

This is it, this is where his friend, his last surviving best friend, his brother, even, left him.

And by the gods if he didn’t deserve it.

“‘msorry,” his words slurred together. “‘msrry’msorry,”

He deserved this, for hurting his friend and daring to proclaim otherwise. Why should Eurylochus stick around? Odysseus wasn’t worth the work. He hunched in on himself some more.

“‘msorry,” he might have begged. Please don’t go. You have every right to, but please, please. Don’t leave me. “‘msrrymsrrymsor-“

Odysseus coughed.

Oh, that was odd.

He couldn’t breathe, for a moment there, air knocked from his lungs as his chest collided with something warm and solid. Something strong tugged his forwards, pulled him tight against it.

Warm arms wrapped around his shoulders, and Odysseus suddenly found his head tucked into the crook of Eurylochus’s neck as he shook. He tried to choke out another apology, but Eurylochus held him too tightly to properly speak the words.

Oh.

Oh.

Odysseus shook some more, hands slowly worming their way from his knees to clutch this time at the front of his friend’s chiton.

Eurylochus was hugging him.

Eurylochus. was hugging him.

Odysseus sobbed again.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to force out again, but Eurylochus just pulled him impossibly closer.

“It’s okay,” his friend whispered, voice hoarse. “It’s going to be okay.”

mans is a bit harsh on himself :,)

He doesn’t q u i t e get the point, but he’s getting there-

Anyways so flower au; asty lives and also @hahahaghosty and I are soft for lil ajax :P

I know I always say this, but they were a huge inspiration for this (bc they fuel me w like 75% of my writing ideas lmao-), so thank you a whole lot!! wouldn’t be possible without ya :) they're really fucking awesome, go check out their stuff!! do it- Do It Now-

anyways that all from me for now, thanks for reading :P

(me: check out the tags for some context :) also me: throws way to much shit in them-

just. just read the beginning and end and itll all make sense if u wanna)

[sparklehoard]

Catholic guilt is when you feel bad for not giving away your food to a crow even after you fed it enough food that it was full enough to just carry what it couldn't eat back to its nest

[sansgout]

nah but can we talk about how painfully desperate vince eventually has to get to actually reach that point of murder/cannibalism bc lord almighty

tents hands in front of face boi

i think vince for the most part just accepted the ageusia after awhile; he wasn't actively seeking ways to cure it when he assumed he couldn't (in fact, he reached the "fuck it" point and probably just exacerbated the issue through bad habits)

losing his taste also meant a gradual loss of passion in the one thing he used to love doing: cooking. bc he was always doing that for himself, a small something he could do successfully on his own turned into a hobby turned into a livelihood—

when he met rody, it all changed bc he saw someone so utterly opposite to himself. a man (pathetically) passionate and obsessed with a woman who kept on rejecting him day after day, and a passion that didn't wane despite that. it wasn't until rody that vince actually considered he might be able to cure himself, if he could only match (or, more accurately, "harvest"???) that devotion and energy he'd forsaken years ago

his killing and eating rody (in the not fun way) has a lot less to do with getting his literal taste back, and a lot more to do with learning how to feel again. because maybe for the first time, he's met someone who makes him want to.