#and I thought it was infinitely funny

[eggo-tistical]

sorry can we just talk about how light's choice for another kira proxy (doubling as a manservant) was a pale, sallow faced man with black shaggy hair, who was young enough to be around his age.... like i'm probably reaching but it's both so sickening and pathetic that he selected mikami, who did what L never would: worship light and carry out his bidding

[hannahdeer]

I was having fun on faceapp so...

edit: i just added another pic

[whosthere54]

I hear infinite amethyst and perk up like a dog. It’s like a sleeper agent I swear.

Is this what it is to survive the phenomenon is Fable SMP /silly/lh/j

[animegirlmattmurdock]

Frank won’t return his calls :(

[invinciblerodent]

I......

I don't know what to do with this information.

Emmrich may have said that "we have no business forbidding the harmless vices of the living" when someone proposed banning the collected reviews of the Randy Dowager from the Necropolis libraries, but I think I may have an idea as to which volume inspired that particular stance of his...

[c4n1d43cup1d]

drew this the other day

[nevesmose]

Separation 11347

This was, by Trazyn's infallible reckoning, his eleven thousand three hundred and forty-seventh divorce from Orikan. The Diviner, on the other hand, was adamant that it was in fact only their eleven thousand three hundred and forty-sixth. This dispute was what had caused the current divorce.

At first he had settled contentedly into his usual divorce routine, entering his meticulously-preserved time loop of a "Happy Divorce" party plucked from the Terran city-state of Nova Yoruk in early M3 as the Imperium kept its years.

As had been the case so many times before, the Lord of Solemnace basked over and over again in the reassurance of the assembled middle-aged humans that he was indeed so much better off without that asshole in his life, rounding off the festivities with a cake depicting a miniature confectionery figurine of Trazyn using a guillotine on a similarly-constructed sugar-based effigy of Orikan.

It was all very gratifying, and he was certain that when the amusement faded he would return to find Orikan waiting for him apologetically, his eminently bullyable faceplate resembling a weeping juvenile felid.

It was, however, not to be. He returned to the Galleries to find no trace whatsoever of Orikan. He was so disconcerted that he even briefly considered retrieving his much-prized clone of the primarch Fulgrim from stasis, but decided against it. It had, after all, only been a few subjective decades since he had placed the clone into a detailed diorama of the genuine being's final battle with his erstwhile companion Ferrus Manus for enrichment purposes. He had been thoroughly pleased with himself for coming up with entertainment of such realism and, judging by his mute tears of joy, so too was the clone.

What a wonderful caregiver I am, he had thought, jauntily walking away. Perhaps he and Orikan should adopt, which when used by Trazyn the Infinite is a word which means kidnap, an Astartes or Aeldari together.

Time passed and with no sign of Orikan's return, Trazyn felt it justifiable to seek other outlets for his multifarious urges. After exhausting every category on Cronhub and getting banned from Nemesorindr, he arose to find that the necrodermis of his lower limbs had spontaneously reformed itself into the shape of a baggy, ill-maintained example of the Terran garment known as sweatpants.

This could not stand. He resolved that he would start A Project, an undertaking of such majesty and glory that no one, least of all that cycloptic fool Orikan, could deny him the attention he deserved.

After brief forays into stop-motion animation and painting miniature Space Marines (accomplished by shrinking normal Astartes through arcane technosorcery and ignoring the resulting high-pitched noises as he applied pigment of a much too viscous consistency to their battleplate) his thoughts returned once more to his display of the battle between the primarchs on Isstvan V.

Theirs was a tragic tale of heartfelt companionship severed by corruption and betrayal. He himself had mentally projected several hundred phaeronfics about them to the great repository of the Necron race whose name, although untranslatable into any other language, was best rendered as The Sarcophagus-Belonging-To-Us-Alone, and some of them had even received multiple scarabs of approval from the discerning audience entrapped there forever.

Surely, he reasoned with the confidence of a being who had long since activated the developer console of his necrodermis body and manually increased its confidence, intelligence and charisma variables to 100, this meant that no one other than he could restore their friendship.

And so, in single-minded pursuit of compassion and friendliness, the Archaeovist and his forces wrought a swathe of destruction across the galaxy.

A foray into the Eye of Terror itself resulted in the capture of Fulgrim through the use of a vast two-pronged stick to pin the writhing daemon prince to the ground where he had been basking one day, while the sacrifice of his entire collection of ancient Terran doujinshis to the haemonculi of Commorragh itself had given him forbidden knowledge sufficient to wrest back the very soul of Ferrus Manus himself and place it into a suitably prepared necron host body via the biomorphic resonance of the necrodermis which had coated his hands in life.

Finally, the moment of glory came. The daemon Fulgrim and the metallically resurrected Ferrus Manus were placed into the same containment chamber and -

It was not at all what Trazyn had hoped. After a monumental bout of hand-to-hand combat lasting for hour upon hour, the two primarchs had settled into an uneasy stalemate, in the sense that Fulgrim was currently coiled around a light fixture on the ceiling and Ferrus had run out of objects to throw at him.

"You're even uglier now than you were when you had flesh," Fulgrim hissed venomously.

"And you were more of a snake then than you are now," Ferrus shot back, the frozen inexpressiveness of his necrodermis faceplate matching the famously stone-faced countenance he had displayed in life.

Fortunately Trazyn, who never made a mistake of any kind whatsoever, had prepared for such an eventuality. A concealed slot opened in the ceiling of the containment chamber, dislodging Fulgrim from his perch, and through the opening there descended a vast garment of woven silver-metallic fabric, emblazoned with inscrutable Necron symbols and sized in such a way as to accomodate the bodies of both primarchs.

"This is your get along shirt," Trazyn said, his voice amplified throughout the containment chamber. "You will wear it."

[anxiousapplepie]

Ah, if it isn't the eternal problem of your brain suddenly deciding to switch gears because this other story is much more appealing than what you should be working on for future project reasons. I intimately know this issue because my own characters / stories just love to pop up some days and demand all my attention or else. And unfortunately, I do not have much of a solution to offer. But I do have some words of comfort.

If you've been struggling with figuring out certain details of RK, or plot points or how one thing will transition into the next and so on, focusing on something else will give time for either something to come along to spark ideas for RK and help you precisely with what you're working on, or you listen to the lyrics of a music piece and suddenly you are thunderstruck! By inspiration. (Or maybe that one is just me.)

Anyway, I'm gonna make this problem worse and kindly ask for the details (and maybe basic plot) of the deliveryman in the post-zombie-apocalypse and his adorable robo dog. Keep it simple or be elaborate, dealer's choice. If it helps, I'll make sure to ask an RK question next if you very much need it.

"well well well, if it isn't the unpredictable whims of my brain! switching gears without warning and throwing all of my nicely laid plans off the table again!" XD Haha this ain't the first time my brain has switches fixations on a dime, and I know it won't be the last time either. It just!! took me by surprise, because I was drowning in Rose Knights and all of a sudden I've fallen into this old steampunk/apocalyptic story I forgot existed until 2 days ago??? Weird! Your comforting words have reassured me this is all okay tho <3 and I absolutely agree some time to focus on a different project will do me good. I think I've been forcing myself to pour all my creativity into RK for the last few weeks, and it's time I rebelled and did something else for a change. Even just a few days might make all the difference for my enthusiasm to draw again :3

Also how dare you attempt to make this problem worse for me, mate. HOW. DARE (I say, gladly wanting this excuse to talk about SD)

So! Special Delivery is about the adventures of a postman named Patrick, set in a steampunk / post-apocalyptic setting full of more types of undead than you can poke a stick at. Also robots are sentient sometimes!

Between all the natural dangers, the unnatural dangers, the supernatural dangers, and the crocodiles (they deserved their own category) being a postman is actually a bloody dangerous job. Moreso than the other types of dangerous jobs! But despite the risks, Patrick takes it upon himself to deliver the news and the mail to those who need his service. And there isn't anything he won't do to track someone down or keep a package safe until it arrives at it's destination.

Then there's Jemima, the robot dog that was built to protect and escort postmen on their rounds through the more dangerous parts of the wasteland and cities! She's a good girl, but unfortunately Patrick thinks he doesn't need a fancy metal dog to keep him safe. And Jemima really wishes Patrick would stop riding through zombie hoards and walking through deathtraps just to shave off 2 extra minutes of time on his "schedule". But she's deeply loyal, and Patrick won't deny giving this anxious dog a purpose in life. Even if that purpose is giving Jemima one [singular] letter to hold. XD

Obviously there's a lot more to it than this, but this is the gist of SD! And if you want to make my life more difficult and much more fun anyone is free to ask questions about this awful postman! In the meantime, thanks for giving me the opportunity to ramble about another one of my original stories!

[usagifuyusummer]

Mouthwashing Jimmy and Curly art dump!!!

They both need therapy or something... The Mouthwashing event was obviously the breaking point/event horizon to whatever they had going on in between them. I have a lot of complex emotions about that game and them...

Something, something, I'm drawing for fun. When it's finished maybe you'll see it.... someday....., so go on with your day for now and hope you have a good one if you're seeing this.

[enginator2000]

daily infinites 61-70. top 10 goobie woobies: number ten we got infinite. hes hella funny. then we got infinite. what a goat. then we got infinite; hes a menace, dont let his appearance fool you. then we got infinite, what a beast! then we got infinite, love him. no list is complete without infinite. uhhh then we got infinite. aww, its infinite! i love infinite. then we got infinite. aaaand this guy (infinite again)

part 1 part 6

[thesoupisburning]

right so you guys ever think about the spectre telling the narrator that hes more similar to her than to a person?

what "her" was she referring to? the fragment we call the spectre? the way he can only be perceived, not perceive himself? the ghost of him, the ghost of her? all of her?

im just. thinking. i always think about spectre. she has. a lot to say that i think is overlooked in favor of more common favorite routes like moment of clarity and the tower, but shes one of my favorites, and shes one of the only ones who SEES the narrator, save for wraith, who is. also her. or nightmare. and she says that hes not really a person. like her.

of course, that makes sense, we think shes a ghost and dead, so she is. but him. is the echo a ghost in the classical sense? is that what she meant? or are there layers?

she says he's not really like a person. what is a person to her? is she comparing the narrator to the "shards of broken glass on the floor" are her interactions with us and the voices the only "person" she knows?

i love love love when this game separates the narrator from us and our voices. i love it so much i think about it daily. props to tower for "layer of grime" that fucks so hard.

i don't have a thesis im just. thinking. how much of the narrator is left. really.

[designernishiki]

if you beat amon in dead souls kiryu gets an orbital death laser. just so you know

[proselles]

thing one and dumbass two

[lyril]

i will Always mention/point out the niche miiverse communities i was in when given the opportunity to just because it's so Funny that there's lore. there was even a wiki documenting the lore and memes and stuff at some point. there's so much history. the Wars. migration. scattered sub-community havens of remnants from the great site rehaul. you'll see someone be like "Why the hell was this posted to the New Super Luigi U Community lol" in the comments of some random funny off-topic miiverse post screenshotted and reposted again online 8 years later and it's like Fellas 😏 This guy doesn't even know 😂🫵

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[one-vivid-judgment]

The concept of IchiEi living together post-canon is so funny to me cause like,,, Eiji is NOT getting a job anytime soon after all this shit. Like, he tries but literally everyone knows what his bitch ass was getting up to and his reputation is in SHAMBLES. I'm sorry bby girl, I know you redeemed yourself, but try telling that to your potential employers.

So he then tries to get some housework done, cause Ichiban's been nice enough to let him stay so he might as well DO SOMETHING instead of contributing zilch to the household.

Let's give him credit and say that at least the apartment looks way better when he cleans (cause it literally can't look any worse), but if you think this man can COOK??? Yeah, it's a no for me dawg. He can and he will burn water while making pasta. He's a hot mess of a man. Please save him.