#hope u guys have a good one

[ryllen]

(⇀‸↼)

[lylahammar]

IT'S FALIGON DAY BABYYYYYY I'VE BEEN DREAMING OF THIS DAY SINCE 2018 WE'RE POPPIN MASSIVE BOTTLES 🥳🎉🐉🍾🍻🔥

[c-rowlesblogs]

the last time I made a post about a character type I really like it went well, so here's another one: I love a character who is a piece of shit loser.

Let me explain: a very specific kind of piece of shit loser. This is a character who is almost never (at least not at first) a major protagonist or a major villain. They might be a mercenary or thief or black-hat hacker or in some other sort of antisocial "bad guy" line of work. They are some sort of henchman, or at least have strong henchman energy: dangerous and/or talented in specific skills perhaps, but also, importantly, undeniably a loser. Their personality sucks. They're uncharismatic and unpleasant. The heroes interact with them only when they must-- and this character deliberately cranks up the cynicism around especially sunny or optimistic heroes. They know the world is a cold, hard place, and the only thing they trust is cold, hard cash (if they're even getting paid for this shit). Things like "hope" and "friendship" are for suckers.

Until... somehow, some incident or confrontation or compounding sequence of events puts a crack in their armor. It's a crack where the light can get in-- and also, alarmingly (to others and to them), shine out. It turns out this piece of shit loser had a little spark of goodness buried deep inside all along, and no matter how much they dig in their heels and insist they don't care, their conscience is steadily pulling them over to the "good" side, and it's winning. And the heroes know it, too: this character might still be a piece of shit loser, but now they're their piece of shit loser, and there's no going back.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"And soda; runs off into the street..." "...and soda... is totally okay!"

[phantom-0-writer]

scene 5: to win a war, fight the battles

continuation of tim's arch nemesis

Tim had done his research. He was a Bat after all. Mr. Nolan was infamous for handing out the most difficult assignment right after midterm, weighing a heaping 40% of their final grade. Physics class had never been of much interest to Tim, he found it straightforward and elementary compared to the many projects he’s committed himself to as a Bat, and member of the Young Justice League. And it just so happened to be the only classes Tim shared with one Daniel James Fenton for the semester. 

While Tim’s fellow classmates groaned at the announcement Mr. Nolan made, Tim’s knew his fate for the next three weeks was decided. He’d stayed up extra late completing his last case, and had even let his finger break so he could be off patrol without suspicion. Only his pinky of course, but enough for it to count. Despite all of Tim’s meticulous preparation for the assignment, he could only find the requirements with the rest of his class. 

Tim had considered hacking into the system and finding all of Mr.Nolan’s notes for this assignment. The reason he hadn’t done it wasn’t because he couldn’t - the school’s firewalls were a joke - but because that would mean he was admitting that the only way he could beat Daniel James Fenton was to use underhanded tactics. And that was not a defeat Tim would take. 

Tim listened closely as Mr.Nolan explained how this semester’s project would consist of him and an assigned partner creating a model using any of the physics topics they had covered throughout the semester and present it on the due date. They had till the next class to submit a formal proposal of their topic. Simple enough. 

There was just one liability in Tim’s way now: the assigned partner. Normally Tim wouldn’t have been so worried, after all this class was for the advanced students in an already competitive school. But this time was different. This time Tim had a goal. He needed to annihilate Daniel. 

“The partners for this project will be on the screen, I suggest you all get comfortable because you’ll be seeing each other a lot for the remainder of the semester.” As the projector flickered to life it dawned the document that would make or break Tim’s future. 

There were 36 students in their class, a perfect even number. Discluding Tim there were 35 other students. Daniel was simply one- one- of the 35. There was a measly 3% chance they would be paired. 

And yet. 

And yet, there it was. Printed clearly in front of Tim’s eyes. 

Timothy Drake - Daniel Fenton

In a moment of insurgence, Tim raised his hand, “Sir, I would like to change partners.” There wasn’t anyone in particular Tim would rather be paired with, but he could not have his plans mutilated by such a catastrophe. 

Mr. Nolan raised a brow at Tim, “Is there a reason in particular, Mr. Drake?” 

Tim hesitated. He had no qualms with telling Mr.Nolan the reason, but if he were to say it in front of the whole class with Daniel present he would lose the element of surprise. “No, sir.” 

Mr. Nolan leaned back onto the podium, “Is there someone else you would prefer to work with then, Mr. Drake?”

In pure humiliation, “No, sir.” 

“Well I’m glad to see I’ve made a suitable match.” Mr.Nolan concluded with finality, “Any other questions, Mr. Drake?” 

“Are we graded individually or together?” Tim clung to his last tether of hope like a lifeline. 

Unequivocally and mercilessly Mr. Nolan crushed Tim’s very being. “Together.” Tim sunk into his seat. He had become his own worst enemy. Tim ignored the confused look Daniel sent him from the other side of the classroom, saving himself the disgrace. “Any other question?” Mr.Nolan asked the class. 

There was still a way for him to crush Daniel under his steel toed Red Robin boots. Tim would simply overpower Daniel with his superior skills and intellect, and make it unquestionably clear that it was Tim who had gotten them the perfect score. A year - 5 - 10 years from now this would be the memory that woke Daniel up in cold sweat in the middle of the night. 

Psychological warfare. Tim’s specialty.

Once Mr.Nolan gave them the signal to disperse into their groups Tim met Daniel halfway between the two ends of the room where they sat. 

“Uh, Tim, right?” Daniel asked with an awkward wanna-be polite smile. 

“Yes, nice to meet you.” Tim flashed a smile he had perfected at the years of gala’s and business meetings he’d attended. Disarming, and charming. The perfect set up to sweep the enemy from under their feet. “Daniel, I believe.” A casual show of power, usually brushed off as unintentional. It was fully intentional. 

“Danny’s fine.” He corrected with what must have been an attempt at an unassuming smile. Tim knew better, Danny would be ruthless in his attempt to permanently upsurge Tim from beautifully satiating first place. “So any ideas on what we should do our assignment on?”

Danny’s coup would not be successful for Tim had come prepared. “We could reconfigure an airplane for better aerodynamics.” Tim had gone through great lengths to research and develop that about a month ago for the Bat Plane, and if he dumbed it down slightly it should pass for a civilian. 

Danny considered the idea for a moment, with the barest head nod. Victory was in Tim’s grasp now. “We could change the wingspan and nose shape of it and then widen the back fins for a more acute directional accuracy.” He offered easily. Tim blinked, that was supposed to be his line, where he would prove his superiority with the knowledge he’d already acquired. Victory, it turned out, was like a handful of sand that would, despite all efforts, spill through his fingers. “It seems easy enough.” 

“Did you have any ideas?” Tim asked testingly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Not really, but I thought it would be cool to try one of Tesla’s ideas. Nikola Tesla’s, I mean. The one off the top of my head is the thought camera.” Danny rambled with his hands. 

Tim may have admitted that he felt a bit inspired at the idea of mimicking and improving on one of Tesla’s ideas, if it hadn’t been proposed by Danny. “The thought camera?” Tim echoed incredulously, formulating the perfect eyebrow raise to show his distaste. 

Danny seemed undeterred, and was instead studying the rubric Mr.Nolan had left open on the board. “Yeah, I’m not a huge fan of that one either,” He said offhandedly, “I was just spitballing.” 

This would’ve been the perfect opening for Tim to intercede with the perfect idea. As a Bat, Tim of all people should know the importance of always being ready and well informed of any situation that may arise. Yet here he was, unprepared. Resiliently, Tim pulled out his phone and searched up potential suggestions. Danny peaked over to look as well. 

“The wireless energy transmitter seems like a good idea. If we proportionally scale it down we could have a fully functioning model.” Tim declared victoriously to his partner, who couldn't help but be on board with his amazing idea. 

Tim had already won the first battle, and the war would soon be over with Tim’s overwhelming conqueror of the first place position. 

Bouncing off of Tim’s original idea, the team had already procured a rough sketch of their model, and had designated a day to gather their supplies. 

--

Howard watched as his student’s chattering meshed into one indistinguishable sound. Howard through his past researching with other professionals in varying stages of their career, and teaching college students of various majors and life goals had become astute as discerning a person’s potential. He was aware his current students, now only between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, would not appreciate his sentiment on grading them on a scale of what he believed their personal best to be. Leading to his infamous profile through the halls of Gotham Academy.

Over his cumulative professional careers there was perhaps only a handful that Howard predicted to hold greatness. His visions always came to fruition as the sapling students of science and research once under his care, blossomed into leaders in their fields with headlining research papers under their name. And when Howard did find himself in the possessions of those saplings he made sure to nurture their growth as much as he could.

It just so happened this year Howard found himself with two. 

There was one who Howard had heard whispers of in the teacher’s lounge. Tim Drake always sat in class with a bored castover look, ready with the perfect answer when tested as if he were the one with the PhD. Tim completed all his assignments with a stern perfection, always unchallenged with the material no matter how difficult his peers seemed to find it. 

It only was Danny Fenton’s second year attending the Academy, and there were only a few that knew him as a student, but they were not stingy with their praises. In the first week of class Howard had found him unassuming, scribbling what Howard had assumed to be notes like his peers throughout class. He was swiftly corrected when Danny came to him, after class one day, frazzled over something in his book. Howard, always ready to help a student, welcomed him graciously. In the book Howard did not find scribbled notes of inertia and energy, but a diagram- more accurately a blueprint- of an archimedes engine applied for a re-designed drag car. 

Howard watched the first spark of intrigue be kindled between the two with deep satisfaction.

[milkbreadtoast]

(OC) boyfriends..... 🤭🧡💜

[doodleodds]

Happy Valentines, Akira. Happy Valentines, Asshole.

If you can’t read what Akechi’s secondary inner-dialogue says cause I obscured it too much behind his regular dialogue, here’s a transcription in panel order: Hello, you fucking- Ah- Hello, Akira! Fuck off, why should I tell you- Just a soda- there’s a new flavor.

I don’t want your shitty gift. Oh- haha! You’re so sweet.

I hope I choke. They’re lovely, thank you.

Like hell. Likewise. There’s no way it’s just a coincidence. Still though, it’s a funny coincidence.

[b4kuch1n]

digital ink comm round 2 done! for @trucbiduleschouettes, Alis, Sygdom, A. MG, @bakugames , F. Thorell, and Grumo.

With this round I've gotten to a decent place buffer-wise and with lunar new year prep, thank you very much to everyone who's commissioned me so far! I want to figure out something for the global strike however, so I won't be reopening digital ink comms until after this week. please stay tuned for that!

[serenescribe]

hi hi Ell 👋 I wanted to send a prompt, so i hope youll find this one nice to think about :)

So we know in canon that Lilia trained Silver and Sebek while they were kids, and that his training was a bit unorthodox to say the least. We also know that Silver thinks the world of his father, that he feels indebted to him for life and that he'd give anything to repay that debt. With those facts I offer you a beloved scenario of mine where Lilia trains Silver and takes it too far but doesn't realise it until its too late.

Maybe he's making him spar, maybe he's asking him to do some insane physical effort, whatever it is he's determined to have Silver execute it perfectly. And Silver is tired, because he's like 12, he's been doing this since dawn and he barely ate any of the lunch his father made him (lets face it it wouldve been worse if he ate it). At this point his body is screaming at him to just stop and rest but he refuses to back down before he gives his father what he wants. The issue is that since he's not feeling his best, he's actually doing worse than he was at the beginning and Lilia of course notices. And maybe its the fact that this setting is similar to the one he was in back when he trained recruits as a general, or maybe he got frustrated that he couldnt manage to get him to do better but Lilia decides to try a different approach to motivate his son. He gets mean; taunting and berating Silver for not making any progress, telling him that maybe they should just stop his training altogether if this is the best he can do. But instead of getting fired up and angry like Lilia expected, like his recruits used to do, Silver completely breaks down. He slumps on the ground in front of him weeping, begging for just one more chance and promising he can do better. The mental and physical exhaustion weighs heavily on him and he swears he won't be a burden in future sessions, swears that he'll train day and night if need be to improve but he pleads his father not to give up on him. And Lilia, completely caught off guard by the situation, has to figure out how the hell to comfort his son and convince him that he didnt mean any of the words he spoke

hope you have a fun time writing bye bye!! 🌟

the way this prompt broke my heart when it first hit my inbox :') but at least it's hurt/comfort for once rather than flat out angst...? i hope i did it justice!

(also thank you to lacky my beloved for helping me with some dialogue bc oh my god writing mean dialogue killed me ;;; sobs)

Clang!

The sound of sword against sword reverberates through the air, accompanied by the haggard, weary sound of someone panting. Lilia narrows his eyes, his sword still outstretched, pressed against that of his opponent — his son, Silver, who is also his student.

Silver’s chest expands and contracts, lips parted as he sucks in another deep breath. The practice blade in his hand trembles before finally, he gives in. The sword drops to the ground below with a clatter.

“I yield,” Silver says, voice strained, dropping to his knees. He raises his arms, conceding in defeat.

But all Lilia can think, staring at his son before him, is that this is not good enough.

He knows what Silver is capable of, has been training his son by his own hands for the past few years. Silver shows plenty of promise, and it is up to Lilia to hone that potential to a perfect sheen, be it physical training or weaponry, such as the sword fights they practise so often. Lessons on survival, giving him tasks to complete in the elements. Things that Silver takes to like a duck to water, obediently heeding Lilia’s every word, carrying out his instructions with ease.

So to witness him concede so easily, dropping to the ground, averting his gaze as his body trembles?

Lilia is disappointed.

In a way, it reminds him of his days as the general during the wars he’d fought. There had been many a soldier who had not taken his instructions seriously, always putting in the bare minimum until he whipped them into shape. All he had to do was set his cold, calculating eyes on them, lips spouting cruel, judgemental words, before they’d be roaring to go. Pride is one of the things that the fair folk value deeply, after all, and back then, the many recruits under his command had not taken kindly to Lilia’s implications that they were as useful as the dirt under his heels.

And so Lilia opens his mouth, and says:

“If this is the best you can muster, then why bother?”

Silver stiffens.

“I’m disappointed, Silver. I’ve seen peasants with no training do better than this.” Lilia’s lips thin, a hand resting on his hip, practice sword still hanging from his other hand. “If you cannot even master the basics, how do you expect to get any better? No, better yet, how do you possibly expect to guard Malleus as his knight if this is the best you can do?”

Lilia’s eyes narrow as he drops into a crouch, arms folded across his knees as he meets his son’s wide eyes.

“I didn’t teach you to be this awful,” Lilia utters, voice entirely flat. “If this is the way you’re treating your training, then perhaps we ought to stop it altogether.” He curls his lip. “Is that not what you’d prefer, given your demeanour?”

Rising from the ground, Lilia holds out his sword, pointing the tip of the blunted blade towards his son’s crouching form.

“I shall allow you one last chance,” he breathes. “Pick up your sword, Silver. Get up now.”

Silver doesn’t respond.

Lilia clenches his teeth. “Pick it up!”

It is only then, when Silver uncurls himself to reach for the discarded blade at the side with trembling hands, that Lilia falters. He watches through widening eyes as Silver raises his head and, instead of the fiery enthusiasm and determination he saw so often in so many of his old soldiers, there is a watery desperation wavering in those big, auroral eyes. Silver’s lips tremble, his movements sluggish, and as he shoves himself onto his feet, Lilia realises—

Silver isn’t being lazy. He’s swaying from side to side, almost stumbling over his own feet, shaking uncontrollably as he raises his blade to meet Lilia’s own.

Oh, he realises, spotting something glistening along those rounded cheeks. Silver is crying.

In that instant, any trace of General Vanrouge, feared and renowned amidst those of the Valley, vanishes, dissipating in the blink of an eye. Left in its place is only Lilia Vanrouge, father of one.

His sword drops to the ground with a clatter. Lilia surges forward, any thoughts of training pushed squarely out of his mind as he wraps his hands around Silver’s shoulders, staring at him with his heart rattling against his chest. Shit, Lilia thinks. He’s well and truly fucked up now, hasn’t he?

“Silver,” Lilia starts, struggling for the words. What can he possibly say here? He reaches up, wipes away a stray tear that rolls down his son’s cheek. “Silver, you— you can drop your sword now.”

“No!” The outburst startles him, Silver’s usually quiet disposition interrupted by the force of his refusal. Silver all but collapses, pulling Lilia down with him; his knees buckle, and he hits the ground with a painful thud. Silver’s free hand reaches up to wipe at his tears to no avail. “I-I can do it! I can fight—”

“You can’t, Silver—”

“P-Please, just—” Hanging his head, Silver sobs brokenly, and it shatters something within Lilia. How had he not noticed all along, how absolutely exhausted Silver was? “J-Just give me one more chance,” his son begs, shaking his head. The grip on his sword loosens, causing the weapon to clatter to the ground. “I swear, I’ll train day and night to improve, I w-won’t be a burden anymore, please—”

“Silver,” Lilia repeats, voice firm, fingers curling tight around his son’s shoulders. He— he’s taken completely aback, caught off guard; he’d expected something akin to the fiery resolution of the soldiers of the past, not… not this.

Silver is twelve, a tiny part of Lilia remembers. His heart seizes again, a reminder that perhaps this time, he had gone way too far. Silver is young, and for Lilia to have treated him the way he would have treated a grown fae…

He’s not the general anymore. There’s no need for him to train Silver to such rigid standards.

Slowly, Lilia leans forward, wrapping his arms around Silver’s back. He pulls the sobbing boy against his chest, murmuring soft words under his breath in a bid to reassure him. And for a while, that’s all they do — Lilia, holding his son in his arms, ignoring the ache in his knees as he rubs Silver’s back gently, and Silver, who blubbers apologies and pleads for leniency until his begging collapses into crying, and he buries his head in the fabric of Lilia’s sweat-stained shirt.

Eventually, when Silver’s cries peter out into a sniffling silence, Lilia pulls away from him. He reaches out to cup his cheek, thumbing at the tearstained skin with a sad smile across his lips. “How do you feel now, dear?”

Silver bites his lip, eyes flicking away. He sniffles, before he mumbles, “I… I’m okay now, Father. I can fight.”

“I think we’ve had enough sparring for today, actually,” Lilia sighs wearily. When he sees the way Silver stiffens at his words, he adds, “That is a decision made on my account, not yours. I am not disappointed in you, Silver. Far from it; I am only disappointed in myself for not noticing how exhausted you are… far more than usual, anyway.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Lilia chides, though his tone is light. He exhales. “I think we should perhaps clean up for the day. And then I’ll see to dinner, hm?”

“I’ll help you!” Silver blurts out, a little shakily, and Lilia smiles. Even after everything, Silver is still so willing to help… Truly, Lilia would not have faulted him at all if he would have liked to take some time to himself, especially after he so carelessly spouted such cruel words towards his son.

As Lilia rises to his feet, holding out a hand to help his son up, Silver meets his eyes. He hiccups. “So… you’re not mad at me…?”

“I am not,” Lilia assures, leaning in to pull the boy into another hug. “And…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I am truly sorry, Silver, for pushing you that far. I should not have said what I did.”

And from the way Silver relaxes in his hold, pulling away to give him a small smile, Lilia knows that this will be enough, for now.

[djsadbean]

👍 for Adam if you'd like!

Hope you're having a wonderful summer!

👍 OC in a crop top

his eyes are SET on adams tummy..... just like me fr

[corpsentry]

i may not. but i write poem still

[victimized-martyr]

Do you think Kenny actually likes cartman? I’m not so sure since the reading of his will in s9e4 (https://youtu.be/QGx92r8NLIM)

I feel like nobody likes him but Kyle is the only one who thinks he can possibly get better at all.

I agree on some level with that last statement. Due to Kyle's morals and complicated attachment to Cartman, he would be the only one willing to nurture the potential Cartman has, though I'd say Cartman isn't universally hated as one would assume. I think Kenny and Cartman's friendship deepened off screen since s9. It shows itself strongly in the covid specials and post-covid (not post covid the special, I mean like.. after the actual irl covid and.. ARGH mattrey u make my life so difficult)     

      Kenny was the one to approach Cartman about the fragility of the broship and inspires Cartman to be the one to make sure the gang stays together. That's a level of openness and vulnerability that frankly, I haven't seen him share with Stan or Kyle. Quite the opposite in fact-- When Kenny finally admits he's immortal, Stan and Kyle dismiss him in their own way. Neither have made the move to sympathize with him since, especially at the level Cartman does in the covid episodes. Now, Cartman's "sympathetic" method of coddling Kenny wasn't the best thing to do I'd say, the show was clear  Stan, Kyle and Cartman weren’t handling the broship fallout well, but Cartman definitely proved himself as the “best friend” the show has claimed he’s been in prioritizing Kenny during Covid. We even get a verbal reminder from Cartman and Kyle in Post-Covid that despite it being the literal worst future for everyone, Cartman and Kenny’s friendship thrived. With the opposite lives they lead, it's astounding they remained best friends for forty years.

That level of loyalty is kicking Stan and Kyle in the dirt and laughing rn. Look at Dikinbaus! Cartman and Kenny had a blast “planning the business” (ie living it up as owners and mutually taking advantage of Butters to just pal around) and Cartman once again concedes to Kenny when he lets him work from home. It’s a gag first and foremost, but still, I think it works as part of character analysis lolol. I’m analyzing this a lot from Cartman’s perspective, or at least his actions, but I don’t rlly have much to go by on Kenny’s end and I hope y’all can see why lol. excluding the Mysterion arc and the s22 Halloween episode, he’s a passive character. things rly just are happening to this dude. 

Cartman's attachment to Kenny has grown exponentially since the early seasons ("I hate yew guys/ specially kinny/ ah hate em the most/") whereas we've heard directly from Kenny what he thought of Cartman at the time s9 was written but we don't really know what he thinks of Cartman presently. Now, mattrey have written Kenny's quietness and frequent disappearances as part of the charm of his character--the mysteriousness with a pinch of hidden sadness, maybe a dash of loneliness--and not like, a serious writing pitfall of not knowing what to do with one of your main characters, not giving them the chance to let the audience see their motivations. So the uncertainty surrounding Kenny's true opinions, in this case of his friendship with Cartman, isn't by accident. I'd say it's fair to assume Kenny now views Cartman as a best friend, given how much Cartman has done for him.

I’d also say it’s fair to assume the pity for Cartman hasn’t changed.

[gothlisteningclub]

Goth Listening Club Day #47: Priest - New Flesh

LISTEN ON: SPOTIFY / APPLE MUSIC / BANDCAMP

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[jimmyspades]

[hearts-hunger]

goodnight sweetheart <33