#will probably finish it later tonight

[cassmouse]

Okay. Okay okay okay so I am very very close to the end of Bunny I probably should be finishing it but this is so obscenely horrifying, hallucinogenic and absolutely fucking devastating that I can't physically bring myself to

[todayisafridaynight]

STYLING

[cartoonsbyandie]

Happy Birthday to @thegreatsolaris, I have no idea if this either of these are the right dynamic but I did my best

[goombasinastack]

splatoon 3 hot take turned impromptu essay

was stuck offline in splatoon 3 because internet was actin up and i realized how pretty the photomode splatoon 3 filters are compared to the actual game

i was taking photos on brinewater and thought. damn. this game looks fine but i miss how VIBRANT splatoon 1 was! i wish i could play sploon 3 with this photomode filter on all the time. and brinewater is the best map for this because of the sunset lighting! so i went to one of the worst offenders mapwise for general color—undertow spillway. it is a warm gray mess:

for someplace underground, it’s WAY too warm of a tone—even if there are skylights, they aren’t very well defined, as they’re off in the background—they’d be better with some light shafts to pop out more, imo.

so here’s undertow with photomode filter #6 (this would’ve been a video but tumblr limits to 1 video per post):

and i think this looks a lot nicer, colorwise! the icky warm gray is shifted to a soft pink—and while that’s still not in keeping with the lack of obvious skylights, it works better than warm gray.

so then i opened ibis x paint and got to work on a filter that would hopefully help elevate the entire game’s look:

on top is photomode filter #6, in the middle is the original screenshot, and on the bottom is my proposed filter.

i upped the contrast, brightness, and saturation a bit, then added a 5% pure magenta (#FF00FF) overlay layer on top of that. then i added a slight gaussian blur to emulate antialiasing, which nintendo refuses to do for some reason!

and i wanna play splatoon like that! i miss the vibrancy and intricacy of splatoon 1…

incoming splatoon 1 essay‼️

not only were the colors eye-bleachingly bright, but the overall game feel was much more immersive—especially in ink physics. you could paint trees, and the ink would drip down through leaves as if it were rain… ink splatter would respond to the movements of platforms, keeping its intertia as it dripped! you could see the textures of surfaces through the ink, as if it were an actual liquid instead of a layer of thick oil. 3 doesn’t have any of those special touches.

there’s also the music… 1’s ost feels so much more WEIRD and experimental than the later games, and that really helps cement that this is not human society—this is a new thing—which tracks for splatoon 1, as it was so zany nobody had ever seen anything quite like it before! splatoon 2 follows this sheer melting-pot of brashness and creativity with evolving and varied styles—where once was punk and weird samples in Squid Squad is now groovy rock in Wet Floor, jazz in Ink Theory, and also whatever Sashi-Mori was. also i <3 chirpy chips. splatoon 3’s music goes back to that punk, but i feel that it loses some of the charm and creativity of the first two games. C-side is pure metal, and hardly uses any weird instruments. there have sparsely been other splatbands involved with regular battle music—Yoko&tgb call back to the jazz of Ink Theory which i love! Off the Hook’s new tracks delve into a new style in piano rock. but the main band kind of falls flat to me. :(

let’s talk stages. in splatoon 1, stages were wildly different from each other, including skateparks, construction sites, underpasses, malls, sewage plants, and other locals that are culturally underground. the rest of the trilogy moves away from this in a story standpoint, as ink battles evolve from punky, diy competitions into full-fledged championships in 2 and 3, with advancing battle infrastructure as time progresses. that’s fine, and honestly it’s cool to see that kind of worldbuilding! but in 1, each stage was designed about and influenced by the area it represented. Arowana Mall is a straight line with high vantage points on the second/third story because it’s a mall. Pirahna Pit features convenyor belts that shuffle refuse around because it’s a trash plant. Blackbelly Skatepark has so many hills and valleys because it’s a skatepark, for goodness sake. splatoon 3’s original stages have some of this charm, but it feels lost in ambiguity. why doesn’t Mincemeat Metalworks have small moving platforms on cranes or other heavy machinery? Idk, have some grates and one-way drops, and a car on a post. why isn’t there any water incorporated into the stage design of Brinewater Springs? Idk, have 2 paintable walls and a tetris piece. 3’s original stages have little to no connection between their locals and the geometry, which make it feel same-y compared to previous games.

maybe this is because of the inflexible philosophy of the designers—or their corporate oversight, maybe. for stages, you need to make a straight line or tetris piece with few routes to push, in an effort to promote the game’s main premise of Chaos. for music, you need to make punk songs that aren’t too weird so they don’t drive away the parents. maybe the little ink touches could have been missing because development was rushed?

i honestly dont know why it happened out this way—perhaps the splatoon team just needed more time to cook, in order to squeeze out that extra 20% of game feel? or maybe it was that speculated corporate oversight, i dunno. things WERE missing on launch—notable exceptions being X rank, online tableturf lobbies, and no more than three salmon run maps. i know we’ve yet to even get the DLC but for being about 75% of the way through the game’s content lifespan, but splatoon 3 feels incomplete. there have been improvements, yeah! i just wish there could’ve been more. i would rather have waited another year for splatoon 3 if it were polished that much better, y’know?

i honestly feel like splatoon 1 captured that creative, no-holds-barred mantle of Chaos better than 3 does. 3 feels… flanderized, in a way. the curse of trilogies, perhaps? writing about it more, it feels like not only have the in-game sports of turf war been ripped out of its seedy home and thrust into the spotlight, and gone “mainstream” (see: massive squidsport companies investing in multimillion battle lobbies with holograms and lockers [sunken scroll about that!], flying coffee machines that grant you brief invincibility, new rules and techniques that allow squid surges and rolls, etc.), but also the Real Life Physical Video Game Cartridge of Splatoon has been popularized massively with the sequels on the Switch. maybe i’m not missing the “vibrancy” of splatoon 1 when i look at the colors and photomode filters of splatoon 3, but instead the inherent punkiness and counterculture inspiration that i see in the original.

fuck capitalism, i guess!

[ladyloveandjustice]

I appreciate that Chidori flips so easily from "this situation is totally made up and stupid" to "yall do not have to hack the transmitter out of him with a knife just microwave his hand a little". Civilian somehow more saavy about bugs than two trained military officers.

I guess preventing him from being stabbed starts to make up for her earlier behavior toward him.

[solace-saphylos]

The fresh hype and memes is good and all, but I wish Baldur's Gate 3 was an old game with its story mechanic fleshed out in online guides down to the littlest node.

Withers called me bitchless. I've rejected every romance advance I've gotten. I have not pursued anyone. The one I want is Karlach, but I'm in act 2 and she's not made a move despite being able to hug me. Have I been assigned a no romance route by role-playing a shy monk?

If this was a JRPG from 1998 Google would have an answer.

[all-thestories-aretrue]

Holy fuck y'all i should NOT be awake 😭

[wawa-cupcakes]

Tim Drake starts a revolution. On accident. Part 1:

When he thinks about it the press, nor any of Gotham, or likely even much of the Justice league, had never seen Tim Drake without a coffee in his hand. So maybe this whole thing had been a long time in coming? The look of exasperation on Bruce’s face tells him no. But Jason cackling on the floor tells him yes. So who’s to say really.

It happens randomly one day. Tim is just leaving WE ready to get back to the Batcave so he can synthesize the half baked formula he thought up during the board meeting this morning for The Jokers new toxin. He made himself an especially large coffee with the Kureg Steph bought him for his office.

At the door he’s met with reporters, all asking about WE’s latest foray into buying housing their employees. And amongst all the questions being hurled at him he picks out the one about Coffee. I mean it’s only natural to have a fine tuned sense about these things when someone relies on coffee like it’s their actual blood. (And frankly it might be at this point Tim isn’t sure)

“What brand of coffee are you drinking?” - The question that will unknowingly rocket all of Gotham into chaos for the next few weeks.

“Bustelo. I’m drinking bustelo. Black like my soul.” Tim throws over his shoulder as he slips into the car. And then he forgets about the whole thing because he’s got approximately 20 minutes and 48 seconds to sleep on the car ride home and he’s not gonna waste a second of it.

He does even find out about it until three days later when he opens the cabinet to find oh - Alfred hasn’t replaced the grounds yet. He just grabs a different bag, he deserves some freshly ground beans after the night he had anyway, and set to work on making some coffee.

When he sees Alfred a few minutes later he asks him to pick some more up the next time he’s at the grocery store. “Actually, Master Tim. They were out. I went yesterday. ”

Tim pauses what he’s doing. “What?”

“It seems your recommendation to the press the other day has been taken to heart. All the stores in Gotham are sold out.”

“WHAT!?”

Upon further research apparently Tim’s sort of accidental recommendation had sky elected sales overnight. The company’s stock was up, and apparently they’d already made a statement about increasing production. The inbox for Tim’s work email, the one he never checked, was flooded with emails from various coffee brands reaching out to attempt to get a sponsorship. Offering to send free samples, and some even life time supplies (Which actually didn’t sound half bad) for him to review.

So Tim does what any sane person would do. He takes the power he’s been given an warps it to fit his needs.

[nerdierholler]

Book binding supplies should finally arrive today! I've done a lot of the prep work so I'm hoping once I get supplies I can start making some quick progress. The big thing left to do is making my end pages so I can sew them in now that I've decided on the fancy paper for them. I didn't leave enough blank pages at the end of the text block so I'm going to have to sew them in, which is fine, but it does mean that need to be done so I can stab holes in them and add to the sewing stack.

[futurelabs]

well, i’m making a house 👀

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

I don't wanna be perfect (I just want to be good enough for you)

Heist!Mark x reader (can be read as platonic or romantic) | Words: 694

You are curled into your heist partner's side in the living room area of your shared base, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, when he asks you something out of the blue.

‘Do you think– are we… good people?’

You turn to face him, shutting off your phone screen, and raise an eyebrow.

‘Who are you and what've you done with Mark?’

‘Come on, I'm serious.’ You give him a baffled look and he sighs. ‘I never really thought about it all that much, I guess. I think I always just sorta accepted it? I sorta fell into this profession because it was fun and it paid the bills — I mean, don't get me wrong, I love what we do. I love the thrill, and I love the satisfaction of getting away with our loot scott-free. But I dunno… Recently I've been thinking. Is it bad that I enjoy this job? Am I a good person?’

It's a fair question, you suppose. You understand where he's coming from, but you're sure you both knew what you were getting into when you started this lifestyle, and once you've been doing it for so long it's hard to even begin to think of doing anything else, let alone the difficulty that would come with becoming an honest, working citizen without getting caught and sentenced for your many transgressions.

‘I mean, we're thieves, Mark — regular, organised criminals. We're not exactly heroes’ — you jab him lightly with your elbow — ‘as much as you like to act like one.’

He chuckles at that. There is a light-hearted smile on your face that is soon replaced with a more thoughtful expression. You cast your gaze away from him as you continue.

‘I think good and bad are kinda relative and subjective. The average person probably wouldn’t consider us good people, and yeah, I can't say we're necessarily good, but I don't think we're terrible either. I mean, I wouldn't want to actually hurt anyone. Would you?’

‘No,’ he says quickly. ‘No… Unless someone gave me a reason to.’

‘Well, that's fair. I think that's the same for most people.’

You pause, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. You don't recall at what point your fingers involuntarily found the edge of his clothes, but the familiar texture grounds you. ‘Yeah, we might not be good people per se, but I don't think that makes us bad people exactly, either.’ You meet his eyes again, with all the earnestness you can. ‘I don't think you are, at least,’ you add softly.

‘I don't think you are either,’ he says, and his tone is gentle but unwavering. You feel warm.

You offer a good-natured smile, attempting to turn the conversation in a lighter direction.

‘You know, in our defence, we mostly rob museums and super rich people. I don't think we need much justification to steal from the hella rich, and most stuff in museums is stolen anyway,’ you say matter-of-factly.

He laughs, loud and genuine, and the sound only warms you further.

‘Y'know, you're not wrong…’

‘But seriously,’ you ask, ‘what got you thinking about all this?’

‘I…’ he starts, voice low again, hesitant. ‘I don't know.’

But he does know, he thinks to himself, as he looks into your eyes. He often finds himself wondering what kind of person he is in those eyes.

It's you, he thinks. It's all you.

You break the entirely-too-long and yet far-too-short period of eye contact in favour of returning to your former position, nestled into his side. You lean into him and he places an arm around you, his thumb gently brushing wherever it can reach. You don't think all that much of it, but he's warm and comfortable and safe, and the way you fit together feels like home.

He thinks you're probably right; the idea of a good or bad person isn't something set in stone. And his and your standards measured against anyone else's would certainly differ.

But he finds that he doesn't really care what anyone else thinks of him.

As long as his best friend, his partner, still likes him enough to keep sticking around, that's enough for him.

[starswallowingsea]

man they really reduced exp needed to level up.... only took 2 days to go from 228 to 230 which is insane for guy who plays like once a week if that

[lovely-english-rose]

instinctively trying to fight him the second i open the game 😩

[eternal-dragon-of-time]

ELEVENTH HOUR OF NIGHT, HALF WRITTEN ON PHONE, NO BETA. I FINALLY WROTE A THING AND FINISHED IT.

Hero/Drakath, Enemies to Lovers, Slowburn, NO established relationship yet, and I inserted so many headcanons about Drakath in this one enjoy.

Drakath wasn’t a stranger to finding the Hero tied up in odd situations, it could be said to be the cornerstone of their relationship. Granted he was a little more used to causing the situation and grandstanding before they somehow wormed their way out of it, but the point was that nothing should be able to surprise him when they were involved.

Except here they were. Passed out on the floor of Crownsreach’s library, book in hand as if they were mid page. Their body sprawled out on their back, taking up all available space between the bookshelves and looking like a corpse. The scene would’ve been horrifically morbid except that the Hero was gently snoring, sleeping as though they weren’t splayed out like a dead man.

Stepping forward after kicking Hero’s slightly twitching leg out of the way, Drakath scanned the bookshelves for any threats, just because the Hero seemed to be asleep didn’t mean that they weren’t attacked. They were an idiot, but they were smart enough to not fall asleep alone in a mortal enemy's home. The idea that anything managed to incapacitate the Hero here itched at him, if the threat could take out them, as reluctant as he was to admit it it could probably do the same to him.

Slowly reaching down Drakath pulled the book Hero was holding out of their hand. Carefully turning to the page they were reading he groaned.

“You’re kidding.” He said looking down at their sleeping form, “I really give you too much credit.” Kicking them in the side, they rolled over but didn’t wake.

The page detailed a sleep spell, one that was trapped to go off on an unexpecting reader. The Hero must’ve been researching something to do with Malgor and the Queen and pulled this book off the shelf. The idiot flipped to the page and cast the spell on themselves accidentally. The Hero would snooze for another four hours or so, but otherwise the spell was harmless. A dirty trick for a malicious caster to incapacitate a victim nonlethally.

As much as Drakath wanted to turn and leave them there, his mutually beneficial agreement tied his hands. The library was a long procrastinated project, its pest control floated around with no one eager to take on the job. Chances were some slinking horror still crawled around in the walls and Incarnation of Time or not the Hero wasn’t able to defend themself in this state, it would be more of a headache cleaning up the aftermath mess than it would be to just pick them up and drop them somewhere relatively safe.

Safe.

In Crownsreach.

Where no one could see that he was doing it.

Drakath contemplated his options. 

If he took them to the guest rooms the same problems as the library arrived, his militia hadn’t cleared them out yet and -victims- test guests had been eaten or worse. The barracks were shot down immediately, it was too public. He’d rather die than have anyone see him doing this, gossip flew too freely and the sight of their Champion of Chaos carrying the sleeping Hero would reach Xing and Xang within minutes. Really there was only one option that would guarantee privacy but…

Some part of him, a part that he had thought he had murdered and left dead in a ditch somewhere in his cold heart spoke up. It was the same nagging that forced him to ‘sit up straight’ and ‘stay princely’ and demanded 'that he keep promises and remain at a certain level of royal decorum’. The same bullshit that his reflection cared about. And it balked at the idea of taking a sleeping acquaintance to his private room.

Which was stupid. The Hero meant nothing to him really, they were a mortal enemy he had entered into a mutually beneficial agreement with that just happened to mean that he shared his library, house, and now his private quarters with on occasion. There was no deeper meaning to that. For the Mother’s sake he didn’t even use his room anymore, once he strained his chaos magic hard enough he stopped needing most mortal needs like sleep. So long as he kept an eye on the time the Hero wouldn’t even know that they had slept there.

And it was the only option. Stealth was paramount, if he took them out of Crownsreach someone from the other members of the alliance would see the awkward situation and that would be far worse. Not only would the leaders of Good and Evil immediately assume the worst, he would be leaving the Hero to try and explain in the aftermath. Not that he really cared about them being uncomfortable but it was something that they would nag him about later. 

He could make someone else deal with this, but the idea made Drakath feel… odd. In a way that he didn’t care to dissect right now. Xing and Xang were the people he picked to make situations worse, so it was useless to ask them for help, and the rest of the militia was inconsistent at best. Cemaros was loyal but blabbed and had no concept of tactfully never speaking to him about things. Ultimately the thought of the Hero being so vulnerable while he wasn’t there to keep an eye on them… It was easy to justify why it had to be him.

So really, his bedroom was the only option.

Heaving them up into his arms was simple, despite the sheer force they threw around like nothing the Hero barely weighed anything to him. With one arm around the shoulders and another under the knees it was more difficult fighting off the rising heat in his face as the bastard started curling into his hold.

“You are such an idiot,” he huffed. “And also the luckiest being on Lore, Xing and Xang would’ve loved to make fun of you for this and now I can’t tell them.”  Now the fact that the Hero was a clingy sleeper would have to join in with the other stupid things about the Hero only he knew, which was a list which was starting to grow at an alarming rate.

They looked… peaceful like this, it was an unfamiliar expression to him. He had gotten so used to their anger, smugness, and recently begrudging looks that Drakath realized he had never seen them ever just rest. Even in the downtime between world threatening catastrophes they were always chewing away at something. He wondered when they last got an opportunity to sleep like this, as if the world didn't rest on their shoulders.

He was stalling with behavior bordering on dangerous. He needed to get them to bed and out of his hands before he started thinking other sappy thoughts, them and their dumb face were doing some form of damage to him he was sure. Spreading his wings to weave a teleportation spell he resolved to break some monsters apart up in the northern lands later, the mind numbing repetitive task in the freezing cold would do wonders to clear his mind. As the magic rose and whisked the two of them off into the depths of Crownsreach a traitorous part of him wondered what quip the Hero would have to say about that.

Landing on his feet on the soft flooring of his private room Drakath breathed a sigh of relief at the silence that greeted them. Xing and Xang had a sixth sense for when he was in a compromising position, and however irrational it would seem he would never put it past them to somehow have figured out what was happening and hide out in his room to attempt to embarrass him. Which was fairly light retribution after what he did to them to be fair, but he didn't have to like it.

His room was sparse and dusty. When he was orchestrating the thirteen lords he hadn't been interested in living, working himself to the bone with no rest or need of a room, and ironically now that he was trying a little harder to live 'normally' his body didn't need sleep. So his room remained mostly unused except to store what little personal items he had. It did have a huge ornate bed in the center of the room for the sake of appearance though, just because he didn't need it and no one would see it didn't mean he would let people think he wasn't in possession of the absolute best after all.

Striding over to the bed Drakath dropped the Hero on it with a pomf and a flurry of dust. There, mutually beneficial agreement appeased, quest turned in, duty done, he could wash his hands of them and stop thinking about it. All he had to do now was keep an eye on the time and drop them back off in the library before they woke up and nobody would know of this but him. He should probably get back to work now, he had been looking to do some research of his own on the Loremasters in Crownsreach after all.

Noting the Hero's grasping hands he idly pulled a pillow over to them to clutch onto for as if for dear life. He felt jealous for a moment, looking at them resting in the absurdly expensive bed he never got an opportunity to use. 

He could stay here for a moment probably. Crownsreach wouldn't fall apart if he were absent for a bit. Taking a seat at the foot of the bed he was struck by the wave of sheer exhaustion that hit him. Falling onto his back a very tired part of him wished that he were the one that was struck by that sleep spell. By the Avatars it was just so much, one thing after another and then tomorrow there was going to be more. Between managing the militia, the Queen and now Malgor he felt spent in a way he had never let himself feel while in front of that stupid gate. He hadn't felt like this since… he was in charge of his old bandit group.

For just a moment, on this massive comfortable bed with another body breathing a few feet away, Drakath felt human again, human enough to try and rest. Closing his eyes he rationalized. It's just closing my eyes. A breath in and out. Just for a few minutes before I get back to work. The Hero's steady breathing felt incredibly in sync as he started to fade.

Xing and Xang found the two of them six hours later after an incident nearly destroyed the lower wings of the castle. Still sleeping.

[red-dye40]

ancaux chapter 15 today :)

[magic-is-something-we-create]

how does one describe that sigh/exhale/breath thing you do when you're lying on your back that flaps your lips and kinda makes a pff sound. asking for a friend