shit ones

tako-pancakes  asked:

(edi-bubbs wanted to send you this thru me cause she was busy) Your epic Mickey bendy was fantastic! I'm not sure if you are taking suggestions, but it'd be fun to see Squigglydigg's (tako- not sure if he is originally hers or not) blot Bendy in that style. But, I literally squealed when I saw your bendy. Thank you for your wonderful art:)

aww you mean this sweetheart?
I believe he originally came from shinyzango, that is if we’re talking about the same bendy (blot bendy seems awfully specific and I don’t think I’ve come across that name for him before)
but if this is the guy you want, then I’m on my way to make more epic mickey bendy content ahah
in the meantime hold this version just cause I wanted to draw him  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

As long as anyone could remember, Yoda had spent most of his time in the Jedi Temple with the very young. Playing with them at ages two and three—hide-and-seek, dodge-bolt, Force tag. The early rambling lessons in the garden where he taught them the secret lives of vegetables, the irresistible burst of shoots, and flowers playing dress-up; clustering them around to watch an orb-spider weave its web, or a bee bumble its way into a mass of blossoms.

When the first combat training started, with falls and rolls and footwork games, Yoda led them. For one thing, he was just their size. 

-Dark Rendezvous

|| Dealer Rick - Making fat stacks the only way he knows how.. 
By synthesizing and distributing drugs to Ricks throughout the citadel and across the multiverse… Sorry no Mortys allowed.

 I assume all drug dealers have cool coats so they can display their goods discreetly… at least the good ones anyway..

a few thoughts

that “you said you would come with me” from watson hit me really hard and i haven’t been able to put it aside for quite a few days now. here is joan watson for all her life internalising her feelings, repressing her emotions and putting aside her grief all to help others. she’s been through so much shit, SO MUCH, but every time she decided to pick herself up, to start afresh, to put these feelings aside until later on. along came shinwell, and she saw something in him, like she could do something right again. shinwell wanted to change, wanted to help and that beautiful, beautiful and golden heart of joan’s wanted to guide him along the way with sherlock, her best friend, her partner, the person she trusts and loves the most. eventually, shinwell decided to do something that he knew would disappoint her, but she hung on because despite the “lesser evil” part, she still believed in what he was doing and why he was doing it. he wasn’t getting away with anything. they both knew that. she might’ve not trusted shinwell anymore, but she sure as hell supported him. and then, he got killed and she was the one to lay her two fingers to find a pulse that wasn’t there. she was the one who had to see his lifeless body being covered by a bag and wheeled away.  she was the one who had to fight for what he was doing, to finish what he had started and the internalised feelings and emotions were finally being sent up to the surface. it was finally starting to overwhelm and drown her, pulling her back in, so she asked sherlock to just be there. mind you, she had probably never really asked someone to just stay like this; just to be there beside her, someone she could hold onto. she trusted sherlock and she would always trust him so she knew that he would be there for her. but still, she asked will you go with me with such a heartbreaking vulnerability, and looked at him like he was the light that would bring her back in from the storm that had surrounded her. she still had that longing hope that she would get justice for shinwell and sherlock would still be here despite all the issues they were having, next to her and they would be okay and everything else and everyone else would be okay.  but he didn’t come and she was so fucking hurt because she thought that he abandoned her all because shinwell hurt him a few months ago and he wasn’t able to get over it, DESPITE the fact that she quietly asked him to go. and then tyus wilcox dropped it on her that shinwell died because of her, because her name was in his contacts. another name got added on the list of people that died because of her. gerald castoro, andrew mittal, emil kurtz with two innocent civilians and now shinwell johnson. but she sat in front of all those monitors listening to carmen, listening to her screams and yells and pleads and that shot itself was so fucking heart-wrenching I had to pause for a moment to continue on. she still gave him a chance to answer the question when he came to the room but the words I forgot, from a man WHO NEVER FORGETS was full of such betrayal and absolute agony, she had to get up and walk away from him. that absolute pang of hurt on her face was there because she now knew that sherlock never wanted to come and took pity on her when he said of course and was using an excuse of all things to get out of a situation that shouldn’t have been created in the first place. and then he tried to berate shinwell thinking it would solve the problem, a man who was dead because of her and a man who at least tried to do something right. she literally had no one left at that moment in time, she really believed that. joan watson believed she was alone and that she was now back to square one. something so sacred and intimate between them had been broken and there was no going back and sherlock was too confused to even stop her from heading out and closing the door on him. god, the writers could’ve done so much with this, so much with joan and everything she’s been through. the imagining dead people trope would’ve worked so well on her. i’m so sad. this is the saddest, and the most heartbreaking finale I have seen. bring on all the angst fics. let’s give joan watson and the partnership between sherlock and joan what it deserves, SOMETHING EQUAL, because the writers sure as hell won’t.

This has been sitting in my wips forever so here, have a snippet of Cole seeing the ruins of Solas’s village:

The memories there were old. Ancient. Faint whispers that mingled with the sound of their boots scraping the dirt and yet Cole could still hear them. Feel them.

There was fear. So much fear. Screaming. The paths were gone and the people were angry, looking for answers, looking for him. He’d belonged to them once- to the villagers here. He was one of them in a time long before the barrier that tore their world in two. The angry ones came looking for him. When they couldn’t find the one they wanted to hurt, they…

Cole closed his eyes, trying to remember what Solas had taught him. Breathe. Remember. You are here now, not then, you cannot help their pain. Cole could still feel the heat of the flames, hear the sounds of running, fighting, pleading. The elves who lived there were not responsible for what the Dread Wolf took from them. The angry ones knew that, but they didn’t care. They wanted someone to punish. They wanted someone to hurt.

He could also feel Solas there- an echo of a more recent time, fresh and sharp. He’d been lost, confused, trying to make sense of this world and his feet had led him home.

Solas wept when he saw what dreams awaited him here. Cole could see his friend as though he were with them now - alone and curled in on himself, trying to be something small again.

Cole did not like this place.

100 word fic: Parched

Thomas watches Guy-Man scrutinize his own reflection. Mesmerized, he pulls at his face, stretching his skin. Thomas can’t blame him. He’s fascinated by their appearances too. It’s quite outlandish. Everything is outlandish.

The world appears both closer and farther away than before. Although he exists exactly like he used to, it’s different. Movements. Sensations. Like the slowly growing pressure behind his forehead. Or how his tongue lies oddly in his mouth - heavy, parched. Is this what… thirst feels like?

Guy-Man twists his face into something ridiculous. Thomas unwittingly barks out a laughter, before pressing a shocked hand to his mouth.


Reversal AU suggested by @nightfurywitch and @irenereru

So I’ve been messing around with colorations for my Taako and like my HC for the Adventure Zone prime elves is they’re all super bright saturated colors right (purples, pinks, blues, bla bla bla) but like I made a really nice Taako with a regular human skin tone and like I’m in love??????   I know i should play more but i keep doodling him with this new color skeme and I’m like damn son but if I go with that it means i have to recolor all my elves for TAZ prime lol 

whatever ill just play with it and see where it goes. 

Have a Nice Day

I am at 10-12 in my progress in sending asks with that nice little message, and Tumblr told me to stop and I have to wait an hour before asking anything else. Maybe this is spam? I’m not sure but maybe some people actually hate those things I dunno I actually love them it makes me feel good… so…

 @m0riartysbitch @dr-davin-jamesgethin-mcgann @jimoghy @ohmyglobwhatthefrickamievendoing @destiels-little-devil @please–be–happy @mirirosynni @gonnamurderyou @impalafamily @supernaturalcosplaygroups @heckitsfandomtime @kateis-cakeis have a nice day. You don’t even have spread anything to anyone I just want you to know that I wish you have a lovely day filled with luck and happiness. 

I’ve seen your names the most and I have noticed, so thanks. Message me if you’d like, I’d love to talk you more. Some of you have asks or anon off and some of you I just hadn’t had a chance to try yet before tumblr stopped me haha peace (if you want me to never do this again please just let me know, I’ll stop) 

can you imagine being such a hateful person that you parade with hating fictional characters/ships and send hate messages to people about them on anon (bc you’re a coward), telling them they’re disgusting or even worse - to kill themselves.

beacause i cannot..

@peeblcs from (here)

Amy looked over in wonder, stepping forward. The floorboards creaked under her feet, causing her to hum. She ran her fingers over a couple spines, small amounts of dust collecting on her fingertips.

She read a small note before something in the corner caught her eye. She walked over, seeing a plain black notebook under a stack of books. She tried to pull it out and succeed but she caused the stack to fall with a loud crash.

“You should really be more careful, my dear.”, the Host spoke, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. He didn’t mind her going inside, but he thought he had asked to not touch anything.
“These books are the first prints. At least it wasn’t from my shelf.”, he sighed, walking inside. Gandalf followed shortly after, running inside and sitting down in the way to the desk, almost glaring at Amy.

He sighed softly, walking over to Amy. He usually kept all his book neatly inside of the shelves, taking care of them. The only shelf not organized was his shelf, where no books were, but only journals and envelopes.
But the stack she had caused to fall over seemingly fell apart, pages falling out of the books like they had been ripped out before.