#TOO MUUUCH

[dum-vivere-vinum-rubrum]

it's diakko (or dianakko idk) week :DDD

probably won't do all of the prompts, but today I did "Music" hell yeah

[happyheidi]

[katebeckets]

gif request meme

@singinprincess asked the mentalist + favorite female character ⤷ Teresa Lisbon

[bahoreal]

hey do you guys know about

the history of the bus?

they started as an "omnibus" a horse drawn two stop back and forth along a pre determined route! then they added more stops! they messed with the size of the omnibus and the number of horses until they hit the right size for the route!

(blease note these are intra-city buses, stagecoaches would go outside the city to specific locations and they generally required a reserved seat)

they basically SLAPPED A ROOF AREA to get roof passengers! double deck omnibuses!

then we get MOTOR OMNIBUSES! as the petrol engine is getting better! for context the first motor omnibus ran in 1899 - this is 13 years after the patent for the first petrol engine car (1886), 74 years after the first steam public railway in england (1825) and 36 years after the london underground was opened (1863). by 1911 there were no horse-drawn omnibuses owned by the london general omnibus company!

AND THEY WERE EVERYWHERE! (please look at the number of BUSES and INDIVIDUAL CARRIAGES [usually hired cabs] and PEDESTRIANS)

a lot of places switched to electric trams in the 1910s, public transport became reliant on the comparatively more efficient light rail or tram systems. the trams gave way to electric buses in london in 1930! they were much less dangerous than trams as people did not have to walk right into traffic to get on em

then as engines got more efficient trolleybuses were switched with petrol engine buses

then in the 1950s more people got cars and they began dominating the streets and creating.. traffic and. traffic laws. and stuff.

thanks for coming to my whistlestop bus lesson hope u have a brilliant day

[bumblingbabooshka]

Janeway in 'Nothing Human' vs Tuvok in 'Resolutions' There's something here I know there is I can almost wrap my teeth around it.

[magireco-collection]

Akumura is here!

I'm making this post because she is too gay for Madoka, and I somehow got plenty of meme-worthy screenshots 😏

She keeps making this face whenever she talks about Madoka. So when I saw the magia animation, I had to get a ss 📸

Uwasa of Server Crashing Akumura 👀

Releasing the Gay Moment ™

"Ai Yo" moment, iconic 📸

Not a meme, but her 5* card art looks pretty. It would make a pretty icon / avatar 🥰

See what I mean? She is so gay it's all over her face 😏

A few more:

Seems like Bowmura is just a costume. But we still might get Madohomu duo if the game runs for another year!

[saxandviolins88]

Late night brain rotting

2 am, studying calc 1(more just the dying part), but I can't help but get giddy imagining Scrapper being super extra supportive of the other Constructicons, especially with outsiders.

Like imagine Scrapper introducing his crew to another mech (doesn't even need to be a high-ranking mech), and he's just hyping them up in a "millennial mom trying to be hip" kind of way

"Oh this is Hook, he's our structural engineer AND he's also a surgeon! He's so smart he'll make any upstart Iaconian scientist feel tots stupid"

"This is Bonecrusher, love this fella" he slaps Bonecrusher's chest in a lighthearted gesture, "He's super talented, you should see him working! I've been with this guy for 5 million years and even I get mesmerized sometimes!"

And so on and so forth

I imagined they all get kinda flustered and amused by it (except Hook, obviously).

I think they're also super supportive of Scrapper(and each other), but he takes it to another level since he's unapologetically vocal about it.

But when it comes to himself he's just like: "Yeah, I'm their foremech, I graduated in architecture and design... But honestly, I would be nowhere without my crew!"

[brzatto]

i remember distinctly at some point i promised myself i would finish blue chicago moon before my birthday (lmfao) and now it is my birthday .. and unfortunately it’s been weeks since i’ve touched a google doc in general much less that fic but to celebrate i’m posting an excerpt from a later part in the fic i’ve had written out for a while now. enjoy ^_^

They’re laying in bed together, after, the way that’s become more casual as of late, more natural; they take turns taking drags from the same cigarette.

Carmy’s telling some story, “And then Pete—”

Richie interrupts him with an exaggerated scoff, rolling his eyes, and Carmy smacks him on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “I know, I know, stop it—but Pete’s not bad. Really. He can be cool, sometimes, like actually cool—”

Richie groans, rolling away from Carmy, except the bed’s too small for him to go anywhere, so he really just turns onto his other side—Carmy rolls after him, propping himself onto his elbows so he can wrestle Richie onto his back, stubbornly crossing his arms over Richie’s chest and leaning his weight onto him to keep him there; he reaches over to crush the rest of the cigarette into the ashtray. “I’m serious, Pete’s not that bad, and maybe if you’d actually give him a chance or opened up to him a bit more Sugar wouldn’t hate you as much—”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault that Sugar hates me? When have I ever given a shit about what she thinks?” Richie gripes, and Carmy rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t actually, you know. You just have a tendency of being a complete and utter piece of shit—”

“What, is she still fuckin’ mad at me for that one time—”

“You mean when you said women shouldn’t run for office,” Carmy interrupts him flatly.

“That was a fucking joke! And it was, like, twelve years ago! I love women in office! I fuckin’ voted for Hillary in 2016—” he ignores when Carmy snorts in his face, incredulous, “—and maybe if she actually had a sense of humor sometimes she wouldn’t have ended up marrying that goddamn fucking narc. Has the personality of fuckin’ wet tissue paper. You know how many times he’s tried inviting me over for a fuckin’ family barbecue or some shit like that? Like I’m the one who actually needs an invitation. Probably just trying to trick me into making friendship bracelets with him while watching Paw Patrol or some other fuckin’ propaganda—”

Richie’s rant continues, and it’s so ridiculous that Carmy can’t help the genuine laughter that bubbles out of him at the mental image of it, ducking his face into his arms to hide his smile; except Richie’s caught on and started laughing, too, chest rumbling beneath Carmy’s weight, and it honestly surprises him, how at ease he feels. Naked under the covers, lying on top of Richie of all people, and he’s actually laughing.

Carmy doesn’t really use the word happy to describe how he feels because he thinks it’s too loaded, too precarious, too complex. He doesn’t want to say he’s happy because the notion is difficult for him to pinpoint, and even when he does it usually doesn’t last too long anyways—but he feels… light. All of his usual heaviness absent for once. He feels good.

When he brings his face back up he finds Richie already looking at him, focused on his face, the trace of a smile still present in the curve of his lips, and Carmy can’t tell what the emotion in his eyes is but it looks a little bit like—marvel. It’s the same way Marcus looks at the pages he’d printed out of Carmy’s cookbook, carefully and lovingly taped onto the wall of his station, the fascination of discovering something new, of resonating with it; and Carmy doesn’t know what to do with that.

But then Richie’s eyes fall a bit, fixing themselves on a specific part of his face—Richie’s hand comes up to cup it, nothing unusual by now, but Carmy’s overcome by the warmth he still feels in his chest at the touch, this simple intimacy. Richie’s palm is familiar and calloused around his cheek, and it makes Carmy want to lean into it.

“What’s this from?” Richie murmurs questioningly, running the pad of his thumb gently down the skin of his cheek, just below his right eye, and it takes a moment for Carmy to realize he’s talking about his scar. “Fall into a barbecue again?”

Carmy huffs, half amused. “No. No, uh… it’s stupid. Happened while I was drunk, years ago. Back in New York, when I first left.”

Richie raises his eyebrows at that. “What, you actually got into a fuckin’ fight? I mean, sounds dope, but having a sick ass battle scar on your face isn’t really in character for you, no offense.”

Carmy rolls his eyes. “No, it wasn’t a fight—I… was drinking, and it was kind of just something I did, in the very beginning, I guess. In my downtime, by myself in my apartment because it wasn’t like I had any friends or anything better to do, and it was just supposed to be a way to keep myself occupied. Get me to fall asleep faster, if anything, so I wouldn’t fucking lie awake in bed all night thinking about shit. Except that time it backfired on me, because I got—” Carmy breathes out through his nose, an almost amused, self-deprecating laugh, “So drunk, and all I could think about was—Mikey.

“And I was just so fucking upset. I felt hurt, you know. Had been hurt for the whole past year, and I’d deleted Mikey’s number off my phone months ago so I wouldn’t do anything monumentally fucking stupid like call him while I was drunk or something. And I think I was just… fed up, at that point. I was so fuckin’ angry, at Mikey, at myself, at everyone that I just… kind of had this meltdown. Nearly trashed my whole fuckin’ apartment. Was breaking shit, throwing shit around, and when it was over I found myself in my bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror for the longest time. And I hated what I saw, because it didn’t feel like me. I never felt like myself back then. Didn’t know who I was supposed to be without Mikey and Sugar and everybody else around, and I hated that about me.

“And eventually all I could think about was—” Carmy cuts himself off, thinking about the words. How to say them. “How much I needed… a change. How much I wanted to. But I think I took that a little too literally, or maybe I just wasn’t fucking thinking at all, because I just… slammed my face into the mirror, as hard as I could. Like I was in a fuckin’ movie or something, you know. And there was all this fuckin’ glass, blood everywhere, my face totally fucked, all that shit. It was a mess. I could barely fucking see.”

Richie watches him recount the story with quiet intensity, and even though Carmy doesn’t look back at him he can feel Richie’s eyes on his face, gaze intent. But it doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable, or awkward, or exposed, the way having someone’s undivided attention usually makes him feel. In the moment, he simply just feels listened to. Richie’s watching him, but Carmy doesn’t feel watched; just seen.

“So what happened after? Just bled out all over your fuckin’ floor?”

Carmy huffs. “No, I, uh… had to take myself to the hospital. It was, like, three in the morning. Got four stitches out of it, and still showed up to work the next day.”

He’s expecting Richie to make fun of him, honestly. And why wouldn’t he? He thinks it might just be because of the good mood he’s in, but Carmy’s surprised to find that he doesn’t feel any residual bitterness recalling the memory. Thinks if he were anybody else he’d laugh at himself, too.

Richie doesn’t make fun of him, though. “That might actually be the most hardcore shit you’ve ever told me.” Richie sniffs. “Almost as hardcore as walking off a stab wound, anyways. You’re getting there.”

Carmy actually laughs, the memory of it amusing now that it’s all behind him. It seems fucking ridiculous, looking back on it now. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like a lifetime ago; when he tries to think about it now, he feels like a spectator of his own life, watching the events unfold from someone else's perspective, or like standing from the outside and looking in. He gets that feeling a lot, Carmy thinks.

“You know, I never actually asked you about that. Were you good? Like, was the wound deep, or…”

“Gee, thanks for the concern. Not like it happened, like, six fuckin’ months ago. Glad to know I mean so much to you.”

“Shut up and just tell me. And you probably really did fucking deserve it.”

Richie scoffs. “Couldn’t fucking tell you. Hurt like a goddamn bitch when it happened, though. Got Ebra to patch me up. Couldn’t sit right for a couple weeks, but it was whatever.” He sniffs. “At least it was somewhere people don’t see it. Not sure if that’ll make for a cool scar story in the future.”

“What, like mine was?”

“Nah, yours is just depressing. Do me a favor—next time somebody asks, just tell them you got it in a bar fight like a normal person.” Richie says, and then after a pause, “That why you don’t drink?”

It’s this question that finally makes Carmy feel embarrassed for some reason, glancing up at the ceiling. “Something like that.”

“Damn. And I thought Mikey was the one who was fucked up.”

Carmy laughs a little again, in spite of everything, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well. Guess it runs through the fuckin’ family.”

“They call you guys the Bears for a reason,” Richie says simply. But he still has his hand on Carmy’s face, running his thumb over his scar absentmindedly, like trying to soothe away pain that hasn’t been there for years. It’s a subtle sort of intimacy, quiet and tender. It’s Richie’s touch and not the recollection that makes Carmy’s chest prickle, and he wonders briefly if this is something he ever did with Mikey: lying in the dark, listening to each others’ stories, touching without thinking about it.

He wonders if this is how Richie treats those he cares the most about, or maybe if he’s just gotten close enough to be able to experience this side of him. If this is what it’s like to be Richie’s best friend, to trust someone wholeheartedly, sharing moments that are quiet and intimate and vulnerable.

“Alright,” Richie continues, making Carmy glance up. “Your turn.”

Carmy looks at him quizzically. “My turn for what?”

“Ask me something. Nothing off limits, everything on the table. You shared something about yourself so it’s only natural for me to do the same.”

Carmy frowns a little at this, if only because the notion is strange to him. It’s not like he’s never been open and honest with Richie before—in fact, those moments have been occurring more often than he’d honestly like to admit—but it feels different, this way. To be given the opportunity, no holds barred, because usually Carmy refrains from ever prying too deep; not just with Richie, but with everybody.

He rolls off Richie’s chest back onto the bed, lying on his side with his head propped in his hand as he considers. Richie is surprisingly patient for once, offering him the silence to think, and the whole thing honestly just makes Carmy flustered.

“Is there…” Carmy starts uncertainly, hesitating, but continues when Richie turns to him, expectant. “Is there a reason why you keep your ring?”

Richie stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending, before glancing down at the golden wedding band on his finger, like he’d forgotten that it was there, like he didn’t even know he was wearing it. Then his expression twists, incredulous, like he can’t believe that out of all the things Carmy could’ve possibly asked him about it’s his goddamn wedding ring.

“Why, does it make you jealous or something?” Richie teases him. “Does it make you feel like you’re my mistress?”

Carmy’s face turns hot, but he tells himself it’s out of annoyance rather than embarrassment. “You know what? Forget I asked.”

Richie chuckles, running his knuckles over Carmy’s side placatingly. “Nah, nah, I’m kidding. Uh… if I’m being honest, it’s, like, a distraction. Something for me to worry with. I stopped wearing it after me and Tiff split, but I started wearing it again after Mikey. I dunno. I guess after he died it felt like… nothing was right. Just everything gone to complete shit, and the ring just felt familiar. Like, having it there reminded me of this time in my life where I kind of, sort of had things together, and I guess I just wanted to feel that way again somehow, even if in reality it’s the complete fuckin’ opposite.”

Carmy nods slowly. In a sense, he thinks he gets it. Clinging onto that sense of familiarity; needing the illusion of stability in his life. He understands him.

[dilfsuzanneyk]

these two worked way too well together

[isatoru]

ace and shanks tied for best pussy eaters in one piece in my head always. squirt in mouth keeps them alive. canon life purpose etc

[starthecozy]

I have a Pillowfort account for the longest time but just recently I came back to it, hit me up if you're there or want an invite! I'm also on Mastodon, which I found a pretty nice place to be c:

[stinkrascal]

also i genuinely think i was just playing da2 wrong the first time bc im having SO much fun in this playthrough... thats the difference between siding with the mages and the templars i suppose

[valkblue]

— 10 Characters

I was tagged by @commander-krios to play this game. Thank you for the tag, and sorry it took me two months to answer! 🤣

Rules: pick up to 10 characters and share one of your favorite lines of dialogue you have ever written for them!

Tagging: @isilrina @queen-scribbles @pheedraws @amistrio @mrdekarios @nostrategy-justdo @something-tofightfor @the-blind-assassin-12 @starknstarwars @joels6string @storyknitter ... and who wants to play along! 💕

I wouldn't say these are my ultimate favourite lines of dialogue but some that come to mind when trying to answer the question… but I still had to choose just one quote/snippet among them 😭

1. Lawrence Gonzalez, from Journey Into Night [ Westworld ]

"Hey!" He shouted at Lawrence, engaging in awkward conversation. "Where-uh... are you heading? We... we've got a few questions for you, you mind answering 'em?"

The whole thing would have looked a lot more compelling if he'd lowered his gun, and the ever-present threat of the canon urged Lawrence to keep silent and his own Colt trained on him.

"Is there somebody else with you, here ?"

"Listen, my friend," Lawrence drawled. "I'm all about meetin' new folks around, chattin' at gunpoint an' all but, ain't a good time right now..."

He took a few careful steps back towards his horse, still not lowering his Colt.

… Just one for Lawrence!?! Rude!!

2. Armistice, from Journey Into Night [ Westworld ]

Armistice turned away from her and wandered into the room's central space, looking around as if searching for the speakers set high into the concrete walls. Vivian watched her shoulders relax, her step lighten, and what she had at first thought to be the haze of surprise were nothing more than shuffling dance steps. The music matched the shift in Armistice's behaviour.

"It's... it's as if I can see the notes floating in the air!" She reached out in front of her with shy, trembling fingers. "All around..."

Even her speech was lighter, softer. Vivian was far from imagining she'd trigger such a strong response from her, but she took a slow breath, touched as much as relieved.

3. Maeve Millay, from Journey Into Night [ Westworld ]

Maeve's facial expression twitched slightly in frustration.

"I don't recall having seen you here. Not these days, not ever for that matter."

"You weren't part of my batch," Vivian answered flatly. "And yes, I was in the park."

"Enjoying some killing and fucking, I presume? One has to blow some steam, isn't it. Until everything blows in your face."

Vivian hardly unclenched her teeth to word out:

"You presume wrong, then."

Maeve scoffed, openly disdainful.

"Maeve..." Bernard stepped in, quieting what he might have guessed to be a brewing conflict. "Vivian was in the park because Ford intended for her to die at the gala with everyone else..."

"Is that supposed to make me feel sympathetic?"

4. Peter "The Professor" Abernathy, from Journey Into Night [ Westworld ]

"Free!" shouted the one standing in front of the map — Peter — as Lawrence, Bernard and Armistice approached. "Free, she is!" He glared at Armistice. "We have scortch'd the snake, not kill'd it! She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice remains in danger of her former tooth."

Lawrence was puzzled; Ivy had told him a little about the man and his state, but it was still worrying. Armistice, as for her, made no reply to this tirade.

"Pray she keeps quiet…"

"Any news from Shard?"

Bernard's question eased him back to a more neutral look.

"No, not yet."

5. The Man In Black "Delos" (VS Vivian), from Journey Into Night [ Westworld ]

She let out another sigh, calmer, but it got cut short by a gasp of surprise when a clatter of items dropped on the table in front of her and made her bring her arms back to her chest in a defensive gesture. Delos was standing right there and had just covered the table — and the maze — with a bunch of medical supplies. Medical supplies she recognized very well.

"You went through my saddlebags?!"

"Yeah," Delos retorted with an uncomfortable groan as he sat down. "Sue me…"

6. Hector Escaton, from Journey Into Night [ Westworld ]

Hector stepped into the changing room, two of the samurais holding the doors open for him. His eyebrows raised at Vivian's gun barrel pointed at him.

"You don’t know how this place works yet, do you, my friend?"

And, ignoring Vivian and the threat of her revolver, he faced Lawrence.

"Those are empty" he stated, as cynical as he was playful.

Vivian cocked the hammer. "Mine isn’t…"

"And what will you do, shoot me? And after that?"

The remark ruffled her feathers a little; not because of the teasing tone, but rather because she had indeed no idea what she was going to do. She'd only been caught off guard while she was finally easing up a bit and, these days, Vivian didn't like surprises.

"Hector, please…"

"Don’t waste your breathe on me, I’m only a messenger! So, if you aren’t planning on emptying your barrel on me just yet, I’ve been sent to ask you to follow me. Without a fight, if you can do that."

7. young Din Djarin, from Part 2, The Foundlings [ The Mandalorian ]

The young boy was sleeping, or seemed to be, when Din got close enough to see him clearly, his eyes well adjusted to the darkness of the room. He sat on the cold floor, shivering to feel the heat of his bed escape him but he tried to ignore it when Grinn whimpered again.

Din pulled the thick blankets on the boy’s back and gently squeezed his shoulder. Grinn didn’t wake up at his touch, nor moved, stifling another sob. Din struggled against the pain that was tightening his throat, swallowing hard.

“Sshh…”

The sound coming from his own mouth felt strange, unknown, new.

“It-it’s alright,” he heard himself breathe quietly. “You’re safe now.”

... or maybe this one from chapter 7 - The Corellian Run:

“And what’s a guilded bounty hunter’s business on Corellia?"

None of yours, Din would have loved to retort. But he kept his mouth shut. So much in fact, that he didn’t even answer, and an awkward silence lingered long enough for the agent to raise her eyes and stare at them.

... but he doesn't exactly speak, you see? 🤣 So, does it still count?!

8. Greef Karga, from chapter 2 - The Remnant, Lost and Found [ The Mandalorian ]

“One more thing before I let you go…"

Din readied himself to receive another load of unpleasant news. But Karga only took something from one of the desk cabinets, something he gave him over the tabletop and that Din recognized with a touch of relief — his missing thigh plate.

"This is yours, I believe?"

He first stared at Karga before reaching for his piece of armor.

"You know, we have laws against littering in this city, now."

He scoffed before adding:

"But I’ll let it pass this time.”

9. Peli Motto, from chapter 7 - The Corellian Run, Lost and Found [ The Mandalorian ]

“Your crew won’t be a problem, right?" she insisted, both fists on her hips and making her thick curls jump on her shoulders with a nod. "You see, they have a kid… And a lil’ one like that don’t need all that spacer ronto scrag, okay?" Without taking her fists off her sides, she shot a quick glance over her shoulder at Elara to whom she said: "No offense, of course."

"None taken." Elara pursed her lips to hold back a smile; to be honest, she was more or less sharing Peli’s opinion on the matter.

10. Tip-yip The Child 🤫, from chapter 5 - The Scholar, Lost and Found [ The Mandalorian ]

The glow grew darker and the voice made his mind rumble like the storm in the orange skies over the tall trees of that world where he had been, like the mechanical heart of the ships cutting through the black void and shimmering stars…

He doesn't speak, but he perceives...

[kusochek-cat]

Wound. Something based on the plot of a comic that now exists only in my head, haha. I'm obsessed with comic ideas lately. Even that's why I drew it in 4 colors

Btw, I have headcanon that Johnny has constant anemia and during the race he endured the symptoms and didn't show anything

[anime-scarves]

You ever just go to trim your beard at 2:30am (as you do) and forget that the #1 guard is still on and then you have a buzzed stripe up to your chin? So off the whole thing goes and man it feels weird to not have a beard. Besides jump scaring myself in the mirror I can feel heat radiating off of my face which is just the weirdest feeling that I'm sure I wont notice in a couple days.

[konohamaru-sensei]

back to project "oc lineup 2024".. sigh