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#we're not doing it anymore
jellyish · 2 years
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normally I’m against queerbaiting but when Taika Watiti slips a bit of gay vibes into a marvel blockbuster it feels less like baiting and more like an inside joke, a cheeky little wink
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themostfuniveverhad · 5 months
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danandphilgames is back
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royalarchivist · 10 days
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[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]
Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?
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[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*
Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.
Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!
Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.
* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.
#Pactw#QSMP#Pac#March 18 2024#As much as I love keeping people updated about Pac / the other Portuguese-speaking creators#I think I might not make as many transcribed posts for their clips anymore#I just don't think I'm qualified enough to be transcribing things for a language I don't know#like yeah we have the Qlobal Translator and Aypierre's translators to rely on#And I'm always upfront when I'm not 100% sure about a translation#but I've been thinking about it a lot and it kinda makes me feel a bit icky. Idk.#I might be overthinking this but I just I don't want to spread around translations I'm not super confident about#esp. since I know a lot of people cite my clips in analysis posts or link them to other people as resources#and 90% of the time I'm like ''Hell yeah I love seeing people getting a lot of use out of the archive''#but sometimes I get a bit anxious like ''Did I do a good enough job translating this''#''Am I ruining someone's entire perception of a conversation or character because I left one word out or mistranslated something?''#And like I said that's normally not a HUGE concern since if I'm not certain about a translation I just won't post a clip. but you know#idk it might just be the anxiety talking but I really really don't want to spread bad info#Happy to hear other folks' perspective#I'm really grateful for people like Bell and Pix and others who translate clips and I always try to reblog those#but we don't have a ton of people posting clips & translating things on Tumblr since we're so English-centric#which is part of the reason WHY I like sharing clips of the non-English-speaking CCs#but at the same time I want to do an accurate job representing what they're saying#Maybe I'll just start posting things and give a TLDR context of what they're talking about but not a transcript#that way native-speakers can hop in and add translations if that's something they're comfortable doing#and if not then well. at least I'm not sharing something that isn't super accurate#idk I'm just thinking out loud a bit in the tags#But I'm open to hearing other people's thoughts on the matter#Anyways giant rant aside. q!Pac is NOT doing ok rn
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burymeinblack2022 · 1 year
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2023
- LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, TRUTH IS NOW ACCEPTABLE
- FAME IS NOW INJECTABLE
- PROCESS THE PROGRESS
- THIS CORE IS CRITICAL
 - FAITH IS UNAVAILABLE
- LIVES BECOME INCREDIBLE
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beanghostprincess · 5 months
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this hurts like fucking hell and i can't deal with gay people (a captain and his first mate) breaking up (the captain sacrificing himself for the crew he loves unconditionally) in the most heartbreaking and romantic way ever (with his first mate yelling for him to not go away)
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chunkecheeks · 5 months
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are we all aware that the guide for flattering haircuts is based on ideals for the human face from the like 1930s that are incredibly racist and opinion based? we're all aware of this right? yes?
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little-pondhead · 14 days
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The Folly of Men -
Chapter 1: #355E3B
AO3 - MASTERPOST
[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]
[Fair warning, guys: Canon is a ball pit, and I’m throwing a baby into it. I have no clue what's happening. Feel free to point out mistakes!]
-
Danny was starting to hate the color green. It was the color of death.
Green reminded him of the portal that killed him, and the electricity that was constantly humming under his skin. It reminded him of being on the wrong end of an ecto-blaster and having to dodge for dear life. It reminded him of choking plants that swallowed him whole and tried to turn him into fertilizer. It reminded him of his glowing eyes and how they seemed to take up his entire face when he looked at himself in the mirror.
And right now, as he lay weakly on his side, grasping at fresh wounds with shaky fingers as he tried to ice them closed, the green blood that was splattered everywhere reminded him he wasn’t human.
Not anymore.
-
Green was a familiar color to Ra’s al Ghul. It was the color of life. 
Green reminded him of the Lazarus Pits, mostly. When it was the reason he’d lived such a long life, how could it not be the first thing he thought of? Green also reminded him of his cloak and the warmth it wrapped him in during the cold desert nights when his wife was still alive. Of the beauty he saw in the natural world and why he wanted to protect it. It reminded him of his green eyes that have been passed down through his very few children and grandchildren. Green was the color of the al Ghuls and represented the power he’d amassed through centuries of hard work. 
And right now, as he stood before the Well of Sins, Ra’s was reminded of a secret contract that was buried deep within his personal records, and the monster he’d made it with. The Gardener, the creature called itself, was a being who had crawled out of a Lazarus Pit years ago in search of Ra’s. Its flesh was made from thorny vines and grasses intertwined, and its eyes were tiny red blooms that glowed and made him feel sick just thinking about it. It had forced him into the contract, exchanging power and knowledge in return for a promise of help in the near future. 
‘Near future,’ my ass. Timothy Drake's fleeting voice flickered in his mind, and he could only agree with his subconscious's crude words. It seemed like the only appropriate term as it had already been several centuries since the contract was made, and the being had yet to claim its part of the deal.
He watched, mind racing, as the Well of Sins started swirling frantically. He was alone, with his attendants on standby. Should he call them in? No. Whatever was causing the strange reaction in the pool had something to do with that contract. He could feel it. A power was tugging at his heart, drawing him closer to the edge of the green waters. He loathed to admit it, but this was beyond his scientific understanding. He just knew that every time he tried to look away and leave, his whole body felt like it was alight with flame.
So he stood. And he stared. For hours, possibly, before the first sign of something new caught his attention. A screeching sound was echoing from the bottom of the pool. It slowly got louder and higher pitched as the stone floor started glowing so bright Ra's almost risked the pain of glancing away.
A large head was making its way through the bottom of the pool. It went slowly to accommodate large shoulders, followed by a wide chest and narrow waist. The figure paid no mind to the churning of the Well of Sins and broke the surface of the waters with the ease of a seasoned swimmer. The screeching sound echoed wildly, bouncing unnaturally throughout the chamber, sounding more like incomprehensible words. Ra's wanted to plug his ears with wax and banish the figure back where it came from. Instead, he didn't even twitch an eye.
The Gardener stood before him. And it was carrying a body.
"Master of Lazarusss," it hissed, inclining its head in acknowledgment, but making no move to exit the pool. "Too long has it been, has it not? I've come to collect on my part of the deal."
Ra's nodded in return. Higher being or not, he refused to bow to anyone. "I've expected this, Gardener." He said roughly. Despite learning their language years ago, the sharp chirps and clicks made by the dead were difficult to sound out. It was like he was trying to mimic a broken radio. "Although it's taken longer than I expected for your arrival."
The Gardener clicked its beak in annoyance. "Don't give me flowery words, Pretender. It was not my choice whether to appear before you or not. The Scepter of our realm visited me long ago and commanded me thus; I only now see her vision behind it."
"I...see." He did not see, thank you very much. That was more information in two sentences than he'd ever managed to get from the Gardener. Were there others at play in this little contract of theirs? He did not like the idea of that. "And I assume this whole thing has something to do with the boy in your arms?"
The Gardener let out a low humming sound that seemed to originate from its chest and echo in Ra’s bones. It glanced down, turning the body over gently to let Ra's see his face. The boy was just a child, no older than sixteen. He was deathly pale and seemed eerily stiff, just as if rigor mortis had set in. His white hair was plastered to his forehead from the water, and his clothes were nothing more than rags. Thick green blood was leaking from several wounds and pooling underneath his skin. It wasn't hard to guess what the Gardener was about to ask.
"This is our Guardian and one of the last of his kind. His haunt is not safe anymore, and I task you with his care for the foreseeable future."
Without waiting for a response, the Gardener sloshed forward to set the boy oh-so-gently upon the edge of the pool, taking care that his thorns did not pierce the child. A few vines cupped his face gently as if the Gardener was sad about the boy's state of being.
The assassin made no move to step forward and claim him. "What iske?" He asked. Ra’s voice caught on the last syllable, and he had to repeat the question again properly. Annoying.
The Gardener didn’t seem to mind and just stepped back, relinquishing its hold completely. "He is our Guardian." It repeated. "Care for him well. His fraid will be on the hunt for him and return any harm tenfold. But earn his loyalty, and the power of the Infinite Realms will be at your fingertips. Good luck, Master of Lazarus."
With that, the Gardener disappeared beneath the waves of the Well of Sins, and the waters calmed. The only proof that someone had been there was the sopping wet teen that lay at Ra's feet.
Ra's stared at the boy. The tugging in his heart was a bind, he realized. And it was tying him to the boy. Well, caring for a dead child shouldn't be that hard. Despite his disagreement with Talia over the matter, Jason Todd had turned out just fine, hasn’t he?
With the contract heavy on his mind, Ra's turned and left the boy lying there, clicking his jaw and calling for his attendants to collect him. The Lazarus Pits had gifted him with a new heir, it seemed.
-
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
In another world, a redheaded girl was on the edge of a rampage. Her scream echoed down the suburban street her house was on, and the neighbors sighed quietly and locked their windows shut, not realizing the severity of the question. They were used to this family's antics, and the girl's screaming as a result.
But this could not be written off as 'family antics.'
Jasmine Fenton, nicknamed ‘Jazz,’ was positively furious. Red-faced, she stood before her parents with steam coming from her ears and a bat in hand. 
“Jazzy-pants, we-” her father tried.
“Nope!” Jazz put up a hand to stop him. “Never mind, I don’t want to hear it. I already know.” 
She whirled around, tuning out her parents' protests as she stormed through their house. Correction, her parent’s house. If she had her way, Jazz would never see these metal and unloving walls ever again. Neither would her brother, once she found him. 
Her phone rang, and she flipped it open with a snap, leaving the bat at the end of the hallway. Only a few people had her number, and it sure as hell wasn’t her parents calling her. “What.” She barked, shoving the phone between her shoulder and ear as she dug through Danny’s closet. His bug-out bag hadn’t been moved. 
“It’s Tucker.”
“We have a code green and a code yellow.” She ground out. Good, the ecto-dejecto shots were up to date. The less time she spends in that god-forsaken lab, the better. 
“Fuck.” Tucker swore. Rustling was heard and she heard another voice in the background. “I’m putting you on speaker.” 
Jazz re-packed the bag quickly, adding in some non-essentials that she knew Danny would appreciate. After it was settled on her shoulders, she switched the phone back to her hand for a better grip. “Is Sam there?”
“I’m here.” The girl responded. 
Jazz tripped over her bedroom carpet in her rush to her room. She cursed but recovered and started ransacking her closet and drawers. “Good. One of you needs to contact Danielle. Our parents sold Danny out, and the GIW took him while I was gone yesterday. I’m going ghost and getting him back. Tell Danielle she’s in danger since they have her ecto-signature now.”
“We’re going with you.” Sam said firmly. There was more rustling, and Jazz guessed they were looking for their own emergency bags. “I don’t care how long it takes; we’ll get him back.” 
“Are you going to shut down the portal?” Tucker asked. 
Jazz paused, considering it. In the original plan, Danny was in charge of shutting down the portal while Jazz and the others took care of the Fentons, GIW, and everything else. It was personal for him; his final resting place. But now that Danny was missing, and they needed a reliable escape route. 
“Not permanently.” She decided. “I’ll figure out how to turn it off temporarily, or put a shield up, but Danny will need to be the one to make that call.” 
Tucker started typing furiously on his laptop, muttering under his breath until he got to the file he wanted. “Sam and I will take care of the town defenses, and Dani’s on her way from New Zealand. She’ll be here in a few hours. I’m sending you a bug; plug it into the Fenton’s security systems, and it’ll lock them out of the house for now. Only do it after you’re done in the labs. Sam’s gone off and is pulling some strings to get all the ghosts in town back to the Zone. I’ll start tracking Danny and shutting down all the Fenton and GIW equipment I can find.”
“Thanks, Tucker. I’ll meet you guys at Nasty Burger in two hours; pass that message to Danielle.”
“Sure thing. Oh, and Jazz?”
“Yeah, Tuck?” Jazz started counting her hidden wads of cash, making sure it was all there. They never wanted to believe the Fentons would go this far, but she was glad they’d made contingency plans just in case. 
She could hear Tucker’s silent snarl as he said his parting remark. “Leave enough of them behind for the rest of us.”
Jazz laughed, a little hysterical. “I’ll try.” She said, bidding him farewell. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she could look at her parents ever again. But she knew, deep in her bones, that if they tried to stop her, there wouldn’t even be ashes left from the hell she would raise. 
-
Gotham was caught in a storm. It was one of those ugly, howling summer storms that threw water in your eyes and bit your skin with a vengeance. Damian squinted, trying to make out the sight of Spoiler and Signal through the rain, but even their bright uniforms were lost in the shadows.
He tightened his grip on his grappling hook as a particularly harsh wind tried to throw him around like a ragdoll. Water seeped into his collar, making him shiver. A beep echoed in his ear, and he risked taking one hand off the line to answer his comms.
"Robin," Oracle was practically shouting in his ear over the storm. "Signal made it to the Cave. Spoiler is rounding up Condiment King, and then she'll do the same. You can go back now."
Damian tsked. "Father is still out here," he replied. "I shall not return until he does."
"Robin-" Oracle sighed.
Another gust of wind made him grunt, and he cut the call to refocus on scaling the building. The only good thing that came from such a wild storm was that most of the villains were smart enough to stay inside. Splitting up in such conditions always left a sour taste in his mouth, but Damian understood it was necessary to cover as much ground as possible during times of emergency.
He wasn't sure this counted as an emergency, but Todd was certainly treating it as such. The citizens of Crime Alley were being hit hard. Enough to the point where Red Hood had openly invited the Bats onto his turf to help with the flooding and evacuation from some unstable buildings. Batman and Red Robin had gone, leaving Robin and Orphan to cover their patrol routes.
Finally, finding purchase on the rough brick, Damian quickly hauled himself up to safety. Some of his equipment was ruined, and his costume was soaked. Truly, this storm had come out of nowhere.
His comms clicked back to life. "Robin." Cain's clipped tone was somehow louder than Oracle's voice.
"I'm here," he replied, scowling at the oily mud on his shoes. Damned pollution.
"Home," Orphan said simply.
Damian scowled even harder. He could argue with Oracle without issue, but he barely won when it came to speaking with Orphan. "...Fine." He sniffed. "I shall return."
"Good." Damian could hear the smile in her voice. "Agent A has cocoa."
"I'll consider it." He said stiffly. He imagined his adoptive sister smiling slyly and glancing toward the sky before the comms switched off, leaving him to his thoughts again. After checking his grapple to ensure it still worked, he started picking his way through the building at a snail's pace, letting himself get distracted whenever he spotted someone in trouble. The Batcave would be warmer and dryer than the streets, but not everyone had a dry place to return to. Every little bit helped in the long run, and even Damian wouldn't pass by a lost child in the rain.
The only thing that bothered him more than the dark clouds overhead and fresh hail on the way home was the unnatural feeling on his spine. It felt like someone was watching him, judging him. But when he looked, nobody was there.
-
The stars were gone.
Danny felt weightless as he floated, staring at the space where the stars were supposed to be. He felt lighter than normal. Danny was surrounded by colors that flowed and ebbed like the tide, taking him deeper into this mysterious space. Golden fish and silver deer wove past him as fire and ice trailed behind, and yet he couldn’t seem to muster up the energy to get up. He just laid there silently. A bone deep exhaustion was settling into him, but sleep refused him.
“Ghost Child.”
Oh, Danny was dreaming. He was already asleep.
He didn’t turn his head, nor acknowledge when the stars returned to his line of sight. The stars wrapped around him like a curtain, cutting off the rest of the dreamscape. Two bright eyes, burning like red giants, peered down at him as thin hands cupped his body.
“Ghost Child.” The voice repeated again, speaking in his mind even as the words were swallowed by the silence of space.
Danny turned his head slowly. “Nocturn,” he murmured. These too, were snatched from his throat and lost. The cold seeped into his chest and he hiccuped. He couldn’t speak. Not that he really wanted to.
Luckily, Nocturn seemed to understand him just fine. He cradled Danny gently, bringing him closer to his chest. Something shifted in the fabric of space, and suddenly Danny was being laid to rest on the smooth stone of a crescent moon, as pearly white as his own hair. He sighed as the coolness of the moon seeped into his body, soothing aches and burns he didn’t remember getting.
“Where are we?” He wanted to ask.
Nocturn blinked slowly at him, his face twisted down towards Danny. His ram’s horns glinted as a glowing blue jay landed on them and started preening itself. Danny wanted to fly with the bird. His body didn't move.
“Sleep, Ghost Child.” Nocturn hummed. The moon vibrated beneath Danny, soothing the electric currents that kept him awake no matter what he did. Danny’s eyes started sliding shut as Nocturn’s song wrapped around him like a lullaby.
The others… Danny’s mind whispered.
Are safe. The song replied. Rest, young guardian. Your people are safe. You did well.
That was all he needed to hear. Danny let himself fall into slumber, relief flooding his mind. Yes, his people were safe. He did well. He deserved some rest.
As the young ghost fell into a dreamless sleep, a real sleep, Nocturn gently tucked the boy in with a blanket made from his own starry robes, shifting the fabric once more to hide away his core, and the boy who was resting on it. The bluejay on his head chirped indignantly from the movement and flew away, leaving a trail of smoke behind.
Nocturn paid it no mind. Warnings from Fate were never a good idea to ignore, but the bird was but a memory of a life that had long since passed. It only stuck around because of the dreams that kept feeding it. The ghost let his lullaby continue as he returned to his work, taking care to move slowly.
Undergrowth was taking care of his physical body, so he would care for the boy's mind. Vortex was off to round up the little ghostlings who had scattered like dandelion seeds, and the Master of Time was keeping an eye on the rest of Phantom's fraid while they rampaged in the mortal realms. After the stunt he pulled to protect the Realms, it was the least the elder ghosts could do.
-
"Is the boy awake?" Ra's asked sharply, entering the private rooms he had set aside for the boy.
The attending nurse, an older man born with no tongue, bowed his head and signed, 'No, sir. Vitals are off. He is a cold corpse.'
Ra's regarded the boy. It has been several weeks since the Gardener dropped the boy off in his care, and he hadn't awoken once throughout the entire time. He truly looked like a regular dead teenager, if you exclude the unnaturally white hair.
The Demon's Head bent over the boy's bed, tugging open an eyelid to see if he would react. Nothing. However, he noted the boy's eyes were green, which he was mildly pleased about. Green was such a lovely color, and this boy seemed surrounded in it.
A sharp knock echoed from the door, and Ra's granted the other party permission to enter. His best phlebotomist, a man named Paz, entered, holding a stack of papers as thick as his thumb. He bowed to Ra's as soon as he saw him.
"The results?" Ra's asked.
Paz immediately handed over his work, fully confident that Ra's understood everything he'd written. "For all purposes, the boy is dead." He said in a thick accent. He spoke in halted Arabic, as he'd only lived in 'Eth Alth'eban for a short time. "He has no circulation. No heart to move blood, or lungs to breathe. We must move him every hour to prevent postmortem lividity. He has undergone an extensive autopsy process, but it seems it was stopped before his brain was removed. No organs remain in his body otherwise.”
Ra's examined the papers. They were reports from different scientists and doctors, all of whom had been assigned to examine and work on the boy. Most of them said the same thing. The boy was dead and had been for a while. If the Well of Sins didn't do anything when he first exited the waters, what good would it do now?
He flicked his eyes up. "But you think otherwise," he stated.
Paz nodded enthusiastically. "The boy is dead, but his blood is alive!" He tapped a green folder that was poking out from the bottom of the pile. Ra's shuffled the papers off to the nurse and opened it. Printed off charts had been scribbled over with Paz’s frantic notes, documenting his thought process.
The phlebotomist rambled excitedly as his boss read his work, gesturing wildly. “It’s incredible! Most of his red blood cells have died off, and he has an abnormal amount of white blood cells, which indicate some kind of infection. But his plates-“
‘Platelets.’
“Platelets,” Paz nodded his thanks to the nurse for correcting his speech. “The boy’s platelets are still alive, and are actually trying to heal his injuries! We recorded a time-lapse last week to confirm it. The process is incredibly slow, even compared to human healing, but there’s a difference! Because of the absence of red blood cells, the plasma left in his body has practically doubled in volume, even though there’s no circulation to keep it moving. We’ve noticed a collection of stem cells at the base of his skull has started growing as well, and whatever it’s producing is being released into the body at regular intervals.”
“What kind of cells are they?”
“Unsure. At first, we thought it was cancerous in nature.” Paz tapped the corner of the folder again, prompting Ra’s to turn the page. “And while these cells are certainly growing as fast as unchecked cancer, rather than doing harm, we’ve taken samples and noted that they’re merging with whatever original matter has been left in the boy’s body. Bonding, like glue! The healing process is periodically speeding up with every release, the plasma has started circulating on its own, and the white blood cell count is diminishing. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it! It’s filling in for everything that’s missing, and keeping what is there, alive. Dr. Vanessa hypothesized that within the month, it may even start replacing the boy’s organs.”
Ra’s looked up from the research. “These photos look like plant cells, is this an example or actual recordings of the activity?”
Paz wrinkled his nose. “Those are evidence of the activity. For some reason, cellulose is present within his body, and the mysterious stem cells seem to be a mix of both plant and animal matter. It’s hard to track even with our technology, but it looks like the cellulose is forming a sort of…skeleton? Frame? I’m not sure what the right word is, but Dr. Vanessa says they might start regrowing in another month. If that’s true, this would be a huge breakthrough in the realm of organ transplants and other medical fields!”
The Demon’s Head hummed, flipping through the work again and considering the man’s words. “Very good,” he praised. Paz beamed like a child at his words. “Unfortunately, I shall be releasing you of your duty, and your tongue is too loose for your head.”
“What-“ Paz’s eyes widened as he gurgled, his words cut off. Ra’s twisted his wrist, driving home the dagger he’d planted in the man’s heart. He had no use for men who talked too much.
Paz fell to the floor, convulsing as he tried to weakly remove the weapon still sticking out of his chest. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he went pale as his blood seeped out onto the floor.
Ra’s barely spared the dying man a glance, taking back the extra stack of papers from the nurse and neatly stepped around him to exit the room. “Clean that up,” he said over his shoulder.
The old nurse bowed his head, waiting patiently for the foolish doctor to finish dying before he got out the mop.
This is why the nurse had survived so long; he knew how to stay silent.
-
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[Nocturn tucking Danny in to rest. Ghost speech says, "Rest well, ghost child"]
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puppyeared · 3 months
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man
#maybe im being pessimistic abt this. im not saying u should wear a mask every waking moment of your life god knows i cant#but also. hell no i dont trust u if anything i distrust u ppl even more after how things played out for the past 3 years#like there are situations where it might be inevitable catching covid. most of my family members are nurses and in constant contact#but there are also a ton of ways to make that risk low as possible like masking and wearing a face shield and having sanitizer#for me its not enough to just say oh we're in a small group and we're all vaccinated#motherfucker your kid is sick from preschool EVERY TIME WE VISIT. of course ill be wearing a mask she gave me covid last year#also no the fuck it isnt seasonal the cases go up because lack of caution makes the virus spread and mutate especially around times when#ppl gather. add that with virus transmission in cold weather and its a matter of different factors increasing the risk of spread#im also tired of ppl not understanding that i wont be their responsibility if i do get sick. maybe they can help me recover#but at the end of the day the risk of death and long term health is all on me. i cant change that#the govt barely gives me accommodations what makes u think theyll do anything for every individual case of long covid or worse#im so tired. im so tired#i dont even know if its possible to want this to be over anymore i just wish we didnt have to deal with this in the first place#ALSO COUGH INTO YOUR SLEEVE SERIOUSLY HOW IS THIS SO HARD TO REMEMBER#oh its just a cold/dry throat its not like i have covid or anything. no!! its basic hygiene!!! how is this so hard to understand!!!!!!!!!!#and no this isnt abt whether people have the means to protect themselves this is me bitching abt my relatives not taking me seriously#vent#my art#myart#doodles#covid 19
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genericpuff · 18 days
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i have nothing to say about the newest episodes of LO
so I'll let past me from the year 2022 say it instead
because everything they said a year and a half ago ironically still applies today and i don't even know how that's possible but it's where we are 💀😭
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ingravinoveritas · 8 months
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"Everything that has happened in-between plays into coming back to these characters. I am sure it is all feeding into it. It's very difficult for us to know how that is informing the characters and their relationship.” - Michael Sheen
| GO Season 2 vs. Michael and David.
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castielsprostate · 4 months
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who cares if that's his boss let them fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and let them!!!!!! be!!!!!!!! in!!!!!!!!! love!!!!!!!!!!!!
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furiosophie · 1 year
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okay i put this in the reblogs of the "personal nightmare-tester hob gadling" post before but i just thought about it again so
imagine dream after being cut off from ppls dreams for over a century coming back and struggling to figure out what's "trendy" rn, like what do ppl wanna dream about these days? what are they afraid off?
and literally the only person he knows who could reliably tell him that bc he's lived among humans for six centuries and has the context for what the fuck is going on with them is, you guessed it, hob gadling
so dream just shows up at random asking him the wildest questions like "hob gadling what is cbat and why are humans having sex dreams about it" and hob is just standing there like pls it is fucking eight am i didn't even have coffee yet
like hob just graduates from personal nightmare-tester to personal dream-trend researcher, and it's just an endless string of "no dream i will not teach your nightmares how to floss that's not even a thing anymore" and "what do you mean can you confirm if this nightmare Iooks like slenderman pls it's two am" or "no dream i do not know why everyone is horny for that four foot tall zombie woman-- wait hold on why are you getting big oh-- oh yeah okay alright i get it"
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blueskittlesart · 29 days
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Feel free to ignore this but as someone who also goes to art school, I find it really interesting how other art schools also have a “don’t date your peers” sort of faux pa. Like so many people I know (including me) refuse to date anyone else who goes to my college 😭
I wonder why that is tbh, small school thing maybe?
being so serious i didn't have anything against dating other art school peers when i first came here and i think most freshmen dont but once you have one or two art school relationships under your belt you realize why all the upperclassmen avoid dating each other like the plague
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hellenhighwater · 1 year
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Wait is that actually your ex-boyfriend's hand? What happened to him?
He works with real live dinosaurs so....
Nah, he and are are super good friends--we were before we dated, and remained so after, because the breakup was extremely amicable, and he's one of those people who's a terribly good gift-giver. Most years we still exchange gifts sometime between our respective birthdays and christmas, and he sent me that hand (it's a replica) as a gift one year. I made him the archaeopteryx fossil bowl this year.
Just because this is the OG bone-stealing witch website, I will clearly state that the only real human bones I possess are my own. My animal bones are all either scavenged myself or gifted to me by the people that scavenged them. (I have a sort of energy that consistently makes people go "I saw this dead thing and thought of you!")
I don't have a problem with owning human remains that are ethically sourced, but the reality is that unless you can very precisely trace the origin of human remains to the specific person who clearly and unequivocally stated in life that they're cool with someone keeping and displaying their now-unused crunchy bits, it's...probably not ethical. So if someone has some of their own bones that they're done using that they want to send my way: cool, let's talk, ideally before it's necessary to have the conversation by seance. Otherwise, I will continue to be perfectly happy with my replica remains.
I'd like to will my crunchy bits to someone who will make dramatic monologues to my noggin, but hopefully that's not an issue I'll need to deal with for a while yet.
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lucy-moderatz · 4 months
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natelia-aldelliz · 1 year
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"What if I fade?"
Soap lifts his head from his journal, looking up at Roach who is eerily floating near the ceiling. The slow movements almost make him look like he's in water. Kind of ironic given the way he died.
"What do you mean?" he asks, confused.
"What if I move on, what if I disappear," Roach elaborates, refusing to meet his eye. "Not everyone is a ghost, right? We'd be overly crowded. The fact that we're not also means that not every ghost stays."
Soap forces his dry throat to swallow. He honestly didn't want to think about that. He still needs Roach, he probably always will, but he hasn't even told him that he - he takes a deep breath in to calm himself.
"I don't know how it works," he admits quietly, bouncing his leg absent-mindedly. "You're probably right, like most of the time. Even if I really want you to be wrong about that."
Roach finally looks towards him.
"Maybe I should move on," Roach whispers. "It's not healthy, Johnny. You have no idea the things I want, what I wish for, that I'll never get."
Soap doesn't stand up, just keeps staring into Roach's eyes.
"I think I might have an idea, actually," he whispers back. Roach flounders for a moment. Soap really wishes he didn't get that wrong. He's pretty sure Roach meant that he can't have Ghost, and he himself can't have Roach. So... It's pretty similar.
"I've been feeling less like myself recently," Roach insists, deciding to ignore that comment for now. "I find myself wishing one of you would die so I wouldn't be alone. I never thought like that before, I fear that I may have stayed too long, that I'm starting to lose myself."
And he looks scared. It's written on his features so clearly and it breaks Soap's heart.
"You're not alone," he swears. "I'm here with you, and I'll make sure you stay you, however I can."
Roach looks at him, examining his face, looking for... something. Whatever it is, he seems to have found it because he exhales through his nose like a very soft laugh and averts his eyes, almost... blushing? It's a bit hard to tell from the distance and his left cheek being covered in burns while his right is covered in freckles, but he's pretty sure his ears are red.
"You can't look at me like that, Johnny," he says almost coyly. "I can't do anything about it, it's not fair."
Soap's face is burning and his eyes are wide. Was he too obvious? Did Roach understand or is he joking?
They probably look stupid, both of them redder than a fire truck, avoiding the other's eyes, regretting their words. Or at least he supposes that it's what's happening, because he's sure not looking up.
"If it makes you feel better," Roach finally says, sounding like he's smiling, "you were right for once : I am right most of the time. Judging by your reaction, you did indeed have no idea what I want."
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