#Go coded

[thescottishalpaca]

the lab's plants

Ok, so. Some months ago, for no reasons at all, me, a simple Demon, and a Time Lord (the oldest colleague -41 yo), started taking care of Queen Victoria's plants (another Colleague. In my mind, the ways I name my colleagues are very accurate). Queen Victoria would say that we kidnapped them, we say she forgot them in the workshop for weeks and we adopted them. Both sides are 100% sure of their own version.

I don't know why, but then, it seemed like I was good with plants. Don't know what feed this idea. As a matter of fact, new plants arrived.

Angel was annoyed, because me and the Time Lord were a little bit too much proud of our selves (really. It is just a basic potus, a cactus, and an orchid that for very, very long time we supposed it was dead).

Today, Willy Wonka brought a new plant, the Monstera (...?).

Angel sent to me that pic (I'm sick at home):

Angel: "Nice to meet you, I'm Monstera"

Me:" are you going to name them?"

Angel: "I think it is the species"

Me: ...

Angel: ""..." What."

Me: "Angel, are you still using that app?"

Angel: "YES AND THE APP SAYS, YOU'RE OVERWATERING THEM"

Me: "yeah I know. It is how waterboarding supposes to work. I preferred when you were annoyed by the plants"

Angel: "I'm annoyed by your and Time Lord's Pride. But I'm not standing while they suffer!"

Me: "Did they tell you they're suffering?"

Angel: "there is a yellow spot!"

Me: "yeah, I know, they're trying to fool you, but never, NEVER, let them take advantage of you. You're naive, Angel. They know."

Tom Bombadil is finding funny ways to kill them all. But's another story.

[ashbunny2027]

It's Crowley and Aziraphale as birbs 🥹

[ideas-ideasideasideas]

Batman gives each of his Robins a different code to use when they’re in trouble and need immediate extraction. He promises that when they call, he’ll drop everything just to get to them, come hell or high water.

Jason, during his time with the League, shares his code with Damian, to be used “only in the direst of circumstances, when you have exhausted all other options.” He doesn’t know if Bruce will answer, given how fractured their relationship was before he died, but it is better than nothing. Every tool counts when they live such dangerous lives.

Damian uses it exactly once, and Bruce, who still feels the loss of his son like a yawning chasm in his chest, responds to it even though he knows it can’t be Jason because Jason’s dead. What he finds, instead of Jason, is a boy in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-small feet, with a face that Bruce sees himself and Talia in, requesting asylum from a grandfather who wishes to possess his body. Bruce doesn’t question how this boy who is so clearly his son knew the code. Talia al Ghul is resourceful and places family above all; the code is not beyond her abilities to discover, and she is not above using Bruce’s desperate love for his dead son to ensure that hers does not meet the same fate.

Bruce takes Damian in, because of course he does, and since Jason is dead he allows Damian to keep using the code. After all, it’s not like Jason is alive to use it, right? If someone uses the code, there’s no one it could be but Damian, right?

The next time the code is used, Bruce traces the location to Gotham even though Damian was supposed to be in Bludhaven visiting Dick. But whatever happened that resulted in Damian being in Gotham can wait, because he has already failed one son and he will not fail another, his son is in trouble and he needs to get to him, he needs to—

What he finds, instead of Damian, is a boy (just eighteen, too young, but also too old, but also he will always be a boy to him) in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-large feet (when had he gotten so big), wearing the face of his dead son.

(Who, maybe, just maybe, may no longer be so dead.)

[inkskinned]

it is november, and yesterday it felt like it was supposed to be snowing. in boston, november used a winter month, not a fall month. it is supposed to be chilly; rarely capping over 45F. it is a sweater-and-jacket month. it is a "maybe a scarf too" month. in my childhood, november meant blizzards and sleet.

it did not snow. tomorrow the weather predicts a high of 76.

i have spent so many years of my life studying the longterm possibilities of climate change - the culmination of capitalism wreaking havoc on the bodies of people, animals, plants - but every so often i am still shocked by something small and personal.

in a hundred years, when someone goes outside in boston - will they know the feeling of "snow in the air"?

i know it's a learned feeling, a sensation that maybe only longterm experience can teach. a few years ago, i was walking with my friend who had just moved up from the south. i said it smells like snow and she gave me this look like - what the fuck. i said it feels like snow too, which didn't help. she looked up to the bright blue sky and then back at me and then back at the sky. 12 hours later, we had 3 inches. you can just tell if it's going to snow.

except i can't tell, anymore. i stand outside in a tee shirt and watch my dog dance around a lake. we're in a drought and the skin of the water has peeled back twenty meters. the lake is tamed, quiet, puddlelike and sour. my pokemon go app warns there's a weather condition in my area.

my dog gets too hot from running and sits in the water and i want to laugh about his long frame and how awkwardly he sits - and i can't. some simian part of my brain is scratching the walls. it was supposed to snow. it was supposed to snow, but now it's warm instead.

during the last full solar eclipse, the dogs and the birds and the crickets went crazy under utter darkness. we laughed at them then, promising it will all be okay in a moment. but some part of me is still locked in that long night: some animal sensation.

something is wrong, my body says. i can't afford eggs or rent. i go outside to watch a sunset and listen to birdsong. i don't bring a jacket. allergies are killing me this season, allergies i didn't have as a kid. everyone comments that halloween has started to feel strange, offkilter. that it's hard having "holiday cheer." my body thinks it's april, and then it thinks we're in september, and then june.

something is terribly wrong, she whispers. go outside. it is supposed to be snowing.

[canisalbus]

✦ Fashionably late ✦

[nipuni]

"I am a higher dimension life form, I am a complex space-time event"

A step by step process of this will be available at my Patreon next month, you can find prints of my work at my Store 😊

[idontmindifuforgetme]

a girl is never simply grocery shopping btw. she is grocery shopping and running away from the horrors. she is grocery shopping and trying to find her childhood whimsy somewhere between the aisles. she is grocery shopping and feeling an amount of grief that is insurmountable. but she is never just grocery shopping

[meziniart]

Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves

[pangur-and-grim]

it's funny, I was talking to someone last night who didn't really know what an illustrator was. so when I introduced myself as one, he gave a speech that would've probably gone over well with a gallery artist, but which was precision-tailored to make any illustrator within a 50 mile radius go into eyes-glowing-red kill mode.

his speech was about how there is a difference between craft and art, and how people can practice craft (as in, skillfully execute a painting) without it having any artistic merit.

so I'm someone who gets paid to paint waffles for restaurant menus and dinosaurs for museums exhibits, and AHHHHHH! AHHHHHHH! you can't make art without it being something something you've made. does that make sense? like every illustrator I know has an individual way of approaching any given imagery that is informed by a lifetime of inspiration, and of passive intake of culture, and of the specific mistakes they make because of whatever their particular mass of grey matter deems as important thing to render or unimportant, just fuck it up.

I can make something that is informed by both a century of Canadian print-making and by my own particular neurosis, and it can also be commissioned commercial imagery that I regurgitate without care because I want to pay my mortgage. everything is art, nothing isn't art, art is something sticky and impossible to shake off of you.

anyway he got very wide-eyed and said "I'm sorry if I offended you," so today I feel a bit bad for having gotten so, uh.... excited.

[chloesimaginationthings]

William is the most divorced man in the FNAF universe

[eazy-peazy54]

EVERY. DAMN. PASSCODE. FOR THISISNOTAWEBSITEDOTCOM.COM:

Will update when i find more!! (updates VERY frequently)

everything in bold+italics needs to be spammed for the full effect

Dipper  Mabel Wendy Soos Bill Cipher Bill cipher Pacifica Gravity Falls Robbie GideonStanley Stan Stanford Ford Sixer Mcgucket Hectoring Pinata Rat Divorce Breakup Weird  Alex Hirsch Matpat Giffany  Pines Sorry Skeleton Math Mystery shack Mystery Lies Tad strange Book of bill God One eyed king Blanchin Boyfriend Curse Wittebane Euclid Euclydia Peak  Platinum Paz Fuck  Shit Glass Shard Beach Theory Cray cray Ad Astra Per Aspera Im still on your mind Vallis Cineris  Help me Theraprism Triangle Weirdmageddon Blind eye Dorito Deer teeth Baby bill Baby LALALALALA Journal 1 Journal 2 Journal 3 Blendin History Filbrick Love FBI Waddles Reality Universe Portal T J Eckleburg Season 1 Season 2 Season 3 Cursed Scary Abuelita Gun Disney Mickey Mouse Caryn Cryptogram codex Ducktective Toby Determined Irregular Booberry Horror Creepypasta Seven eyes Yes Trigonometry Torture mentally Xyler Craz Tantrum Justblendin Black sheep Baaaa Monster Titans blood Life Death Skibidi Fortnite Gyatt Who are you Fixinit1 R34lity Love ya bro Conspiracy Dippy Fresh Disco girl Liar Lyre Harold's Ramblings Union Made 29121239168518 Grebley hemberdreck 3466554 Tinsel snake XGQRTHX 333 sundapple lane cozy creek IL 60714-94611 naitsuaf mountain don't axolotl morality well well well being Burnside Creepypasta Family matters Forget the past Nothing Something Hey nerd Even his lies are lies Riddle No LLIB When will I die Elon Clone Multilevel mark Goodnight Sally Paper jam Tyrone Fordtramarine Tourist trap Mason The duchess approves shape Scalene Scientology Meow Shave Your Grandma Nacho Rizz Crypto Sevral times Easter Egg Oh yes they both Oroborous Suck it Merlin Just fit in Daddy Mommy Burned Inside Kings of new jersey Destruction is a form of creation They'll see They'll all see I see Unreality Rubberhose You can't kill an idea Card Scrimbles Am i blanchin Fuck Alex Fuck you Alex Fuck you (im not cursing out alex i prommy, these are deadass codes) Hotxolotl Bye gold Ciphertology NSA Globnar Disneyland Rehpic Kook Kubrick Not a phase Paper is book skin Virus Spookemups That's just a You're insane Owl trowel L is real 2401 NFT Question Answer  Occurremus iterum Frilliam Butternubbins Dispense My Treat Dionarap Stod eht tcennoc History Hologram The gun Marry me

Which religion is right

[themilkiestbread]

my thoughts during the 3.0 quest

also phaidei nation where you at???? did not expect to ship these two so hard but they're giving me so much brainrot we love our dumb jock rival boyfriends

[hinamie]

spiraling

[peachebo]

I remember I had a concept about alternative ending of sl where michael brings ennard home and jus lives very normal life with a killing machine...

also here's ennard with da cat

[everwalldigan]

Ok but Bruce’s “batglare” except it has specific stages that mean you’re in varying degrees of trouble. Allow me to elaborate:

Level 1: isn’t even really considered a glare in Bruce-speak, more of a suspicious squinting

Level 2: standard Disappointed Dad look, the most you’re gonna get is a reprimand

Level 3: resting Bitch face. Less of a glare and more of a sharp look that WILL follow you around and creep you out

Level 4: worried batglare, features aren’t as sharp as with the standard batglare. Usually smooths out when his kids/teammates stop being idiots and putting themselves in danger

Level 5: standard batglare, regular criminals are usually at the end of it, most of the kids have gotten pretty used to it

Level 6: You’ve Fucked Up. Expect a screaming match or a lecture of at least 30 minutes. Also you’re grounded

Level 7: full batglare on steroids, makes grown men piss their pants, usually reserved for the joker. Most of the kids have received it only once and that was MORE than enough for them to never want to receive it again

Level 8: Alfred.

[essayofthoughts]

Genuinely, I think one of the most fun and crunchy things about any character is

How far they will go for things they want

What they will do to get things they want

Things they won't do, no matter how much they want what they'd get in exchange

Because these things tell you some very important things about the character, namely their limits, their price, and their absolute No's. (And it lets you create some really REALLY crunchy conflict)