Visit Blog
Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.
#to give us an idea of where they are
One more thing, why wasn’t Taylor the one Buck was talking to about all this?? Like, this would have been a great opportunity to expand on the maturity and depth of their relationship, by having her emotionally support Buck and give him advice during a difficult time. Yet they had him go to Eddie, the same way they gave us a Buck/Eddie scene in the hospital when it would have made more sense for Ana to be there. I straight up forgot Buck has a girlfriend during this episode.  
187 notes · View notes
anundertalesideblog · a month ago
Player: Hey look a candy bowl! Chara: It says take one. Take a piece of candy? Player: Hey hey Frisk. Take a piece of candy. Frisk: Lol ok (takes a piece of candy) Player: *checks again* Chara: It says 'take one'. (TAKE ONE YOU IDIOTS) Player: ...Frisk... candy... Frisk: *takes another piece of candy, probably laughing in their mind with the player* Chara: Chara: How disgusting.
  Player: Frisk. Frisk let's check all these weird snowy thingies. Frisk: Lol ok Chara: It's a snow poff. Player: We check again Frisk: Ye Chara: Snow poff... Player: AGAINNNN Frisk: LETS GOOOOO Chara: (steadily getting annoyed in the mind space) OOOH! SURPRISINGLY, IT'S A SNOW POFF! WHAT'S THIS? A SNOW POFF! OH NO, IS IT REALLY A SNOW POFF? SNOW... Wait. There's 30 G in here... what?
  Chara: (being a fan of Undyne) THE HEROINE THAT NEVER GIVES UP! Frisk and Player: uh-oh Chara: (positively starry-eyed) UNDYNE SUPLEXES A GIANT BOULDER, JUST BECAUSE SHE CAN Frisk and Player: Chara. Hey Chara. That's not a good thing. You know who she's gonna throw that boulder at right Chara: *still starry-eyed* Frisk: Frisk: guess we gonna die Mad Dummy: BUT THE THINGS YOU SAID!!! Chara and the Player, slowly turning to Frisk who is trying to look innocent: *flashback mode* Toriel: Talk to the dummy! Chara: ...welp I'm just gonna give some random narration. Probs not important to know what Frisk saying lol. Player: *out of the loop* Frisk: *being mean to the dummy, probably* Chara: (sarcastically, while floating around in the mindspace) You talk to the dummy. Doesn't seem much for conversation. *flashback end* Player and Chara to Frisk: Frisk what did you do *mad dummy attacks* Player and Chara, while all three are being bombarded by cotton bombs: FRISK WHAT DID YOU DO Also during fights, Frisk mostly is present physically (i.e. they don't see the battle screen we normally see) but can change to battle screen if they want to, Chara switches around but is mostly present on battle screen, while the Player is stuck on the battle screen. So at Asgore's fight, when he destroys the Mercy button (on a Pacifist route):
Frisk: (warming up) Okay Chara so what options do I have to spare Asgore? Chara and the Player, watching Asgore destroy the Mercy button: Chara and the Player: So Frisk, we might have a slight situation,
*Chara then proceeds to try to fix the Mercy button while the Player and Frisk try to take care of Asgore.* Chara: WHERE'S THE GLUE IN THIS MINDSPACE Frisk: I CLIMBED ALL THE WAY DOWN THIS MOUNTAIN FOR A REASON I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK UP LET'S STAY HERE Chara: THIS IS MY DAD WE’RE NOT KILLING HIM AND I GET TO LIVE WITH MY FAMILY AGAIN LET'S DO IT Player: YESSSS I'M NOT LEAVING ALL THESE MONSTERS WE SPENT SO LONG TRYING TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH Flowey: Haha friendliness pellets go brr Frisk, Chara, the Player: Frisk, Chara, the Player: do we absolutely have to spare this guy Frisk, after a Neutral ending, in the void having quality time with Gaster and Chara while the Player goes offline: Player, back for a reset: HEYYY FRISK READY FOR A RESET? Frisk, who likes Gaster but his spaghetti is worse than Papyrus's: YES YES PLEASE LET'S GOOOO Gaster: (in wingdings) Oh wait you going with your incorporeal friends here? Cool I'll pack you spaghetti (While Gaster is gone) Frisk: Player? Player hurry the heck up and reset so we don't need to get that spaghetti Player: (enjoying this) Frisk, increasingly worried: ...Player??? Player: :) Frisk, panicking: PLAYER ANSWER ME
197 notes · View notes
ink-the-artist · 2 months ago
anyone know where I could get one of those breathing mechanisms like what they put inside those reborn baby dolls or those therapeutic stuffed animal toys they use for alzheimer's patients? ive been searching for one since forever to use for my creatures to simulate them breathing and I’d feel bad buying buying a breathing toy just to cut the mechanism out of it lol
or if anyone has any info on how to make the mechanism yourself I’d greatly appreciate that also!! I know very very little about robotics stuff so I don’t know where I’d even start
103 notes · View notes
smol-st · 18 days ago
the fact that squid game season 2 has literally a lot of endless possibilities that may or may not happen bc of its use of cliches and predictable routes is so scary and prob boring but so good like---
guys, what if ali's WIFE joins?? and unlike ali shes less sympathetic and would prob betray anyone bc shes trying to thsi for her only family left
what if undercover cop IS ALIVE and was rescued?? (god, prob by a woman too i bet. and theyre the ones who fall in love😒.)
what if some new character who became gi-hun's... most trusted ally, was suspected to be a traitor too by the end of the series but then we see they gave up the money and resign bc gi-hun pleaded them to.
what if we get a lgbt couple throughout the game but this time they actually do come out... lmao yea right im lying this is probably the least thing to possibly happen. (im not homofobik, this 'what if' is more of a 'we're just gonna be queerbaited again'.)
what if the mr salesman/red-blue guy/train guy/beats the poor/whoever the fuck/gong yoo character WAS an important character and was prob the old man's son???
anyway all the theories i can come up with here's my bet:
the front man dies and has a sentimental moment with cop guy
gi-hun dies but he was able to stop this wretched tournament... or so he thinks
56 notes · View notes
aq2003 · 3 months ago
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
concept: kakashi breaking himself out of infinite tsukuyomi (also in this au he keeps his sharingan so hes able to use kamui to "teleport" himself out of the illusion)
or: "if i was trapped in a world where everyone i loved was still alive and i no longer had any reason to keep the everlasting and all consuming guilt and regret that ive lived with for years, it would be so deeply jarring to me that i would simply wake up. rip to everyone else who got trapped in infinite tsukuyomi but i'm different"
(for the prompt: restless mind)
#kakashi hatake#kakashi#naruto#kakashibingo2021#naruto on main#my art#pls god i want to write a fic about this SO bad but i also have never finished a single fic wip in my life#basically it'd play out kinda like an 'everyone lives au' but kakashi gets dreams of another world/another 'him'#thats lost everyone. and he'd start adopting habits that he normally has in canon that he wouldnt have if his team and father had lived#particularly visiting the memorial stone (or in this case: the empty space in the village where the memorial stone is supposed to be)#or being late to everything (dreamverse minato and obito are surprised by this at first but they quickly adapt to the change)#which gives kakashi an even bigger feeling that something is off#then after a particularly bad nightmare about obito's death he wakes up and sees himself with the sharingan before it fades out#he continues to find more and more inconsistencies in the illusion and remembers more and more of his life over the course of the fic#the fanart i drew takes place at the end where he gets himself out#and then theres an epilogue detailing the aftermath w ending the war and naruto/sasuke's final battle and a convo with obito (yes he lives)#anyway this idea has been haunting me for so long i think i had the 'someone gets out of tsukuyomi' idea since middle school#i feel kakashi particularly fits this role bc he a) has the ability to use kamui which is one of the most overpowered abilities ever#but more importantly b) hes a person DEFINED by regrets to the point he builds his worldview + models himself after the ppl hes lost#if youre still reading these tags thank you so much for listening to my deranged fic concepts also im so sorry
81 notes · View notes
beabigshot · 2 months ago
do u have any zombie ocs 👁👁?
TECHNNNICALLY i have an undead one whos a frankenstines monster clown named chester who’s the closest thing to a zombie ig.
Tumblr media
they were made by twgyz out of various morgue parts not out of any kind of honest attempt at creating life moreso it’s creation was more a product of twgyz pushing the boundaries of what could be considered life at all . also she shows up in the background of this piece right here
Tumblr media
34 notes · View notes
lysmune · 7 months ago
Promises of
      A thousand things that she believes the Demon Prince to be, and a thousand times he proves her wrong.
     Promises of a painful, slow death is what she believes he’ll give her, but a radiant smile dispels her fears. With liquid ambrosia for eyes and vermillion-struck hair, she’s never seen someone so intimidating, so contrary.
     “I hope your year in the Devildom is a great one!” the stranger chirps, loud and booming, and friendly.
     “Thank you,” is all she manages.
     Promises of a scornful, prideful visage  is what she believes is his flair, but he bears no ill-will towards the hubris of humanity. A thousand lights splayed below the balcony, a gaze set onto the distant future, graced by the soft glow of hope, he tells her that he wishes for peace, more than anything.
     “Don’t all you demons despise us?” she piques and he laughs deeply, sonorous in the never ending darkness.
     “Maybe, but I,” and he turns to look at her with a gentleness that she’s never thought to find in a hell-spawned man, “I find human souls, flawed as they are, beautiful.”
     Promises of friendship is what she believes would be the farthest thing possible, but when he calls her in invitation to see the black roses blooming in his greenhouse, she finds that maybe, it isn’t the most far-fetched situation.
     “Look!” he exclaims excitedly, pointing towards a small bird, tufted in crimson, its winding onyx tail fluttering as it perches itself on the flower’s stem. “It’s a black-tailed canary. It’s a bird native to the Devildom.”
     “How pretty,” she comments, watching the bird fixate its beady eyes on her before it takes off into flight.
     Lord Diavolo chuckles beside her. “Seeing such lovely things up close really does lift my spirits,” he murmurs in awe, in wonder, underscored by a melancholia she can’t quite fathom.
     In response, she presses her hand on his shoulder, humming in agreement; he simply smiles.
     Promises of gold is what she believes would catch his fancy, but his curiosity lies in the fleeting moments caught in polaroids. From swirling pink blossoms to the grin of an aquarium’s beluga, to the cascading reds of a maple autumn and a white winter’s falling snow; he finds joy in all these.
     “This is my favourite,” he notes fondly and she leans over to look at the object of his attraction. It is the simple snapshot of a summer daybreak, the first light of dawn. “The sun never rises here in the Devildom, so I’ve always been curious about it. Your world’s truly blessed.”
     How the Underworld’s Prince is so much of an optimist, she’d probably never know, but it warms her to see him so full of life.
     When he passes the picture back to her, she shakes her head and, with more than a little uncertainty, presses her fingers against his hand.
     “Keep it,” she insists. “Consider it a gift for the hospitality you’ve shown me.”
     Promises of an uneventful night is a relatively easy feat, she believes, but the seven brothers prove her wrong when she’s crowned the guest of honour. They shower her with neatly wrapped gifts, words of gratitude and a group hug so earnest it moves her to tears.
     They take turns dancing with her tonight, seven brothers gliding through seven different musical pieces. Mammon steps up into a bold, thrilling hustle; Leviathan sways with unusual confidence in a jazzy foxtrot; Satan twirls her into a fittingly passionate tango; Asmodeus sweeps her around in an excelsior schottische; Beelzebub rounds a blustering, grinning quickstep; Belphegor drifts into a draping, dreamy carousel and Lucifer, unsurprisingly, leads her gracefully into a viennese waltz.
     What does surprise her, however, is when the Prince comes up to her, requesting her for a dance. “If you’re not too tired, of course.”
     She smiles and places her hand atop his, letting his fingers curl around hers. “No, it would be my honour,” is all it takes for him to capture her breath in a slow, seamless waltz that lasts a beat longer than it should.
     Promises of a shrinking distance isn’t what she foresaw, but he is insistent in having her company, which she, admittedly, isn’t too bothered about. He greets her jovially when he meets her in front of AkuDonald’s, dressed down in a maroon Oxford shirt and beige khakis, a pair of shades completing his look; she wonders if that’s his way of avoiding attention.
     As they both stand in line, he strikes up polite conversation, questioning her how she’s been, how her classes are going, how she’s finding RAD and the seven brothers, and she is, quite frankly, genuinely surprised by how much she’s come to enjoy the entire affair. He’s about to answer when they hit the front of the line, a tired looking demon snippily asking for their order.
     Like always, she goes for the fried shadow goose AkuBurger, the six-pack AkuGizzards and a blushberry slushie. He takes a little more time deciding, but eventually settles for the Hellfire DoubleAkuBurger and a Blackburn coffee before he insistently pays for their meal. Tipping her head down in thanks, she takes the tray and leads him towards a relatively private corner in the joint where he tucks into his lunch undisturbed.
     “Do you come here often?” he prompts and she shrugs, swallowing her food down.
     “Enough,” she responds. “The food here is generally safe for me to not die from.”
     He chuckles. “Not a fan of Devildom cuisine?”
     “Just not nearly as bold to eat something with ‘Double Poison’ tacked onto it,” she explains. Catching him eyeing her gizzards, she picks one up in between her fingers and offers it to him. “They’re good.”
     Leaning forward, without so much of a warning, he takes it from her hand with his teeth and she stiffens, embarrassed, unsure if he’s being serious or just messing with her, or if he’s just dense.
     “You’re right,” he answers, happily smiling as he licks his lips, “they are.”
     She tries not to think about it too hard, simply nodding in agreement before they pass the rest of the time with small-talk, light banter and the never-ending cringe of dad jokes so terrible she has to laugh at each one. Once they’ve finished and exited the premises, he thanks her for her time today, smiling as he always does.
     “I had a lot of fun,” she gladly admits, to which he hums, pleased.
     “I did, too,” he reciprocates and then, a little less playfully, a little more seriously, “If it’s alright with you, let me walk you home.”
     “You don’t -“
     “I want to,” he assures, insists. “I enjoy your company and I’d like us to spend more time together.”
     She warms at his boldness, more evident today than any other, at the way he tentatively reaches for her hand in consent, in invitation, and she accepts it with a nod. With a smile that crinkles his eyes and a careful hold, he leads her back to the House of Lamentation.
     Promises of constant contact is something she’s sure he isn’t one to keep, especially given his consistently packed schedule, but when she’s back in the Human World, her D.D.D rings most often with his name.
     He fills her days with updates on work, on Lucifer’s increasingly baggy eyes, lamenting at how much less bright the Devildom is without her.
     “You’re being dramatic,” she chuckles as she picks up a carton of eggs. “It’s not that bad.”
     “No, it is,” he implores with a huff. “The brothers miss you, including Lucifer, even if he denies it. Teasing him is no fun anymore,” he protests and she clicks her tongue at him. There’s a pause before a sigh, then, “I’m not being honest here.”
     “No,” he repeats; “I miss spending my time with you, I miss being able to see you, I miss talking to you in person. I miss you; I miss you a lot.”
     She runs her fingers through her hair and oh, fuck, he really shouldn’t spring these things onto her. She’s sure he can hear her heart over the phone when it’s this loud.
     Tightening her grip on the trolley’s handle, she responds with an, “I miss you, too.”
     Promises of staying away are best upheld because they’re the smarter option, the safer option, but when she’s back in the Devildom, she‘s compelled to see him again. Barbatos directs her to his study, knocking on the door before he leaves her by the room just as Lord Diavolo lets her in.
     The wind is knocked right out of her chest when he scoops her into a tight hug and she eases into his arms, burying her face into his chest. He smells faintly of warm spice and agarwood, of a familiarity she’s sorely longed for.
     “I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers, the hint of a tremble in his voice.
     “I am, too.”
     Promises of subtlety is a given, she believes, but he hasn’t much thought for it when he clasps a golden bracelet onto her wrist. It is a simple chain, studded with tiny opals, and much too lavish for someone who’s come here as an exchange student.
     “This is a little excessive, don’t you think?” she asks, raising a brow as she fiddles with the accessory, to which he frowns.
     “Do you not like it?” he inquires and she shakes her head.
     “No, I do,” she assures, and she really does. It’s a beautiful piece of jewellery, it’s just that, “I’m not quite sure if I’m so deserving of such things.”
     At that, he takes her hand, pulling her a little closer. “You are,” he affirms softly, gently lacing his fingers with hers. “Let me be a little selfish.”
     She chuckles. “You’re being selfish by giving me a gift?”
     “No,” he replies as he levels her with a crackling, sparking gaze and her heart skips a beat. “I’m being selfish because I want you to myself.”
     Promises of indulgence are what she believes to be a demon’s domain, but he simply holds her in his arms most nights, content with the simple pleasure of having her there with him, of talking to her, of hearing her say his name without the formalities.
     “You’re not anything like I thought a demon would be,” she muses as he hugs her tighter from behind, letting her head rest on the line of his shoulder.
     He chuckles, pressing his lips to hers sweetly, briefly. “No?”
     “I expected them to be a little more ...” she trails off in search for a word, then, “churlish.”
     “I can be,” he mumbles while he lazily nibbles at her ear, patterns kisses into her jaw and the exposed column of her neck. “I’m just being polite.”
     She hums. “Maybe.”
     “You don’t think so?”
     “No,” she responds with a peck to his cheek, hand coming up to the side of his head, pulling him closer against her. “I think you’re just a touch holy.”
     His skims her skin with tongue and teeth, breaths warm, chuckling as he does. “You’re bold to say that to the Prince of Hell.”
     Promises of a Lord unshaken is what she believes the demons see, but behind all the closed doors, he bares his vulnerability to her against the starless, perpetual nights.
     “Do you want to talk, Diavolo?” she asks. He’s silent for a moment before he offers his hand to her. She takes it and he pulls her to his side, letting his arm drape down to hold her at her waist.
     Overlooking the city sprawled under him, he sighs. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing,” he confesses under his breath, the uncertainty wavering his voice. “I want peace between all the realms, but do they? Do my people?”
     "You don’t think they want that?”
     “We’re demons. War is within our very nature,” he states simply, pressing her a little closer to him. “A few of us are fallen angels, others human, but most demons were born here, and all of us are vengeful, resentful creatures,” he murmurs; she says nothing. “The fallen angels want nothing to do with the Celestial Realm, the human-turned-demons carry over their hate and the rest of us have just always had a taste for destruction.
     “For most of us, we’ve always felt like the two worlds looked at us with nothing but contempt. When Heaven smites an angel unruly, they’re punished into being a devil; when humans talk about eternal torture, we’re the very picture of it. Demons are a proud folk, we give back the respect we’ve been shown, but when everyone has only ever hated us, what is there to be but bitter? And the cycle keeps going, it has for the last thousands of centuries.”
     “I’m sorry,” is all she can offer and he chuckles.
     “Please, it’s alright,” he assures with a smile, though it’s wearied with the burdens of a leader. “I’m just ... wondering.”
     She isn’t sure what to say to him, if she can even comfort him. She’s no angel, or demon, and even as a human, she’s never been a particular occult; she’s just an exchange student who lacks understanding of the tension’s nuance.
     “Look, hey,” she starts, “I know I’m not the best person to say it, but your people respect you. They might squabble with Heaven or us humans, but they’ve put their trust in you; otherwise, in all honesty, I think they’d have just eaten me and Solomon alive.”
     He cracks a small, tiny smile at that.
     “You needed mutual agreement between all the realms for this exchange program, and you did it. If that tells me anything, it’s that they’re probably tired of all the fighting, too,” she surmises. He laughs, just barely, before he bends down to kiss her forehead, letting it linger.
     When he pulls away, he says, “Thank you, that helped.”
     “Did it?”
     He hums. “A little,” he responds, loosening his grip on her. “I need to be alone for a while, is that okay?”
     “Take all the time,” she answers. Placing a quick kiss onto his cheek, she turns on her heel and walks away. Comforting demon royalty isn’t something she’s good at, and maybe she never will be, but space? Space is something she can give him.
     Promises of ‘unto death do us part’ is tradition, the idea of a romance that spans the fire of life until it’s snuffed out by a swing of the scythe, but she believes that mortality is fickle to him. A being of a thousand years that will live on for a thousand more, and she fills in the mere potential century; a year for him is a decade for her.
     Yet here he is, knotting the string of his life to her in promise. “Make a pact with me,” he declares, bringing her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles as though she were royalty.
     Her breath hitches. “Diavolo.”
     “Let me be yours,” the demon pleads, yearns, longs and she’s a little taken aback by the openness of it all.
     “You don’t have to,” she says but he surges, drawing her in.
     “I want to,” he asserts, unyielding, though she’s still unconvinced.
     An act of binding. That’s what it means to be tied down to a contract, and she knows full well what the consequences are, for the both of them, should any of them trespass their terms. With the seven brothers, she did as the situation demanded, but with Diavolo, there’s absolutely nothing that warrants it.
     He seems to sense her unease, because he squeezes her hand, brings her closer. “It’ll be fine,” he assures; “Let me show you what you mean to me.”
     “I know where I stand with you,” she tells him as she raises a hand to cup his cheek.
     “Do you?” he asks in rhetoric, pressing his lips against her pulse, eyes locking onto hers. “You needn’t ask and I’d gladly give a century of my life for you, freely offer you my soul, and even if you love me less, leave me for a human, I’d regret none of it.”
     She swallows his words when he presses his lips to hers, wholly engulfed by the sincerity of it all. Gentle as always, tender as always, and none of the demon she’d thought he’d be, his hand coming up to caress her face. He leaves her lightheaded, breathless, forehead touching hers, the warmth between them near unbearable.
     “I trust you, utterly and entirely; let me show you that I do,” he murmurs and she clasps her hands behind his neck, her lips hovering above his.
     “Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?”
     He chuckles. “I’m afraid not.”
     Promises of sacrifice and loyalty, they aren’t taken lightly by the laws of a contract, but he pledges himself anyway, so readily and so staunchly she almost falters.
     In reverence, he traces the mark - his mark - that runs from her shoulder and coils around her arm, marvelling at the sight of it. “Was it painful?” he asks as he glances to her, worry underscoring his words.
     She shrugs and offers him a smile in hopes it’ll reassure him. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
     Leaning in to thumb a kiss to her clavicle, he chuckles low. “Sometimes I forget you’ve made pacts with the seven strongest demons here,” he says and the pride in his voice makes her chest swell.
     “Eight,” she corrects while she cards her fingers through his hair, trailing the curl of his horns, eliciting a quiet, pleased hum from him.
     “Eight,” he repeats in satisfaction before he lifts his head up to meet her and she, emboldened, enraptured, captures his lips in fervour.
     Agarwood and warm spice, she drinks the taste of him, smoky lapsang and carbon ashen. He spills her name into her mouth, once more into the spellbound night when she punctures a soft bite into the juncture of his neck, a hymnic praise that makes her feel nothing less of otherworldly. He almost - almost - whines when she pulls away, chuckling as she does.
     Under her, he’s nothing short of breathtaking, with topazes for eyes and vermillion hair, and dark skin marked by black, steeped in gold. Triangular patterns of red hiss around his throat, the newly formed pact pulsing with magic and she trails her fingers across them, enamoured.
     “You’re beautiful,” she finds herself professing and he lets out a quiet laugh, Adam’s apple bobbing under her touch, the sound reverberating.
     “I’m all yours,” he surrenders and she’s touched, honoured by the sincerity of his proclamation. “I will be until you say I no longer am.”
     “And I, yours,” she promises before she laces her fingers with his and kisses him once more.
101 notes · View notes
lockoutkey · a month ago
I believe that, while the world is crumbling around them, the roommates decide to get some ramen and relax, just so they can talk things out in peace.
I can still make this angsty anon I just got out of a fight with my mom i’m ready for pain
Etho and Iskall walked the Isles of fantastico. It was just Martyn tonight, they had no clue where Jimmy and Scott were. Hopefully they weren’t sick or anything.
“I helped out someone in my class the other day. You know, in the spooky magic way.” Iskall commented.
Etho looked surprised. “Really? How did you do it? I kinda forgot how it works, it’s second nature at this point. I just think they should do a thing and they do this.”
"I thought about him going on the school trip and him winning. It went past that and he went for free. I think I just have to want whatever I'm trying to give another person. Like after that, in a different class, I tried to have someone find this thing in our dig site that would get them an A. They found it cause I told them they would? I don't know if that makes sense." Iskall tried to explain it the best he could.
"Nah, that makes sense. I sometimes just give people suggestions on projects and the machine works." Etho was glad Iskall was getting the hand of it. Grian and Pearl had much more viotal powers that could get out of control quickly. They influenced the world while gods like Doc, Iskall, and Etho influenced mortals.
"It'll be so much more interesting to see how it works on actual excavation sites. There's a place my professor was talking at there they found the remains of a possible town in the desert. I could definately help there." Iskall buzzed with excitment just talking about it.
Etho held up a hand. "Wait a minute, what do you mean a desert. We stay at the college since that's where it works best for us. We can work on a small scale close by incase anything drastic happens. As we've been seeing, it's a good idea."
Iskall shifted. "I mean, it's kinda obvious. I was going to leave when I was human anyways. Being a god doesn't really change that, it honestly just makes it all the more possible. Plus, I wanted you to-"
“What do you mean you want to leave? You don’t even know how to be a god?” Etho exclaimed. It was harsh but the truth. Iskall couldn’t even get to the city himself. He had to call one of the gods until he learned.
“I don’t care!” Iskall shouted. Martyn looked at them weird and he lowered his voice. “You get to invent things all the time with Doc in the lab. You said i’m the god of treasures and discovery. I’ve never left my home. I can feel it, there’s so much to experience in the world.”
Etho glared “Fine, go off on your adventures. Leave us all behind, some best friend you are. I supposed we’ll see you in an eternity. Cause news flash, once you start, you don’t stop. If you go, you won’t come back.”
Etho blinked out of existence, causing a hell of “HOLY SHIT!” from Martyn.
Iskall stared unmoving at the place Etho stood seconds ago. “I wanted you to go with me.”
42 notes · View notes
autisticandroids · 6 months ago
also i'm late to the discourse but why would you get mad at people for headcanoning dean as trans because he's a misogynist or whatever. why is it different from headcanoning dean as a cis bi man? or for that matter a cis gay man?
like. dean is a terrible guy in many ways. this is often what makes him fun. like, exploring his mind, how he got the way he is, what it would take to maybe change him, heal him, make him a better person - why is this different if he's trans instead of cis? if the people projecting onto him are trans guys instead of bi people? what, pray tell, is the difference?
anyway, i have to read off the chain misogynistic posts every day about any woman who ever looked at cas wrong, get mad about that instead.
67 notes · View notes
eijiroukiriot · 6 months ago
if bakugou’s not the type to seek out time w other people and also dedicated constantly to his training then that raises the age-old question, what does he like to do for his birthday? does he like to have parties or do something kinda special on his own or does he ignore the day entirely as a distraction from his training? i feel like it’s pretty easy to say that as a kid he probably liked having big cake-and-presents-and-all-eyes-on-me parties - when would that change? honestly probably when he enters ua, i feel like up until then he’d still be getting that combination of awe and fear from the people around him that makes them give him attention - except also i think 14 y/o bkg would be mortified at the idea of having kids from his class over to his House to be thrown a party by his Mom. he’d probably still want the attention though. maybe his 3 shitty friends and him would go to the arcade or something. once he enters ua though i feel like that’s the point where (mostly because his classmates Don’t look at him w awe and fear, they look at him like anyone else) he doesn’t want to make a big fuss about it anymore. maybe nothing at all. in theory it’s nice to imagine that he’d take himself mountain climbing or something and have a nice quiet day to himself where he can forget about all the things that cause him stress (whether they should or not) and just sit there on his own. his birthday’s early enough in the year that even if people did know it in first year they probably wouldn’t have tried to throw a party for this asshole they’ve known for one week. maybe by second year they’re throwing him surprise parties or maybe he’s taking that time for himself or maybe he’s still there thinking ‘i don’t give a shit that it’s my birthday, that doesn’t matter’. whatever he’s doing i hope he’s having a nice day
51 notes · View notes
toddtakefive · 14 days ago
Necromancer Todd........ thinks
12 notes · View notes
androgynousblackbox · 3 months ago
Obnoxious Artist Youtuber, Probably, Most Likely, From a First World Country: Omg, guys, these cheap ass watercolor that costed me one dollar or even less are the WORST. Don’t ever get these ever. They have zero pigmentation and they don’t perform AT ALL like my 300$ watercolor sets on my 500$ watercolor paper, so that makes them worthless. If you want to start making art don’t buy them, seriously. Just better save up until you can afford a 100$ set, a 50$ one or so and don’t try to start otherwise on any kind of way, no matter how much you want to, because it’s not like saving money is a luxury that not everyone can afford since you constantly have to worry about unexpected expenses that demand take priority over any kind of recreational purpose, or you have to worry about a fluctuant economy that will make literally anything get expensier by the hour or even the possibility that the products I recommend might not even exist on your vecinity. Just to reiterate: don’t buy the cheap art supplies. Look at me comparing them with my professional grade art supplies. See how bad they are? See how useless? If you can’t get one of the other art supplies I say, it’s not worth it at all. Now let’s speak about the sponsor for our video, ShadowSkillSharpVPRayconLegend. Don’t forget to like and suscribe, or check out my patreon where I can keep telling you how the only art supply you have sucks and see the reviews for all these other products you should get instead.
22 notes · View notes
mean-scarlet-deceiver · 3 months ago
you: ugh, how is topham hatt even 'in charge' of this railway, he seems completely incompetent?
me, an intellectual: friend, this man can bellow loudly enough to silence four or more quarreling steam engines while they're all shout-whistling at each other... no other qualification necessary!
18 notes · View notes