#one day these two will get better.

[luminisiv]

day 10 of @oc-tober2023: mercy

The running theme of Neil as a player character was everyone figuring out he's a good person, he's just a trainwreck of a human being caught in a revenge loop that who needed a little support to get control of his life again. And despite everything, Mark knows that, and wants to help, too. Neil feels he's rather undeserving of this.

[polubrony]

I like you *makes your Chaggie into a Chaggily*

I love these three together almost as much as the og pair, so here are some sketches of it

I mean, Charlie having a tendency to steal best angels from heaven (because heaven sucks *ehem*) seems like something she would do

And I just love Emily, sooo

Yeah

+ Bonus for second pic

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[ruvigapo]

Run boy run!! The sex monsters eat salmon!!

In which i arrive Fashionably Late to the fishssek party

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sublime Equine.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[odetojupiter]

the fact that kevin day also witnessed a man being chopped up in the tower at evermore after neil’s audition is mad, and it’s something that is very much not addressed ever. like, maybe part of kevin was so accepting of how things were in the nest because he knew that this is the second branch, and if he were to leave, he’d become the main branch’s problem because he knows too much, and the main branch casually chops men up as a warning to literal children. and then he’s still called a coward for leaving ?? but also a coward for wanting to go back to make the inevitable less painful for him ??? and that’s not even considering what riko and tetusji did to him specifically, before even jean arrived at the nest. and his mother’s death would’ve been quite recent at that point. just insane.

[deoidesign]

Doing master studies the only way I know how: Stealing them and making them my guys.

(Barberini Faun)

(The Fallen Angel - Alexandre Cabanel)

(Covent Garden - William Bruce Ellis Rankin)

[izzystizzys]

TW: discussion of something approximating suicidal tendencies but with the usual crack programming of this blog

“Ah, High General Windu”, says Fox, pleasantly. “So we meet again.”

High General Windu raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Fox thinks, though it’s getting hard to tell with all the blood rushing to his head. “If I let you go, will you try to throw yourself out of another window?”

Fox makes a vague shrugging motion - or tries to, anyways. It’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are going, hanging upside down in the air as he is. “I am willing to discuss terms.” A bridge will do just fine.

Impossibly, the High General’s eyebrows climb even further up his forehead. “A compromise, then, esteemed Commander.” And so, he righths Fox the head way up in the air, but leaves him floating just above the ground, at which point several painted shells come skidding around the corner followed by billowing robes and screeches.

“WHAT”, says Kote, calmly, “THE BANTHA-KARKED, FORCE-LOVING KRIFF, FOX.”

“You’ll short out your helmet mic”, Fox advises him, sagely. Fondly, he thinks back to decimating his own on only his second time in the newly-christened official Coruscant Guard Scream Closet. He’d just received the comm about the Zillo Beast being transported to 000, and made sure to take his bucket off thereafter to improve the quality of his closet time.

High General Windu’s face does something complicated between sympathy and constipation.

Because the Galaxy doesn’t hate Fox enough already and Cody wasn’t enough on his own, Wolffe elbows his way through their batch to plant himself in front of him, shoulders squared and shaking with repressed rage. “If you try that again, dickhead”, he begins, in a low growl that quite frankly sounds more cringe that intimidating, “I’m going to resurrect you and then kill you again.”

“Ah, Wolffe”, Plo Koon says, in his deep, shivery timbre, “Remember our conversations about effective conflict resolution and communication of needs?”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow at Fox, because all non-Guard are sweet summer children who walk around buckets off on 000 like absolute lunatics. Fox prays they never have to find out why that’s a bad idea. “I feel”, his ori’vod presses out between clenched teeth, “that if you make me watch you throw yourself out of another window, I’m going to jump after you and strangle you on the way down, you little bitch.”

“That’s fair”, says Fox, and watches High General Kenobi bury his face in his hands. Wolffe twitches in place and makes an aborted groaning noise, the hypocrite.

“Excuse me, High Marshall Commander Fox, but I fail to see what’s so dire about this situation that the Jedi High Council and your brothers cannot help you solve”, says Windu, the only sane one left on this Force-forsaken bloated corpse of a planet. Behind the gaggle of Jedi and ori’vode already gathered in front of Fox, the rest of them come veering around the corner in a commotion that’s quite frankly embarrassing. High General Yoda is mounted on Skywalker’s back like he’s a race-Eopie, which is Fox’ only consolation.

He got up this morning at 0300, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache as always, and all was right in the world. And then Fox got called into the Jedi High Council’s chambers and was ceremoniously informed that in the wake of Chancellor Palpatine’s unfortunate demise (hah), and through the emergency state of the Senate, as well as several invented promotions foisted on Fox to make the delegation of any and all paperwork less shady, he was now next in the chain of command and-

Well, Fox is the acting Chancellor, in short.

Haha, he had said, and been meet with several seconds of silence, until it got both awkward and exceedingly painful. Wait, he’d said. You’re kriffing serious.

Kriffing serious, we are, had said High General Yoda, and thus Fox launched himself out the first best window with a maniacal cackle of, you’ll have to catch me first!

And catch him, High General Windu sure did.

“The will of the Force this is”, Yoda interrupts Fox’ train of thought. He scans him thoughtfully from beneath his wizened brow, and hems to himself. “Shake things up, this will. Determine the fate of the Galaxy, this shall. A feeling, I have, that a good Chancellor you will make. A better one, hmmm.”

“That’d be high praise, if not for the fact that a dead lemming would make for a better Chancellor than the last one”, says Fox, drawing and indignant gasp from Skywalker. He doesn’t bother with either that or the green goblin’s cackle, lost in the deep sense of resignation that settles over his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.

“Alright, then, get me Thorn on the comm. As my first act in office, I’m firing all the Jedi. No offense, but you’re kind of a disaster. Then, someone get me to the Chancellor’s office, I’m calling Dooku to let him know the war’s off. And please get me Judicial, they’ll be up all night working on my datafolders - I’m having the Senate arrested.”

“Who - is - arresting - “, Bly pants, hands on his knees from where he’s just come sprinting around the corner with his Jedi.

Underneath his bucket, Fox smiles a smile that’s all teeth. “The Senate”, he says, sweetly, wondering if he’s just imagined the shiver that’s gone through the room. “I’m suing the Senate, and taking them all into temporary custody for abuse of sentient rights.”

[spielzeugkaiser]

I finished another one of the prompts!! (like, last minute for 2023) I had two good days and then I kinda deflated 😅 I might come back to some of them next year even though it's not christmas anymore but still winter so psssstt but that prompt was just too cute!

[esprei]

Emmet month - Day 2: Family/friends

besties selfie tiiiiime 📸

[awriternamedart]

“Macaque-”

“No, Wukong, you don’t get to worry about me anymore.” 

Wukong froze, eyes shocked wide as Macaque spat back at him, still clutching his upper arm. Thin, fragile lines of contempt lined his voice, fangs peering over curled lips as he straightened up.

“This is the fourth time, Macaque! What are you even doing?!” Shaking his head, Sun Wukong groaned before he pulled a chunk of hair, the gold flash echoing as it shifted into a roll of bandages. “I could smell the blood clear from my house!”

“I can take care of it myself.”

“Sure, whatever, now come on, you need to clean it out.”

“I know that.” Macaque bit back, recoiling as Wukong tried to reach for him. Smacking away the outstretched paw before he rounded around the king, Macaque kept the grip on his arm tight, purple glitching and fizzing away as glamor fell to reveal tattered clothes and a scarred face, eyebags deep under golden irises. His ears twitched as he turned away. “Leave, Wukong. You'll only make it worse.”

“Ouch.” And still, he trotted after him, slipping the roll of bandages into the fold of his clothes. “Cmon, Macaque, can you stop being stubborn for literally 30 seconds? It won’t even take a paragraph to write!”

Macaque just pulled his lips tight as they approached one of the many rivers, pulling off his cape and armor to tug the shoulders off of his outfit. 

Wukong couldn’t hide the wince that ran through his body. Macaque’s dark fur made deep scars all the more obvious, shocks of skin where fur will never easily regrow dotting his shoulders and back. He was just lucky that Macaque was very obviously ignoring him right now, casting his gaze aside before sighing and sitting next to Macaque anyway.

“I know I dont have the right to worry about you anymore but you aren’t giving me a choice here, bud-! You keep showing up with these cuts and bruises, even the little ones have noticed!” Macaque hissed as Wukong snagged his wrist to stop him from using his paw to clean the bloodied cut, easily breaking from his grasp as he went to rip another chunk off the end of his cape. “Tell me whats going on, if your in danger-”

“What, you'll get the kid involved in more of your fucked up shit!?” Wukong fell back as Macaque rounded on him, snapping before immediately recoiling with a grunt. Blood fell dark against his black fur, hard to notice if it weren’t for how big the wound itself was. “Just- just leave it, Wukong. You're the last person I want to see right now.” 

“Bud-!” Hesitation consumed Wukong. Ice gripped at his shoulders, halting him from reaching out- helpless but to watch as he turned away, slipping through his paws again, again- Just when he had just started to get him back-!

He grit his teeth. 

Macaque yelped when he was dragged back, fangs bare as he went to snap at Wukong- before cold water seeped into the wound, another hiss escaping his throat. The pressure wasn’t too heavy, just startling, gentle swipes to begin cleaning out the dirt and fur muddied in red. 

“Wukong-”

“Oh, shut up, Macaque.” It was just a slight grumble, Wukong’s gaze never once flickering up to Macaque’s face as he pulled away the cloth to dip it back in the stream, wringing out excess water before turning back to the wound. A brief moment passed before he returned to gently wiping away the grime left behind. “You can slap me later, relax.” 

And.. Macaque did just that. Tense muscle and tight shoulders drooped ever so slightly, just the slightest hiss escaping his teeth when he got a bit too deep into the wound- though he didn’t fight it. It had been so long since he had let someone else help him lick his wounds, yet it felt so natural to let Wukong help him out, this innate part of him just… felt safe.

He hated it so much.

“Soooo.. You gonna tell me why you keep popping up all bloodied or am I just gonna have to guess?” Startling out of his swirling thoughts, Macaque’s ears perked up before he glanced over at Wukong. The withering look in his eyes was enough to make Wukong snicker at the very least as he unraveled the bandage. “Oh, don't you worry bud, I can absolutely keep guessin until the sun comes up tomorrow!”

“Please don't, it's grating enough.” 

Wukong had to laugh at that, missing the slight smile on Macaque’s face as he ripped the bandage and tied it off. 

“Excuse you, there are tons of people who’d love to listen to me yap their ears off!” 

“Keep telling yourself that, Wukong.” A paw landed on his forehead, playfully shoving the king back as soon as the tie was done before Macaque went to stand up, pulling on one of his sleeves and simply tucking the other one away. His fur was still wet, ok, no way he’s dealing with it getting on his outfit more. Cleaning was a pain. “Maybe someday I'll actually believe it.”

“So where are you going?” 

“Who knows, somewhere where I don’t have to hear you anymore.” Macaque just shrugged, shaking his head and mane out. Ugh, his fur was so rough now- he hadn’t had a moment's break. Who knows who could be lurking now? Either way, he had to get back, now that blood’s stench wouldn’t stick to him to badly-

“Back to beating up threats behind the kids back, then?”

Macaque froze before he could open a shadow, paw still outstretched as Wukong stood up behind him, arms folded. The playful lilt in his voice had vanished, simply watching as Macaque glared at him over his shoulder. Something mournful took its place- something that lingered in the shadows of golden eyes, that made Macaque quickly look away.

“Bud, the kid can handle himself-”

“The world is more dangerous than ever. MK doesn’t need more hell on his plate- and I sure as hell don’t see you helping him out.” He spat at Wukong, growling in his anger. Adrenaline had made him more snappy than usual already but this- this was deeply seeded. “Someone has to do the dirty work so the kid doesn’t have to.”

“Then why does it have to be you, Macaque?!" 

Black fur puffed up, his tail swinging back and forth, back and forth. Wukong just watched, almost wanted to reach out- but he fell back on himself as Macaque’s agitation dropped, tail falling still. 

“Look, bud- I can’t stop you, I know that and all and I trust your judgment and everything but-” Wukong pushed a paw through his mane with a sigh, trying to pick out his words carefully- he wasn’t good at that, but he was trying, ok? He just.. 

He found himself just staring at Macaque. Yellow and black worn fabric looked back, dirty and well worn. The red cape he always wore was slung over the warriors shoulder, scars running rampant across his body- and those were just the ones Wukong could see. Just how many of them had he gotten for others, for MK, for.. He didn't like it. He didn’t like it one bit, but- did that even matter to Macaque anymore?

“...just. Just try not to overdo it. Get help when you need it.”

“....tch. Can’t even admit it.” With a gentle vwoomp, the shadow under Macaque’s paws dipped into purple-orange, something that surprised Wukong. But before he could say anything, the other just glared back at him, sadness lingering under his scarred eye. “...You're pathetic, Wukong.”

And before Sun Wukong could say anything, he disappeared, the shadow closing up on the ground and vanishing as if it were never there. The wind rustled among the leaves, the babbling rush of the river’s flow his only accompaniment as his shoulders sagged, pushing his mane from his face.

“...I know.”

-

Worry Is A Hell That Haunts You - awriternamedart

KoFi - Socials

[i-have-dots-in-my-brain]

Astarion: *shaking Gale awake at 3am*

Astarion: Time is ever marching forward and your mortal days are running out. Every second that goes by is a second lost.

Gale: …should I be worried?

Astarion: time is an fucking illusion, Darling, the only thing truly real is death.

Gale: go back to bed.

Astarion: what truly comes after death?

Gale: …I’m not emotionally or mentally stable enough for this, go ask Withers.

[legobiwan]

More thoughts because I apparently need to draft an entire backstory before I can write a "drabble" (which will definitely not be a drabble), aka, more lore ideas for a show that's already been picked over with a fine-tooth comb a million times, but here we are, years late, Starbucks in hand, as the old meme goes.

At the end of the whole Weirdmaggedon fiasco, Ford makes his hilariously inept proposition for him and Stan to go sailing the Arctic (Ford's heart was in the right place, but this is not how you want to introduce the possibility of fulfilling your childhood dream to your estranged and traumatized brother of 30+ years).

Anyway, Ford's lack of social skills aside, we know the general location of where they're heading from Ford's fancy-pants watch.

Now, they have a few options to get to the Spooky in the Arctic.

Take the Panama Canal

Take the Northwest Passage

Start their trip from the East Coast

Option 1: The Panama Canal, aka, a legitimate, if unlikely idea

While private vessels can cross the canal, it looks like the cost of doing so runs about $2500, maybe not an issue for the Pines twins by the end of the show, but in addition to this, crossing the Canal requires 4 linemen, who Stan and Ford would have to hire. My instinct says they wouldn't be so interested in this, at first. Maybe Ford's fixation on the Arctic was just an excuse, but given his canonical enthusiasm, I doubt he would want to deviate too far from that course. Likely the Stan twins come back later do the Canal, on their way back to Oregon. Maybe.

Option 2: The Northwest Passage, aka Death

A route through the Arctic has been the dream of many an explorer for centuries. In recent times, mostly due to global warming, the Northwest Passage has become a sliver of a option to get from West to East. Territorial and political disputes aside, it's still a wildly unsafe option, and one I imagine Ford would love to give a go at, considering all the lore surrounding the Franklin Expedition. Stan, however, would vote this down immediately. He'd like for him and his brother to live to see sixty. And not resort to cannibalism. At least not immediately.

Option 3: Setting Off From Jersey, aka, You Can Go Home Again (But Not For Too Long)

Our final option is for the Pines twins to set off on their adventure from the good old East Coast. Aside from the narrative symmetry, it's also the most practical option. This leaves us with some tantalizing loose ends. Do Stan and Ford build their boat in Oregon and then haul it cross-country? (And what a trip that would be). Or would they have it shipped and meet it later? (Realistic, but boring). Or maybe they go back East and build/order/buy the boat there. And by there, I do feel like there's no other place they could go through with this idea than Jersey. Now, they can't go from the major ports (the Port Authority Ports of New York and New Jersey, which are mainly located in Manhattan, Brooklyn, Newark, and...Bayonne). But! There are a bevy of slips and marinas up and down the Jersey coastline, perfect places to build/buy/refurbish a vessel (and a relationship). A place to leave a lifetime of ill-will behind and start anew.

This makes me think about Stan and Ford, back in Jersey after all that time, probably not too far from where they grew up. It would be a wonderful setting to explore some kind of character piece (especially if they go on some of bonkers road trip to get there) and narratively, it just fits too well.

There's no real thesis to this analysis, aside from the idea that Stan and Ford likely began their journey in the exact place they ended it so long ago. As I said, narrative symmetry and all that jazz.

[shaadowmilkcookie]

he

[dizzybizz]

hey, remember 2.3? what was up with that event....

redraw of a thing from 2021 which was sorta a screencap redraw from that one cutscene

also oml albedo your in-game model... i am still so sorry to what they did to you and your hair especially.. i hope they go back and revamp it but i dont have high hopes for that happening 😔

[governmentmandatedryujinstan420]

I FORGOT TO THROW OUT AFTER THE EPISODE RELEASED NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO