#i have a thing for glasses

[turtletoria]

i wanted to try drawing older Mabel and Dipper !

[pauputoot]

reblog not for a “bigger sample size” but because polls like this are a fun way to help people reinforce their own self-concept and passing it along so that other people can also have the opportunity to strengthen their sense of self by pressing a button is a cool and nice thing to do

[teaboot]

Me: I appreciate that you keep bringing me tupperware leftovers but you really really shouldn't, you're going to lose a lot of containers

My brother, handing me the 10 thousandth container of leftovers: Oh yeah I forgot to ask when are you bringing those back

Me: You don't want them back.

My brother: What did you do

Me: Better question: what did I NOT do

Him: ...

Me:

Him: Oh my god

Me: Yeah

Him: You haven't been WASHING THEM?

Me: Bruh I'll be honest I haven't even been eating most of them

Him: Oh my god

Him: I have been bringing you lunch since-

Me: Halloween

Him: OH MY GOD

Me: Yeah

Him: It's been- we JUST bought those containers

Me: I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU TO STOP

Him: WHAT THE HELL

Me: I HAVE TOLD YOU SO MANY TIMES TO STOP

Him: IF I DONT FEED YOU, YOU DONT EAT

Me: I AM AN ADULT I PACK FOOD

Him: WHAT FOOD

Me: I DONT KNOW, FUCKING. SPAGHETTI

Him: IN WHAT? IN WHAT? YOU DONT WASH YOUR FUCKING TUPPERWARE

Me: I DON'T *BUY* TUPPERWARE CAUSE I KNOW I WONT WASH IT

Him: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU CARRY THE SPAGHETTI IN

Me: Bags

Him: What

Me: Ziplock fucking bags

Him: YOU'RE EATING SPAGETTI OUT OF BAGS

Me: IT'S LESS WASTEFUL

Him: HOW is it less wasteful? HOW?? You're throwing out a plastic bag every single day!

Me: It's better than throwing out tupperware!

Him: TUPPERWARE IS REUSABLE

Me: NOT IF YOU DONT WASH IT

Him: WHY THE FUCK NOT

Me: I DONT DO DISHES

Him: THE FUCK YOU MEAN YOU DONT DO DISHES.

Me: I hate doing dishes. You KNOW I hate doing dishes. I have ALWAYS HATED DOING DISHES you KNOW this

Him: WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN EATING OFF OF

Me: PLASTIC BAGS

Him:

Him: You're a fucking trash monster

Me: You wore the same pair of Shrek pants every day for two years

Him: When will you let that go

Me: I will never let it go

Me:

Me: ...thank you for the lasagna

[egophiliac]

time for skeleman

with the lack of any other info yet, all I can focus on are those Charles Lloyd-looking sunglasses. they are absolutely sending me. I feel like we're gonna fall through a tree or whatever and this stitched-up boney gentleman is gonna pop out from behind a gravestone and start serenading us with some smooth jazz on the saxophone.

or should I say...the saxoBONE???????

[wasyago]

various tango doodles

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[captain-flint]

x

[honourablejester]

A lot of the time when I reblog jewellery on here, it’s art nouveau jewellery, because I really like art nouveau. In general, and in jewellery in particular. And most of that is the aesthetic. I like the natural forms, I like the twisty curly bits, I like the use of materials, I like how a lot of art nouveau jewellery is using metals and stones and other materials to create a specific form, an insect or a plant or a goddess or even sometimes nature scenes. I like …

I feel like a lot of the time with jewellery, it feels like ‘I’m going to use this object to show off the size and value of my pretty rock’. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Some of those rocks are indeed gorgeous. But art nouveau feels more ‘I’m going to use these pretty rocks, and several other things, to create the impact of this object’? I just love the use of materials, glass and enamel and colour, as well as precious stones and metals, to create a form or a scene.

Like, you get a diamond ring, it’s a diamond ring. But you get something like a dragonfly brooch (Louis Acoc):

Or a lilypad hair comb (Rene Lalique):

Or a wisteria branch (Georges Fouquet):

And it’s a whole creation. A little wearable piece of art.

And I don’t want to sound too dismissive. I know the craftmanship and skill and artistry that goes into any kind of jewellery making. That diamond ring took skill I will never have. I just.

I like the emphasis on form more than material that you get with art nouveau. Like normally you hear ‘glass jewellery’, ‘enamel jewellery’, and it’s cheap, it’s frowned upon, but in art nouveau it’s what that glass or enamel was used to make that’s the important part:

(Rene Lalique)

(Eugene Feuillatre)

Anyway. In summary, I really, really, really like art nouveau jewellery?

[squeakadeeks]

when the lights are on in my skysona mask im completely blind so i used the sound from my speakers to tell me where my phone was

[lucabyte]

Taking pride in One's own appearance.

[giddlygoat]

i’ve seen people draw guck with a scar on his temple from the memory gun. i wanted to adopt that hc asap

[rendevok]

Skirting the truth

(aka i saw this meme and laughed so hard i lost my sense self control)

[starry-bi-sky]

Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au

"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"

Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.

He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.

It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.

Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.

It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.

Because it really only meant one thing.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.

Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.

This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?

It would be a firestorm.

One that Vlad is not keen on starting.

It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.

It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.

His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.

"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.

Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.

He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.

The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.

He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.

"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.

Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.

But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.

Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.

"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."

Bastard.

For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.

But, well.

They all have their dark secrets.

And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.

"I see."

[chirpsythismorning]

I’m sorry but they were so sick for this 😂

[doctorsiren]

I’ve been thinking about Miles as Serizawa quite a bit 😁

[glassedplanets]

i am still soooo charmed by that one set of eyecatchers