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#end speaks
end-fall · 8 months
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Another thing I love about Baldur's Gate 3 is the characters all look so much like people. Characters have pores, and wrinkles, and grey hair. Halsin looks like he could be my dad because his face looks realistically aged. Jaheera actually looks old enough to have adult children with her grey hair and wrinkles, she looks just like some of my older biology field professors! Gale has little grey hairs! Multiple characters have laugh, or worry lines! It adds so much character to them and it's always so consistent with their character! I love it!
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bfpnola · 9 months
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UPDATE! REBLOG THIS VERSION!
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greenslime69 · 8 months
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The ninth doctor was so insane fr he was like I watched my planet get destroyed and I can't share this trauma with anyone. I will fix this by befriending a human girl and taking her to see her planet get destroyed. This is normal behaviour.
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hellenhighwater · 2 months
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When my nephew was four, a friend of the family passed away. The man was in his 90s and died of natural causes, and we were going to the funeral. We sat my nephew down and explained who this was, and that he had passed away, and now we were going to a sort of quiet party to celebrate him, and that there he might see the gentleman in the casket, and he might be very still, because he had died, but that everything was alright.
My nephew contemplated this calmly for a few minutes, and then said, "I think he will be very flat."
What.
It turns out that at age four, my nephew's only real context for death was roadkill, which he frequently pointed out while we were driving. He therefore believed that the only way anyone died was getting run over by a car.
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frogchiro · 7 months
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virgin sacrifice reader offered to war god ghost?? prepare to be his lovely wife instead of a sacrifice with at least 10 demigods running around, he wants to raise strong warriors!
Ghost would definitely be a god similiar to Ares; a god of war, brutality, bloodshed, masculinity and virility. Men go and pray by his shrine or in his dedicated temple to give them strength in both battle and bed, to be a strong and unbeatable warrior and be able to father strong, healthy children.
One such temple, the main one, is in a surprisingly remote location, surrounded not by a major city or capital but a few villages. According to myths it was this place where a brutal battle took place millenia ago where the fearsome god Ghost defeated an army all by himself, the blood of his slain enemies served to make the land fertile and for many villages to grow and prosper...until now.
Usually sacrifaces to appease the god would be made by the men of the villages; black stallions, the strongest bulls, wine, silver and pure steel, everything that has connections to masculinity and power, however some kind of horrible fatum seems to hang over your little village. The animals either die young or are sickly and weak, the wine turns out sour like vinegar, there in so money to buy anything either and it's taken as a curse by the elders. If nothing will be done and Ghost won't have his sacrifice who knows what will happen?
So they decide on the next best thing, a desperate last choice reach in hopes to appease the brutal god-a virgin sacrifice. The prettiest, unmarried and untouched young woman is to be chosen, dressed in the finest, gauzy silks and locked inside the stone temple in hopes that the god will come down and the blood of a slain virgin will calm his fury. Luck wasn't on your side it seems, you were chosen.
All you could remember were the desperate cries of your mother, the dissapointed remorseful look on your father's face and the ritual cleansing of the old crones in the village. You were cleaned in rose water, intricate patterns were drawn with a mixture of honey, mushed up berries and flowers on your breasts, around your nipples and bellybutton, and the most intricate was drawn on the place where your womb was. You were clothed in a white gauzy dress that was a symbol of your purity and then you were bound and dragged to the temple no matter how much you struggled and kicked and pleaded until you were finally locked in the dimly lit temple, only the many candles present to lighten the main chamber and to show the powerful, majestic sculpture of the god, Ghost.
Imagine crying yourself to sleep, everything hurt, you were scared and confused, all alone to die in this forsaken temple because some old men decided on it. Falling asleep out of exhaustion, the images of your crying, terrified mother haunting you even when sleeping.
Imagine waking up and instead of feeling cold and sore from sleeping on the unforgiving stone floor, and instead finding yourself laying on and under the most luxurious furs you've ever seen, the warmth of them felt like a blanket and the smell of them, pleasant warm masculine musk made a shiver run down your spine, just where were you?
Before you had the chance of looking around the room, you felt huge, strong arms clamping togehter around you and bringing you into a powerful, broad chest which rumbled with a growl like purr and a stern voice saying:
"Stay. Don't move around girl."
And the very same arms turned you gently around to face the man behind you and you couldn't help but gasp and breath out a tiny, frightened yelp-behind you was laying a man who looked like the stone sculpture of Ghost cane to life and became human. It...it was Ghost. You laid next to a god.
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oobbbear · 4 months
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I want to post this here too because I’ve seen it happen a few times
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Please understand that there are cultural differences and language differences, if you see this happening let the person clarify what they meant, that person might just not be familiar with words the western side of the internet use
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inkskinned · 9 months
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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The secret good ending for FNAF ruin,,
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pollyanna-nana · 1 month
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So. It’s no secret that the dunmeshi manga gradually changed art style as it went on (thereby twinkifying a few characters…) but I like to think that, in Thistle’s case specifically, it was also a change in perception by the party. I mean…
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Early in the story, when all they knew about him was that he was the creepy, all-powerful mad sorcerer? Probably were much more intimidated by him. Same with the reader. BUT….
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By the end? Oh, he’s just a little jester twink who writes poetry and can be picked up and slung around like a bag of potatoes. No way they could take him seriously anymore. Literally this meme but in reverse
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Little guyification…
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princip1914 · 9 months
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Can’t stop thinking about how all of S2, Aziraphale is throwing himself at Crowley physically (the hand on his chest in the bar, the dance, the hand on his shoulder when Gabe and Beez say being together is more important than sides) waiting for Crowley to make the next move, while Crowley is throwing himself at Aziraphale emotionally (trying to make the humans fall in love by engineering a rainstorm, letting Aziraphale drive his car, recommending Alpha Centauri as a place for Gabe and Beez to go). And how in the final 15, they finally get closer to giving the other what they have been asking for all season, but it’s twisted and miscommunicated: “come with me” Aziraphale says and all Crowley hears is “to heaven”; “I need you” Aziraphale says, and all Crowley hears is “to change for me”; Crowley grabs Aziraphale and kisses him the way Aziraphale has wanted all season and Aziraphale, thinking it’s a temptation away from Heaven, forgives him instead of kissing him back.
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dimonds456 · 2 months
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So I was re-watching Hbomb's plagiarism video, and I noticed something really funny.
Allow me to show you.
Lol whoops.
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end-fall · 8 months
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Okay I don't have screenshots, but one of my favourite Gale and Karlach interactions was when we went to the dancing axe in Baldur's Gate. Karlack sees the sign and says, "I eish I had a dancing axe of my own". Gale says it would be easy with a simple movement charm. Karlach says something like 'would you please?' and Gale responds with, "Karlach's Kinetic Cleaver wil be first on my list once we save the city"
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lets-make-light-now · 1 month
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To the Fucking USA.
First you kill us Palestinians by arming Israel.
Then you humiliate us by Veto the cease fire.
You create famine and starvation
And now you want to give humanitarian aid by building a port.
Go the fuck back to fairy tale land.
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digitalis-obscura · 1 year
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reblog for sample size etc.
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smokestarrules · 9 months
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babybirbb · 11 months
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i don’t know what’s funnier: spidernoir and spider-ham being invited to the spider society and them turning it down, or just straight up not being invited to join lmao
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