#but also to be completely honest
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tenrose · 3 months ago
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They are doing a LOTR marathon in the cinemas but it's Saturday and I fucking work Saturdays, why do I have to submit to the fatal order of needing money 😭😭😭😭
I can still go to watch ROTK though 👀
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spacedustmantis · 2 years ago
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hey @grizzlyplays love you for- wait no. no, actually. you don't deserve this after today! you don't deserve my love after what you did!
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the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"
just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible
#due to the Great Data Decay academics write viciously argumentative articles on which episodes aired in what order#at conferences professors have known to engage in physically violent altercations whilst debating the air date number of household viewers#90% of the couch gags have been lost and there is a billion dollar trade in counterfeit “lost copies”#serious note: i'll be honest i always assumed it was english imperialism that made shakespeare so inescapable in the 19th/20th cent#like his writing should have become obscure at the same level of his contemporaries#but british imperialists needed an ENGLISH LANGUAGE (and BRITISH) writer to venerate#and shakespeare wrote so many damn things that there was a humongous body of work just sitting there waiting to be culturally exploited...#i know it didn't happen like this but i imagine a English Parliament House Committee Member For The Education Of The Masses or something#cartoonishly stumbling over a dusty cobwebbed crate labelled the Complete Works of Shakespeare#and going 'Eureka! this shall make excellent propoganda for fabricating a national identity in a time of great social unrest.#it will be a cornerstone of our elitist educational institutions for centuries to come! long live our decaying empire!'#'what good fortune that this used to be accessible and entertaining to mainstream illiterate audience members...#..but now we can strip that away and make it a difficult & alienating foundation of a Classical Education! just like the latin language :)'#anyway maybe there's no such thing as the 'greatest writer of x language' in ANY language?#maybe there are just different styles and yes levels of expertise and skill but also a high degree of subjectivity#and variance in the way that we as individuals and members of different cultures/time periods experience any work of media#and that's okay! and should be acknowledged!!! and allow us to give ourselves permission to broaden our horizons#and explore the stories of marginalized/underappreciated creators#instead of worshiping the List of Top 10 Best (aka Most Famous) Whatevers Of All Time/A Certain Time Period#anyways things are famous for a reason and that reason has little to do with innate “value”#and much more to do with how it plays into the interests of powerful institutions motivated to influence our shared cultural narratives#so i'm not saying 'stop teaching shakespeare'. but like...maybe classrooms should stop using it as busy work that (by accident or designs)#happens to alienate a large number of students who could otherwise be engaging critically with works that feel more relevant to their world#(by merit of not being 4 centuries old or lacking necessary historical context or requiring untaught translation skills)#and yeah...MAYBE our educational institutions could spend less time/money on shakespeare critical analysis and more on...#...any of thousands of underfunded areas of literary research i literally (pun!) don't know where to begin#oh and p.s. the modern publishing world is in shambles and it would be neat if schoolwork could include modern works?#beautiful complicated socially relevant works of literature are published every year. it's not just the 'classics' that have value#and actually modern publications are probably an easier way for students to learn the basics. since lesson plans don't have to include the#important historical/cultural context many teens need for 20+ year old media (which is older than their entire lived experience fyi)
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holymaccaronii · 6 months ago
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PART 2 OF THE WYD WHEN MY GANG PULL UP IMAGE 🗣🔥
We’re welcoming AM and HAL into the family this time c: , I’ll continue this family photo series as I release new papercrafts lol
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benevolenterrancy · 1 month ago
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("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)
#svsss#bingqiu#luo binghe#shen qingqiu#lbh#sqq#i've been working through the series of unfortunate events and somehow that series has paired really nicely with svsss#the themes of cycling violence and what's justified and what isn't and what can possibly be done differently#and how trying to bring love and honour into the midst of it really changes nothing but also changes everything#it's just *chef's kiss*#i don't know how i can quite do my thoughts justice but i've spent the past few weeks quietly going between the two series (and mdzs and tg#as well if we're being honest they all hit similar questions and themes) and just reveling in the pain and ambiguity of it#everything is interconnected and it means you can never know what trauma and pain and necessity has shaped a person#each story goes too far back to ever ever EVER possibly see the full extent of it#at that level even communication itself is nearly impossible.#and because of that it's almost impossible to change anything. beat yourself apart and the outcome is the same#and yet ATTEMPTING to change things ATTEMPTING to do the kind thing the honourable thing is absolutely critical#because while you can change nothing you also have the capacity to change EVERYTHING#aaaaaaah i don't even know what i'm saying#but i read the beatrice letters today and the love letter just. killed me.#(obviously i cherrypicked some lines because it's three pages long but those ones felt right)#''i love you like a corpse loves a vulture's beak'' i just. can't get over that line.#to be completely changed. altered. destroyed. redeemed. purified. desecrated. reduced to nothing yet entirely necessary for another's life.#what a FUCKING line#anyway i was either going to blow up from thinking about it or else i had to exorcise it via art from an entirely different series#i've already done svsss and discworld why not throw a series of unfortunate events into the mix#i'll be honest folks i did not expect svsss to be the mxtx series that would fuck me up the most about the main ship#bingqiu is something else. i don't even know how to begin to approach my feelings on it. impossibility and necessity all at once#bizarre#my art
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snekky-arts · 3 months ago
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barreling towards a brighter future
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 -6 - 7
(this along with many other prints in my inprnt shop!!)
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divineandmajesticinone · 4 months ago
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4 MINUTES (2024) I 1.03 "I didn't think you were like this. Like what? Like this..."
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grimalkinmessor · 1 month ago
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At the risk of revealing that I'm a Crazy Conspiracy Theorist I really do think that the biggest reason Hollywood seems to hate youtubers and wants nothing to do with them is because they are infinitely harder to control. People usually have to pay their dues to become famous, usually have to sign their damn soul away or do crazy awful shit in order to get a hand up—but you can't threaten obscurity to someone who already has a large fan base. Who is, in a lot of ways, already famous. A while back Mark talked about his time at a red carpet gathering and how no one would look at him or pay attention to him; almost like he was getting deliberately snubbed for being a youtuber. And yeah a lot of it is probably also the fact that "real" actors and directors don't see youtuber creations as valuable or Real Art, but I also think that a big part of that hostility is that he's not tied to it like they are. They can't make him do anything. Which, again I'm theorizing, is why I think Iron Lung is getting clotheslined. Because you know damn well that if Mark has enough money to produce it himself, then he has enough to advertise and release it himself. But he can't. For Some Reason. He's got to jump through hoops first because, well.
It really is all about control.
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babacontainsmultitudes · 11 months ago
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save me, hot Glenn holidays. hot Glenn holidays. hot Glenn holidays, save me.
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secretly-a-catamount · 6 months ago
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tim drake would rather die than kill innocent people and tim drake killed hundreds of supervillain henchpeople with long-range detonation explosives that one time are two separate headcanons that, contrary to what the fandom discourse would have you believe, can actually coexist at the same time.
there’s even a psychologist term for it.
it’s called compartmentalization!
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lotus-lamps · 6 months ago
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tysm the weekly light for giving me motivation to draw LMAO
a lil messy but thats ok. it was a lot of fun so thats all that matters haha (I LOVE RENDERING AND DO THE LIGHTING AND ALL THAT SHIT ITS SO FUN) rip mothy gilbert also had too much fun ig lmao
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seedsofmordor · 2 months ago
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Sam Hazeldine are Adar, The Rings of Power S02E01
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kan-be · 10 months ago
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bunch of very old and not so comms I never posted for some reason but still like 😇 the more recent ones were made for @raven6229 and @frog-frussy !!! the owners of the old ones are lost in IG im afraid......
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an-albino-pinetree · 9 months ago
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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months ago
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It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.
Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.
I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi
RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3
the smell of you
warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.
wc: 2.2k+
come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3
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“Eddie?”
The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 
“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 
Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 
You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 
Something unspoken. Something homely. 
“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 
When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 
He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 
“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”
“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 
“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 
You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 
Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 
The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 
“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 
“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 
It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 
He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 
When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 
“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 
“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 
“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 
He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 
One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 
“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”
“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 
“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 
You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”
“Good.” 
He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 
“Eddie!”
If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 
And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 
Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious.” 
“You’re an idiot.” 
“I’m your idiot.” 
The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 
“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 
“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 
Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”
“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 
“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 
His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”
You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 
You never grow tired of it. You never will. 
“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 
And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 
“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 
You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 
He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 
“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”
“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”
“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”
Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 
He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.
You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 
You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 
Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 
“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 
He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 
“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 
“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 
You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 
I love you.
I adore you. 
I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 
And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 
The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 
To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 
“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”
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phoenixkaptain · 6 months ago
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How… does Robin’s costume work?
A question long asked by everyone. But mostly by me.
Well. I’ll tell you.
First thing’s first, we’re talking about classic Robin, Dick Grayson Robin, this Robin:
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There’s a common misconception that Robin’s shirt is one piece (as in a red shirt with green sleeves) and that his panties are separate. You see a lot of people refer to his outfit as having green panties. You, like me, may have heard it before many a time.
Unfortunately. Dick Grayson is not going out every night in a shirt, panties, and a cape.
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He’s literally wearing a green leotard with a red vest over it.
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Literally just a green leotard. He’s never been wearing panties at all. It’s been a leotard this whole time!
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Also, just as a side note, I think it’s kind of funny that his mask is almost always portrayed as black, except in this panel where he isn’t wearing it and it becomes green. Is it double-sided, black and green? No, the colours in the 60’s Teen Titans comics are just funky sometimes. And, they needed the mask to stand out from the black background.
“What’s the point of all this, Kacie?” I hear you asking.
There is no point. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk-
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