#i just stared like ?
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inkskinned · 1 year ago
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you're in the habit of denying yourself things.
if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.
but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?
what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.
and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.
you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.
so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.
it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.
sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.
oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.
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herd-reject-arts · 1 year ago
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So I'm leaving work and something darts in front of me, maybe 10ft away, too fast for me to see what it is. Peek around the tree blocking my path and I see this
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Just like... a whole ass hawk. Dude's gotta be about 1.5ft tall. Massive fucking bird. And it's just staring me straight in my soul like this, even as I try to move ahead. It didn't budge. And there's only this path back to my car unless I want to walk on a busy highway. So I have the option of Death By Raptor or Death By Truck.
So I walk in the poison ivy filled patch off the sidewalk. Guy still isn't moving. Still staring me directly in the eyes. And I do this thing when animals are behaving strangely where I'll talk to them, so I'm just like, "Hey, man. I don't know you. You don't know me. This feels really threatening. I'm just trying to get to my car, dude. Can I get some space please? You're a big fucking bird. I see those claws. You could kill me right now, but I'd appreciate if you didn't, ok?"
It didn't move until I was about 2ft away. Again: I'm as far from it as I can be without walking into the street. It clearly wasn't going to budge. I walk past, thing flies up (silent, btw. Scary) and lands on a brick wall a little further ahead
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Anyway. Weird guy. Nearly shit my pants when I noticed a bird big enough to carry off a fully grown cat was just... there, staring me in the face, unwilling to move away from me, a human, something it should see as a threat. I watched behind me the whole rest of the way to my car, just in case this bird decided to help me shed this mortal coil. 10/10 experience. Super cool guy.
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jaypentaghast · 4 months ago
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Interview with the Vampire (2022) Assad Zaman as Armand
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artkaninchenbau · 5 months ago
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People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again
#My art#One Piece#Long post#Sir Crocodile#Nico Robin#Alternatively panel 5 would've been a close up of Crocodile's face from Robin's POV where he looks like he's giving her a death glare#Not intentionally he's just a big scary bastard with a Resting Murder Face and Robin is a small traumatized child#But I wanted to focus on the silliness of the moment so you get the goofy version instead#IDK man there's just something very funny to me about the idea of Robin just randomly info-dumping about a subject she's read about#And Crocodile being like ''?????????????????????? The fuck you talking about??''#Robin leaves the ship's kitchen and Crocodile just stares at the tomato like ''...It's a fruit? Forreal?''#(Meanwhile Robin is sweating bullets like ''I called his favorite vegetable a FRUIT right in his FACE he's going to KILL ME'')#Robin grew extra feet from the bottom of her feet to reach the counter and that actually isn't me trying to explain bad art away#In the original Papadile comic there was a panel of Robin doing the dishes with extra feet to reach the sink but I cut it out#(It was a stress relief comic I did not feel like drawing a complicated background in detail) (BUT YES I THOUGHT OF IT)#Nico Robin Age 11 is *more* than capable of cooking Crocodile just does not trust her with his food. At least not yet#She did start doing the dishes unprompted and continues to do so (mostly out of fear). Croc told her she didn't have to but allows it#IDK a lot of people seem to headcanon Crocodile as incapable of cooking and like. Surely Mr ''I don't trust people'' knows how to cook#Like he doesn't have to be a master chef or anything but and maybe he enjoys not HAVING to cook (pain in the ass with one hand + knife/hook#But surely he can cook decent enough. SURELY#Botanists don't @ me I know the ''tomato is a fruit'' thing isn't fully accurate this is just a silly little haha comic
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fullychaotichell · 6 months ago
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SO, I wanted to draw the fakeout-makeout scene from the latest chapter of Of Saints and Sinners but I think I got a biiit carried away pfpf
@morningstarwrites you really fed us with this one, ngl 😳
(EDIT: Oh my god, forgot Alastor's stupid antlers in almost every single drawing dndnddm so, uh, replaced now lol (second edit: how did I miss Lucifer's cheeks too? This is what I get for staying up late to draw lmaoo)
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hamable · 8 months ago
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You’re Ruben Hopclap. You’re a teen rock star headlining a local festival. Your interim principal attempts to kill you multiple times. The elusive crush you wrote all your songs about vanishes with some other kids and returns covered in gore. The most popular guy in school jumps fifteen feet in the air, turns to you with a smirk and says, “I’m actually a huge fan,” and spears said principal through the core. Your crush boards a bus going who knows where. Someone gets on a mic and tells everyone to go home. It’s been four minutes.
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somewhereincairparavel · 13 days ago
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"jason is a knockoff watered down percy" NO hear me out, jason actually parallels annabeth immensely, sharing SO many similarities with her personality, not percy, in this essay I will-
edit: my full analysis is out now! here
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acediscowlng · 2 months ago
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charles going "i'm aces with other people" literal seconds after he died from being murdered by his friends is absolutely fascinating, this kid's optimism and sheer determination to bullshit his way through every traumatic event he goes through and pointedly refuses to examine really knows no bounds
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aroaceleovaldez · 9 months ago
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Nico referring to his mom as "Mama" implies he most likely at least used to refer to Hades as "Papa" and i 100% headcanon he still does but mostly in the manner of him having the entire Underworld wrapped around his finger for being the baby of the family
#pjo#riordanverse#nico di angelo#headcanon#my art#nico flexing youngest child privilages by pulling out the most pitiful expression he can manage#anyways i find it fun to explore character word choices#cause yknow no two characters are going to select their words the same way#or even necessarily think about it to the same degree#i like to think Nico thinks about his word choice a lot#so of course every time he uses ''papa'' he fully knows he's pulling the Baby Of The Family card#Hades definitely knows this too but falls for it every time anyways#cause Nico hasnt called him ''papa'' regularly since getting his memory wiped - just detached ''father'' or at best ''dad''#so it just reminds Hades of How Much He Just Wants His Children To Be Happy Like The Old Days#and how much poor Nico has been through and he's just the baby of the family and-#cue Nico smugly staring at the camera cause he knows how much power he holds#also i say Nico is Hades' only son cause mythologically even when Zagreus *is* Hades' son (rarely) he's. dead.#a major part of Zagreus' mythology is that he died#and im p sure every other deity said to be Hades' children are all goddesses and also are like 50% of the time not his#theres also only like 3 of them. and as far as we know in riordanverse canon one of them is implied to not be his daughter#so Nico is Hades' only son and also youngest in the family (cause Hazel is older by a month chronologically or 1 year biologically)#(and everybody else is a deity if children of hades at all)
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barnespls · 3 months ago
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Embrace that old bastard.
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emeraldsummers · 11 months ago
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Sometimes I remember that the only reason Cas is canonically a weirdo even by angel standards is just because Misha, the first onscreen angel, made the acting choice to portray angels as inhuman and eerie, and then all of the subsequent angel actors just ignored that and portrayed the angels as regular people.
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egophiliac · 11 months ago
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I have SO many thoughts about everything and they are in no kind of order yet, so here's just some quick little bits in the meantime!
I am not normal about any of these characters!
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#art#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 part 6 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 part 6 spoilers#me just staring at the ceiling thinking about anime characters#if i start talking about the big stuff now it's going to turn into a huge rambling mess so in the meantime#i did not get sebek (yet) (i need to contemplate my gems...) but i did see his groovy#he is just full-on cinderella-sparkles bibbidi-bobbidi-booing into that armor! magnificent.#and i really don't have enough words for how much i love tiny malleus. he is perfect. he is precious. he is everything to me.#he knows who his dad is no matter what some crusty dead talking ectoplasm blobs say#(man no wonder lilia's got hangups if THAT was the general attitude he was getting)#('eww you got your dirty bat cooties on the prince' go sit in the corner with mrs. rosehearts you absolute garbage)#(...i did kind of love that lilia started to wake up because the senate said one nice thing to him)#(and he immediately was like 'this is not reality')#(sounds about right)#on a lighter note i was just. SO charmed by the little throwaway about ✨dragon lord consort esteemed diplomat revaan✨#who picks the vegetables out of his food and hides them under the tablecloth#everything i learn about this man makes me like him more. he was SO dumb.#now we know where malleus gets it from i guess#also unrelated but once again the fact that i named my mc tamago has had unintentional consequences#tamago take the tamago and tamago tamagao tamago#frikkin love that when yuu gives the egg back you can just be like 'i love him. this is my baby now.' 100% accurate.#also yuu continually referring to malleus as tsunotarou even to the senate = amazing. yuu really has NO self-preservation or awareness.#they fit right in with everyone else#<- see what did i tell you. huge rambling mess.#and i haven't even BEGUN to talk about MELEANOR -- (is dragged offstage by a hook)
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kensatou · 7 months ago
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you think YOU had a bad day at work?
bonus: sid shrieking "no!!!! NO!!!!!" loud enough to be heard in the stands and on camera
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hai-nae · 3 months ago
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uno reverse
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More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos
(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)
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People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.
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+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.
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The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ
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Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-
The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.
The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.
He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.
Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.
Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.
The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.
Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.
It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.
He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.
Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.
His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.
She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.
A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.
Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.
He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.
A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.
However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.
With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.
“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.
He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.
He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.
Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.
So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.
“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.
The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.
The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.
Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.
When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.
Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.
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saguaroooo · 2 months ago
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Spock breaking that vase barehanded turned them on and I won't change my mind
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