#//i'm only slightly sorry

[egophiliac]

time for skeleman

with the lack of any other info yet, all I can focus on are those Charles Lloyd-looking sunglasses. they are absolutely sending me. I feel like we're gonna fall through a tree or whatever and this stitched-up boney gentleman is gonna pop out from behind a gravestone and start serenading us with some smooth jazz on the saxophone.

or should I say...the saxoBONE???????

[dollopheadsandclotpoles]

A normal day in the life of Court Physician, Gaius: Part two (x)

[swiftsuburbanlegends]

So a take I haven't seen, and maybe it's because i was still catching up when the episode originally aired.

But Buck tells Maddie that Chris wouldn't stop talking about Tommy, and she's like 'or were you pumping him for information'

and then later Tommy basically is like 'that kid could not shut up about you'

and the point I'm making is i feel like both these men at some point were like, yes this 13 year old is the best way to get more information about the guy i'm into.

[silverjetsystm]

Lockley speaks drunk. Plain nonsense riddled with the taste of truth. Skeletons Grant may or may not have known. Baked friends on the 1-405. Another wanderer. And him. Lockley clicks his tongue, tips his 'cap.' Different from minutes ago, his name sharpened to a point. The verbal poke at the paper moon. "Cap. Nuh uh. Nah." Fingers snap, point at a cluster of kids making a DIY crosswalk of Flatbush. "If I'm to be your problem, you gotta call me something creative. Cap's low hanging fruit."

Downtown Brooklyn unfolds around them, skinny steel buildings reflecting harsh sun at odds with equally enormous squat tan ones. "Yeah. We're close. We'll get there when we get there." Traffic's the only thing stopping them now. He's familiar with this start-stop gridlock pulse, playfully unflappable against storm clouds radiating from the back seat. Occasionally drumming his nails on the wheel when they're waiting. He's got all day to play fuck fuck games screw around outside of Manhattan.

Muttering slides into their ears, long on the fritz, past the speakers and traffic hum. A song on a phone. "Ah~" Piece of the puzzle snapped into place. The great mystery. Why Solo went through this trouble. If they were anywhere besides Lockley's wheeled home, their face would twitch with a scolding 'tsk.' Lockley can't hear the financier's judgment on the matter. Years of experience has him picture the scene anyway. Grant eyerolling and muttering about better security out the other window. "No bullshit," he grins wider. "You gonna take a Boro cab back or stick with the problem you got?" he cracks with a jerk of the head to the apple green cab on the right. People got places to go; riding empty was a pain in the tuchus to Lockley and a missed meal for other drivers. Industries screwed them all.

He parks around the corner of the building and is again a flurry of movement. Poking off the stereo, rolling the windows on a skosh. Turning the key off, swiping the sunshade off the backseat floor, nudging Ben's ankle with tinted fabric.

Established 1975 and rarely shut down since, the signs all read The Other Place. "Gena's," Lockley presents the long rectangle of time capsuled building with a wave of his hand. Bell chimes when he opens the front door, sweat clinging to the shirt from the minute in afternoon broiler but he laughs and grins all the same to the woman behind the counter. Gena herself, smiling fondly as Jake asks the question - "Hey, Gena, how's the kids?"

Oscillating fans have joined the tired HVAC in today's effort. There's a lack of bullshit on the walls. No list of famous visitors, no picture perfect scenes of yesteryear. Gena bought the place from the original owner about a decade ago. She keeps a small staff; he can count the number of times Gena hasn't been here on one hand.

Lockley tests the door to make sure it's shut while Gena answers, humidity frizzing her short Afro, "One wants to be the next Jordan Peele, the other's still looking at radios. What'll it be?"

"The usual with water," he says, taking a seat at the yellow and blue laminate topped counter next to an older white haired man, hand squeezing bony shoulder. A past of the bottle and years longer of rough living lend a weather-beaten older look to him. "Crawley, just the guy we're here for." Gesturing to Ben once Gena's done with him (or the opposite), his volume lowers to a private conversational matter. "This is Ben. Ben got separated from his phone. Heard anyone talkin' about snatching phones?"

"Life feels like a scam, too, if you don't know how to live. Huh, Jake?" His wine-dark mouth hovers over Jake's ear, Jake's neck. 

'Jake.' Sure. And Ben's the new Cars, the new Young, a dark horse, canceled and un-canceled, any number of epithets. Sloshed and treading water. He falls back, cushion giving way with a half-hearted puff. The sweat in his hair has dried. 

"What's the matter with me? I'm drunk off my balls in the middle of a five-hundred-degree day in New York 'cause [indecipherable] I baked my friend into his body on 1-405. When I want to go home, there isn't one. And right now, you." 

Slings his black hole glare at a neighboring Subaru. Some vague, green taxi shape. A borough Ford. Crazy they'd ever need those cabs for Brooklyn and Queens. That Brooklyn was a place to be and people wore it on t-shirts in Berlin and Rome. 

"We close, cap? The sooner we get there, the sooner I get out of your hair." 

He smiles at himself in the cab's soap bubble window, a tense, spiteful smile that thins his lips a little. 

"There's a song on the phone," Ben mutters, voice treble-ing under blaring horns. He said it so suddenly he had to laugh. Is he laughing? Flat affect. Big whoop. "If you're barking up my tree with bullshit, you let me out right here." 

Ben. Crawley. The bridge. The green cabs. Steven. Jake. Someone else under that. Some third act. Seagulls scream into the dull drowning throb in the left side of his skull. Everything is funny. 

@silverjetsystm

[xx-j4nu5-c4t5-xx]

you know what who cares I'm posting it

A couple people mentioned that they liked the idea of pink soup being some kind of disease for Sims and honestly? I'm down for it

sorry to use Ripp as a punching bag for everything again but that's how it is sometimes

here's a doodle I made a couple weeks ago and forgot about (I know it looks weird don't talk about it)

Here's a more serious one that I just finished.

I'm about to get so carried away with this concept none of y'all are ready for it

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Crazy issues that come up when a character is written a little too well

[connectionterminated13]

Michael and Charlie in a slightly different art style, And Father Callahan From Salem's lot/ The dark tower

[starlene]

Every time someone comments the state of musical theatre in their country by saying musicals here should be presented in English because the translations are awful, a muse loses its lyre.

I mean, sure, if you think musicals should always be sung in their original language to preserve the exact vocal flow the original artists intended or whatever other purist connoisseur reason, fine. You're entitled to that opinion.

But other than that, the correct statement is this: musicals here should be translated better because the current translations are awful.

Just saying.

[ghost-likes-drawing]

Something something... Fitpac... Fireflies...

"Firefly..."

[asaka-lucy-dr-rc]

こんにちはあさかさん！絵を好き、かわいいですよ🩷

（すみません、日本語をそれでも学ぶしている）

えー！！嬉しいです！！！ありがとうございます💕💕

I am glad you like my art and I welcome messages in Japanese from people who are learning Japanese! (⁎˃ᴗ˂)

I haven't been able to post another article since I posted one, but my blog has a tag for Japanese learners, #Learn Japanese with Danganronpa Characters, and I've answered some other Japanese-related questions in the past. If you haven't, you might find them interesting. Links to them are summarized in the folded section below!

Also, I posted some play-through articles comparing the Japanese and English versions of Danganronpa:THH, although it is very much halfway through and not updated at all 😅:

Thank you for sending me a message! 💖

[himbohimhoe]

Holding out hope that the writing in veilguard will get more bearable but rook saying to lucanis that it's "not nice that Spite hurt him" and he "shouldn't accept that it’s fine bc it wouldn't be ok if a person did that" like. That is a demon. Built off a single emotion called SPITE. Rook I am finding it really hard to believe that u have lived in thedas for more than 30 seconds.

[egophiliac]

Since book 7 part 5 (the part where we meet Meleanor/Maleanor 👀) is coming to EN this month, i would love to see your take on lilia’s proposal to meleanor! i mean they were like little kids right? it couldn’t have been that serious…i think the only reason she even brought it up again is because she could tell lilia still genuinely loved her…(even if he didn’t realize it himself?) but, oh well! Let’s think about silly childhood shenanigans to numb the pain! ^_^ (orz)

oh shit?! get ready for a doozy guys, it's comiiiiiing ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

I chickened out of posting the whole thing (look, I get VERY carried away when it comes to these wacky kids and their Tragedy), but I do believe that it probably ended with Lilia getting embarrassed and just shoving the first thing he sees into his mouth to try and cover for it.

(we're just lucky it wasn't a frog this time)

[grey-worlds]

Voices

"The reason it is so hard for me to be non-violent is because I hear voices, Phil.

I hear countless voices in my head all the time and the voices are crazy, Phil.

Sometimes they're angry, sometimes they're sad, sometimes they mock me.

But the thing about the voices, Phil,

The one thing I hear from them the most...

The voices demand blood, Phil, they demand blood.

I've been trying to ignore them lately, but they're just so loud. They're just so loud.

I just wanna stab something.

But I'm holding back. I'm holding back! I'm gonna be a good person, Phil"

[billpottsismygf]

Doctor Who: The Pyramids of Mars / The Devil's Chord

Bonus foreshadowing: The Pyramids of Mars / The Legend of Ruby Sunday

[mad-hunts]

[shrike4]

a