#Why yes

[woah-there]

Guys. GUYS. You know those posts where everyone assumes Jason's white streak is because of the pit an then he goes "guys wtf I have vitiligo"

There's a VERY good chance that's exactly what it is. Well not exactly. It's probably not vitiligo (the pattern of loss of melanin is usually different in that but can be similar to this). BUT. I was reading my dermat textbook and there's a condition called Piebaldism which causes a characteristic white streak in your hair v similar to the one Jason has.

These are a couple of pictures I found online.

It usually presents at birth because of a specific gene mutation. But I'm guessing the Lazarus pit which literally heals all wounds probably HAS to be working at a molecular/genetic level. So a dip in the green pond could possibly trigger that specific mutation in an already susceptible individual.

[nowwheresmynut]

leave sealworth alone

[striving-artist]

The best piece of advice I ever got was not meant as advice, but as an edict. If I was going to threaten people as a joke, it had to be so far out of proportion with what happened that it would be obvious I was joking. This changed how I expressed frustration with others. It then changed how I expressed frustration with myself.

Not “I’m going to hit you” but “I am going to buy a tuna sub from the gas station and hide it under the seat of your car”

Not “I’m going to kill myself” but “I am going to walk into the desert and let the scarabs take me”

The other side then happened. When I mess something up, instead of saying it’s bad and perpetuating negative thoughts, swing hard the other way.

Not “this art is terrible” but “this shall be framed and mounted on the wall in my museum exhibition as testament to the suffering I had to overcome”

Have been doing this since high school. It was my drama teacher who asked me to please stop scaring the actors. The other half of the edict was that I had to say it in a polite tone, and end it with either please or thank you.

Life changing. 10/10 Mr Muëller. Highly reccomend.

[anotherwellkeptsecret]

“Can you, uh, do it again?” he asked, voice barely more than a whisper. “Please,” he added, the word coming out more breathily than anticipated.

Crowley shook his head, his whole corporation positively tingling. “I dare you.”

Aziraphale brought his lips closer to Crowley’s and paused, savouring the delicious anticipation. With one final look into Crowley’s eyes the two of them closed the gap together and melted into each other. Crowley still held the angel softly in his hands as their lips brushed together, gently at first, exploring the beauty in their touch.

A lovely commission illustrating the third chapter of the fic I Dare You.

[quick-catton]

hey so tonight i am thinking about how felix had every right to put his hands on oliver's chest and shove him away and yell at him and call off the party and kick him out right in that moment when they got back from his parent's house–

but instead he gently pushes his hands away, almost seems to subconsciously reach for them afterwards, can never actually be mad because he still cares about him and wants to believe things can be okay despite everything.

[halcyonnnn]

Mr. A. Fell, Purveyor Of Books And Antiques To The Gentry.

I am!!! In love with this oopsie!Omens AU by @asleepyy! So I made some fanart :)

Just like how Aziraphale's bowtie has a red stripe which is something more *'demonic,'* I imagine that Azazel would have a gold stripe, which is more 'angelic.'

[joelsgreys]

happy birthday to the moon of our lives, pedro pascal

[alchemistmelody]

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Welcome to my TED talk, entitled: Time Lord Renegeration is a literal Ship of Theseus situation. I will be talking for three hours before our first intermission-

[morgaussy]

i still can’t get over the lack of Merlin mourning Lancelot’s death(s) that we got to see. i want TEARS i want an uncontrollable MAGICAL OUTBURST i want CHOKING SOBS i want him to RESENT Arthur for it i want him to sit silently with GWEN i want GWAINE to comfort him. i wanted it ALL and you know what Lancelot DESERVED it all.

[lilacthebooklover]

An Analysis of the Choreography and Physical Acting in the "Nerdy Prudes Must Die" Song

the choreography in this song is exquisite (lauren lopez, you never cease to amaze), and the use of physical skills in jon and will's acting is absolutely phenomenal. here, i'm going to explain why.

first of all, the facial expressions. will pulls off max's rage and loathing flawlessly, down to way his face scrunches up and his lip curls at the start of the song as he walks through the audience. the movements are jerky, his head tilts and the broad gestures of his hands showing both how confident and furious he is. richie seems terrified, the way he crosses his arms over his chest and backs away at the start of the song showing just how scared he is- the actions look almost involuntary. he's shaking, and looks like he's on the verge of tears.

max is confident as ever, believing himself to be invincible. he bares his teeth like a predator on the hunt, and richie runs like his prey. this is a game to max, that much is obvious. he has full control here- richie tries to run behind him, but max holds out a hand to his chest and turns his head, and richie cannot move. his chest heaves and he hunches in on himself, petrified, after max moves away again. even the little things, like max shaking his hand as though disgusted after touching richie as he walks away, have such a cool effect on the performance.

as max talks about the smoke club, he adds their special hand gesture- he knows who they are, and could quite possibly have been a part of them at some point. then, he forcefully throws his arms to the side, glaring out at richie.

after that is one of my favourite bits of choreography in the scene: the levitation segment.

max steps forward and lifts his arm as though holding something up, and richie rises too, head tilted away, back arched away, neck exposed. then, max throws his arm down, therefore throwing richie down, and jon pulls off the fall perfectly. the syncronisation is on point, and that tumble looks painful.

the power max holds over richhie is clear even from afar. this works not only in conveying his control and the fruitlessness of richie's attempted escape in this scene, but also works as a metaphor for the control he's had over the cast throughout their school years. pete's afraid to talk to steph because max forbids it, richie's afraid to make friends because max has branded him as a loser. there are so many layers to the effect his bullying's had on pete, richie and ruth, and him quite literally controlling richie without even touching him works excellently to demonstrate this.

richie runs off, scrambling to his feet and towards the audience, where max came from. max doesn't pay attention to him, caught up in imagining the aftermath of the victory he knows is coming. he looks out to the audience at "the jock you demonised", then turns to richie, addressing him again. richie looks over and sees that max is watching him, freezing for a moment before running again, quicker than before. but max just raises his arms, and richie startles at the exit to the theatre; it seems like max has been able to lock them in using his lovely new ghost powers.

at "buried and left me", max moves closer to the floor, almost reenacting what happened. with each new accusation, he moves closer to richie, then points at "you pushed me off the edge": he's blaming richie for what's happening.

max's tongue sticks out in apparent disgust at the next segment, even the flouncy hand movements he uses mocking how "well-behaved" the world is. the next gesture he does is condescending too, like he's explaining to richie that he's "too weak to be enslaved".

most of the next chorus just seems like dancing, but that in itself holds a message. max is having fun with this. again, it's all a game; he's toying with richie, with everyone, high on power. he speaks to someone who isn't there, vividly envisioning his dreams.

at "expose the bloody lines", his hands move out slowly, being exposed to the audience. then, max looks at them, literally saying that the blood will be on his hands. he plans to kill every "nerd" at hatchetfield high, imagining doing so with vigour.

i believe that the line "watch me spawn/ and prey upon/ you anti-socialites" could have a dual meaning. the first being that he is, again, a predator, and the nerds are his prey. the second, however, could be "pray upon", tying into his god complex- he's still addressing the nerds, telling them to watch & pray upon him. here, he does a classic, monster-style pose; the very opposite of a god, but an excellent callback to 'literal monster' earlier on.

he doesn't even look at richie as he runs past, max just raising his arm and easily throwing richie to the floor. the use of levels here is phenomenal; it's a perfect way of showing that max is the one with all the power here, richie completely at his mercy, and max has none.

as max walks away, richie can be seen trying to crawl away in the background, only to freeze when max turns around again and focuses on him, knowing there's no way of escaping. he's curled in on himself and trembling, but he stays where he is, still looking like he's about to start sobbing.

max's face softens, looking almost sympathetic at the line "who will pray for me". it's a sharp contrast to the order from seconds before, and richie hastens to follow it, slightly delayed as he sits up and discreetly tries to continue crawling back. max's face hardens again at "when i'm gone", and while richie continues moving back, he's focused now, arm shaking as much as his voice.

at "or until another richie comes along", max leans over him, back to being as intimidating as possible. richie sits up further in alarm, looking like he's about to run for it and stretching a hand out as he asks max to repeat himself.

where richie is weak, barely able to move, max is still full of energy, his movements much more fluid now that he's used to this form. up until them, they've been jerky and sharp- a nice nod to the dismemberment of his limbs in the waylon house- but now, they're even stronger than before. he's putting his all into this, because if he's going out, he's going out with a bang.

he's not talking to richie anymore when the chorus repeats. "is this the eternal dark without a dawn?" shows that clearly enough. he's wondering who will pray for him when he's gone, and the answer is no-one. he's seen how things have changed, and in the grand scheme of things, it's clear max meant nothing, not even to the place he had such an influence on. and that affects him more than anything- he sees himself as a god, and does not appreciate people preferring richie lipschitz of all people to him.

he turns back to richie, pointing at him again as the chorus repeats, his movements once again giving the impression that he's envisioning what's about to happen. the other cast members march in like soldiers, oblivious to what's happening to richie as they focus on their own lives and social statuses, characters like grace and pete obvious amongst them- neither of whom had too large of a reaction to richie's death, too busy running from max and the police. meanwhile, richie himself is forcing himself to do what max says, face scrunched up like he's bracing for an attack.

at "i'm not a loser", he leans forward, eyes tightly shut as he tries to hold onto the reality he's formed for himself since max's death. he's losing everything fast, but by defying max's order of repeating after him, he holds onto a shred of that newfound confidence and social standing.

at the same time, max's stance is broad, his fists coming down as he blames richie for both of their deaths, trying to make richie believe that too. it takes him a moment to realise richie isn't copying him anymore, but when he does, he turns to him furiously with a yell, glaring spitefully. the lighting change here is also very effective (creating a more solemn atmosphere and plunging the stage into much colder, foreboding colours than the anger and tension of what had come just before), but i won't go too deeply into that since this is an analysis of movement.

as richie begs for max to not kill him, he shakes his head quickly, panting as he stays below him, unable to defend himself. at his second "i'm not a loser", his mouth twitches into something akin to a smile, because richie isn't a loser, not anymore. he's found his place, he's well-liked, he's worthy of being friends with, and he won't let max convince him otherwise anymore. so instead, he tries to convince max that he's right. and max does not appreciate it in the slightest.

he shifts back into his jock persona, straightening up and using the same condescending voice and jerks of his chin as he did before his death. he wants to intimidate richie, and by using that familiar attitude and approaching him slowly, max wipes the half-smile off of richie's face. richie jerks, falling a little as he tries to get to his feet. it's an excellent echo to the earlier hallway scene between him and max; he's reverting back to that state of powerlessness and terror again, but now, it's further exemplified by the threat on his life.

max comes to a stop in front of richie, placing the audience's focus on himself as richie looks up at him desperately. he's in power, he's above richie, and he demands attention as he looks down on him.

pete, steph, ruth and grace stand behind him in the shadows, steadfast and stoic as they look straight ahead, not at richie or max. they don't seem to care about his death, and have hidden max's, and they're not there to help him get away, no matter how much he wishes they could.

max makes himself seem larger, looking at his hands and holding them out like claws, seeming like the true image of a monster. he stands directly over richie as the lights dim, richie pleading and curling in on himself more with every second that passes. just before the blackout, max dives down and grabs richie by the throat, a sweeping motion that seems almost inhuman.

to conclude, this song is a masterpiece, and lauren lopez is a genius at choreography. i might edit this later, it's around 1am and i am very tired, but i'd love to hear your thoughts in the replies/reblogs! i'll probably also do an analysis on this song based more on the vocal acting and lyrics themselves because i've been listening to it non-stop this past week- maybe i'll add some elements of lighting in too; it's very effective in this scene, especially at the "who will pray for me" part. thanks for reading!

[d0d0-b0i]

incredibly self-indulgent mini-comic

[oddarette]

A bougay and a booquet :)

[torra-and-the-toons]

A brief look of the inside of my brain currently:

[clonehub]

blame game trains in star wars are always so funny because if there are two parties directly involved in any incident, you can blame the one whos immediate fault it is, the one(s) who had jack shit to do with the issue, you can go above everyone's heads and blame palpatine, but if you really want to get to the bottom of things you blame george lucas

[teecupangel]

This is based on @zero-saito’s reply for this post

@teecupangel what if the day Desmond was born was a date that the sky turned green like that?

The sky turned green the day her son was born.

It lasted until he stopped crying.

Or so they say…

She had been too tired to care about such things, holding her son as he cried his heart out.

Her heart ached when he cried for so long.

As if lamenting his birth…

They said it was an auspicious sign.

She saw it as an omen of what was to come.

She had him because it was part of the contract she had with William Miles.

William Miles believed she would fall in love with him.

She doubted it the moment he agreed to her father’s proposal to ‘sell’ her off.

A child born of the Ibn-La'Ahad and the Auditore bloodline…

That was what her son was to her father.

To her husband?

He was just as fucked up as her. Unlike him, she never pretended to be normal.

He probably loved her son in his own way but he also saw him as the successor to such mighty bloodlines.

And this green sky that greeted her son’s birth.

It was only auspicious to them.

To her…

To her son…

It was a curse.

He hated the color green. He preferred the whites and reds that his mother usually wore.

He liked dark skies, of rain and storm…

He hated the word ‘auspicious’.

He hated his birth date.

But most of all…

He hated the Farm where the green sky appeared.

So he ran away.

And she stayed behind.

Screamed his name while standing at the opposite side of where she saw him run.

Swore she saw him run deep into the green forest, not towards the cliff that led to the blue waters that will carry him farther away from them faster than his legs could.

He ran away.

And she stayed.

Because she was not the mother he should have had.

But she was the distraction he needed that day.

.

When the entire sky was covered in the curtains of colors everyone found beautiful that early morning when the Solar Flare was supposed to hit the earth…

She saw the green curtains.

And did not think of it as auspicious at all.

She felt her phone vibrate but she didn’t need anyone to call her to know.

The world was saved.

But her son was cursed by this green sky once more.

She wondered if he knew why she wasn’t with him during his last moments.

Did he hate her?

That was fine.

She deserved it.

She was not a good mother.

But…

She was raised to be the perfect distraction by her own father.

So she took out her phone.

It was a message from William Miles.

[He’s dead.]

What an auspicious day for them all then.

They sacrificed her son for the world.

And she…

She never said goodbye.

No.

She doesn’t deserve a goodbye.

She closed the notification and pressed the volume up button on the side of her phone.

And watched as Abstergo’s Philadelphia branch explode.

It was unnecessary.

She had done her part pretending to be her son by appearing in CCTV the day prior but this…

This is her being petty.

What a bad mother she was.

William Miles was probably crying when he sent that message to her.

He probably managed to say something to her son before his death that would help him grieve.

But she had nothing.

She deserved nothing.

No tears fell from her eyes.

But her mouth moved.

And laughter burst forth.

Madness?

Hysteria?

She didn’t know anymore.

He hated the color green.

But he liked white.

Like the flash that appeared before an explosion.

He liked red.

Like the blood of the Templars that was caught up by the blast.

He liked dark skies.

Like the smoke that kissed the sky of the fire that was created afterwards.

She was a bad mother to her son.

But she was a good Assassin.

And perhaps…

That was all she needed to be to honor his memories.