#But this is what ya get for now

[hajihiko]

Late and simple fashion friday, it was green and yellow themed so its gotta be them

[housederiva]

Lucanis get over here, we gotta have a conversation real quick

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hi!! Your Cherik is so good and gorgeous 🤩🤩 If you don't mind wanna try to draw some Fall of X Cherik please?

thank you so much !!

i have a couple of ideas relating to the fall of x period specifically since theres. A Lot i wanna play with, so i hope this lil thing may be a satisfactory start :]]

and the obligatory bonus:

[obsob]

happy and proud!!

✷(print shop)✷

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[spacedlexi]

its my birthday who wants some KISSIES!!!

[starry-bi-sky]

danny and officer martinez's relationship in "late at night, when the nightingale sings" in a nutshell:

Martinez: FREAK! GET YOUR FUCKING KID!

Battinson, on the other side of the crime scene: he don't bite

Martinez, with Nightingale firmly attached his arm, visibly biting him: YES HE DO!

*points at them* Danny is the Bugs Bunny to Martinez's Elmer Fudd.

Another Officer: i can't believe you're fighting with an actual twelve year old. Martinez: i swear to god that is not a twelve year old, that is a little hellion that crawled out of batman's shadow one dark and stormy night and decided to dedicate his existence to tormenting me. Officer: Are you really that mad about him putting a sticky note on your back-- Martinez: thats not the point

in danny's defense: the word "freak" is. a mini beserker button for him for.... obvious ghostly reasons, so like, even if its not directed at him, he still very much unappreciates Martinez's insults at Battinson. Danny may or may not be projecting.

he's not going to hurt the guy! not in any serious or permanently disfiguring way at least! But he is going to leave mean sticky notes on the square part of his spine that he can't reach, and stick salt in his 3AM Late Night Crime Scene Coffee, and kick the bottom of his heel while he's walking so he stumbles. And other petty, infuriating things that tally up and boil over, over time.

[moeblob]

A lil guy !

[commandertartarsmoocher]

The Watchtower

[cattermelons]

previous ➸ next | beginning

Oh dear, young, idiotic King Nikomachos II, son of Demosthenes of Mycenae. Or, rather some smaller provincial kingdom of north-western Lakonia, to rather generalise, from which his great Eurypontid house needed to expel him; with a reign that proves as just as trivial and hedonistic as he. Powdered in rouge as an effeminate leukochrōs, Nikomachos, deformed and ill-bred, possibly a bastard of helot whisper and beheld among five elder sisters, the boy’s kingship was a jest among all the Peloponnese behind closed doors. Yet, in his Kastro Koiláda Chalkou, the scrutiny of the Ekkelisa could not reach him and his whore-bride to be, Eurynome, for the luxury and the splendour of Dionysos and Demeter’s sweet ecstasy were irresistibly intoxicating. For who has time for leading trade routes and waring territory when the pig has only just been carved?

so, what is this? i actually am not sure yet, will it be gameplay, will it be story? we will find out at some point, but i just desperately wanted to play with the late bronze age because as an ancient history and linguistics major, it is my duty. i have always been deeply in love with my hellenistic greco-roman history and thought it would be quite fun to delve into a period i am not as familiar with with the Mycenaeans, to see what i can learn. also considering the beautifully accurate amount of cc clothing for this era, particularly by @clepysdra which i feel the classical age is lacking in among historical cc compared to the bronze age. BUT in speaking of accuracy, those that noticed i referenced the Eurypontid house of the diarchic Spartans, the Ekkelisa and the names of my sims themselves, for the sake of my own enjoyment, i WILL be snatching names for funsies with no relation to their historical origin, but i do want to try my best to make this accurate to Mycenaean culture/dress/relgion, etc. but i am still learning about this fascinating time. i also want to give the BIGGEST praise and thank you to @kyriat-sims for her absolutely beautiful early civilisation save that she’s created, as well as the build featured in this post (which you can find HERE and HERE) as although i tweaked the interior to my manic over-cluttered taste, the castle shell itself is done by her and it’s so brilliant <3

[5hrignold]

this is all i got

[anewp0tat0]

it doesn't feel real to me fellas. but I don't have time to sit by and chat and unload unfortunately so I'll just drop this and be on my way, cya kind folks very soon ✌️

not professional but I liked how his eye looked goddang it. I knew I was screwing myself but I did it anyway

[c00kietin]

have a silly gif of me :3

[dirtyassvoiceactors]

Dorian Storm being THE Romantic Bard of all time

[shotmrmiller]

https://x.com/babyboat22/status/1819915483795050893?s=46 dont look at me sideways but i see amateur thief reader and “victim” soap who let you rob his ass just to keep your hands on him. he couldnt stop humming and chuckling and grinning while you pinned him to the grimy brick alley wall, patting him down and trying to search for anything good. you nick the gold rosary chain his mother gave to him, but he’s hardly worried. just keeps talking, trying to hear your voice, like he isn’t being violently accosted at the moment. besides, he likes being manhandled by a pretty thing like you.

its a wonder why someone so bitty could grow the balls to do something like this. to someone like him, of all people. its the opposite of a power trip. kind of a rush, knowing that you have no idea that he’s entirely in control of the situation you put the both of you in. that if he wanted, he could reverse this little game of yours, have you struggling and crying just for him.

but he denies himself, lets you have your fun.

when you take his wallet (not a big deal, just a couple 20s worth) he asks if you could hand him some of the trojans in there as well, wonders aloud if he’ll need them. he hears you suck in a scandalized breath and shivers in pleasure when your movements grow more shaky as you keep trying to ignore him.

“no need ta take ‘em from me, bonnie. in a plenty givin’ mood, ye can just ask,” he huffs against the wall, looking back at you the best he can with his face smushed against the brick, dark and honeyed eyes. he bargains, in a deeper, more enticing voice, “could take ye ‘ome and let ye ransack the ‘ole place if ye decide ta play a ‘lil nice—“

you yank his head back sharply before smashing his cheek into the brick, earning a groan from the man in your clutches. “shut the fuck up!”

he can taste the blood on his lips, staining his teeth. it hurts but the pain has his boner throbbing hard and unignorable. he’s missed this type of violence. usually the only way he can get it off the field is from simon, but this will do. this will more than do.

perhaps him chuckling despite being mortally injured freaked you out finally because you hastily pocket your ill-gotten gains before turning tail and running off into the night. soap’s not worried. what type of mercenary would he be if he doesn’t keep track of what’s his? it’s not hard to find you after that, where you live, go to work, which movies you like to see in your free time.

so when you spot him just as he sits down next to you in the theater, you can’t help the paralytic feeling of realizing you recognize this man. can barely move when he smirks all pretty at you, split lip and all, as he wraps an arm around your seat and spreads his thighs so wide that they crush against yours, his big calloused hand squeezing your shoulder, pulling you into him like you’re old friends.

“sorry ‘m late,” he murmurs, leaning close to your ear, letting his breath hit hot on your lobe. “traffic ‘n all.”

you try to turn towards him, “you—“

“shh, shh—“ he tightens his grip on your shoulder, keeping you from moving away from him. his sudden strength is frightening. “dinnae distract from the movie, aye? paid good money for it, ah bet.” soap licks his lips and hums before smiling, his hand pushes under your arm to grab your tit. “let’s enjoy it together, then ah’ll take ye ‘ome with me. how’s that sound?”

okay okay i'm listeningggg

popcorn cold and soggy from the butter sits on your lap, the flavored water that was once an icee on your left. his hand is firm around your thigh after fighting through the previews to get him off your tits and arse.

a compromise. sure. but then you've got to go to the bathroom (curious because you've never gone anywhere while the movie is rolling, soap thinks) but okay. when you've gotta go, you've gotta go. the piss bottles he's had to toss in the bin after flying for hours in nikolai's metal stallion can attest to that.

and this, you think, clammy hands fisting the brand new secondhand shirt you got from goodwill, is your way out. away from him. maybe even to the police. you've only ever done this shit out of necessity. hoping to get enough out of the privileged to soothe the pang of gnawing hunger in your stomach (and that of the other street urchins)

whatever you thought could've happened doesn't because he's breathing down your neck from the moment you rise from your seat. his paw is in your back pocket while he walks you to the bathroom.

his hand stays in your pocket as he, with a chivalrous gesture, opens the door to said bathroom. he also aids you in getting in the stall. and no, not the bigger one at the end. he crams you into the very first one that's available, him following right behind. he fits in there like a rubber stopper. shoulders broad enough to touch both walls. arms like trunks cross over the breadth of his chest as he looks down at you expectantly.

"needed to piss, aye? go on. cannae 'ave you runnin' off again."

it's only when he leans down, his nose touching yours as he tells you to, "go 'fore ah make ye," that has your trembling fingers fumbling with the front button of your jeans.

[magg0t-bible]

silly little Malevolent theory

(just fyi I'm only up to part 33 so no spoilers beyond that thnx)

I was just thinking about the question of whether or not it's cheesy for a character in a piece of media to say the title of that piece of media (hypothetical example: Steve Harrington saying "come on guys, we've been through stranger things"). I'm hyperfixating on Malevolent atm so naturally that's where my brain went, and while it's innocuous enough of a title and the characters saying it would make perfect sense, I realised that only two characters (thus far) have actually said the word "malevolent".

One of them was Frank (or at least a voice claiming to be Frank, more on that in a minute) in Part 18.

He showed up in Arthur's right ear and started contradicting everything John said, yet was never wrong, as John was evidently still struggling with being truthful after spending so long as the eldritch embodiment of lying. But we never really had confirmation that that voice was or was not Frank. Who was the only other character to use the word "malevolent"?

Kayne. In Coda.

Kayne whose voice is closer to Harlan's natural voice than any other character. Kayne who doesn't believe in a fourth wall. Kayne who's clearly supposed to represent the fans. Kayne who literally sat on the sidelines loudly chewing popcorn while John sobbed and tried to save Arthur's life.

So all that to say...what if the voice in Part 18 wasn't Frank at all, but Kayne trying to drive even more of a wedge between John and Arthur because he thought it would be funny? Bearing in mind that Arthur and John don't meet Kayne until Part 20, meaning they'd have no reason to suspect him here.