#ehh good enough

[forgettingcrowbin]

lFAN DESIGN) literal brainrot over @zucchiyeni's idolau ^^

Here's a fan design for Geno with a sorta different style :) gave him a sash to represent his slash. This might be been a huge excuse to draw shiny pants, they're so fun heehee

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 36-39)

* To note. Her hands are scaly. * And...unexpectedly wet?

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[orchid-merryweather]

A platypus?

PERI THE PLATAPUS???

[swampybogg]

[snarkspawn]

a bunch of random studies from last week

[burirammin]

Watched sepang 2011 moto2 fp1 followed by qualification and now I am absolutely devastated. screaming crying throwing up etc. etc. (the following write-up aka. me ever so slightly losing my mind over how Marc Marquez's 2011 season ends)

That weekend was so cursed it's unbelievable. Not even two minutes into the fp1 session the camera cut to the turn 10 gravel trap and then there was two riders occupying the place. The first one was Jules Cluzel, who was thankfully already up and was not hurt. Marc was the second one and oh boy, was he NOT fine. He laid there on his back for what felt like minutes, camera focusing on him almost THE WHOLE TIME. I. am. sick. to my stomach!!!

Not a moment later another bike (or two actually, but one of them was off camera) came crashing in, Marc was still on the ground, just out of the hit range. It was Yonny Hernandez (who looks to be fine. he raced the next day but was black-flagged) and Bradley Smith, who ended up with a broken collarbone + bruised ribs and was forced to be out of the race altogether. His injuries were caused by him getting thrown directly into Marc's bike. How unlucky was that??? The cause of all these crashes? A WET. FUCKING. PATCH. I reeallly meant it when I say that weekend was fucking cursed (and on sunday. we all know what happened on sunday...)

I was already regretting my choice to watch it at this point but just like watching a trainwreck, I couldn't stop.

And then I saw the team's reaction (full on regret. hits like a brick)

The icing on the cake? the whole session did not have any commentary. Just pure ambient noises, bike engines, staff radios, people rushing around the track. The whole scene was so eerie, I could not imagine watching this live.

The way they were running out from the pit, almost entirely abandoning it to (presumably) check on Marc at the medical center? gut punched.

The famous shot of Marc after medical check-up. Already a pro at slutty suffering at the tender age of eighteen. (I was about to throw up, so thank you I guess? how he was just out there, looking beautiful in this state was beyond my comprehension)

Marc missed all the sessions following fp1 (3 in total) but he did joined in for qualification session the next day. There was commentating for this and they mentioned that he was still a little dizzy this morning, his neck and left shoulder was not doing great either. Of course Marc being Marc he still wants to at least try to qualify and maybe, race. For context, he was just 3 points off the lead and not participating in this race means he will lose the championship, which in the end, he did.

It didn't last long. Marc was back in the box after just one qualifying lap.

Back in the box, Santi and Emilio was immediately all over him. The commentators DID pick up that there was something seriously wrong as normally only Santi (crew chief) would be present to talk about technical stuff that needs to be done and such, and not Emilio (manager). They discussed, things did not look good. With the gift of hindsight we can see that Marc was clearly informing them about his eye problem (which we know was diplopia later on) not to mention his other injuries to neck and left shoulder that was probably bothering him.

He has to leave the box shortly after. The commentators said they were hoping that he will be feeling better in the morning of race day, and also that Marc losing the championship was “inconceivable” before the fp1 crash*. There’s no such luck, unfortunately.

*mind you, he already have another big (very reckless and very much his own fault) crash from prior week with Ratthapark Wilairot in phillip island resulting in his blackeye but that was not enough to hindered his performance.

Marc watching the sunday race from the sidelines, no longer able to participate in this and following race.

And just to add even more (like anyone needed it, jesus christ) to the cursed factor of this weekend, Axel Pons suffered a massive crash during the race, resulting in a red flag. He also, was not fit for the next race.

God. That's it. That's the end of his 2011 season. From a crash that was in no way, shape or form, his fault. The circuit was later fined for not displaying yellow flag to warn riders of a wet patch on the track.

He could've won. HE COULD HAVE WON. HE COULD HAVE BEEN A MOTO2 WORLD CHAMPION IN HIS ROOKIE YEAR!!!!! I must repeat that at the time he was 3 POINTS AWAY FROM THE LEAD and has more or less been DOMINATING the whole season. He was on the podium for every races that he has finished and was on a streak. I am convinced he could have easily done it if not for the unfortunate accident.

But all he got out of it was second place in the championship (which we all know he won't accept in his mind. at least back then) and a diplopia problem that would still haunts him more than ten years later...

[lewkwoodnco]

LOCKWOOD & CO. Ep 6 - You Never Asked

[sanshinexx]

Here's part two of drawing my family pictures as the Bad Batch because I can and you can't stop me

[pigeonstab]

I don't usually draw like this but i was playing around with filters and thought it looked cool

Fresh sans by loverofpiggies

[binah-beloved]

True Light

Binah x Reader Lobotomy Corp. Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: Small mentions of blood/injuries and death

~ * ~

Light cannot shine through the dark, for the whims of the City will swallow it whole. Not that Binah particularly cared, of course. The struggles of others had never caught her interest, both before and after being confined to the blackened depths of the world. She took a smug sense of pride in being stagnant, the only unchanging one amongst her coworkers; this wretched facility doing nothing to dampen her cold and sadistic tendencies- small delights was what she called them, watching all the misery with a twisted smirk. Her time was spent as usual- in the company of solitude and black tea, only now it was punctuated by the perpetual mechanical hum of the Extraction Department, and just as before she embraced the days in the suffocating darkness, alone and silent. Yet somehow, a spark manages to worm its way into her ashen world, floating in on the wind and making a new home amongst the monochromatic tones. Each department receives a new batch of employees every few months or so. The Manager calls it “refreshing the roster”- Binah calls it “replacing the corpses”. Rarely does she pay much attention to these rotations, what’s the point? They’re all shrouded in gray, living only to suffer and cry and go mad like the rest, then slowly crumble and fall into the endless well below, an infinite supply of gravestones. So when the next group of agents and clerks arrive, she merely gives them a customary glance of boredom out of the corner of her eye. Something flashes suddenly, brilliantly, and her head snaps back up to catch sight of it, that brightly sparkling thing. But she sees only the uniforms of her employees, all outfitted in simple black fabric as they walk towards the department lobby, chattering nervously at each other. For the first time in a long while, Binah feels vaguely disappointed. She catches glimpses of the shining presence occasionally, always in the peripheral of her vision and always fleeting, never long enough. It’s almost frustrating; infuriating, even- perhaps her long months of isolation have finally driven her mad, it would be a welcome change from the perpetual, apathetic torment. With an exhale and a sip of her tea she answers some employee-or-another’s question, expression as stoic and cold as ever despite the nagging irritation. “You’re a star, Miss Binah!” The Sephirah looks over briefly, and her eyes widen as you practically glow before her. Physically, you’re no different from the other workers- you don’t radiate any light or glimmer with luminescence- and yet you still brighten up any room you enter, somehow. Exuding an air of determination, you’re firmly set in your ways of helping others and working diligently despite the less than ideal circumstances, a smile on your lips and a spring in your step wherever you go. You don’t look like light- you feel like light. And not that cold, heavy stuff generating in the facility- warm, friendly, comforting. It’s no wonder your fellow agents have taken a liking to you, but perhaps the most surprising revelation of all is when you extend this warmth to Binah herself. You’re a star… The words have lingered in her mind ever since. Your superior was rumored to be emotionless, a sadist who only took joy in the suffering of others, so when you can’t help but wonder if something’s wrong when you see her appear in the main rooms of the department more often, silently watching everyone work and always with that calm, neutral expression. In truth, she’s only really watching you, quietly picking up on your habits with a growing sense of intrigue. Interest… Binah hadn’t felt such a thing for so long. It felt… nice. She sees how you treat everybody with that same kindness, offering a shoulder for them to lean against. She sees how you study medical procedures in your spare time, as there is no end to bloodied wounds at Lobotomy Corporation. She sees how you idly tap your pen when you’re thinking, looking up at the ceiling, your brow furrowed in thought.

She sees how you pay respects to every lost agent and clerk, quietly mourning for them as if they were actually worth something. Perhaps, she muses, they are worth something, and she just never saw it. Well- you, at least, are certainly worth something. Slowly, the spark that landed bleeds into the rest of her world, and Binah sees color, gold and silver and crimson red. The sky becomes speckled with a multitude of stars, the darkness of Extraction standing out in splashes of deep hues as the night brightens, just slightly, with a hint of light. Light. Yes, that’s what you are. Light. Her light. One morning, early enough for frost to linger in the air, you find a steaming hot cup on your desk- tea, black, flavored just how you’d like it. A hand, firm yet strangely tentative, settles on your shoulder as you curiously approach, your Sephirah finally responding to your statement from months ago. “If I am a star, then you are a fragile flower, struggling to bloom in the wastes. And yet… I don’t wish to see you wither.”

[wynandcore]

AGH LATE HAPPY TRANS DAY OF VISIBILITY!! Tron is trans pass it on

[c-kiddo]

yayyy . hacker voice I'm in

[image ID: two UCAS screenshots showing unconditional offers for Dundee illustration and fine art courses. end ID.]

[br1ghtestlight]

in a worse world bob's burgers would do a flash-forward episode where its revealed that louise becomes a cop in 20 yrs

[starrryknight]

ryuu portrait i made from back when i finished dgs :)

[transingthoseformers]

Aaaaand that would be our catch

There's the murder

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <33