#Mmmmmmaybe

[kaiserouo]

why are you so expensive

[hasanawolf]

And we all know how well that went :’)

-

(Follow up of the previous pic)

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

Since Haruka is currently the talk of the town in lieu of him most likely being dead, I think now is a good time to talk in more depth about how much I fucking love the narrative choice of him being the first prisoner. For most of the what I like to call "Prologue" of Milgram ("This is The Milgram" to Undercover), we are set up to think of the prisoners as scary, threatening, and unworthy of humane treatment.

(x)

Red is the color associated with unforgiveness / guiltiness in Milgram, and is in general a color that we associate with blood and violence. It's a color that raises our blood pressure, our respiration rates, and generally puts us on edge. It's immediately linked to all of the prisoners before the trial even begins.

Jackalope: I mean, I personally would just say GUILTY to all of them to avoid all this hassle.

Jackalope: Don't worry about those things. You are the prison guard and they are the prisoners. That is all you need to know

Jackalope: It's time. The prisoners are gonna wake up. Time to meet them face-to-face! Listen here. Any qualms, confusions, doubts you might have, kill them all! Jackalope: You're a prison guard. Don't hesitate. Become the prisoners' fear and authority.

It is emphasized to Es (and by extension the audience) multiple times the power dynamic between a prisoner and a warden, and that we are encouraged to take advantage of this power dynamic. We are encouraged not only to see the prisoners as scary and ruthless, but that because of that they should be treated inhumanely. They should fear us, not the other way around. And we're going to make them fear us. ...And then the first prisoner is this absolutely sopping wet cat of a teenage boy.

(x)

Okay but in all seriousness, Haruka contradicts the expectation we have been built to have of the prisoners in multiple different ways. Starting with his design In contrast with the crimson reds that the prisoners were previously associated with, Haruka is entirely comprised of a deep moody blue color (which, by the way, blue has been scientifically proven to lower blood pressure and heart rate in contrast to red which increases those things.) The blue makes Haruka feel passive and safe, and the way he's presented in Trial 1 with down-turned eyes and brows, rarely smiling, often in curled up closed-off positions makes us almost feel a parental responsibility over him, and a desire to protect him. And this is not helped by personality, which is also very passive, submissive, and closed-off, coupled with the fact that he has more child-like mannerisms compared to Muu or even Amane, who is five years younger than him. He makes you want to swaddle him with a blanket, is what I'm saying. I just think it's such a cool and funny detail how we are given set-up towards the prisoners being ruthless and scary and undeserving of humanity, and then Milgram follows that up by basically offering you a Little Guy™

[schnuffel-danny]

the gay pride denim jacket collection

I headcanon that a long while before The Accident Vlad "borrowed" this jacket from Jack, and then wore it all throughout college Jack never got that jacket back... it's collecting dust in a box somewhere in Vlad's home now

[backwards-blackbird]

I'd welcome an Amon Lives Lieumon AU sketch. What would they get up to after the war when the fighting is done?

You mean that thing I daydream about 25/8? Don't mind if I doooo-

(An expansion on this half-baked cookie of a hastily-answered ask )

After the Equalists were dismantled, Lieu ended up in a small seaside town in the Earth Kingdom, somewhere decently south of Republic City. He picked up a job as a dock worker for a shipping company. His supervisor, who also owns a row of for-lease warehouses on the waterfront, gave him a place to stay. After Noatak - unvanquishable cockroach that he is - survived the boat explosion, he coincidentally ended up on the shores of the very same town. Lieu can hardly believe it when he runs into him again.

The healing process - emotionally and physically - is a long and painful one. But the two take well to living together, and take comfort in being the only remaining ties to each other's pasts. They become more inseparable than ever.

Noatak lays low for some time, until news travels worldwide of the boat wreckage, and Amon is presumed dead. With his wounds healed, Noatak decides to start training again, and Lieu assists. He ends up teaching young local non-benders self defense in the empty warehouse adjacent to his and Lieu's apartment. He is of course a water bender, and his pupils know this. But he uses moves informed by bending forms to better educate non-benders in combat. After everything, he still wants nothing more than to empower non-benders.

Lieu gives him hell about flirting with disaster - "Local man with a big scar on his face opens a non-bender self-defense academy? Spirits, man, subtlety isn't your strong suit." But luckily, no one's the wiser, and they enjoy their quiet little life together.

Tl;dr Lieu and Amon deserve a happy ending, dammit, and this is the one I like to give them. <3 Thanks for the request!!

[ender-niffler]

I AM REMINDING THE FAVERMYSABER SIDE OF MY FOLLOWING TCD SABER

LOOK AT THIS WIMP OF A MAN

LOOK AT HIM!!!

[iceeericeee]

You could make Jedtavious in Sims 4…

Huh…. I could…

[certifiedwerewolf]

When did we start using the term babygirl the way we do? It was definitely after 2o12, right?

[sharktofu]

Guess who noticed another ep of "My Ride" from yesterday? :D

Guess who should go to sleep because it's almost 11pm? D:

[tojisun]

you’re sitting beside johnny with his arm thrown over your shoulders so occasionally he squeezes your tit i think

[enden-k]

Whenever you're ready! No rush to show them. You've just Piqued my interest lol

shows sneak peeks of two of my ass old projects and runs 🏃

[quab00]

fairs fairs

piracy?

hellooooo!! *bap*

woa >w<

haiiiiiii

[its-leethee]

OK yes I'm back on my Jailer-cryptography bullshit, but Kpp'ar's cane looks too much like a wheel cipher to me and I'm losing sleep over it

A wheel cipher works by labeling disks with letters or symbols on the edge and stacking them on a rod; you can twist them to line up and code/decode your message.

A famous example of a wheel cipher is the Jefferson Disk.

a Jefferson wheel cipher

Another device that works on a similar principle is the cipher disk.

So, if you're still reading, humour me by looking at a couple more fashion accessories for mages:

So interesting how Ziard's is bound by chains while the Jailer's features keys, isn't it?

That ring with the spokes? Kinda looks like it could be the wheel from an enigma cipher (video demo here).

PS if you want to learn more about enigma machines and encryption, because they're really fucking cool and no I'm not hyperfixated at all hah hah hah

ANYWAYS. It's an enigma wrapped in a Mystery of Aaravos--*gets shot*

[angelgoeslewd]

is she the other girl? (Raphael’s Part)

🔮 summary: inspired by this post, Raphael is rumored to be seen getting cozy with another women. you, though not officially dating him, get a bit jealous and confront him about it.

🎧 listening pairing: ava. natalie jane.

⚠️ warnings: heavy angst, some language, bad coping skills.

[BARBATOS, DIAVOLO, SIMEON, AND SOLOMON COMING SOON!]

Raphael was not known for his social personality. there were definitely a lot of rumors and gossip going around about him, but many of them had to do with his sarcastic demeanor, his cold shoulder, and blank face. all of it was pretty much bullshit and you easily tuned most of it out. except the day you were in the library, sorting through books to find a specific one he had recommended reading alongside the other he gave you, a touching gesture to you, though to some it may have seemed like he was trying to look down on you, like you wouldn’t understand his book unless you read its companion. but to you? you cherished the fact that he shared something with you, something you knew he liked. he simply wanted you to see it from his eyes. and that’s when it happened.

two fellow students came around the corner to your side of the library, hushed whispers in between the rows of book. it wasn’t unusual, but the minute you caught whiff of Raphael’s name being dropped, you felt you owed some sort of defensiveness to the angel who had so kindly gave you his reading recommendation, straight from his own shelf, and instantly turned to jump in, a decision you usually chose not to make. and did you ever regret it.

“-I know! Who’d ever thought it? Mr. Holier-Than-Thou, neva seen a smile a day in his life got game!”

“You’re sure it was her? She’s so pretty! What does she see in him??”

“I know!! That’s what I said- but, and get this, apparently she was wrapped around his arm the whole time! They went to a bunch’a places! This fancy restaurant on Main, some sort of jewelry shop… like a ridiculous amount of money had to have been spent on her! I dunno what it is, but Raphael’s got it!”

they both laugh and being to walk away, the sound of their voices fading as they do. you standing there with your raised hand, pointed into a wagging finger, and let it drops to your side as you blinked at their words. Raphael… had a girlfriend? He had a girlfriend? That you didn’t know about? He was a very private person, but he didn’t seem like the type to lead you on. Especially when he was treating you so special now… the way he beelined to sit next to you, how he shared his things with you, asked you to spend time with him more… you thought he was the type who would only do things like that when he was interested in someone. did you misjudge his feelings? he… couldn’t have misjudged yours, however. you thought you made it quite obvious you had a thing for the angel. he… should’ve said something. he just let you go on this impossible quest that you would never win and embarrass yourself? so you could be the silly human trying to win the heart of an angel? it hurt.

it hurt so much — the confusion, the embarrassment, how much emphasis you put on feeling like your affections were shared — that you had to completely separate yourself from him for a while. you couldn’t face any of the angels, in fact, knowing they would try to help on behalf of their brother and you just couldn’t deal with it. you completely rearranged your schedule, choosing to nap with Belphie one day, be late to classes with Mammon so you could sit in the back with him, eat lunch out with Beel, all so you could avoid the angels. your heart hurt whenever you saw Luke worriedly glancing your way, but the idea of him bringing up whatever happened with Raphael had you turning the other direction. Simeon and Raphael both stared at you whenever you had classes together, even if it meant them getting admonished by the teacher. you kept your gaze to your paper or the board, pretending not to see them in the corner of your eye. you were packed and out the door before they ever had time to approach you.

it was hard, having the piercing gaze of the angels always on you, trying to avoid them when they always seem to know where you were, but whenever you thought back to what happened in the library, your heart throbbed painfully and you continued to mute their texts, leave your phone in your room and go on whatever outing the demon brothers had planned for that day.

an entire week goes by like this.

surprisingly, it was Solomon who ended up approaching you. he had tactfully avoided the whole thing, never mentioning it to you and therefore still was allowed contact with you, but you still kept him on thin ice and were positive he knew that. you suppose that’s why he trapped you. Solomon asked you to help him study a new spell, avoiding any outing that seemed to suggest small talk, instead offering to go to the human world, where you knew it would be nearly impossible for the angels to follow, as they almost always needed permission from Michael to go on such a field trip. you agreed and when you got there, he immediately started working on the spell, to his defense. but… it was much too easy. you got it after 30 minutes. he shrugged and pushed it off, saying it seemed more difficult in theory. he offered you tea and again, you agreed, disarmed by the convincing lies.

and that’s when he dropped it on you. “I think you should talk to Raphael.” you stopped, cup half raised to your mouth, looking at him, seething.

“Is that why you invited me here?” you spat, slapping down the teacup a little harder than you should have. “Just to talk about him?”

Solomon considered you for a moment. Then shook his head and asked, “What happened? Apparently, according to him, everything was going just fine and then you started avoiding all of them.”

“Just fine? Yeah, he would say that.” you scoffed. “He has a girlfriend.”

Solomon blinked, “No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does!”

“I’ve never seen her.”

“Me neither!”

“Then how do you even know he has one?”

“These things come out, Solomon! You can’t just hide it forever! But you also just can’t ignore a girlfriend! She was on his arm — he took her to all these nice places! Everyone saw it!”

the sorcerer leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, hand on his chin, frowning as he thought. you grit your teething, cursing him, Raphael, those students, with every breath you took. sadly, you can’t do mental spells just yet, and it doesn’t work.

after a while, he shook his head. his eyes blinked open, but the frown stayed in place. “I… really don’t think so. It’s not my place to say but… you mean something to him. He’s completely insufferable right now, you know? He’s been that way since you’ve started ignoring him; snapping at all of us, hiding out in his room for almost the entire day. No one can get him out. It’s a train wreck, really.” He sits forward, leaning over the table to drive his words home, “Please. You don’t have to forgive him, you don’t even have to be nice. Just. Talk to him. If not for him, then for Luke. Raphael made him cry yesterday.”

and that’s where you sit currently. Back at the House of Lamentation, on your bed, glaring at your phone. You haven’t even opened the chat, dreading doing so, but you have to get this over with. you pick up the phone. you open the chat.

it is filled with over 200 messages of him pleading with you to talk him, asking what happened. 29 missed calls. you take a breath, asking Michael to have mercy on you and let Raphael be asleep, and begin to type,

‘we need to talk.’

the green online light is instant, like he’s been waiting by his phone.

‘Yes. Please. Where can we meet?’

‘no. here.’

‘Why do you not want to meet me? What happened?’

another text quickly follows that one.

‘I miss you so much.’

it’s something that makes tears hop to your eyes, his honeyed sweetness — his absolute honesty of his feelings when you know he hates it. it means so much and feels like a stab to the chest all at once. all the feelings you’ve been avoiding hit you over and over, the undertow of your sea of emotions pulling you out, anger and betrayal and pain washing over you again and again, and you can’t stop yourself from hastily typing out a response.

‘you had a girlfriend?? this whole time?? i thiught i meant something to you. i thought we were i dont know connecting!? i felt so close to you, i wanted to share everything you did, i paid attention to everything you said, every little thing i could learn about you. it hurts so much to have you do this to me. i wanted to be with you every single second i could, you mean so much to me. did it mean anything to you? was i just a plaything? a human you could toy with to amuse yourself??’

‘…’

your anxiety spikes when the dots indicating he’s writing pop up. they disappear. they return. they linger. it happens a couple times and you so badly want to throw your phone across the room, but you’re so invested in what he has to say, how he could excuse himself for this, when one line pops up.

‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’

you do end up throwing your phone.

you end up crying into your pillow for a while, completely ignoring the sound of your phone vibrating with message alerts. but when your ringtone goes off, you decide to pick yourself up and answer it.

Raphael calls your name from the speaker.

it crackles like he’s outside, wind blowing into the microphone, but you still can hear him. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Raph,” you say, exhausted from all your emotions. “People saw you. The- the girl! Hanging off of your arm!”

“Girl… ? Ah. You must mean that one.”

“That one? You have others?” you deadpan.

“No. No, that’s not what I’m trying to say. The blonde one, yes?”

“I- I don’t know! I didn’t ask for details! I was too busy being hurt by — ”

“The jewelry store? Yes, I can see how that might have looked.” He sighs, barely audible above the wind. “That’s why I was trying so hard to get rid of that witch. I knew something like this could happen.”

to say you’re shocked would be an understatement, his words make you second guess everything you’ve done in the past week. “The… witch?” you ask meekly.

“Yes. The drunk one. She kept grabbing my arm and following me while I was doing errands for Michael. I couldn’t get her off and Michael needed those things urgently. They couldn’t wait. I understand how looked from the outside. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

you’re on the verge of crying again. he didn’t… have a girlfriend? you’re so embarrassed, yet relieved, and you feel so stupid for even believing those damn rumors, but you were so hurt by such a believable story-

Raphael calls your name again, this time, despite it sounding identical, is tinged with worry. “You’re whimpering into the phone. Are you ok?”

“I- I’m ok. I just… feel so stupid right now,” you whispered, voice cracking as you force yourself through the sentence. “Raphael, I’m so sorry, I- I should’ve-” you can’t finish. you have to cover your mouth as the tears win, flowing over your hot cheeks, hoping he doesn’t make fun of you too much.

you expect some sort of sarcastic response, a comment that slices you when it points out how ridiculous and over the top you’ve made this scenario. but it doesn’t come. Raphael doesn’t do any of that. All he asks is, “Can I come over?”

“Yes,” you choke, breaking down even harder.

and then he’s there, you don’t know how, but his arms wrap around you, his cold jacket catching on your soft pajama top. he clutches you to his chest as you cry, taking the phone from you and setting it down on your desk so you don’t have to clutch it tightly and hurt your fingers.

“Raph… Raph.”

“I’m here. Come on, let’s get you to the bed.”

You twist your fingers in his jacket, a silent plea for him not to let go, but it never even looks like he plans to, awkwardly steering you to the bed as his legs teeter to the side of yours. he falls down with you in his arms, stroking your hair. when your cries taper off, he hands you tissues and wipes your face with his the top of his shirt.

you can feel how puffy your face is, as you sit up, straddling him. he lies there, his blue eyes taking you in as he lets his hands hesitantly rest on your hips. “Raph, I’m- I’m so sorry. I should’ve come to you about it. I made everyone miserable.”

He gives you one of his rare, warm smiles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy we’re ok now.” A nervous look crosses his face and he looks away from you. “Did… did you mean what you said earlier? You want to be with me?”

“I- yeah. I did- do! I do. Very much so.”

“Next time, I’m taking you on errands with me.”

[8ughead]

♘

[afterhoursdoll]

well, before i start figuring out what i want to write, yanno something im a BIG fan of as far as hypnosis goes but i almost never see explored in writing or art?

false agency!

like, sure! having your mind pushed down, down, aaaaaaall the way down, losing piece after piece of your adorable little self to the spirals you've been made to stare at for minutes, hours, days?-- how would you know how long it's been, at this point?-- it's cute, very cute! being rendered naught but a mindless hypnodoll, giggly and mumbling, fully at the whims and mercy of your hypnotist-- cute, cute, cute!

but hey! hear me out for a second. i'm pulling you in here with me.

let's say the hypnotist wanted something a little different. you went into it expecting your mind to be blanked, bent entirely out of shape and reformed in a way they find absolutely adorable. good doll, good drone, what have you. but! when all is said and done, when their work is complete and they start packing up their tools, you...don't feel all too different, all things considered! curious!

you part ways after that, with your hypnotist planting a little kiss on your cheek (so good! so sweet!) and telling you to keep in touch. you nod vigorously; of course you will! why wouldn't you? they treated you with such care, such devotion-- it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside just thinking about it!

but, see, that's the thing! you can still think!

you can drive yourself home! you can remember to go to the grocery store, maybe buy a couple things to make for dinner, and once you're home you can cook them! all independently, too! and the next morning, maybe you have a job! you can still go to it! you can even interact with people and remain coherent(...?) throughout! are you truly entranced?

but oh, everything feels so light! so floaty! it's as though your head's full of bubbles! a euphoric haze has taken root deep, deep in your psyche, blanketing your still-coherent thoughts with such a comforting cloud! so comforting, so sweet, in fact, that you don't even notice the times in which you slip.

you've become so spacey, now! you hardly notice how your hazy mind struggles to focus, how you occasionally trail off in the middle of sentences as though your brain had just erased whatever you were thinking about.

you're always happy, now! filled with boisterous glee, you take everything in stride, nothing seeming to phase you much at all! and if something does manage to get through to you, maybe even for a split second bringing clarity to your distant self...it doesn't take much at all for you to snap back into that whimsical state of yours and carry on like nothing had ever occurred.

you don't think about how it feels like you're living in a dream, with all the floatiness that entails. you don't notice how often you stare at your phone, either waiting for your hypnotist to text you or simply rereading the little affirmations they've sent, little words and images to reinforce your trance-- they're just so nice to look at! you don't think about how eager you are to follow their every command, bend to their every whim, regardless of what you're doing at the moment-- they're the most important thing in your life, after all. it's hard to get them off your mind!

and your eyes?

your eyes, sweet thing?

ohh, no matter how well you carry yourself, no matter how much agency you seem to display, no matter how in control of yourself you may feel...

the spirals, the colorful, spinning spirals that pulse and whorl atop your eyes-- they, more than anything, betray the kind of state you're truly in, dear doll.