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#easy desert
homemadequickneasy · 1 year
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Check it out. Follow for new recipes added weekly
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tatretot · 22 days
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*ham-hamifies your desert duo* :3c *ham-hamifies your jizzie* :3c *ham-hamifies your imp & skizz* :3c
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marblegroves · 9 months
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A scene redraw I did for @sixteenth-days fic brave new world, emulating the style of the show Steven Universe ^^
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whatsanameanyway · 2 months
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i dont really like this one but. it happened and i dont know what else to do (acrylic on canvas)
(character from ddvau by the amazing phenomenal incredible @xmaruu11 and @kitsuneisi )
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comicaurora · 10 months
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wholesome dainix fact?
his dad saved him from drowning one time!
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pianokantzart · 3 days
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I also appreciate that they let Knuckles murder the generic bad guys, that was extremely cathartic
Me too! I also love the way he spells out violent, detailed threats to crush the skulls and rip the arms off of the two agents who captured him. He'll defend his clan with his life and cares deeply for the lives of innocent bystanders.
But if you prove yourself a threat? No mercy.
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He will send you straight to the morgue.
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ghoulgeists · 2 years
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looking for a sparring partner so he can have someone homoerotically hold a sword to his throat
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life-winners-liveblog · 5 months
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Gri, just listen for a sec. First of all, Sca- actually no let me say it like this. Regret did betray Pesky Bird technically over a “no kill pass” but even if he didn’t see it that way, Regret and Pesky Bird said that they’d see it as a win for the both of them. The ghosts wanted a fight and it was a fair fight and maybe of the slightest thing was different, Revenge would be in Pesky Bird’s place right now. Anyways, what I’m trying to say is don’t let Pesky Bird beat himself up about it too much, okay?
Grian: Because Regret deserved to win too, they should have found a way... They should have ignored the ghost, there was nothing they could do to force them to fight was there... But pesky bird didn't think of that and so they fought and pesky bird deserves the worst.
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skypiea · 13 days
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really really wanted to build my wiki on miraheze instead of fandom since fandom sucks shit but i feel like no one talks about how hard it is to get a foot in the door w/ miraheze when ur not great at coding OTL ive read thru all their beginners stuff and consulted a lot of external resources and i just dont think im built for it.......got my wiki and tried to set up some stuff but i just feel terribly overwhelmed. waaaugh
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Turning off Peaceful mode
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I have been alternating between my Rock Palace world and this new one of desert and mesa*
I will try this tower on Easy mode (at least for now, I might be going back and forth). It's getting dark though, so I will go and sleep in that village behind it first.
Wish me luck!
* A seed for bedrock edition I found on a google search. It's called "Mesa and Lush caves" and it is absolutely gorgeous. So far I've seen two villages, two towers and two pyramids. Much more to explore. Big recommendation.
Seed: 1917813112
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homemadequickneasy · 1 year
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dot-moth · 1 year
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the reverend son of the ninth house and his cavalier. based on a life series locked tomb au by @good-chimes. minecraft griddlehark for real. perhaps the most indulgent thing ive ever drawn (some more thoughts/rambles below the cut)
okay so i havent been able to stop thinking about this au for days on end. funnily enough i got into life series and locked tomb around the same time ! so it really hits a sweet spot for me.
i gave grian a dagger for a secondary weapon, mostly because i think it would fit his personality more. i also spent too much time thinking about what face paint they'd both use and how careful theyd be in applying it (scar would go with something simple, same as grian, but grian would probably apply it carefully to seem more capable in front of the other houses) in the process coming to the wonderful conclusion that paralleling the life series', grian would have to yell at scar to get him to put it on. and so many more thoughts in my brain
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minecraftbed · 10 months
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a desertduo fic based on the songAugust by flipturn
it’s so them right im not delusional
August: a song about a relationship that only works out during the month of august, wherein it seems perfect. After august it falls apart, until the next august comes around. 
title: octagonal
wordcount: 971
rating: T
ao3: HERE
“Hey, catch.”
Grian barely had time to finish pulling off his sweater before something equally as red entered his peripheral. He jumped backwards with a squeak and a fluff of wings, the object landing by his feet with a thud. An apple, shiny like glass under the desert sun.
“That wasn’t… you can’t just throw things at me, Scar—” the words were annoyed but laced with amusement as he adjusted his tank top. “—and expect me to react on time.” 
“Well,” Scar bit into his own fruit like an animal, juice running down his fingers, down his wrist, down his arm. “What if I’d been an enemy?”
“You aren’t.”
“And…! —And what if that had been TNT.”
Grian sighed. “Then I wouldn’t have wanted  to catch it, would I?” 
Scar took a second, canting his head and staring at him, apple frozen in motion towards his mouth. Then, the lightbulb went off. “Oh…” a chuckle. “Oh, I guess not.” 
It was contagious; the way they bickered and laughed, the constant back and forth as they worked. Hands splintered from planks of wood, then calloused from rough sandstone bricks. The foundations of their new …home… were beginning to take place. 
(Really, it was Grian doing the work. Scar stood around shirtless and thought up ways to scam people.)
The sun, high in the sky, unchanging as they changed beneath it. 
————————————-
The new world was different.
Grian noticed it from day one; the shift in tone, they went from orange to blue. 
It didn’t help that there was the looming threat of what everyone was calling ‘the boogeyman’. As if they were twelve. As if the insatiable, sudden need to kill one of your friends was as light as the stories parents told their children so that they would go to sleep.
Maybe it was, Grian hadn’t experienced either. 
But he felt the effects. People stood further away during conversations, hands itching by their sides ready to draw. No one wanted to be alone, either, but it was worse to be alone with another. Anyone could turn. Anyone could kill.
The curse brought on an ultimatum: them or you. And who in their right mind wouldn't choose the former? 
It was dark when he saw Scar for the first time. Part of him knew he should be cautious, memories burnt fresh into his brain of blood on his sword, in his hair, his skin. Together they had taken down everything and everyone, including themselves. Behind that annoying lopsided smirk and fake diamond armour, Scar hid what he was capable of. 
Grian wasn’t scared of his violence. No, no. His words, they were a completely different thing to fear.
“...So I can’t put you on the back of a llama and take you to the desert?”
It hurt, in an unexpected way. The type of way where you end up angry at yourself for not preparing on time. His mental walls were only half constructed, architecturally weak, and Scar had found the point to prod on his first try. Grian laughed, shrill and light as his heart crawled further inside. 
He needed severance.
“Hey… have you tried transferring a life yet?” 
The new world was different.
“No, I haven’t!”
He would be different.
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His throat stung, dehydrated lips cracked. Grian’s scream would unendingly echo throughout the ravine.
He waited, and waited, and waited. Alone in the desert, dizzy with heatstroke, uncertain of what was to come. When Scar finally showed up, he wasn’t sure if he was real or a mirage; he spoke to him anyway. 
The flowers. Lilacs and poppies. Grian clutched the wilted bundle in his fist, torn between them and the new shade of Scar’s eyes.
“Can we still be friends?”
Could they? Did Grian care if they couldn’t? It was just stupid rules of a stupider game. Half of everything was made up on the fly, and the other half broken whenever someone felt like it. They were too carefree, when nothing was there to enforce them. 
Grian didn’t want to admit it, but somewhere along the muddied lines, his obligation had grown into greedy devotion. He needed Scar, and Scar needed him. At least if they got any more parasitic the vultures would have something to feast on. 
“I think so? I still owe you my first life,” and the one after that, and the one after that.
They rearranged their sleeping quarters that night, silently communicating as they pushed two beds together. It was sticky and humid, but their hands stayed entwined until morning. 
Grian left the flowers on the windowsill, with thought that they would dry. 
————————————-
Grian had never experienced the boogeyman curse, but he had felt the effects.
“At least his bed is out here, so we don’t have to ruin his lovely house.”
That was something, right? 
They had built the obsidian spawn-camping death trap OUTSIDE of his lovely house. For that, Grian deserved a pat on the back. Joel gave him a funny look as the words left his mouth, the absurdity of the situation crawling down his spine. 
They needed these lives. Scar… Scar had too many. He didn’t need them like him and Joel did. —- Hell, he would lose them himself soon enough. All they were doing was stopping such an important resource from going to waste.
The method was… justified. 
So when Scar refused their offer, backing away from his beloved mountain, spewing lies, silver tongue tangled, Grian didn’t feel bad, loading his crossbow with bolt after bolt. Each one finding a place in flesh, in armour. Scar had made his choice.
At the end of the day, his heart was just a muscle behind his sternum. 
And Grian only knew how to touch skin when it was to brush away stray grains of sand.
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piink-u · 2 years
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“Argh!” Grian pained getting the attention of his soulmate from where he stood prostrate on the ground – Scar had just tripped and scraped his knee, the wound in Grian’s leg mirroring it.
“Oh, G, I’m-” Scar started putting his hands against dirt to raise himself and stopping just to sigh defeated and continue his phrase. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Grian said in a half smile, getting closer and offering him a hand. “Scar, you are a disaster.” He said in an affable sigh while helping the man his soul was bound to up.
And looking at half a thousand drawings made of scars, scratches and scrapes on his soulmate’s face, he had but one single thought – for his three life’s sake, why would the Fates be so cruel? For he was, once, twice and once again stuck to Scar.
Stuck to a reckless man that trips on his own feet and falls to a gust of wind while running to his arms; stuck to a foolish man that grazed his face on branches and pricked his fingers on flowers to give to him.
No. Scar was not to blame – only if you consider him insisting on keeping by Grian’s damned side as enough to be at fault.
And there we have another one; Scar was too stubborn for his own good. He would go against anyone, the Fates, Death herself – just to stay at the avian’s side, once, twice and once again.
“Reckless.” Grian said out loud to Scar’s tilted face that stared right back at him. “Foolish.” He continued in a brash and rushed tone. “And stubborn.” He finally smiled lovingly.
Yes, Scar was a disaster.
A disaster ridiculously easy to love.
Once, twice and once again – Grian would know.
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reblog-house · 10 months
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Just taking a stroll on the cliffside with poppies around, not a care in the world.
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deweydecimalchickens · 2 months
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This morning I received revelation while listening to Metallica's cover of 'Turn the Page' (Bob Seger, 1971). And the revelation was:
If 'Easy Rider' (Dennis Hopper, 1969) were made today, it would be about trans people.
I SAID WHAT I SAID.
I will double down and say 'Priscilla, Queen of the Desert' and 'To Wong Foo' were, in their a-little-confused-but-got-the-spirit way, attempts at fix-it sequels where the social, sexual and gender outlaws on a road trip *don't* all die at the hands of frightened social conservatives (spoilers, sorry).
Fear and hatred of the counterculture was dripping with gender panic, from would-be mothers having free love on the Pill to would-be breadwinners growing their hair long and becoming hippies. The main characters are called "queers" and told to cut their hair, and I don't think the moral of the story is that what happens to them is only bad because they fucked women after all.
"So you walk into this restaurant, strung out from the road
And you feel the eyes upon you as you're shaking off the cold
You pretend it doesn't bother you, but you just want to explode
Most times you can't hear them talk, other times you can
All the same old clichés: "Is it woman? Is it man?"
And you always seem outnumbered, you don't dare make your stand
Make your stand"
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