#HOW MUCH MORE DESTRUCTION CAN YOU DO
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
oh wow this album art is so gunterleigh coded-- *gets hit in the back of the head with a steel beam, dragged outside, and buried haphazardly into the ground*
#this man has ruined my brain space for almost the entirety of the last year#HOW MUCH MORE DESTRUCTION CAN YOU DO#anyways listening to the album now and almost cried as i read too deeply into the lyrics for tomorrow and tomorrow#IM FINE IM SWEAR IM OKAY (they were in fact losing braincells by the minute)
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Have you seen my little lad?
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#jin zixun#Everytime I have to write his name I feel like I'm running outside in a blood rain trying not to get wet. Misspelling it feels so inevitabl#But so far so good! He doesn't have too many more appearances before he gets Cheesed.#Dear god I love it when characters go on the war path for someone they care about.#And I love it even more when you have an ambiguity between personal debt and genuine act of selflessness.#WWX saving WN is purposefully messy! Like a lot of our real life reasons for how we act - there isn't a clear single cause or answer.#Sometimes we forget that we are a collection of experiences and learnt reactions.#Sometimes we forget that what we see on the surface is not the point to address. Everyone is more complex than we think. Even yourself.#And yet...it always comes back to love doesn't it? Attachment styles and self-esteem and bonds and relationships to others.#Everything comes back to love and our perceptions of it.#WWX is on a self-destructive war path and he will absorb as much damage as he can for those he feels obligated and attached to.#Does it make him feel needed? Does it give him purpose? Does it ease anxieties of the past? I do not think there is an answer.
847 notes
·
View notes
Text
sleep deprived dust can't recognize what's dream and what's real when he goes in and out of consciousness so i think dust is allowed to be incredibly reckless when he's awake but thinks he's in a dream. he will kill whoever passes by him (or attempt to. for him it's an instict to shoot bones anyways.) he will drink 4 bottles of alcohol just because he thinks its just a lucid dream. have incredibly loud conversations with phantom paps because he's asleep so nobody will hear him talk. or just have loud ass breakdowns because again he thinks he's asleep!!! nobody's gonna know what he gets up to in his dreams. and until someone (probably phantom paps) tells him that he's not asleep and this is reality he won't realize until he's done something really reckless
horror is seconds away from exploding dust's skull open with his magic while dust is trying to strangle him and FINALLY phantom paps tells him he's awake and dust snaps out of it. killer is walking around the house with bones sticking out of him like pins on a sewing pattern (casually too. another day in the life for him) and he just asks dust what that was about. dust just gets off of horror and shrugs his shoulders with an idk. and then walks away. this is the 6th time its happened this month
#horror needs to find a way for him to get back at dust for almost killing him#horror IMMEDIATELY booby traps dust's room's door with several fatal traps. and then dust just teleports away to dodge them#horrors incredibly cool bone manipulation power is incredibly underrated. neither dust nor killer can do what he does#when i say people underestimate just how powerful horror is i mean this#he has MANY shows of power where he summons a shitton of bones. or when he's clever and tricky#using tiny bones so his karma can hit the guards more and kill them faster??? GENIUS#granted kist could definitely think of something like that but that doesn't mean horror's a coughing baby#ok back to my original post. i came up with this after doing my little dusttale translation thing#dust is such a fucking asshole during it all istg and i whooped and cheered every time he was a fucking dick#when he doesn't know what to do when in doubt destroy everything you see. what a guy#he'd definitely be a lot smarter than that in real situations but again#he came up with that strategy while he was under the impression that he was in a dream#so i do think this little prick can be quite an unrestrained destructive force when he doesn't know whats real or not#can i just talk more about translated dust because GODDDD he was SO FUCKING COOL IN MAD TIME SERIES I SWEAR#when he plucked floweys petals off him one by one???? and then berated him??? and the nursing home comment??????? fuck i lov him#can you please unspill the spilled blod??? sick ass line. i think he knew from the start he was gonna betray flowey in that one#god i love canon dust so much he's such a sadistic shit. and he likes it. what a freak. HE LIKES IT#the only person he outwardly expressed regret about killing was papyrus. you'd think he'd care more about everyone else but NOPE#or maybe he did in the earlier runs. still doesn't hide from the fact that he was cruel to everyone else. because thats dusttale 4 you#youre on death row and theyve sentenced you to endless torture and then the mtt pulls up#listen man if i were on death row and they were my torturers id let them do whatever. my babies can get back at me for making them suffer#canon horrordust my beloved i love canon horror and dust#idk if killer in this is like totally canon but idc. it's such a funny idea to make him unbothered when he's injured its hilarious#horror and dust's personal little punching bag ✨✨#killer sans#dust sans#horror sans#murder time trio#utmv#tricule hc
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gotta love when folks write Superman incredibly anti-clone even though he had good reason in the beginning to Not Like Superboy (HES A WINDOW INTO WHAT CLARK WOULD HAVE BEEN WITHOUT THE KENTS) and decide that forever on he’ll be spiteful towards clones even though he literally Does Not Care if you’re a clone unless you’re Superboy.
#IF YOU LIKE THIS CHARACTERIZATION IGNORE ME BUT I GOTTA VENT#bones speaks#bones writes in the tags#sometimes I wanna bash my head into a wall. SUPERMAN IS INHERENTLY A GOOD PERSON IN EVERY WAY KON EL IS JUST A TERRIFYING REALIZATION-#OF WHAT HE’D BE WITHOUT A LOVING CARING AND NURTURING FAMILY! HE DIDNT LIKE KON BECAUSE HE WAS SCARED)#RAGGGGHHHHH#for the love of god I know it’s an easy way for Danny to hate Superman (SUPERMAN ISNT THE BAD GUY YALL PLEASE) but there can be so much more#have him awkwardly go up to Danny and ask him how he handled having a clone and try to use that info to get along with Kon!#he works with countless clones in the Justice League and I don’t see y’all writing him hating them. make it make sense#just- please. you don’t have to read a comic to know that Superman is meant to be The Best Of Humanity. just write with that baseline#I’m just sad folks are being so gosh darn mean to Supes. he’s a delightful character to read and my favorite big superhero#and a lot of folks in dpxdc do the anti clone stuff and that’s Clark’s entire personality for the comic.#you don’t think he’d be sympathetic because Danny was given immense duty and power and is only a few of his kind? or having an evil self in#another dimension that showed him the destruction he could bring?#Clark is a smartass. he is a seeker of the truth. he is a reporter (and a damn good one too). he is a loving husband. he is an alien.#he is a hero. he is a god. he is a caring friend. he is a genuinely kind and good being.#I recommend reading All Star Superman. Under The Yellow Sun by Clark Kent. and Superman:Grounded
93 notes
·
View notes
Text
Roxas: Had the Halloween town kids throw bombs in his face for multiple missions in a row before finally breaking down and smacking them around a bit.
Ventus: The dwarves were rude and refused to talk to him, immediately resorted to chasing them down and whacking them.
Characterization I see frequently: Ah, yes, Roxas is the one always willing to throw hands and Ventus is a smol sunshine boy.
#kh#kingdom hearts#these are really silly examples but the point stands!#in fact I think it expands when you look at their full screen-time#I am once again begging people to watch a full let's play of Days#don't get me wrong Ventus IS brightness and sunshine#but he also has the energy of a chihuahua ready to fight the world and I will stand by that#where as Roxas will tend to just try to avoid it until he Very Much Can't#now I think Roxas does BITTERNESS better than Ventus or Sora#but bitterness is not temper#in fact bitterness is usually negative emotions left on the backburner until the resentment caves in on itself#I suppose this is up to interpretation but from my reading...#a lot of times Ventus seems to burn out his anger then let it go#whereas Roxas doesn't do anything with the emotions until he/the situation self-destructs catastrophically so it ends up being nastier#but on the day-to-day?#yeah no Ventus is going to be the one reacting first#you can also exchange Sora for Ventus for some of these arguments#though I think he lands somewhere between Ventus and Roxas for short-temperedness#all this is more complicated than this reductive commentary of course#you have to take in how and in what orders the characters were introduced and marketed#the difficulty of getting the handheld games historically and the biases that set in before they were easily accessed#not to mention stock archetypes for fandom joke set-ups that then perpetuate the characterization...#like there's a LOT to how this came to be#but it Gets To Me sometimes#yza talks about a thing
76 notes
·
View notes
Text
something about qbad mentioning how much horror he put red team thru every time purgatory gets brought up... something about how proud dapper was of him.
like this is just my late-night read but- it feels like guilt qbad is trying to twist into pride. he keeps needling away at it. “i killed them all, over and over and over again.” “they were hunted by a monster.”
it’s like- reassurance. like a nail he’s trying o beat into his head. he’s had SO much trouble with legitimately hurting his friends, despite making that vow all the way back when the eggs first went missing, despite all the tree talk and the promises to save the kids no matter what. He never faltered with elq, and that protected them. He keeps faltering now. Sometimes he doesnt remember the code, or cucurucho, or skeppy. But that doesnt matter, right? Because he’ll protect the eggs. He’ll be the monster. he is the monster. he can and he will protect them even as his seams start ripping and he keeps breaking further and further apart. even at his worst, he’ll do whatever he needs to protect the eggs.
he’ll be the monster. wont he?
#qsmp#he loves his friends and he wants to hurt them#he loves his friends and he doesnt want to hurt them#qsmp badboyhalo#ita like. He was torturing himself with the soul vultures because he kidnapped ron and threw down some scary magma mobs#and then forever changwd rhe whole fuckin narrative with that appreciation room and bad remembered the joy of community#and then cellbit. Where bad was like ‘i see him destroying himself to get the eggs back and i know where that road goes’#’his loved ones dont want that to happen to him. i dont want that to happen to him’#and then purgatory gave him the first actal legitimate lead for finding their kids and he just had to get worse#and so he fucking swandived into self destructive violence (and the cc was purposefully playing qbad more recklessly violent)#(bbgirl couldve been lured into a trap so so easily)#ive lost my point somewhere now im just rotating qbbh in my brain and all the parallels#ah yes. But now theyre out of purgatory. And he refuses to regret what he did because he *had* to do what he could to save dapper#and the other eggs#because he has a huge complex about being the ‘only one who can protect the eggs’ because of a thousand little cuts and his mental health#issues. Like he’s Wrong bur its such a fascinating little direction for his character. Yes king burn thyself on the pure of protection#and then burn in a nuclear blast too because your self sufficiency left you to care for your egg alone#you can take care of the eggs. you can hurt your friends. look at how much you hurt your friends#look st the monster you are . your teeth are sharp and your claws are large#never mind that time you sent tina into a panic attack because you tried to recreate safety#never mind that your friends and family are worried about you#you are falling apart. but so many monsters survive the killing blow
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
I totally agree with the general consensus that Ringo provided a lot of emotional support and coolheadedness to the other beatles to the point where they'd have probably killed each other without him but I do also wonder sometimes how much of that is being supernaturally patient and easygoing and how much of it is Ringo just having a tumultuous and isolated childhood where he was never taught to recognize and assert his own emotional needs so he became a blank slate on which others could process their emotions
(And tbh I also wonder how an inability to access or assert his feelings may have contributed to his tendency to process pain by numbing himself and the pretty shitty way he treated women)
#see also: george falling in love with his wife and paul routinely telling him he was easily replaceable#and yet ringo has nothing but warmth for either of these men#and of course I'm not saying we shouldn't appreciate how much patience and kindness that takes!#but also i guess it takes a certain lack of assertiveness or the ability to see/value your own emotions#and that's also something interesting to think about#speaking from experience here a lot of alcoholics want to be numb more than they want to be alive#and if ringo couldnt access his emotions it makes sense his only recourse would be to erase them#but i think for him it comes from isolation at a young age and a lack of emotional support#you need your caregivers to teach you what 'sad' is so you can then teach yourself what to do about it#or you may start to cope with that constant feeling of unease and dissatisfaction (that you can never quite grasp) in destructive ways#also his mom started getting him falling down drunk when he was not even twelve years old so tbh the alcoholism was probably inevitable#anyways all this is just to say that the fact that he could absorb pretty much infinite distress CAN definitely be construed as a virtue#but tbh it might also be symptomatic of some painful shit that he needed/deserved help with#ringo starr#longer rambles
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pax should have said no.
Damn it all, they should have said no. Should have said go to hell and fucked off back – stop contacting me, sort out your own shit – but they didn’t, fuck knows why, and now they’re stuck here.
(They know why. They know exactly why; absolutely anything would be better than fucking off back to Cyrodiil. What’s for them there?)
But there’s nothing worth staying for here either, and now she’s crammed in between strangers on a long table, everyone dressed in fabrics she’s never seen with dyes so saturated they seem almost gory, eating stuff that isn’t food and talking loud enough to make her want to hurl a glass into the wall. It’s bizarre. The woman next to her, ruddy-faced and bald, wears a headpiece that shines like the sun the Isles doesn’t have; the other side is taken up by a stranger in a bone-white porcelain mask who has not moved but to swill the wine around in their glass. There’s scarcely room for Pax’s chair. It all feels like such a baffling pantomime of aristocracy (she's known the real thing well enough – feasts and toasts and luxurious gifts she had no use for, and if she doesn’t stop thinking about it she actually will throw a glass), bright colours and rich settings and a god taking offerings at the head of the table.
At least, Pax thinks, no-one tries to talk to him; they’re too busy fawning over their lord. Which is probably to be expected; but it all feels so strange, so unsettling, the way they all lean in towards it like flowers turning to face the sun, like seaweed dragged at by the inescapable pull of the tides. They grow towards it through the cracks in the air, matter moving toward the inevitable centre, as if they can imagine nothing more than this.
(Even more unsettling is the way it responds in kind, listening attentively to anyone who speaks to it, leaning in as though to kiss them, as though to swallow them whole. All hell, why did Pax agree to this? Why did they come?)
(They should have told it to fuck off. Should have said no way, I don’t want to help you, don’t want to get involved in anything you’d need my help for. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m done.)
(Pax is done. Pax is sick to death of all this shit; doesn’t want to deal with this, the vaguely described problems of a god that picks people apart like it’s unravelling a thick yarn shawl. Doesn’t want to deal with anything like this. He’s had his fill of gods.)
(Why is he still fucking here? Why did he agree to this? This is no better than eating in that weird fucking inn in town. This is no better than –)
(That’s a lie. It’s a bit better than Cyrodiil. Just as much a shithole, but it pulls the rug out from under him often enough that he doesn’t have time to think too much.)
“Not hungry?” says a prowling voice, coiling catlike into the plaits in their hair, and Pax jumps enough to jostle the masked bastard sitting ramrod straight next to him.
He looks up.
At the empty placemat across from him sits a figure veiled in gossamer, glittering in the glow of the lit-up lichen on the distant throne; the fabric of its endless shawls pulls apart at the ends, peeling away from itself, shedding patches like iridescent insect wings every time it shifts. If Pax squints, they can see through it to the grand marbled wall behind.
She glances back at the chair at the head of the table, where something lounges, eyes dripping gold, intricately carved cane laid across its knees; its too-many fingers are laced with the hand of a man whose gown blooms floral. Flatly, she says, “What the fuck?”
“Aren’t you hungry?” Sheogorath asks, pouting; she can hear it laughing down the other end of the table. “It’s a proper feast. We pulled out all the stops.”
Pax shifts their eyes away to peer down at their plate. “You have served me worms,” she says. She flicks the dish with a fingernail. “In jelly. With flowers.”
“Larva, actually,” Sheogorath replies. It’s still at the other end of the table. It doesn’t seem eager to explain this. When it smiles, the gossamer falls away; its whole face splits in half.
It’s all so fucking stupid. Pax takes a deep breath – in through the nose, ignore all the odd spiced smells, and out – and does not yell at it, or try to hit it, because she’s gotten herself into a situation where that’s not really an option, because she’s a fucking idiot. Why didn’t she just say no?
(She knows why.)
The Mad God’s teeth flash bright as the ornate silver cutlery. Its chair scrapes back from the table. “It melts in your mouth,” it tells her, eyes glittering, “but I won’t make you try it. Walk with me?”
The figure still sits at the head of the table, snatching something from someone’s plate, always, always laughing. Its limbs sprawl like tentacles, like the silken threads of a tapestry, to encompass the whole room. The dinner guests stare as though bewitched, bedevilled, beguiled. Not one of them is looking at Pax. If he were to drop dead with his face in the food his corpse would not be discovered until sunrise.
Pax sniffs and shoves his chair back from the table. He lets Sheogorath (the second Sheogorath – but it must be, what else could it be?) lead him through a narrow door into some winding hallway, the walls lined and rimed with ornate coloured-glass windows. (It’s so much quieter. Still as garishly bright, but Pax is getting the sense that that is inescapable, here; the clothes they wear, as crumpled and covered in travelling-grime as ever and startlingly out of place against the odd jagged finery of the dinner party, seem unimaginably dull in comparison. Everything seems unimaginably dull in comparison.) Outside the windows, they can catch glimpses of the city – its winding, lamp-lit streets, the jumbled mess of its architecture, the sky arcing above it like a child’s attempt at watercolours. Pax wants to smash it, tear it down.
There’s no sun here, but still it’s night. The sky has shifted to purple and black.
“Isn’t it nice?” says their companion; when they look back, it’s nothing more than a shifting impression in the stained-glass window, a series of hairline cracks. It still manages, somehow, to smile at them.
It’s not. The sky is a shadow and the flamboyance of the palace is scraping at their spine. “Sure,” Pax says flatly. When she flexes her fingers, the bruising staining the base knuckle of her thumb aches.
Sheogorath looks at her – an ancient man leaning on a stick, a flickering painting, a bloody corpse, a little girl in velvet-red skirts, a breath. In its mercurial shifting she catches the flowery blossom of the man at the table’s collar, an unpleasant glimpse of her own braided hair, the smell of sulphur. It tips its head. She can’t focus on it anywhere but for the eyes.
“You don’t like my dinner parties,” it announces, as though it’s a revelation, a tragedy; its body crumbles like sea cliffs slowly eroded by the ways. It’s annoying – bloody obnoxious, and incomprehensible, and kind of weird that it noticed, that it would even care. (She’s never liked dinner parties. Nobody ever commented on it before.)
I’ve had well enough of them, Pax could say, or no, I don’t like you, but it’s the fucking Mad God, Daedric Prince of – Pax doesn’t even know what, he’s never known much about this shit, only that it’s well worth avoiding. Prince of the mad and the missing and the foolish, of breaking and breaking and putting yourself back together backwards. She should have said no, but she didn’t, and who knows what would happen if she went back on that now?
It's slinking closer. All that stay static enough to make out are eyes and teeth.
“Pax, yes?” it says, soft-voiced – a hand lands on his arm, small and dry and shivering, the skin as thing as a mouldering leaf. “You have no obligations here. If you want to be on your own, be on your own. We’ve plenty of space for it.”
Pax’s eyes narrow. He does not jerk away from it.
In the light of the coloured sky, the coloured windows, its face is phantasmagorical. “If you don’t want to be here,” it continues – still so skin-pricklingly gentle – “then your hand will not be forced. I’ll speed your way home if you wish.”
They can’t help but twitch at that. It’s setting their teeth on edge. (It’s lying – has to be. After its ages of coaxing them in, meting out information, not telling them where they were until they were on its doorstep, it would not give them the chance to leave.) Rough, still covered in road-grime, Pax asks, “Why should I believe you?”
(None of them have ever given them the chance to leave.)
Sheogorath, a figure of hollow skin and bone, inclines its head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Pax,” it says. Its eyes are wide and bulging, whites on full display like a frightened horse; it grins again. “Others might. But we’re not a monolith. We’re not even especially similar.”
Pax bites down on the flat edge of their tongue. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”
The light coming in through the windows flickers. The Mad God turns to meet it.
“I’m the youngest,” it says, its voice glittering like mist on the air. “Did you know that? I don’t remember the world without you in it.” Its form spasms, volatile, wings and limbs and eyes like a snail’s on stalks sprouting and choking and subsiding back into its mass. “I’m closer to you than any. I understand, almost.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Pax repeats. She’s gritting her teeth, tonguing at her gums where two are missing. Are two devil-gods not enough to deal with for a lifetime? Is there really going to be more of this now, too?
Rolling through the air like smoke, the voice says, “It will.”
Pax presses purple-green knuckles to her mouth. Her teeth dig into the soft meat of her lip.
Sheogorath turns to face her, hair moving as though blown by the wind, as though tugged by the tides. It sighs. “You don’t believe me,” it says. Its tongue pokes through its teeth. “That’s perfectly fine. Clever, even. But if you want to leave, all you need to do is tell me so.” It pauses, then; the train of its strange, gnarled crown shifts over its shoulders when it moves its head. “Or just leave. The door is still open.”
“You’d be fine with me just leaving,” Pax rasps around his knuckle, “after weeks of not leaving me alone?”
(Of begging him to come, poorly-hidden agitation giving way to blatant franticness, half-swallowing the fear that choked its face in every mirror it spoke to him through. Of begging him still, after he got here, after he met it – begging in a roundabout manner, casual as anything, its every motion reeking of fear. Its abject terror when he turned to leave. You’ve come this far. Why not hear an old man out? Pax told it that it wasn’t an old man, that he didn’t give a shit either way, and it slid through a child, a monster, a sulphur-burned body coughing blood, his own shuddering form in armour he hasn’t seen in months, and it said please.)
(Regained its composure, its gentleman’s face, immediately afterward. But it – the Mad God, unknowable, inconsolable – said please. Pax still doesn’t know what to do with that.)
The Mad God, now, shrugs. Taps at the hairline cracks in the stained glass windows. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” it says, one pair of hands braiding something intricate into its beard. The hand on the glass slips down. “I told you. I do need a champion.”
“And I told you,” Pax bites, something aching and ugly surging in their gut, “not to call me that again.”
A smile, bloody-mouthed and beaming. “But we will abide,” says Sheogorath, and digs its fingers into the cracks of the stone. One brick slides loose, mortar dug up under its nails. It offers it up.
Pax licks their teeth and takes it.
The brick shivers, momentarily – crumbles, in their hand, like sand slithering through their fingers, and left in their palm is a hardy slip of bone. Spiked and sprawling, carved with intricate patterns; it arranges itself around an oval of empty space, the perfect size for four sharp-knuckled fingers.
“You can always leave,” the Mad God tells them, and for a moment it does look so very young and strangely, staggeringly hopeful. “But give it a chance. I think you could love the Isles, if you choose to.”
#for context - in my version of events sheogorath's recruitment of the HoK is a lot more active#it needs someone who can fulfill the metaphysical niche of the hero. it needs someone experienced enough that they might not even die tryin#and it needs someone desperate enough to take the deal#pax is fifteen years old has alienated everything that maybe could have been a support system and is grieving very badly.#perfect mantling material!!#so sheogorath pursued them very specifically and was very judicious about what they revealed when. which is why pax already has some kind o#relationship with it here - they've interacted before - in that for weeks pax's reflection has been constantly begging them to 'visit'#writing the interactions of these guys is a lot of fun because there is always so much sheogorath is keeping from pax. it is#extremely strategic in how it presents itself#and pax falls for it hook line and sinker. though we can't really blame them#it's hard to outsmart something that's in your head#and at this point pax is pretty much made up of their worst impulses#which sheogorath cannot and does not help with#see: this piece#“I would NEVER make you do something you don't want to do <3 if you'd like to go back to your miserable self-destructive hellscape that's#YOUR CHOICE. but wouldn't it be more fun to be regular destructive here... i made you brass knuckles... 🥺“#im obsessed with them#the elder scrolls#tesblr#tes#my writing#fay writes#oc tag#pax#oblivion#shivering isles#the shivering isles
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
was playing the new TF2 halloween event, and someone noticed that my avatar was a flamingo and complimented me on it. things are perhaps good, i think.
#been playing for like... 8+ hours? i like a lot of the maps#freaky fair is probably the map i spent the most time on today. like god damn#dynamite. i only played one/two rounds of. it's a neat concept. ive played a map similar to it before#toxic seemed neat. only time i played was with like 6 people max. haven't queued for it again yet#circus is fine. player destruction isn't usually my thing. due to my ability to die constantly#outburst. its versus saxton hale. i can't really say much more than that. it's fine#blazehatten. really really messy. brushes you can stand inside. invisible clipping where railing use to be. missing textures.#iirc it was like that before zombie infection was added. like all of those problems (if not most). im sure they'll get sorted out soon.#dont really have much thought on it's gameplay though#darkmarsh. havent played yet. it looks neat from the screenshots ive seen.#happy to be doing contracts again. freaky fair has been really distracting me from doing more of them.#MVM upgrades in a normal match is weirdly addicting. i kinda wish the map was 5cp instead of 3cp.#mostly due to how sometimes we'll get steamrolled to the middle point and have to struggle getting currency if they have it locked down#since the only ways you make money are: killing enemies and capturing mid#wanted to play with a friend to do the contracts but they were busy all night and i got kinda lonely just playing on my own#normally its not something i think about#but yeah. updates good. messy in places. but not unplayable.
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
i drew silly gijinkas of my dogs
the dogs in question
#doodles#uhhh ill tag this oc even though its just my dogs lmao#oc#anyways#for the record about their personalities#dakotas very much a grumpy old lady. shes pretty quiet and when she has something to say its not very nice#vyse used to be a little menace!! but hes mellowed out as he got older#and orpheus is a menace!! he loves annoying people its his favorite hobby#he doesnt try to be destructive he just does things he thinks will be cool without thinking and causes massive damage in the process#hes the kid who went WANNA WATCH ME DO A BACKFLIP OFF THIS WALL??? without knowing how to do a backflip#hes like 15 and he was on his schools football team but then one summer everyone came back really buff and he did not#so he doesnt play football anymore#and hes covered in bandages from all the stupid things he does#anyways in terms of designs. i had a vision for dakota and orpheus and none for vyse#dakota specifically i thought should have a long braid and one of those fucked up canadian hats. and orpheus should look like-#-a teenage boy who cant dress nice!! also his hoodie says hellhound on the back#the neon shorts are DIRECTLY ripped from the ones i got from when i did wrestling. theyre so fucking comfy btw#dakota is mostly just cold and comfy. she REFUSES to dress lighter#vyse i didnt have any real ideas for again. i wanted to make him look a bit like his namesake vyse skiesofarcadia but i wasnt sure how#in the end he got that red scarf. which i think does make him look a bit more mischevious since so much of his face is hidden#anyways theyre like a fucked up little found family!! vyse would murder for dakota and orpheus. and dakota probably does too#probably. you can never be sure if she does actually like him#oh also this is mostly irrelevant. but vyse and dakota were meant to be like later 30s (dakotas maybe 38 and vyse is 34? ish?)#and also theyre russian. vyse and dakota i mean. idk if it comes across for vyse but one of my friends guessed it with dakota so!!#idk siberian huskies. theyre russian. россия or whatever
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
The way that the sun hits leaves and clouds. I feel like I could watch the colors change forever. If I could slow down for that long.
#i keep forgetting a have a deck now. i can go outside and sit there#im doing that now. sitting in the corner of a deck full of empty chairs. staring up at a big pine tree where the sun is striking it gold#at the top. i like how thr light hits the needles. if the sky was black it would look like its on fire#theres a tree outside my bedroom window too. in the morning. after the sunrises it catches thr light and refelcts the most perfect shade#of green. the kind of green that flutters translucent like youre looking up from the bottom of a pool. the light the light its all about#the sun. everything everything is about the sun. when i start my project I'll be focused on understanding how organisms catch the light bc#its so incredible and complicated it would make my chest swell to bursting if there wasnt an empty bleeding wound in my gut. a#metaphorical wound of course. i dunno. its just difficult bc right now my mood is inflated by hormones. not even that much i think I'm#just at what shoulf be a normal level of happiness so i can be slow for a minute. but just a minute bc i kno it won't last long#sorry i cant shut the fuck up when im like this but i dunno i just feel like i havr to document these ephemeral moments before they're gone#its just difficult when you kno the world is so full of beautiful things but 95% of the time your eyes are too clouded to see it#everyone tells me i work too much but i feel like im just staring off into space being miserable 60% of the time. ive just done so much#damage over the past few years im coming into a new lab as damaged goods. ive got an albatross around my neck in thr form of data i#collected so self destructively that the idea of having anything to do with its publication makes me hate myself. everytime someone tells#me good job on collecting so so so much data it feels like they're congratulating me for breaking something within myself. like i slit my#wrists and bled out on a lab bench and theyre saying good job and theyre excited for me and i have to grin and bear it and pretend im#excited too. but im not bc ive burned everything inside me to ash. so when im elevated enough to be distracted by the clouds and trees it#feels like healing. like seeing angels. beautiful ephemeral beams of light. i wish i could slow down enough to watch them. but now thr sun#is hitting the horizon and the sky is going gradually dark and i should go inside. bc i have many things to do in the morning. so that's#what ill do. and ill try to get more thsn 6hrs of sleep but its hard when your body is vibrating over with energy#but at least i dont feel tired in the morning. something in my head must be on fire#unrelated#hm i should maybe add a tw to this#tw self injury#but its the kind thst makes u good at ur Job. its the kind ppl reward. so they don't understand when u say its destroying ur life#but im trying to get better. i say as i gear up for an insane semester lol but i do mean it
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Super heavy vent ahead in the tags
#bird chirps#vent#Talking about political stuff and suicidal ideation#But genuinely I cant anymore with this election. Im fucking terrified#Granted my dad’s a major pessimist and I think he lowkey enjoys others suffering#So his passionate rants about how we have no future and life isnt worth it if Trump wins definitely isnt helping#But holy shit Im actually terrified#Im trying to not crawl into the pit of despair but I really don’t know how life can go on worst case scenario#I cant delay my life four more years minimum for another recession/depression#I cant stay in this house and watch my rights get taken away#Theres just so much shit to be afraid of#And granted I live in a swing state. I think its still a swing state anyway since we tend to vote republican#So the campaigning here gets brutal#But it’s hard to stay positive when it seems like EVERYONE irl is so fucking pro trump#Im just praying theres a silent majority and that isnt the case#But God I cant fucking do this man#Situations where you have little to no control over the outcome are a fucking nightmare#I can vote so at least that’s something. But thats not enough to ease the anxiety#I need the outcome to be GUARENTEED and thats just not gonna happen#So I just sit here as shit gets worse and it’s harder to keep calm#And I dont have a good track record of having Safe Mental Health while in election times#So this just. Really fucking sucks#I hate when I get like this because it feels like such a major step back#And with an event THIS big its hard to push it all away as irrational and a mental health issue#Because my brain goes ‘Well LOGICALLY you WONT be able to go on so this is a correct way to think’#I hate it so fucking much#If Trump wins Ill pick up smoking or something. Fuck it#Deciding on an action like THAT is still less destructive than full on suicide plan#But I just. I cant fucking do this#Can I teleport to 2028 and just pray everythings okay
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nothing pisses me off more than when people talk about my friendships with mid-support needs autistics and other people with differently-wired brains as if I am descending to help them because I’ve taken them on as a charity case. That is NOT true. Oh they’re a burden because they’re neurodivergent? WELL GUESS FUCKING WHAT: SO AM I! THE REASON I HAVE SO MANY FRIENDS WITH SO MUCH SHIT WRONG WITH THEM IS BECAUSE I HAVE A LOT OF SHIT WRONG WITH ME. WE ATTRACT EACH OTHER! WE LIKE EACH OTHER! IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING HARD TO UNDERSTAND!
#How about I just start strangling ableists from now on?#Would THAT convince them I’m actually this person’s real friend?#Literally nothing I say to them is able to get through their dense fucking skulls—#as if it’s sooooo hard for them to believe I actually enjoy their company#Also (halfway unrelated): if I hear “It takes a special person to work with special children” one more time I am going to SCREAM#Tell me I’m calm; tell me I’m patient; tell me I’m creative— do NOT tell me I’m “special” for doing a job I LOVE#Can you imagine telling a quantum physics major “It takes a special person to solve special math problems?”#😂💀 WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I’m gonna start saying that to people from other professions. To see how they like it.#The children are not a burden to me; the children are very enjoyable to be around#and I enjoy troubleshooting what is preventing them from learning and coming up with workarounds for them#I made a glued roll of paper for a kid who constantly peels their skin because I saw them peeling crayons#It works!#I made math problems into a Skibidi Toilet role playing game for another kid who hides under tables when it’s time to work. It works!#You know why I was able to come up with either of these inventions? Huh? You wanna fucking know?#1.) I peel my lips and mouth and palms of my hands and calluses and cuticles and scabs; and#2.) I have awful executive dysfunction and have to do weird stuff to engage myself#People talk to me like I’m one of the “normal” ones; little do they know I’m getting assessed for ADHD and score 142 on the RAADS-R#and I essentially self-destruct when I get mad so I don’t break valuable items or punch through drywall and oak doors#I give myself bruises that swell a half inch high and form hematomas under the skin#I think I’ve permanently weakened the blood vessels and a vein in my right thigh from beating it so much#because it only takes one well-placed blow on my right; but several blows to my left#And I can see the bruise pooling towards my heart along the path of that vein from day to day after the initial beating#and sometimes it just randomly aches when it’s not injured; so I have to shift my weight when the kids sit in my lap wrong#so with that and something else I did to it not super recently that I should have gone to urgent care for… I probably have nerve damage lol#so it’s gross when people say such things about other NDs to me as if I am above them#Just fuck off already
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
okay but like I joke about how much I like fireknight and how it consumes so many of my waking thoughts but it actually does . it does so much to me. a lot of it was built through fanon and clinging onto scraps from the games bc i doubt devsis will ever let them interact again but they are like insane to me.
fire spirit’s weird relationship with affection and love is also part of why I like them so much yes that was the source of the divine visions earlier .
nobody look at the tags of this post.
#he’s not built to love or love normally but he wants to. “they say true love is like an eternal flame”#he has that as one of his dialouge lines and actually I’ll never shut up about it man he can pine so hard#but he doesn’t know what to DO with that pining because he IS the fire. he finds something he loves and he wants to consume it#make it a part of him. it’s like fuel to a fire. and a fire will not stop consuming that fuel until it’s all gone or until it’s forced away#he destroys what he loves because it’s in his nature. he causes the end of the world in two of his costumes#“I don't care if even I disappear. ... That might even be better.” hey man I hate you. get onto my writing pages#but anyway this changes in fireknight because while knight is this image of heroic values. he’s also protection#he’s loyalty until there’s nothing left of him to serve what he believes in. and even past that he will protect what he loves#where fire spirit is destruction. knight is preservation.#and fire spirit loves him. he loves him down to his very being and core and he wants to be with knight and make him his#and if knight reciprocates then he is the same. and that is terrifying for fire spirit#because if knight let him consume all there was of him then he would. and despite how he loves him and to love he causes destruction#he doesn’t want a world without him. so he pushes knight away#and he pushes too far despite how much he wishes to dig his claws into him and never let go. never be separated and to thrive with the fuel#and this hurts him. he’s without something to fuel him. he falls to ashes then painful flames then back to normal then over and over#and he tries to forget but he just wishes he could love normally. love something and not destroy it#love something that can be like an eternal flame. something that won’t be lost because he holds it#eventually I think he figures out how to deal with it more but since they met pretty early in fire spirits godhood (to me at least)#he doesn’t have any idea how to handle any of it at first#And he wants his knight back. he needs a ground to walk on#he claws and begs for something he himself pushed away#you can’t have your cake and eat it too#Knight is also a criminally insane homosexual but fire spirit takes it to unprecedented levels
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#I want complaine not only about bad takes in this fandom but also about theories that just!! so!! stupid!! but also I'm a good person that#doesn't shit on other people's fun#so I mostly suffer in silence#and block people in bunches#'you see! this theory absolutely doesn't take agency from character and doesn't minimize emotional impact!'#says person about theory that roughly summariasized as 'Crowley AGAIN knows more than Aziraphale and it's all so SAD because if only#Aziraphale knew he wouldn't make this desicion!'#I want to scream#somehow it also never about what kind of monster Crowley would be to willingly hide memories Aziraphale supposedly erised and never gave it#back in whole four years they had before season two#like. maybe not be a cowards and embrace 'I was a pussy and somehow didn't get a courage to RESTORE MY FRIEND'S MEMORY with some kind of#VITAL INFORMATION that could've IMPACT HIS LIFE OR DEAT DESICIONS#and now he's in place where he could be abused erased or killed and IT'S MY FAULT' angle hmmm?#at least it could've made it interesting#but noooo#also how the fuck them kissing in 1941 should've impact Aziraphale's desicion anyway I can't get logic behind this theories#(the angle with 'memories are not about some stupid kiss but about what Crowley saw in heavens' could've work but like first: Crowley didn'#saw anything Aziraphale won't hear from Metatron in next scene or can extrapolate using base logic#and anyway if Crowley wanted to use it as argument he like. should've start with it and not with 'blah blah you're an idiot we should run#from earth'#AT BEST I could've get behind him giving Aziraphale some kind of weapon or possibility of safe out or like. hell's fire to self destruct as#last resort. but memories? and especially Aziraphale's memories??)#anyway yes it's me being a hater. I just have no place to vent about it but I sure hope that no one that likes this theories will see it.#you do you!!! but I hate it so much!!!
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
god help me i'm going insane about dickson xenoblade again
#this is what i get for thinking about lord of the rings too hard this week (specifically denethor / gríma / saruman and the like)#thinking about the way anthony may delivered “when will you learn you HAVE no future?”#he thinks shulk is fully DEAD at that point. he thinks HE killed him. which he very much meant to. but now that the kid is no longer there#now that the terrible future he's been preparing for and actively working to bring about has in fact come about#i don't know that dickson really cared anymore. he played his part he did the deed expected and he did it unquestioningly. So What Now?#well. now nothing. now the world that he spent so long biding his time in; so long getting enmeshed in (even for nefarious purposes)#is about to end; is about to be gone forever.#sure zanza will probably just create another world and maybe he (dickson) will have Even More Power in the new one#(though that's not a given! he doesn't know for SURE his lord and god will keep his promise!)#but like. what the hell does he care at this point#dickson SAYS he wants power but i suspect that long long ago what the giant dickson really wanted was SURVIVAL.#we never get to know just how he became a disciple or what the giant civilization looked like in its heyday or how it ended#but in MY headcanon dickson saw that some kind of destruction coming and he wanted Out#and maybe he hated his peers and figured any power and prestige that came from this bargain was just a bonus#i think he thought of himself as a saruman type: powerful; remote; far above the petty troubles of mortals (even the long-lived high entia)#but i have always headcanoned that by his later days (i.e. when he started engaging w/colony 9; machina village; etc. in earnest)#he committed too hard to the bit and started “going native” as it were; started to give a shit in ways that he would never dare admit#maybe not as much of a shit as; you know; a regular guy would. but more than an immortal disciple and horseman of the apocalypse should.#and all the time knowing that all the world he'd seen would soon be gone#maybe everyone else can get fucked. but shulk had to die too. and that's what their god MADE them to do.#he can't allow himself to care or to hope for another option bc in his mind it's already over; decided; that's it#what else can you do in the face of ultimate power but bow to it and take whatever scraps may fall to an obedient servant?#“you have no future” nor does he except that shulk came back. except that the peoples of bionis/mechonis just wouldn't accept Fate.#and in some final rebellious corner of his mind he starts putting eggs in shulk's basket. “if they can't even defeat telethia they won't#stand a chance against me (or zanza)” so let's see if they CAN. oh they did? how about a dragon? oh fuck they defeated the dragon too?#well fuck. maybe there WAS another option all along. but will/can they stand against me; the final disciple? oh they can??#guess i'll die then bc i'm not looking THAT in the face. i am NOT unpacking my cowardice/failure/lack of vision after all these years.#good luck with that tho <3 you're welcome for the training btw. where i'm going i don't have to see your trauma assuming you live that long.#dickson#xenoblade
9 notes
·
View notes