#he's the center

[humming-fly]

was anyone gonna tell me shadow saved rouge's life in sa2 or was I just supposed to find that out playing the game myself

(this worked out as a rather fitting closer for the Final Day in Year of Shadow haha, hope ya'll have a fun new year! 🎉🎉🎉)

[the-knife-consumer]

Had a dream last night about a gravity falls game where you play as young Stanley having to sneak around and lie to stay out of trouble with Filbrick. It wasn't really a horror game but it had a lot of horror game-like mechanics and there was a general sense of discomfort the entire time.

The only quest I can remember is one where Stanley gets a bad report card while Stanford gets a good one. Filbrick is out doing business until tomorrow so you have until the morning to try and make it look like you got good grades. There's an option to use white out on Stanford's card while he sleeps and write your name instead.

You could also get future readings from mom, who would give hints on what will happen to you next so you can start setting up lies and stealing in advance instead of scrambling to cover yourself last minute. (If you could figure out what the readings were hinting at. They got progressively more vague as the game went on, going from "I hear" and "I see", to "I feel")

You didn't get to see what happened when Filbrick caught him, it just cut to a game over screen. You could be caught and sent to your room three times before this happens (which ends the quest you're on. Because you failed to lie well enough). There is no way to win. The game would just keep going with scenarios until you lost or gave up

There was a vending machine on the board walk that had warped reflections in the glass that corrected itself when you looked at it head-on

[a-la-sante-du-progres]

Happy Barrière du Maine Day

[draconym]

For various reasons I am, in general, irritated when my coworkers accept donations of exotic animals to the nature center. But.

After several months of caring for this thing, I cannot deny it any longer: he is perfect and I love him. Every time I look at him I cannot resist the urge to say "oh hi, doggie."

[redeemed-wren]

Thinking about. Stanley Pines. Once summer, not long after Weirdmaggedon. Sitting in his seat, staring at the tv but realising slowly he's not really watching TV, he's listening.

Listening to Soos, taking a tour group around the Shack, his voice confident and happy, eagerly telling tourists all kinds of tall tales. Soos, with his young son strapped to his chest, held close and dear to his heart, always knowing he is loved and wanted by his father.

Listening to Wendy and Melody, laughter turning to deeper conversations in the gift shop as Wendy pours out her latest dating drama and Melody listens sympathetically--not quite a mother, but an older sister figure is all Wendy wants at the moment.

Listening to a distant boom coming from the basement, a cause for some concern that fades quickly as three peals of laughter follow soon after. One deep and familiar, as comforting and close as the sound of a ship's motor and the open sea. One young and high, cracking with adolescent awkwardness. One loud and cackling, a hint of madness never quite leaving it but more settled than it used to be. And Stan figures it's probably time to send someone down to drag Ford, Dipper and McGucket upstairs before they forget what light is and get too nerdy.

Besides it's nearly dinner time, and he's listening to Mabel's steady, unrelenting chatter in the kitchen, punctuated by a few grunts of acknowledgment from Abuelita as they prepare a meal.

And Stan feels a strange, unusual sensation wash over him, something he hasn't felt for over half a lifetime, by a boat on a beach. A sensation of contentment, of security, of peace. And he realises that if he stood up and walked into any one of the rooms in the Shack he would be greeted with smiles and faces lighting up to see him and cheerful cries of his name.

And he looks down at the darned pig sleeping beside his chair and things, with oddly misty eyes, that he spent thirty years trying to find his brother again. And he succeeded--but somehow, he got more than that. He had formed around him, without even realising it, a family.

[amusingghost]

just some feral (mer)kids

unapologetically inspired from @swordsmans's fic the sea makes bones of bodies because i read it (again) and my GOD man it makes me feel so many things

[hinamie]

i'm exactly as normal about him as I thought I'd be

[artsymeeshee]

A quick idea I had to sketch out because sometimes I think about how Ford still views himself as a bad brother sometimes but Stan’s there for the very needed reassurance that Ford is a good brother and Stan can see how Ford is trying every day

[lesbiradshaw]

he’s like if a boy was a princess

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The musical episode.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[empyrangel]

Breaking news: Venti Genshin Impact returns after 1 billion years to show how much he loves his children and say that cringe culture is dead and you should do what you love without caring what other people think, then fucks off again

[carebeardean]

Charles has always left Edwin little notes slipped between the pages of his favorite books, in his science equipment, places he knows Edwin loves. Just silly things—post its that say “hi Edwin :)”. doodles of Edwin with his nose stuck in a book. reminders to stock up on wolfsbane. but.

Then, post canon, Edwin tentatively starts dating people. And it’s ridiculous, because Edwin’s right there, all the time, but Charles..misses him a bit. And his heads a mess, and he can’t sort out what the hell he’s feeling most of the time, and whenever he tries to say any of it out loud it comes out rubbish.

So. He writes down some of the shit he can’t say right, and because he’s a coward, hides them so he doesn’t have to see Edwin’s face when he reads them.

then Edwin starts writing back.

Neat lilac blue little envelopes appear in Charles coat pockets. In his bag. Once, in his shoe? Some nights, Edwin will clear his throat and mention something from a letter, offhand, like they’re just picking up conversation, and Charles can pretend they are. That they always have talked about the basement, the belt, the nameless fear that chokes him every time Edwin walks out the door with someone else on his arm.

Sometimes he can’t. The words get stuck in his throat. Edwin’s not mad, he’s maddeningly, stubbornly kind about it, which is worse.

Some nights they trade. A secret for a secret. Charles learns about the novels Edwin used to hide under his mattress, about all the lonely years before Charles got there. About Simon.

Meanwhile, Edwin is losing his mind, because Charles has accidentally stumbled onto what was a fucking courting ritual in his time. Love letters were something engaged couples treasured for years, kept and reread over and over. (Edwin does. keep them in a special box, will take one out and trace the words, tuck it in his breast pocket for courage).

Edwin would rather have to reattach a limb again than lose Charles trust, all the dark and beautiful things he shares with Edwin only. He knows—knows Charles doesn’t mean to make him fall more in love with him.

[beebfreeb]

Against my will, this freak is fun to draw.

[aq2003]

i feel like he's choosing his words carefully bc he doesn't want it to blow up in his face but personally i think he should be legally allowed to kill the tory politicians making his criticism of them the center of their campaigns

[mysterycitrus]

also physically dick grayson should be (at absolute max) 5”7 as a male gymnast who can still actually do aerial work. however for maximum pain i put him closer to 5”10 so he constantly has to reckon with the fact that he’s taller than his father was and has now been changed irreversibly by leaving the circus

[starry-bi-sky]

mmm throwaway conversation between Dan and Danny that popped into my head that I had to write out:

"You spent ten years being a one-man mass extinction event, then went back in time and fought me, and lost." Danny snarls, arms crossed and throat tight. His mouth pulls back to bare dagger-sharp teeth, and his eyes burn with the familiar thrum of ectoplasm heating up behind his eyes. "If I didn't believe you were half of Vlad before, I do now."

His other self -- and really, can he even call him that? He's half of Vlad too. Two halves severed from each other and welded together to make a new whole, -- snaps his head over to him. Wild-eyed and furious, he looks unlike the man Danny fought before, the one unruffled and untouched, unbothered by the world around him. It's familiar, but not like the way a reflection is.

"What's that supposed to mean." The Other hisses, matching Danny's scowl one-for-one with fangs much bigger and sharper than his.

But there's a reason lions fear hyenas. Danny matches the rumble in The Other's chest with one of his own, and shoves his face close to his. "I don't lose."