#and so. so many meetings
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katierosefun · 2 years ago
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i sent four emails in the last 10 minutes . . . . and three of them were just copy-paste, change the last name, attach a file ... and yet that’s enough emailing for me today, thank u very much
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wasabi-gumdrop · 9 months ago
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local ladies man’s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabru’s fumble era at 6
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chloesimaginationthings · 10 months ago
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William Afton into the FNAF-verse
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aerequets · 3 months ago
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(part 1)
(short comic) (you can otherwise search 'spy x pta' on my profile)
MY GOODNESS. it's been a hot minute since i posted the first part and i guess i just couldn't SHUT UP because this is FOURTEEN PAGES LONG. FOURTEEN. you can even see some pages where the linework is slightly different because i drew it like 6-ish weeks ago, that's how long this has been cooking. drawing in general has been hard lately because of time constraints, BUT i am so happy i finished this. this is like my fav project even tho it isnt as popular, but who cares!!!!! POPULAR IN MY HEART
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aamuusva · 6 months ago
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Ghilan'nain, Mother of the halla
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lilybug-02 · 1 month ago
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I like to think Ogrim put his professional voice on for that little speech. (Next page will be out January 6th. Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays)
Bug Fact: Some snails have hairy shells. The hair-like structures are used to keep them moist and improve camouflage. Pictures Below.
V2 First || Prev // Next
Volume 2 Masterpost
▴♥︎▴ Patreon ▴♥︎▴ Buy Me A Coffee ▴♥︎▴
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mischievous-thunder · 4 months ago
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Wade vs the Peanut Gang
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rocketbirdie · 1 month ago
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face value
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opens-up-4-nobody · 4 months ago
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:-P
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fauvester · 4 months ago
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something something seeing things through different eyes
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alakuhfuckingzam · 1 year ago
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the v's are so funny to me. they own some of the biggest media companies in hell. they're a bunch of upstarts who have the patience of a toddler. only one of them can deal with the others shit at a time like they're playing the worst game of rock paper scissors ever. they call each other pet names. they're hells worst polycule. they're somehow the least and most efficient business partners ever. they're some of the most impulsive people on the cast. they manipulate each other constantly. they're a moth, a tv, and a clown. one of them is shown to be so much worse than the other two. i think they'd kill each other if they were allowed too. they lean on each other so heavily they'd knock over the leaning tower of piza. ive never seen three cunts try so hard in my life.
like what is wrong with them i want to put them in a terrarium and observe them with a magnifying glass.
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Part 2/2
By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.
In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.
So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.
When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.
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He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.
The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.
The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.
It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.
And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.
However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.
Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:
Children.
Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.
Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.
They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.
It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.
When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:
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Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.
Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.
"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.
Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.
He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.
Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.
He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.
Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.
He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.
He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.
"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.
He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.
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All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?
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chloesimaginationthings · 7 months ago
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FNAF movie Vanessa’s thoughts when meeting Abby..
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lycandrophile · 1 year ago
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it’s so funny to me that people used to try to warn me “if you go on t it won’t make you androgynous it’ll just make you look like a man” because 1) i do want to look like a man, that is famously a major part of being a trans man but also 2) t literally has made me androgynous?? like they were wrong on both counts. i got most of the looking-like-a-man changes that i wanted (deep voice, broader body, hair all over my body including my face) and i also give every single cis person in a five mile radius a stroke every time they try to figure out my gender. the assumption that trans men wouldn’t actually want to look like men and the assumption that cis people are good at correctly gendering us once we’re on t are both weird as hell.
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perpetuallyscreamingbird · 16 days ago
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Going feral over "this is a love story" because it so is.
How could the Narrator tear a god in two and expect them not to love each other? Not to love the first thing they knew that wasn't them, not to love that lost part of themself? Maybe it's because hating yourself is such a human thing, it's impossible to imagine a being torn in two loving its lost parts. Even when they're not perfect. Especially when they're not perfect.
Even when you get the worst outcome on a route, or one of the vessels with so many reasons to be angry, The Shifting Mound still loves The Long Quiet because they're gods, and death is to them what a paper cut is to us and this too shall pass and she loves him through all of it.
They are everything. They can be as good as they can be bad. They can love each other and hurt each other and those things are rarely mutually exclusive. They can meet afterwards and talk with kindness. There isn't a single part of them that doesn't have the potential to be something better. There isn't a single part of them that doesn't have the potential to be something worse. They're the same entity. Theyre the only different being the other has ever known. This is a love story.
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vaguely-concerned · 8 days ago
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the strength it must have taken for illario to not immediately go full 'lmao since when have you even had a kiss hello lucanis' sibling violence mode during the café talk. inspirational. rook and lucanis really were doing all that right in front of his salad huh
#lucanis is being SO cringe with that line right out there in public and I would die for him. it's just such a weird thing to say#tbf if anyone in the world is used to the insane things lucanis says and would go 'yes yes lucanis waxing poetic about coffee#in ways normal people reserve for trying to get in someone's pants (the roast won't fuck you lucanis)#we've all heard it' like it's all normal I suppose it would be illario. and also he's too busy with the 'shit fuck shit he's not dead#he's not dead of the family members 'supposed' to be dead we're at two definite failures out of two and woe me if the twain should meet#if that IS a demon in there it sure talks exactly in the same bizarre way only my cousin does#does that mean anything what the fuck do I do who do I kill about this' internal monologue I guess#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age: the veilguard spoilers#dragon age spoilers#illario dellamorte#lucanis dellamorte#rook x lucanis#rookanis#I mean he does very much say that to a non-romancing rook too which only makes it all the more delightfully odd#is it a very lucaniscore way of testing the waters. is it just how he always talks about coffee. many plausible approaches here#no one forced him to bring up kisses and 'you should try it' out of the blue like that is all I'm saying. he could have acted normal#(theoretically)#i feel there are reasons to read some stuff into it lol#lucanis when rye says he prefers tea: it's so over cautious overture I don't quite understand myself yet gently rebuffed#lucanis when rye takes him up on the 'so what should a first kiss be' theme: oh we're so back!!!! wait. what. what do I do now#what is this#it's kind of really sweet that rook answers with their own playfully florid beverage based barely hidden metaphor at the end too#matching freaks and having fun with it#as far as lucanis is concerned rye's only true flaws are 1) prefers tea to coffee (oh well. no one can be perfect. cross-cultural love#can conquer all even in this) and 2) weird taste in interior design (did we really HAVE to bring your 15 foot tall corpse statues#with us home rook. I can understand a tasteful skull here and there but this seems excessive. well if it makes you happy I guess)
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