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#market flooding
sergle · 7 months
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Everyone wants to tell me that sw is Easy and Lucrative and I should Post Tits all day every day and yet I'm not actually seeing those incredibly lucrative and easy to come by monetary offers... crazy
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grem-archive · 1 year
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we call that the yankee doodle dumptruck
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targarrus · 11 months
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käärijä discord server pressured me to do this 👁️💚👁️
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glassofpumpkinjuice · 9 months
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hold me like a grudge (7/21/23)
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have a great refraction railway thursday everyone
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conceptofjoy · 3 months
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pls does anyone have the clip where theres 3 guys and. u know what im just drawing them as hs characters.
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birdybirdnerd · 10 months
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I've blissfully missed out on the heard-of toxicity of the tsp fandom lately, by virtue of never delving into tags and hiding away doing my own thing. I toss shit in, I don't look around. But I wanna change that because I recently heard that one point of contention is on Narrator designs
Y'all need to accept the truth of fat old man Narrator
Not being judgy with this, at least not much. Just saying. There's infinite possibility out there, and Kevan Brighting is a fat old man
Fat old men can be just as crazy hot as skinny pretty twinks
Love y'all. Gonna try to get back on drawing more, maybe pop back in the discord. We need more variety and I aim to please
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wereshrew-admirer · 8 months
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hi~~~
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old-man-hell · 5 months
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"Of course."
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anotherpapercut · 3 months
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dear god I hope all people who buy up huge numbers of limited run items using bots so they can resell them at a massive markup get hit by 2 buses that are crashing into each other for real thank you amen
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targarrus · 6 months
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šolašola
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glassofpumpkinjuice · 10 months
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patrick & the dog
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tunastime · 1 year
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i spun a wheel to decide what to request and it gave me 5 so
5 and renthubs?
-your most favorite fluff writer ever/silly
5. Sickly / Sweet (x) (983 words)
Etho flips an egg. It's. It's not working. It's not. It's not the eggs fault that it won't cook right or the pan's fault that it won't cook even or the carton's fault for having three eggs that refuse to cook right. But he can't. The egg is too hard. There's a short breath caught in Etho's chest. He’s not. He’s not frustrated with this. It’s fine. So he puts the egg on another plate. And he cracks another one. There are three eggs on the plate. Bdubs will eat them. Ren will not, but he will be glad they’re made for Bdubs. It’s fine.
He burns his egg.
It sticks to the bottom of the pan and he stands there with the burner off, staring into the charred edges of the egg too cooked and singed. He takes a long breath. He does, he really tries. And then he starts scraping.
He scrapes at the pan to get the egg off. It unsticks but the charcoal is going to ruin the taste so he keeps scraping it. He stands there and he scrapes and he lets his brain fog over and just stands there.
“Etho, hey, good morning, love.”
Etho looks over, but he realizes his mouth is still in a fine line. He doesn’t try to fix it. He turns back to the pan. His mind loops the situation, the steps.
“Etho...hey,” and Ren’s voice gets very soft. Not. Not demeaningly soft. Just, collected. It’s a voice he uses sometimes with him and it mutes every other sound. It quiets them. He hears Ren step over, somewhere in his periphery, the known shape of him. 
“It’s okay,” Etho says in a voice not all there. Ren very slowly puts his hand over his, lets Etho decide whether or not he’s going to pull away from him. He doesn’t. Ren takes his hand between both his own, squeezes ever so. 
Ren doesn’t say anything else. There’s enough in the hands around his own that Etho can make his own sentences. It says something like let me, something like it isn’t worth the strain. So Etho lifts his hand from the handle of the pan, and Ren’s hand drifts to his elbow, still gentle, still holding. When he steps back, Ren keeps him at his side, and Etho stays to rest his chin on Ren’s shoulder. 
“What’s happening?” Ren asks as he wipes the pan out. Etho sighs. His inflection is enough that the question he’s really asking is something else.
“Dunno,” Etho says, pressing his cheek against his shoulder. Ren’s tail swishes, thwapping him in the leg when he does that. He smiles.
“One or two?” he asks.
“One is fine.”
Ren’s hand drifts to the carton. Etho shuts his eyes.
“Promise?” Ren asks. 
“Yeah,” Etho says. He fusses with the hem of Ren’s shirt. “I’ll be okay to eat lunch.”
Ren nods, something he feels more than sees. He feels him kiss the top of his head, just so, before he listens to the sound of egg frying in the pan.
“Hey you two.”
If Etho were to crane his neck around, he might be able to see Bdubs pause in the doorway before he enters. He instead catches a glimpse of him as he rounds his shoulder. He reaches out and Bdubs catches his hand, pausing by his side.
“Hiya, Dubs,” he says, cracking one eye open. Bdubs squeezes his hand.
“You alright, sweetheart?”
Etho shrugs halfheartedly.
“‘M okay.”
“You sure?” Bdubs raises his eyebrows. Etho shuts his eyes again, shrugging, goes to speak, floundering, mouth opening and closing. The answer is no. But Bdubs finishes: “Nah, don’t...don’t say anything, it’s alright. I getcha.”
Bdubs skirts past him, letting his hand go.
“Eggs, love?” Ren asks Bdubs.
“Hm?” Bdubs hums. Etho watches him look over at the plate on the other side of the stove. Bdubs nods. “Sure, sure, I’ll have the leftover ones. I’m just gonna put the kettle on and hop up here.”
“Careful,” Etho says, reaching his hand back out again. Bdubs takes it, bending to kiss his knuckles. He lets Etho let go first.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m always careful,” Bdubs smiles. He sets the kettle on the burner before he hops up onto the counter. Etho sighs, shifting to press his forehead to Ren’s shoulder. The world hurts him a little less, now. Water bubbles in the kettle. It drowns out the sound of the cicadas outside.
“You guys are too sweet to me,” he mumbles into Ren’s shirt.
“Too sweet?” Bdubs laughs a little. “Etho, we’re doing the bare minimum.”
Etho sighs, trying not to sound pathetic. “I know, I just...” He scrunches his face, still buried for the most part against Ren’s shoulder blade. He feels Ren laugh. Thwap. His tail wags. (If he were to look up and over his shoulder right now, he would see Ren plating an egg that’s just over easy enough. And toast, too). Ren says:
“I saw you were getting frustrated,” and shrugs a little. “It’s my job to help.”
Etho huffs.
“Not necessarily,” he says, unsticking himself from Ren’s shoulder. He rests his chin there instead. Bdubs reaches out, poking his hip with his foot.
 “Mm, no,” Bdubs says. “I’m sure it’s in the job description.”
Etho groans, worming away as Bdubs tries unsuccessfully to poke him again. He narrowly evades Ren’s grab at his hip and manages to flounder his way to the kitchen table. Bdubs does grab him at some point, throwing his arms around his ribs and pressing his cheek to his back. He squirms, he really does, but then Ren’s scooping him up in his arms too and he’s being crushed between them. He sighs. He’s an Etho sandwich. His chest feels full to bursting. It’s not a cure-all, but it certainly feels good.
Etho smiles.
“You guys are the worst.”
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vivanightcity · 4 months
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for real
anyone who likes stardew/harvest moon style games
roots of pacha is the fucking best
holy shit. So good.
It does something really different and interesting with what's become an over saturated genre. And. Amazingly. It has an actually pretty fun and not annoying fishing mini-game. And a little rhythm game to tame animals.
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god, I really have to play Dishonored + Knife of Dunwall + Brigmore Witches again
#literally just currently thinking about Daud and The Flooded District and metaphor and the concept of The Narrative and roles#and being Serkonan and not really being Part of this but also you're indelibly part of it and being removed from it all#and how everything in this district does not matter and how everything here matters more than anything#Daud as gleefully engaging in the metaphor on purpose until he is being driven mad that nobody else sees the tandem of the narrative themes#The Flooded District as both the heart (haha) of the symbolism but also so distant from the meat of the narrative and what Corvo cares abou#being so genre aware it becomes like eldritch horror to you. being so far from what matters that suddenly your actions are more meaningful#this gang of butchers in a figurative butcher's market (the former Financial District) laying on top of a former literal butcher's place#this height of metaphor that is also so removed from the narrative that anything you do here doesn't “matter” per se#against a villain who is cracking under feeling he is the only one truly WITNESSING it all and is trying to exit the narrative#and that is the one place where you can choose actual mercy—BECAUSE of these things#the first real mission in the game where your only objective is to get out. where revenge is truly optional. where mercy is real and true.#among these assassins called whalers. in a flooded financial district overrun with plague where they butchered the first leviathans.#“And yet you choose... mercy. Extraordinary.”#anyway anyway anyway
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xbraveheartx · 5 months
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Honestly kind of glad over the immense feeling of despair that comes with trying to find LoP merch? Because it truly just means... Neowiz had a passion for their game, having focused all energies on creating it rather than trying to market something to people.
It shows their love and dedication to their game rather than wanting to make a profit from merch (I'm looking at you, indie horror scene).
They believed in their creation, and as a result, we all want the merch that'll inevitably be made in the future for us. That's the difference between making something out of love, and making something out of profit.
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