Nugget_2 @nuggets-2 - Tumblr Blog

Hiii can we have moar mafiafell bots please please please especially gaster, I love him sm 💕💕

Omg of course! Sorry that I did not respond sooner. I saw your request and I took a picture of it to remind myself, but then I got quite busy with other requests You are the fourth in line right now so don’t worry it will be coming out soon!

Ermmm can someone please tell me what this is I just found in my Sam’s Club pizza that I ordered?…. I just wanted to work and then all of a sudden I felt something sharp stuck in my braces and when I finally got it out, it was this orange hard line.

#genuine question #confusion #need help #pls help

Hello, I would like to ask you a question. As far as I understand, you accept requests for bots in Janitor. I want to clarify whether this applies to the OC? I have 2 OC and I really want a bot with them, but I don’t know how to create one. plus they are quite strange, not a complete perversion but still. I've been following you for a long time and I really, really like each of your bots, the way they're written and the good plots, so I decided to contact you.

In general, can I request something similar from you? Sorry for the long text and there will likely be some misunderstandings in some places, as English is not my native language.

Thanks in advance and sorry again for so much text with such a stupid question.

Omg of course! If you feel comfortable enough to tell me your native language so we can talk more comfortably that would help along with If you would like to send me a text/comment on tumblr so we can talk more and so you can send me pics of your ocs that would help me greatly!

a little story I made of Neal illustrator’s Zeus and the other Olympus gods and goddesses:p (IMAGE IS NOT MAIN ITS Neal Illustrator’s!)

The grand ballroom of Mount Olympus shimmered like a living constellation under the eternal twilight sky, its vast domed ceiling painted with swirling nebulae and distant galaxies that seemed to pulse in time with the music. Crystal chandeliers—each one forged from captured starlight and suspended by invisible threads of divine will—hung in tiered constellations high above, casting cascading golden halos that danced and refracted across the marble floors. Those floors were veined with threads of pure ambrosia that glowed faintly whenever a footfall struck them, releasing tiny sparks of golden light like fireflies awakening. The air hung thick and luxurious with the heady perfume of nectar-wine—sweet as ripened figs, spiced with cinnamon and myrrh, intoxicating in its warmth—mingled with the crisp, green scent of fresh mountain laurel freshly plucked from the slopes below, and always, ever-present, the faint ozone crackle that clung to the atmosphere wherever Zeus held court, a reminder that thunder slept lightly in his presence.

Laughter rolled through the hall in melodic waves, rich and unrestrained, punctuated by the lively, golden strains of Apollo’s lyre—its strings singing with sunlit clarity—and the ethereal, layered flutes of the nine Muses, whose notes wove harmonies that could make even stone weep with joy. Satyrs with glossy black horns and mischievous, wine-flushed grins twirled in frenzied circles, their cloven hooves clacking against the marble and kicking up ephemeral sparks of colored light—crimson, sapphire, emerald—that fizzled harmlessly into the air. Centaurs clad in gleaming bronze armor, their equine flanks polished to mirror-brightness, stamped their powerful hooves in rhythmic approval, the deep thuds resonating like distant drums. Nymphs of every element glided gracefully between the guests: fiery salamander-nymphs with hair that flickered like living embers and skin that radiated gentle heat; water sprites trailing misty veils and leaving glistening dew footprints; earth dryads whose bodies were adorned in blooming vines, living flowers opening and closing with each breath; and wind sylphs whose gossamer gowns floated weightlessly, caught in an invisible, perpetual breeze that carried whispers of distant storms.

At the far end of the hall, elevated on a dais of polished white marble intricately inlaid with swirling thunderbolt motifs in burnished gold and lapis lazuli, sat the King of the Gods himself upon his massive throne. Carved from a single block of storm-cloud obsidian veined with lightning-white quartz, the throne seemed almost too small for Zeus’s colossal frame, yet he lounged in it with effortless command. His rich caramel-brown skin glowed with an inner radiance, as if sunlight had been poured beneath the surface and set alight. Every muscle was carved like living bronze in hyper-real perfection: immense, symmetrical slabs of pectorals rising and falling with slow, measured breaths; a deep central cleft dividing them like a valley; the razor-sharp ridges of an eight-pack abdomen catching every shifting gleam of light, each rectangular muscle etched with striations that spoke of unimaginable power; obliques slicing dramatically toward narrow hips; tree-trunk arms resting casually on the throne’s armrests, veins tracing subtle paths across the bulging biceps and corded forearms, golden wristbands—wide, polished cuffs etched with faint lightning patterns—gleaming with reflected starlight. His long, snow-white hair cascaded in wild, storm-cloud waves past his broad shoulders and down his back, a multi-layered symphony of tight coils near the scalp exploding into broad, undulating ribbons, individual strands catching highlights and shadows with exquisite detail. Two prominent golden laurel leaves were woven seamlessly into the right side of the mane, their serrated edges and delicate veining shimmering metallically. His golden-yellow eyes—luminous, electric, with radial bursts of brighter gold at the centers—sparkled beneath bold white brows, framed by thick white lashes. The high golden gorget framing his neck bore the bold, angular lightning-bolt emblem in sharp relief, matching the large circular pendant that rested flat against the powerful expanse of his chest. A simple white toga of finest divine linen draped low across his hips, its folds soft and flowing, leaving the god’s magnificent torso gloriously bare to the admiring gazes of the hall.

Beside him, regal and poised on a slightly smaller but equally ornate throne of ivory and pearl, sat his queen, Hera. Her peacock-feather cloak—iridescent blues and greens that shifted like living eyes—draped elegantly over her shoulders, and her dark hair was bound in an intricate crown of braids interwoven with tiny golden peacocks. Her expression was serene, the perfect hostess, yet her eyes held the sharp vigilance of one who had long ruled beside thunder.

The mood was one of pure, unbridled celebration—until it wasn’t.

Apollo, radiant and golden-haired, his skin kissed with perpetual sunlight, slipped through the crowd with his usual effortless grace, the lyre still humming faintly in his grasp. He leaned close to Hera’s ear, his voice a hushed melody meant only for her: a few soft words that carried the weight of concern. The queen’s posture changed in an instant. Her spine stiffened beneath the cloak, her fingers tightening around the slender stem of her crystal goblet until faint cracks spiderwebbed across its surface before healing in a shimmer of divine magic. A flicker of genuine worry—rare and fleeting—darkened her storm-gray eyes. She turned smoothly, as though merely sharing a private jest with her husband, and leaned in until her lips nearly brushed Zeus’s ear.

“My love…” she whispered, her voice velvet-soft yet edged with urgency, “one of the more skittish nymphs—little {{user}}—has been hiding a severe injury for some time now. Apollo knows her well; he only just spotted it when she tried to slip behind a pillar to conceal the wound. The other nymphs are keeping this secret from us, binding it with their ancient oaths of silence. We must catch her quickly, without raising suspicion among them. If word spreads that we are hunting one of their own, they will scatter like leaves in a storm, and we may lose sight of her forever.”

Zeus’s golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the pupils contracting like storm fronts gathering. His broad chest rose with a slow, measured breath that sent a faint ripple of static across the nearest chandeliers. He did not turn his head dramatically; instead, he kept his gaze sweeping the crowded ballroom with the lazy, all-seeing confidence of a king who already owned every shadow. A faint, easy smile still played on his full lips, as if he were simply savoring the music, but his free hand closed into a fist the size of a boulder, knuckles whitening for the briefest instant before relaxing.He leaned back just enough for his deep, resonant voice—warm thunder wrapped in velvet—to reach only Hera and Apollo. “Then we play the game as only gods can,” he murmured, eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of kingly concern, theatrical mischief, and royal command. “Apollo, my son—continue your song as if nothing is amiss. Let the music swell louder, draw every eye to the center of the floor. Warn the others quietly—Athena’s sharp mind, Ares’s brute force if needed, even Dionysus’s charm to loosen tongues—but keep it subtle. Hera, my queen, rise with me for a dance. We will circle the room slowly, as though lost in each other’s arms. The nymphs will lower their guard when they see their king and queen reveling in the joy they’ve provided.”

His gaze flicked once—quick as a lightning strike—toward a shadowed alcove near the eastern colonnade. There, half-hidden behind a cluster of giggling water nymphs whose misty forms provided perfect cover, stood a small, trembling figure in flowing silks of pale silver and sea-foam green. Two larger fire nymphs stood guard at each side of {{user}}, their ember-tipped hair flickering protectively, eyes scanning the crowd for any threat to their smaller, wounded friend. A dark crimson stain—fresh yet carefully blotted—was just visible along the edge of her gown, concealed by cleverly draped fabric and the press of loyal bodies.

“I already see her,” Zeus continued, voice dropping even lower, a rumble only the two closest could hear. “{{user}}. The wound smells of iron and fear, sharp against the nectar. We move now—gracefully. No thunder. No commands. Just… a king and queen who wish to thank their loyal servants personally, perhaps with a quiet word or a gentle touch of healing.” Hera’s hand slipped into Zeus’s enormous palm, her fingers cool and steady against his warm, sunlit skin. She gave the tiniest nod, her expression shifting seamlessly back into the serene, radiant smile of the perfect divine hostess.The music swelled to a glorious crescendo—Apollo’s lyre ringing brighter, the Muses’ flutes soaring higher, drawing every gaze toward the center of the floor where dancers began to form spontaneous rings of light and color.

Zeus rose from his throne in one fluid, earth-shaking motion, his colossal height unfolding like a storm cloud rising. He towered over every being in the hall, sparks of harmless static dancing playfully across the marble with each step. He offered his arm to Hera with theatrical elegance, palm upturned in invitation, and together they descended the dais. The crowd parted before them like clouds before the sun—satyrs bowing with grins, centaurs stamping in salute, nymphs curtsying in waves of elemental shimmer. Laughter followed in their wake. Goblets were raised in toasts. No one suspected a thing—yet.

As they began their slow, majestic circuit of the room, Zeus’s golden eyes never left the alcove. Hera’s hand rested lightly on his forearm, her touch both anchor and signal. The king and queen moved as one—graceful, radiant, utterly in command—drawing closer with every measured step, the celebration continuing around them like a perfect mask over the quiet hunt beneath.

The king and queen moved through the throng like a slow-rolling storm front—majestic, inevitable, impossible to ignore yet somehow gentle in their approach. Zeus’s bare feet, broad and powerful with thick soles and high arches, left the faintest shimmer of static on the marble with each step; not the crackling fury of judgment, but the soft, playful pop of summer lightning far off in the hills, tiny blue-white sparks that fizzled out harmlessly like dying fireflies. Hera glided at his side, her peacock cloak trailing iridescent light that scattered tiny rainbows across nearby dancers, the feathers shifting colors from deep emerald to electric sapphire with every subtle sway. Their joined hands formed a perfect picture of divine harmony: his enormous, warm palm—callused faintly from millennia of gripping thunderbolts—completely enveloping hers, yet holding with the careful restraint one might use with the most fragile feather, thumb brushing her knuckles in a soothing, almost absent rhythm.

Whispers of admiration rippled outward—The music, under Apollo’s subtle direction, had grown richer, fuller: strings soaring to crystalline heights, flutes weaving silver threads through the air, percussion deep and heartbeat-steady, urging every foot to tap and every heart to lift.

They were perhaps thirty paces from the eastern alcove now.

The two fire nymphs guarding {{user}} stiffened almost imperceptibly. The taller one—with hair like molten copper flowing in liquid waves down her back, skin glowing with inner heat—narrowed her ember eyes and shifted her weight, placing herself more squarely between the wounded nymph and the approaching royals, shoulders squared, a faint heat-haze rippling the air around her. The shorter but no less fierce companion let a thin curl of smoke rise from her fingertips, ready to flare into defensive flame if needed, her eyes darting like sparks. {{user}} yourself shrank back farther into the shadows, your small frame trembling beneath the colorful silks that clung to you like water. The crimson stain on your gown had darkened at the edges, seeping slowly through the fabric in irregular blooms.

Zeus felt it—the sharp, metallic tang of blood beneath the sweetness of nectar, the acrid undernote of pain and terror cutting through the festive air like a cold blade. His jaw tightened for a fraction of a second, the only outward sign of the storm gathering inside him. Not rage—not yet—but a deep, protective thunder that rumbled in his bones, vibrating faintly through the marble underfoot.

They drew closer.

Ten paces.

Hera’s fingers tightened once in Zeus’s palm—a silent signal: Now.

Zeus slowed their circuit just enough that they would pass within arm’s reach of the alcove. He turned his head toward Hera as though sharing some private amusement, lips curving in that familiar, broad, toothy grin that could charm storms into stillness, golden eyes twinkling with feigned levity.

In that instant, Ares and Hades materialized behind the cluster of nymphs like shadows given form—Ares’s massive frame clad in dark bronze armor that gleamed blood-red under the lights, Hades cloaked in midnight silk edged with silver asphodel. Ares’s large hands shot out with brutal speed, aiming to seize {{user}} by the shoulders in a grip meant to be firm but not crushing.

But {{user}} was quicker. Already sensing the shift in the air—the sudden press of divine intent—you twisted with a startled yelp that pierced the music like a silver arrow. You ducked under Ares’s reaching arm, silks fluttering wildly, and bolted from the alcove in a desperate sprint. The fire nymph guards flared to life: molten copper hair whipping into blazing whips, the shorter one hurling a burst of controlled flame—not to harm, but to create a wall of searing heat that forced Ares back a step with a surprised grunt.

The chase erupted.

{{user}} darted through the throng like a silver-green comet, weaving between startled satyrs who yelped and leaped aside, hooves skidding on marble. You vaulted over a low table laden with ambrosia fruits, sending golden orbs rolling in every direction. Water sprites instinctively parted to let her through, their misty forms swirling in confusion, while earth dryads reached out with vine-tendrils that she evaded with frantic grace.

Zeus released Hera’s hand with a gentle squeeze— and surged forward in a single, earth-shaking stride that cracked faint lightning across the floor. He did not thunder or bellow; instead, he moved with terrifying, controlled speed for his size, long white hair streaming like a storm banner, bare torso gleaming as he cut through the crowd.

Apollo abandoned his lyre mid-note, the strings humming to a stop as he flashed into pursuit, golden light trailing him like a comet tail. “{{user}}! Stop—this is for your own good!” he called, voice melodic even in urgency.

Ares recovered with a growl, charging after her with pounding steps that shook goblets from tables. Hades moved more subtly, shadows lengthening around pillars to try and slow her path, dark tendrils curling like smoke.

The fire nymphs joined the fray in defense—flinging bursts of flame to create barriers, forcing gods to dodge or shield themselves. One salamander-nymph, caught in the chaos, accidentally set a drape alight; it flared bright orange before Zeus snapped his fingers and extinguished it with a casual puff of cool wind.{{user}} zigzagged toward the grand colonnade at the hall’s edge, heart pounding, wound throbbing with every step. you glanced back once—saw Zeus’s towering form closing the distance with impossible grace, golden eyes locked on you not with anger, but with something achingly close to worry. The other gods fanned out: Athena appearing on a balcony above, calculating trajectories; Dionysus laughing as he tried to charm nearby nymphs into blocking paths with illusory vines; even Artemis, bow half-drawn, hesitated at the sight of the wounded nymph’s fear. Before {{user}} suddenly crashed into Hera’s awaiting arms.

#short story #fan comic

so- this is what I have to deal with after I’m done cleaning my neighbors house.

So I’ve been cleaning their home since February and have been getting paid to do the cleaning. It takes me around 2 hours or 3 if I’m exhausted from the day of studying. Recently tho one of their dogs a Cow spotted greyhound sadly passed away from sudden heart cancer on Feb 26.

I was cleaning as usual but had to leave in the middle of cleaning to go to a younger siblings performance and got back at 5pm to start cleaning once more, the Greyhound named Frindj was acting like normal (I had made a very good bond with her the moment they moved in right next to us in the summer) they have three other dogs, a Chihuahua mix named Tick, a Red Heeler named Luna and a Great mastiff named Gracie. Once I came back and started cleaning again Frindj didn’t come down from upstairs to great me like usual (I had brought my little singling to help me out) and I could tell something was up, but I got done cleaning and the whole time Frindj was upstairs pacing finally she came down and was breathing heavily and panting a lot along with she started to drink like crazy. So I got worried and felt around her stomach and chest area to see if she had gotten into anything but I got even more worried once my little sibling pointed out coins on the stairs that I had literally cleaned and never saw there when I left so I thought that the owners worker had left it there and Frindj might have gotten into them. I called my mother and she sent over my dad who- well said that Frindj was fine but I know these dogs like my own siblings, I argued with him until he said he would call the owners to inform them.

We left and at 7:07pm as we sat down for dinner the door rang, I got up immediately to get the door and my neighbor was there looking worried and slightly pissed off, my dad had forgotten to text/call them and they had just gotten home. I asked if Frindj was going to be okay but he simple said that he had to take her to the emergency vet that was a couple of miles away. My mom was pissed at my dad and I was pissed at him too. My neighbor left and my dad apologized to me and my mom taking the blame bec he was very very busy and forgot.

a couple of minutes later my neighbor brings their granddaughter that’s living with them over to us to watch as he takes Frindj to the vet.

I didn’t hear anything else after that until on Feb 27th when I got home my dad told me that Frindj had died that night from heart cancer, i remember seeing her running around at top speed like normal two days earlier without any issues.

The next week that I want over to clean I cried the whole time and sat after cleaning crying in their living room with the other three dogs who were whimpering and whining the whole time bec I know they know Frindj was gone.

I got hit the next day with my aunt having breast cancer.

now yesterday march 12th I went over like usual to clean and once I was done two hours later I was about to leave when Luna laid immediately in front of the door, and I started crying so hard again. I know she didn’t want me to leave because she thought I was going to leave and never come back like Frindj did all of a sudden.

Other dogs: 1 tick, 2 Gracie, and 3 Frindj

#news #Important #sad

found this while scrolling through Pinterest :p

#funny memes #pinterest

omg my husband gang ❤️🗿

#poppy playtime #funny memes #i made this

#funny memes

gang I got bored and made a little story of Indigo x Green Rodamrix human version so… here :) [I did use ai for indigo but I can’t remember where I got Green from soo I know I’m weak]

Indigo had always been the intimidating one.

Over Eight feet of dense muscle, indigo-purple skin faintly veined with energy, a hood that never quite hid the sharp grin or the glowing visor-eyes beneath it. On the battlefield, people whispered his name like a warning.

In their bedroom?

He was currently losing a war with a fitted sheet.

“Green,” Indigo growled, yanking the corner of the sheet for the third time, “this thing is possessed.”

Green, comfortably sprawled against the headboard in his lime-green hoodie, visor reflecting the dim room light, tilted his head. He watched Indigo struggle with the same calm curiosity he used when dismantling explosives—or when Indigo tried to cook.

“You said that about the toaster,” Green replied mildly.

“The toaster was possessed.”

Green snorted, pulling the blanket up around his shoulders. Three years of marriage hadn’t dulled Indigo’s presence one bit, but it had taught Green that the scariest man in Rodamrix could be defeated by household objects.

Indigo finally gave up, letting the sheet snap loose and float uselessly to the floor. He stood there, hands on his hips, chest rising and falling like he’d just finished a fight.

Green reached out and patted the mattress beside him. “Come here, mighty terror of the void.”

Indigo’s shoulders relaxed instantly. He crossed the room, the bed dipping noticeably when he sat—then dipped even more when he carefully lay on his side, trying very hard not to crush his husband like a soda can.

Green rolled toward him, resting his helmeted forehead against Indigo’s chest. The steady thrum beneath Indigo’s skin was familiar, grounding.

“You know,” Green said, “most people are scared of you.”

Indigo huffed. “Most people don’t see you steal my pillow every night.”

Green froze. Slowly, innocently, he pulled the pillow an inch farther under his arm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Indigo’s grin showed teeth. “You’re doing it right now.”

“This pillow chose me.”

Indigo reached for it. Green countered by locking his legs around Indigo’s waist and clinging like a determined koala.

There was a brief, ridiculous struggle—muscle versus stubbornness—until Indigo laughed. Not a menacing laugh. A real one. The kind that only Green ever got to hear.

“Fine,” Indigo conceded. “You win.”

Green beamed, victorious, then immediately yawned and relaxed against him, visor dimming as he settled in.

A few seconds passed.

“…Green?” Indigo murmured.

“Mm?”

“You’re lying on my arm.”

Green didn’t move. “Yes.”

“I can’t feel my fingers.”

“That’s marriage.”

Indigo sighed, wrapping his free arm around Green anyway, pulling him closer despite it all. Outside, Rodamrix was loud and dangerous and endlessly complicated.

In here, the scariest thing was a missing pillow and a numb arm—and Indigo wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Green shifted slightly, voice soft. “Love you.”

Indigo pressed his forehead to Green’s visor, smile gentle beneath the hood. “Always.”

And if Indigo didn’t get his arm back until morning?

Worth it.

#story making #rodamrix #amoung us #shipping

IM SO PISSED RIGHT NOW!

OKAY! so you know that unspoken rule where no one moved the softener and the pensil (whatever you use as soap) for the washer? WELL I CAME HOME TODAY! READY TO WASH SOME CLOTHES TO GO OVER TO MY COUSINS AND OF COURSE MY BRAIN GOES ONTO AUTO PILOT AND GRABS THE JUG FILLS THE SOFTENER BOWL THING AND I STARE SO BLANKLY AT THE FUCKING PENSIL I JUST PUT INTO THE SOFTENER AREA BEOFRE REALIZING WHAT I DID AND SCREAMED IN SO MUCH ANGER THAT MY BROTHER CAME RUNNING UPSTAIRS AND LOOKED AT ME LIKE I FINALLY SNAPPED. WTH IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE I KNOW MY MOTHER NOR SISTER TOUCH IT BEC WE ALL PUT IT BACK WHERE IT HAS BEEN FOR YEARS BUT SOMEONE IN THIS HOUSEHOLD FUCKING SWITCHED TJEM UP SO NOW IM WAITING AS THE WASHER CLEANS ITSELF.

#anger

WHY IS MAKING FULL BODYS SO HARD 😭 any tips?