#and that is SUCH a cool task

[misscrazyfangirl321]

Me from just over a year ago: So you're still working at the same place we just got hired? Wow, I kind of figured that would be a temporary thing.

Me now: Yeah, I honestly just ended up really loving it. It's such a good environment, and it's so cool how even the bosses treat it as a ministry as much as a business.

Me from just over a year ago: Wow. That's great! I'm glad it goes so well. What's your favorite part?

Me now: The task that regularly leads to me burning myself.

Me from just over a year ago: ..... :/

[hauwunted]

The most horrifying aspect of parents saying "my kid could do that" about art is that they never ever ever mean "wow my kid is good enough to be in a museum" and they always always always mean "I want to disrespect you so much I'll do it by implying that this thing is just as worthless as the things my child makes with their hands" and right in front of them too. Your kids can hear you u know, and the things they make with their hands are the least worthless and most precious aspects of human life I'll kill u

[aethersea]

I do think Blazing Saddles handled its one depiction of native americans very poorly, and the full extent of its representation of chinese workers on the railroad is they were literally just there. not even one single speaking line. unclear if this is worse or better than the redface.

it's fucking phenomenal at lampooning antiblack racism though. extremely blatant, extremely funny satire, which is constantly and loudly saying "racism is the philosophy of the terminally stupid at best and morally depraved at worst, and we should all be pointing and laughing at them 24/7"

plus the main character is a heroic black man who has to navigate a whole lot of bullshit but is constantly smirking at the extraordinarily stupid racists and inviting the audience into the joke. the one heroic white character is a guy who was suicidally depressed until he met the protagonist and they just instantly became buds, and he's firmly in a supporting role the whole time and happy to be there. the protagonist saves the day with the help of his black friends from the railroad, and uses the position of power he was given to uplift not only those friends, but all the railroad workers of other minorities too, in an explicit show of solidarity.

anyone saying "Blazing Saddles is racist" had better be talking about its treatment of non-black minorities. it had better not be such superficial takes as "oh but they say the n-word all the time" or "they have nazis and the kkk in there!" because goddamn if that's the full extent of your critique I very seriously suggest you read up on media analysis. there is too much going over your head, you need to learn to recognize satire.

[gvaine]

I'm not a physician. I don't have anything like the knowledge you do. — You've been working for me for many years, Merlin. I suspect you know more than you think you do.

for @christsam 🤍

[jewishbarbies]

[gomzdrawfr]

Obsess with this DnD 141 cuz it looks amazing

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[psychomusic]

oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon (she/her). her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, tar'x, but most of her life except for the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

[buwheal]

godddd when autism is a disorder that effects me ?! blasphemous.

[anghraine]

Fun fact: Imrahil of Dol Amroth is only ever described in LOTR as Denethor and Faramir's "kinsman", with no distinction ever made between how he's related to Denethor vs to Faramir. It's only later, when Faramir briefly thinks of his long-dead mother, that she is called "Finduilas of Amroth" and we can deduce that the family connection was likely between Denethor's wife and Imrahil, making him an in-law of Denethor but blood relative of Faramir. We're still not told exactly how Imrahil and Finduilas were related, though.

I always had the impression of a certain degree of tension between Imrahil and Denethor, and also of Imrahil being particularly concerned for Faramir, but his exact relationships with them are quite vague in the narrative. A lot of the names, dates, and family connections among the members of the house of Dol Amroth that we now accept as a matter of course are mainly from a separate document published in Peoples of Middle-earth that explains the most probable origin story for the house of Dol Amroth and has an attached family tree. IIRC the entire existence of Faramir and Éowyn's son Elboron is based on his inclusion in the Dol Amroth family tree in POME and he's never referenced in LOTR (and possibly not in anything else, actually?).

Tolkien definitely did imagine Imrahil and Finduilas as siblings regardless (e.g. I think he mentions it when observing that Denethor's natural beardlessness as an Elrosian Dúnadan would be reinforced in Boromir and Faramir by their additional Elvish heritage through Imrahil's sister), but he didn't actually say it in LOTR.

I do think it's important, though, because it's with this later information that Imrahil taking charge of Faramir's fallen body is conclusively revealed to not be simply a prince rescuing a vague "kinsman" of political/military importance, but specifically a man carrying his dead sister's last surviving child from a battlefield.

(No wonder he and Éomer bonded so much, honestly!)

[frobby]

rin 1000000% has a list somewhere of things hes good at that yukio is bad at

[boxesblr]

Rotating Etho's choice to protect his allies in my mind. Obviously they made incredible escapes and held their own but Etho also refusing to sell out Cleo and Grian meant that nearly everyone else died, some died multiple times, most lost additional hearts, hurt alliances (Scott: Gem has no band loyalty!), and did not gain something like 120 hearts total

Meanwhile, Cleo and Grian get to feel secure in their alliance, not go red, and actually finish their tasks. The playing field has obviously been levelled significantly and they still suffered, but Etho facilitated his alliance gaining the most where everyone else lost the most

Obviously it's a display his loyalty first and foremost but he also played the game, ran the numbers, and counted himself out of success knowing it would be diminishing returns to go after them and I just think that's neat

[foldedinpagesfics]

TITLE: clutched my life & wish it kept (dearest love, i’m not done yet)

[1/4]: the injury of finally knowing you

SUMMARY: In the end, all roads lead to you. Pairing: Gaz x Death!Reader, Price x Death!Reader Word Count: 1k

WARNING: no beta, no proofread, first time doing a reader fic. reader is death, but tf141 are kinda into it?

A/N: dipping my writing skills into this fandom for the first time. have a ton of ideas for one-shots and series, but this one popped into my head and i had to get it out.

Death was a stranger.

One that Gaz had no intention of meeting anytime soon. There were several almosts. He almost got blown to shit in Piccadilly. He almost gets riddled with bullets. Hell, he almost chokes on a hotdog laughing too hard at a joke. The cigarettes were a slow building almost, but he put in an effort to quit. Delay things a bit longer. Compared to his teammates, Gaz was the hardest for you to track down. He’s impatient to a degree, wants justice a little too much at times. Played with the idea of throwing out the rules of engagement a time or two and handling shit. Yet he had alluded you at every turn.

It takes a helicopter and some rope for Kyle Garrick to get a glimpse of you.

“Sergeant!” 

Nik’s voice barely registers. It’s a whisper in the wind compared to the vehicles that whip past his head and narrowly miss cracking him in the skull. Nik calling out to him is a memory in the back of his mind that ends up scraping on the gravel and dirt the moment he slams against the ground briefly. He loses his rifle and probably a bit of blood in the fall, but he doesn’t lose his bearings. Not completely anyway. At least that’s his hope, as his blurry vision clears and his eyes lock onto the unbelievable.

He sees Death itself.

He sees you.

Gaz sees your face in each passing car and truck he narrowly misses. It’s not hard to notice someone beautiful like you amongst the men currently trying to kill him. He swears time slows, his eyes finding yours in every direction he looks. You’re oblivious to the chaos around you, hair whipping around from the wind. No one seems to take notice of you. Only him. He wonders if it’s intentional or some sort of sign that his time is coming. He wonders a hundred other thoughts in the brief moment he has before voices begin to yell over comms. 

“Captain, Gaz fell out!”

“Say again?!”

“The sergeant! He’s gone!” 

Not yet.

Gaz heard the voice in his head as he reached for his pistol. Only that voice in his head wasn’t his. Neither was it the voices of his teammates. It was yours. Soft as a feather, the words glided through his mind. Gentle. Hell, it was a little encouraging. Your lips didn’t move when you spoke, your eyes still tracking him with growing interest. You smile. You fucking smile and it’s so damn stunning that Gaz nearly drops his pistol. It was a moment, barely a beat, before the truck you were in zoomed past his head. He dodged, head on a swivel, as he tried to find you again to no avail. Adrenaline began to kick in, sending Gaz fully back into the action.

“I’m not dead, Nik! I’m hanging from a bloody rope!” 

He hears your laugh in his head at his words. Amused was what you were. Even if he couldn’t see you, he knew. Your face isn’t anywhere to be seen by the time he finally takes aim at his attackers. Death was not claiming him that day. If anything, you were going to have to watch him make the comeback of a century. 

And what a goddamn comeback it was.

Gaz waited until they touched ground and were well on their way towards medical before he brought you up to Price. The frenzy around him, the sight of you watching, then disappearing from his sight. Hearing your voice in his head, feeling the echoes of you long after you were gone. There was death and then there was Death… and Capital-D-You-Death was not real. You couldn’t be real. Surely he had to have cracked his head a little too hard back there, right?

“Sounds like her,” Price huffed out, “Always needed a front row seat, that one.”

Gaz half-wondered if Price also had his shit rocked during the fight. Maybe the good captain took a tumble himself. There was no way he heard those words correctly.

“Sir?” he asked, unsure of what else to say. 

“She comes for us all in the end, but you can spot her in the close calls.”

Price brought his gaze down to meet Gaz’s. Ocean eyes kept steady, holding the sergeant’s confused look with absolute certainty.

“Try not to let her visit too often, yeah?”

“I’ll try my best, Cap’.”

Price watched as the medic came into view and ushered Gaz into another room to get him checked over. His hand fished into his pocket for a cigar, bringing it to his lips once he retrieved it. He moved towards his other pocket for his lighter, but found himself pausing. Though there was no other in the room with him, Price knew he wasn’t alone. There was no mistaking the sensation that came over him. Your touch to his cheek, warm and familiar.

He knew your touch well.

“You can’t have him,” Price warned you, gravel in his voice. The words dripped with authority. “You can’t have any of ‘em.”

Price felt the pressure at his back. Light, but just as warm. Like a lover leaning in to embrace him from behind. As macabre as it was, Price found his eyelids falling closed at the at feeling, tipping back his head with a soft sigh. A release that brought ease to his shoulders. It had been too long since he felt something so intimate. What the hell does it say about him? That these days he could only find such solace with Death itself? 

“You can’t have me either, sweetheart.” 

Though he could not see you, Price felt your fingertips brush over the hair along his jaw. He held still, hands resisting the urge to reach out. To try and touch in return. To feel you. It wasn’t until he felt the warmth dissipate that he moved again. You left. Left him cold. Alone. At least until the next time you decided to visit. Price knew you had his number. It was only a matter of time. One bad day. One wrong move. He’d go down fighting, then find you waiting for him. He made peace with that long ago.

Until then, he’d make sure you kept your distance from him and his.

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

If I would know you, would you know me...

[floorpancakes]

colour drafts for the flower viewing themed prsk outfit contest (tentative name Spring Sprig Stag)!!

which one is your favourite? 🌸🦌🍡🍒

in order the inspirations are:

sakura🌸/wisteria💜/dandelion🌼/night sakura viewing🌸🌌

its looking like tsukasa will be the model chosen from the voting post! wahoo!

*forgot the collar direction rule its been edited appropriately in my files!

[beescrafting]

Alone

SO YOU ALL HAVE SEEN THE NEW ALONE COD SKIN RIGHT!?

the one which is a mix of Ghost, Price, Farah, Alex, Gaz, and Soap.

I wonder if Alejandro and Rudy are in this skin too- I hope so, all the boys together (poor Laswell having to try and deal with this tho)

That guy (he is adorable)

How do you all think they fused together?

I think like it was during a mission and shit went wrong, like when everyone chose to become the ghost when they went after Graves.

I think like some shit went down and ghost while carrying Soap and (MAYBE) Gaz on his back as they ran for cover were hit with something which caused them to fuse together first.

And during this time when it was happening Price, Farha and Alex found them and lets just say they joined the hive mind.

My brain just loves the idea that while ghost is close to passing out as the fusing (which is horrible and painful leading to his blacking out state) recalls when they were having that meeting where its pretty much the main line that I wanna focus on:

"We do this together, we aren't ALONE" (or something like that I'm paraphrasing here.)

AND like he blacks out at the alone bit before slowly regaining his brain, or really THEIR brain, (they can't go by he/him or she/her pronouns not when they are literally multiple people!) and all they can say is

"Our... name... is alone..." before beating the shit outta an enemy or something.

aNYWAY- thats my ted talk and idea on this whole skin, expect some fan art soon because I am in love with the skin and honestly need to post my own art more. Here's a sneak peak:

Horrible quality i know... I'll take a better photo once I'm done.

[boyfriendgideon]

as yr favorite local jason todd fan sometimes i get so fed up with the apparent inability of most dc comic writers to write a class conscious narrative about him.

and yes, i know that comics are a very ephemeral and constantly evolving and self-conflicting medium.

and yes, i know they’re a profit-driven art medium created in a capitalistic society, so there are very few times where comics are going to be created solely out of the desire to authentically and carefully and deliberately represent a character and take them from one emotional narrative place to another, because dc cares about profit and sometimes playing it safe is what sells.

and yes, i know comics and other forms of art reflect and recreate the society within which they were conceived as ideas, and so the dominant societal ideas about gender and race and class and so on are going to be recreated within comics (and/or will be responded to, if the writer is particularly societally conscious).

but jesus christ. you (the writer/writers) have a working class character who has been homeless, who has lost multiple parents, who has been in close proximity to someone struggling with addiction, who has had to steal to survive, who may have (depending on your reading of several different moments across different comics created by different people) been a victim of csa, who has clearly (subtextually) struggled with his mental health, who was a victim of a violent murder, and who has an entirely distinct and unique perspective on justice that has evolved based on his lived experiences.

and instead of delving into any of that, or examining the myriad of ways that classism in the writers’ room and the editors’ room and the readers’ heads affected jason’s character to make sure you’re writing him responsibly, or giving him a plotline where his views on what justice looks like are challenged by another working class character, or allowing him to demonstrate actual autonomy and agency in deciding what relationships he wants to have with people who he loves but sees as having failed him in different ways, or thinking carefully about what his having chosen an alias that once belonged to his murderer says about his decision-making and motivations, you keep him stuck in a loop of going by the red hood, addressing crime by occupying a position of relative power that perpetuates crime & harm rather than ever getting at the root causes, and seesawing between a) agreeing with his adoptive family entirely about fighting nonlethally in ways that are often inconsistent with his apparent motivations or b) disagreeing and experiencing unnecessarily brutal and violent reactions from his adoptive father as if that kind of violence isn’t the kind of thing he experienced as a child and something bruce himself is trying to prevent jason from perpetuating. because a comic with red hood, quips, high stakes, and familial drama sells.

it doesn’t matter if it keeps jason trapped, torn between an unanswered moral and philosophical question, a collection of identities that no longer fit him, and a family that accepts him circumstantially. it doesn’t matter if jason’s characterization is so utterly inconsistent that the only way to mesh it together is to piece different aspects of different titles and plotlines together like a jigsaw. it doesn’t matter if you do a disservice to his character, because in the end you don’t want to transform him or even understand him deeply enough to identify what makes him compelling and focus on that.

and i love jason!!!!! i love him. and i think about the stories we could have, if quality and art and doing justice to the character were prioritized as much as selling a title and having a dark and brooding batfam member besides bruce just to be the black sheep character are prioritized. and i just get a little sad.