#but anyhow to the point of my post

[rohirric-hunter]

"Oh I'm cancelling my subscription right now because of one day of downtime and I'm gonna post about it multiple times so everyone knows!" You should not, and I cannot emphasize this enough, have access to a credit card

[anemonet]

this bad boy can fit so much sick symbolisms

[ryllen]

live up ur sillies

[takemebacktowheniwassane]

"god I hate people who draw falsettos marvin this way" "fuck people who draw whizzer like that'"

*edited*

...guys, do you know what an art style is???? cuz', this seems pointed. I see what you mean. I completely agree.

But hear me out. Along with these posts, could we consider? Maybe? Some constructive criticism? People should draw them more accurate.

They SHOULD.

But how should they do it? Realism art? It's a foreign concept to me. I try and it absolutely fucking sucks and i'd love to be a part of this fandom showing that the characters are real people but

It's kind of

Just

Very "do this. No other explanation. Change it."

Look, I really want to. And I am trying. But could we like, make a space for teaching people? Cuz I am stumped dude like fr. Need some guidance.

sincerely, a tired lesbian who is infinitely more tired of seeing this everywhere. thanks

[littlestartemis]

And lastly, the next person I see compare TOH's finale to SU's is getting something stolen from their house.

[bullshit-beach]

WHEN YOU GO…

WOULD YOU EVEN TURN TO SAY

"I DON’T LOVE YOU

LIKE I LOVED YOU

YESTERDAY"…?

[analog-television]

how do you deal when after years and years of coasting through life, passionless, hopeless - until you suddenly stumble across *something* which reverses that feeling. giving you a glimpse into a life that you could have, that you desperately WANT to have? how do you deal with the uncertainty of even being allowed to pursue it - how there are factors beyond your ability to fix with jeopardize you having access to the very thing which momentarily brought you joy (real, genuine, joy).

i can't help but feel like that one picture with the yellow dogs prancing in a circle as a lone individual watches, dreaming of a life they knew they should have. slowly stepping forward, introducing yourself - only to be caged up yet again on account of past mistakes and failures that cannot be so easily rectified. on account of pursuing certain things, purely because you didn't know what else you even CAN do. trying to fit into a world that was never yours to begin with, and now being expected to go in that direction regardless. no matter how much it hurts you.

i just wish i discovered my true passions earlier. i just wish i had the chance to run after it while i still could. i just wish i wasn't so oblivious, but i must've been looking the wrong direction - not even thinking of checking out the fence at all.

perhaps there's no chance of a happy ending after all, but it was nice to meet the dogs on the other side of the fence - even if for a little bit. i will always treasure the time i had.

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

right so also in lieu of...recent events...I've decided that I should probably actually explain solar's role in my witch au as well real quick:

Solar is a blacksmith's apprentice in the nearest town from Moon and Sun's place-which is still really far but closer than other places. Technically he's more than qualified to be the actual blacksmith, but the manager of the place absolutely despises him and refuses to promote him, so he's just kinda managing the whole business in the background with no pay and compensation in a charging unit and a straw mat.

He was an original Eclipse model that KC made-the model was discarded because they found that it unfortunately had a flaw that meant it couldn't contain the sta-the pendant's power. The body was thrown to the dump with the ai chip intact, and the blacksmith found it and brought it in for assistance at the shop. Solar is severely underappreciated and mistreated-he'd leave, but the charging unit he uses is the only one fit for his model, and the blacksmith refuses to make another one. He tried taking from the shop's materials in stock to make it himself but...that didn't go so well.

Moon meets him when trying to gain assistance in finding the pendant and found the manager to be quite the nuisance, and called upon Solar instead. After gaining stock of the situation, he offers to make an alternate cable in exchange for Solar's help, which Solar agrees to.

[malewifesband]

not that i havent made this exact post enough times but man does it drive me up the wall when ppl say laios doesnt care abt kabru bc he does!!! he just has autism so he shows it differently!!! he has a learning disability!!!!

[desertfangs]

Daniel/Lestat '"I'm not going to do it again, this isn't a peep show."

This one is long and a little melancholy. I think I'm in a mood, ha! But I hope you enjoy it even though it didn't get smutty (I was trying to go there but I keep getting derailed.)

“I’m not going to do it again, this isn’t a peep show,” Daniel said, tugging his sweatshirt down over the waistband of his jeans. 

“No?” Lestat leaned against the shelf below. Daniel glared from the ladder. He was trying to find the box they’d come for here in the archives of the Night Island cellar, and Lestat kept making lewd comments when his sweatshirt rode up and revealed his midsection. 

“We didn’t come all the way to Florida so you could stare at my stomach.” 

“Perhaps not, but there’s no sense in not enjoying the view.” Lestat smirked.

Daniel rolled his eyes, ignoring the flush that ran up his neck. “Do you want to see it or not?” 

“And if I say no? That I’ve changed my mind? Then what?”

“Then you can get off of my island,” Daniel said, moving the ladder to the next shelf over. 

Lestat dramatically clutched his heart, as if shocked by his harshness, and Daniel smiled.

He climbed up the ladder and found most of these boxes were labeled 83 and 84. That was the right time period, at least. He pulled one down and opened it. It was full of papers. Bills, mostly, long paid, with no reason to keep them. He dug through it vaguely out of curiosity but there wasn’t anything worth holding onto that he could see. He took the sharpie out of his pocket and wrote “Old Mail” on the side of the box. 

Armand was a pack-rat of the highest order, and he’d been worse in the early 80s, keeping everything no matter how unnecessary. One of these days, Daniel was going to drag Armand down here and get him to go through this place and throw out the junk.

“You’d be better off doing it alone,” Lestat said. He was studying his fingernails, his rings glinting on his pale fingers. “He won’t miss what you toss.”   

“That’s probably true.” Still, Daniel worried about throwing the wrong thing out and it coming back to bite him in a hundred years. Though what use Armand might possibly have for thirty-year-old utility bills was beyond him.

The next box was clothes. Old, ratty socks and underwear of Daniel’s, ones Armand had thrown out because they’d become too full of holes to be worth wearing. Or rather, Daniel had thought he’d thrown them out. Apparently he’d boxed them up and shoved them on a shelf down here in the storage rooms of the cellar. 

Daniel saw Lestat watching him in his periphery. He closed the box and slid it back into place. The next one was more junk: matchbooks pilfered from bars, random keys to god only knew what, spare buttons, a few coins, a pair of sunglasses with one of the lenses missing, and a pack of Big Red gum that would probably crumble to dust if opened. Junk drawer stuff, as if Armand had dumped the contents of the junk drawer of their last house into a box when they’ve moved into the Villa. Which, now that Daniel looked at it, he clearly had.

“You know, I find it’s easier to remove the garbage from Louis’ collections bit by bit,” Lestat mused.

Daniel glanced down at him. “How often does he notice something’s missing?” 

Lestat folded his arms over his chest. “More often than I’d like. He’s meticulous about his trash.” 

Daniel laughed. “Or maybe you guys have different definitions of what should be held onto.” Daniel looked into the box one more time, detritus from a lifetime ago, and closed it up. So it went, Daniel trying to notate the contents of each box to make a future clean out easier as he opened them and put them back. Lestat watched, not bothering to help—“You know your maker’s organizational system best”—and occasionally making a comment about Daniel’s ass as he climbed the ladder.

Finally, two shelves down, Daniel found the box. He was suddenly glad for Armand’s almost obsessive need to keep things. “Got it.” He climbed back down the ladder, box under his arm, and left the ladder where he’d set it up. “Come on.” 

Lestat followed him up out of the cellar and into the parlor. Daniel opened the French doors that lead to a veranda with a view of the ocean to let in some air and then took the box over to the coffee table.

Lestat bounded over with the enthusiasm of a puppy, eager and impatient. Daniel opened the box. He pulled out a stack of t-shirts and tossed one at Lestat’s head. Lestat laughed in surprise. It was tie-die, blue, purple and green. The stack had various experiments with colors, all mixed together in funky patterns. 

Lestat unfolded the shirt and held it up his chest, over the plain blue shirt he wore beneath his leather jacket. “What do you think?”

“It suits you,” Daniel said. He lifted stack of Polaroid photos from the box. Armand, his auburn hair short, wearing the very shirt Lestat was holding. He looked so blank as he stared at the camera. He did that sometimes when Daniel took photos of him, froze into this neutral statue of a thing. Lestat came and sat beside Daniel, the shirt in his lap. 

Danie flipped through the photos. Armand in a shirt that had not come out as well and was mostly blotches of color. Daniel in one of the shirts smiling awkwardly. Daniel with his back to the camera, standing on the veranda, a cigarette in his hand, wearing the orange-and-red tie-die shirt. 

Lestat took the one photo where Armand was laughing, Daniel having managed to catch him at the right moment, still in the blue-purple-green shirt, dye standing his pale white fingers as he held them up and laughed.

Daniel’s heart squeezed. Those were the photos Daniel loved, the ones where Armand was natural and himself, how he’d been so much of the time. 

“I suppose I owe you ten dollars,” Lestat said. 

They’d been watching some TV special about the 70s and the tie-dye trend, and Daniel had bet that there were photos of Armand in a tie-dye shirt. Lestat hadn’t believed it. 

“This was 83,” Daniel said. “Armand found the tie-dye kit somewhere, I don’t even remember. I only remember we spent like half the week making shirts.” 

He dug into the box, pulling out even more shirts, some better than others, all arrays of colors and designs. They’d had to knot up the t-shirts in different ways to get different patterns on them. It had been a meticulous process. 

At the bottom of the box was a VHS tape. Daniel frowned. On the side it was labeled “Tie-dye, 83.” Daniel vaguely remembered Armand filming with his camcorder but he did that all the time back then, filming random bits and pieces of their lives.

Lestat snatched the tape and examined it “Is this some display of your passions inflamed by tie-dye?” 

Daniel snorted. “Yeah, totally, a tie-dye sex tape.” Although Daniel couldn’t remember what was on it. Sometimes there were little snippets of intimacy in their home videos. Most of them were unedited, just snippets of things Armand decided to film. 

“Well if there’s video evidence of him wearing these hideous clothes, that’s worth quite a bit more than ten dollars.” Lestat grinned at him. 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “He’s going to murder me,” he muttered. “Come on, I think there’s still a VCR in the den.” 

The den was on the second floor, a smaller room as far as rooms in the Villa went, but sure enough, it still had a VCR and an old television. Everything in the room was covered in plastic and Daniel removed it before sliding the tape into the player. He and Lestat settled on the couch. Daniel hit play. 

On the tape, they were on the veranda downstairs, the doors open. They had big plastic tubs arranged outside for making the shirts in and Daniel was squirting dye into one of them. Daniel watched as on the video, he dropped a t-shirt into the tub and swirled it around in the dyed water. His hand came up stained orange and pink. The tape cut and it was Armand fishing wet, freshly dyed shirts from the tubs. Then another shot of Armand wearing the shirts, telling Daniel to hold the camera steady. Daniel laughing from behind the lens. 

Another cut. Daniel was frowning at the camera, smoking a cigarette. He wore the orange and yellow tie dye shirt, his blond hair messy, circles beneath his eyes visible even under his glasses. “Put on the the purple one,” Armand said from behind the camera. “It matches your eyes.” 

Danie glared at the camera. “Let me finish my cigarette.” 

“I’ll hold your cigarette,” Armand offered. The camera moved closer.

 “Jesus Christ, Armand, we’ve been doing this for three days, can you just give it a rest?” His tone was harsh, his words slightly slurred. The tape was grainy but Daniel could see how his hand was shaking and the exhaustion on his own face. 

“Of course,” came Armand’s reply, his voiceless toneless in a way that indicated he was hurt. 

On the couch, Daniel winced. But on the tape, it only irritated past Daniel further.

“You know, it’s easy enough for you to waste a week with this crap, but how many weeks do I have left? You fill our nights with this nonsense like I’m going to forget that my life is slipping out from under me and every day I get older and closer to death.” 

Heavy sigh. “Don’t be dramatic, Daniel. You’re still young.” 

“For now.” Daniel flicked his cigarette into one of the dye tubs and stormed past the camera, which lingered for a second on the empty space where Daniel had been before turning off.

Daniel’s stomach roiled. Lestat reached over and squeezed his hand, warm and reassuring. Daniel’s throat felt tight. “Sorry you had to see that.” 

Lestat scooted closer, putting his arm around Daniel’s shoulders. “C’est rien. I’m grateful none of my fights with Louis are on film. I don’t think I’d enjoy that either.” 

Daniel sucked in a shuddering breath. “We fought a lot back then. I was at my wit’s end, haunted by the specter of aging and death, and he was so damned determined that things could just keep going how they were.” Daniel shook his head. He didn’t even remember this particular fight but there had been so many like it that all blurred together, Daniel desperate to make Armand see that he should turn him or at the very least, that he was in pain, while Armand tried to pretend there wasn’t a problem. “God, I was such an asshole.” 

Lestat laughed. Daniel looked at him, surprised.

“Danny, my boy, you were in a hard situation and faced with the little imp’s stubbornness. You handled it better than most.” 

Daniel sighed. “Yeah, maybe. I just wish…” He shook his head. He wished he’d done a lot of things differently.

“We all have regrets,” Lestat said, his voice low and soft, as if thinking of a few of his own. “The key is not to dwell them on. And look, here you are! And now we have photographic evidence of Armand in the most hideous t-shirts known to man.” 

Daniel laughed at that. Lestat smoothed his hair and kissed his temple before standing. “Come, let’s get back to New York. I want to lord those photographs over Armand’s head.” 

Daniel smiled and stood. “Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to kill me.” 

[witherrosealliance]

(id: five light brown statues sit at the top of a set of stairs. the statues are of, from left to right, the empires season one characters, joel, lizzie, jimmy, pixl, and katherine. the first four hold tridents while the katherine statue holds flowers. behind them are layers of clay, like in minecraft mesas. season two pixl stands with his back turned and a torch held up to them. the light hits pixl and katherine most clearly, leaving the other three partially or wholly in shadow /end id)

under the mesa

for @empiresdaily dtiys!!

[lesbianchemicalplant]

I specifically remember when I was introduced to Justice: it was in summer 2010, I was in HS, the [real-time multiplayer flash-based browser] game Transformice was new, and I was often playing it at night with a specific room / online group of regulars

the game had in-room text chat, but someone ended up hosting a Mumble server for us to coordinate better, and also so they could put on music for us while we were playing, complete with doing a radio DJ bit—“you're listening to Radio Transformice.... it's Trance, For Mice”

most of the music was not trance ftr, but it was mostly electronic, including a good bit of JUS†ICE. renovated my brain tbh

[kscribbs]

“Her life was coming apart at the seams — her health failing, her career in tatters… But the relentless ministrations of her best friend and two most cherished Ancient Men warmed her to her very core…”

— Miller’s Law

[painedprince]

((bigish bg3 update today apparently and im laughing because you cant kill cazador by pushing him off a cliff anymore

and my sister hasnt gotten to that point so like. she has to fight him for real LMAO))

[brutalmasks]

ahh... just thinking about how one of the first things that bunny mask did whenever she was liberated from her cave was search for her quote unquote ' creator, ' as she would put it. and whenever bunny found no one to speak of that fulfilled that role for her, the emptiness that she felt inside was immeasurable, for lack of better words. because although she is able to make friends with people quite quickly depending on the other person and i could very much imagine her becoming a parental figure to a child; it just makes her feel a little bit like maybe she wasn't worthy of being given one and like she's got a void inside of her heart that she just can't fill. because in bunny mask's mind, whenever you aren't able to fall back on friends for whatever the reason may be, that is where your parent/s step in and the fact that she doesn't seem to have any... means that she's got to hold onto them twice as hard. because if they leave her, then bunny mask thinks that she'll be without any sort of support system, including even tyler because he was her friend first before they were on-and-off again lovers.

and the last thing that bunny mask wants to be is alone. though she is exactly the type of being to put on a brave face in front of people, no matter what she may be going through, bunny mask honestly was so starved for interaction after all of those centuries that she spent in the cave below the fosters home that these bonds that she's made with people since then — they mean a hell of a lot to her and she sort of subconsciously is exceedingly loyal to them out of fear that they may decide one day that they don't like her anymore, as there isn't something that she can give them that they can't find somewhere else; if that makes any sense. i guess basically what i'm trying to say is that, under the surface, bunny mask is somewhat insecure in her relationships and if she doesn't offer them something valuable like loyalty then she thinks they might not want to stick around with her. so, in a way, bunny mask is always thinking of ways that she can make her friends life better not only because she wants to but to ensure that they are getting something in return for their investment in her as a friend.

which, i realize is a kind of sad way to have to view friendship, but bunny mask had already been a loyal being before this mindset had taken effect in her mind, i guess you could say. i mean bunny will literally defend those who she loves with such a fervor that if one of her friends had done something bad that her first impulse would be to deny that they had and then, if/when it had been confirmed, she would literally just deflate like a balloon because bunny mask may or may not have a tendency to sometimes put those she likes on a pedestal; so whenever the illusion of them being able to 'do no wrong' in her eyes is finally broken... bunny wouldn't even be mad at them for a little while. depending on the severity of what they'd done, she'd either just become disappointed in them, or completely disheartened by it and would still not want to believe it to a certain degree. but bunny mask certainly wouldn't do this forever as she is aware that other beings can be morally dubious and/or capable of doing evil things, of course. it's just that, even when she platonically loves someone, she loves them with all of her heart often times and so it seems to effect her heavily if it is particularly criminal or wrong.

and don't get me wrong, bunny mask would still go after someone even if they were a friend of hers once upon a time if they had committed a crime / some kind of heinous act because that is what she is convinced her purpose is on this earth. bunny will just be simultaneously heartbroken at them AND then become angry later that they had done such a thing. whichhh could be quite bad news for the now ex-friend or whoever they might've been to her NGL because an angry bunny mask is bad enough BUT a heartbroken and angry bunny mask? you better start running, because she would be liable to turn you into a shish-kabob or something JSJSJ 💀 nahhh, i'm only halfway being serious here LOL but honestly, if there is any way that you can avoid attracting bunny's ire, then i would totally suggest it because uhhh. breaking her heart does tend to make her more aggressive when she's 'hunting' someone

[qrovidcore]

man the thing about doing the temple of bhaal first is that durge is speaking from experience huh