#in a way i've never seen before

[dramatic-dolphin]

btw i saw an entire ant colony moving today (idk why, but they were carrying their eggs and all) and they LITERALLY trampled a little path in the grass. like a trail in the woods but infinitely smaller. ant-sized little footpath through the grass. it was incredible to see.

[dilfmobius]

how about a slice of pie?

[caffichai]

Has anyone heard of this game called 'Arknights'? It's kinda obscure, but the character designs slap

Thanks @valence-e for the suggestion!

[beastwhimsy]

I think if he's an immortal cosmic deity he should get cool as flarp powers. to be honest.

[serial-unaliver]

I should probably stop ignoring my friend but I literally cannot stand her fiance like I used to fantasize about pushing him off a cliff when we were hiking with her

[zzoupz]

hhhrngrghgh (me thinkigh)

sparklemouse.

[speakofcompersion]

TAEMIN - 'Eternal' Track List ♥︎

[guardian-angle22]

Colson Baker (aka Machine Gun Kelly) | December 2021

[kithj]

i've been playing veilguard lately and i have to say the dialogue in this game is some of the most frustrating i think i've ever seen in a choice RPG like this. Rook is locked as a friendlier character, which isn't a problem, but this lock out has resulted in a lot of the dialogue lacking in variation.

i chose the "Block it out" option here only for my Rook to say "Block it out. You're safe" but "You're safe" was already its own separate option-- this isn't how you write dialogue choices. again, i don't have an issue with Rook being friendly, but you shouldn't railroad players into certain dialogue.

if they wanted "You're safe" to be the common/reconvening dialogue, then it shouldn't have been made a choice at all. the wheel could have been something like this:

nice: "I'm right here with you."

aggressive: "Block it out."

panicked/confused: "Shit. Talk to me. Please."

-> all reconvene at "You're safe."

and this is a repeated problem. i've favored the aggressive options this entire time (which aren't really aggressive to begin with) but Rook will almost always still wind up saying the nice option instead. another example is early on:

again i chose the more aggressive "Maybe you should have" choice only for Rook to say something along the lines of "Maybe you should have [...] But we have to support each other now." (it's been a minute since i played this part so it may not be exactly word for word but i remember even then at the start of the game being annoyed that she still worked her way back around to saying option 1)

it's not that Rook is friendly, it's that she's literally saying dialogue options that i did not pick. it's fine for there to be a common dialogue repeated across choices/flavor texts, but not when it's the literal choice text itself. it feels like i'm being railroaded with every dialogue.

[cthulhu-with-a-fez]

other people have probably already said this but like. it's been a shockingly nice experience to watch the dungeon meshi fandom go absolutely NUTS over falin. just this unbelievable wellspring of thirsty romantic eye for her, and not only is she chubby in canon, most of the fanart i've seen has skewed towards drawing her even chubbier? i... genuinely do not think i've ever seen that before. i don't think i've ever been in an anime fandom where someone both looks like me and is the subject of such enthusiastic adoration BECAUSE she's fat before.

it's... it's really nice.

[marlynnofmany]

Hey artists, sign your art. When I save a picture because it's beautiful and I want to look at it again later, I'd love to remember who drew it. I save things for years. If I see something else amazing by the same artist later, I'll be delighted!

But if I don't know who drew it, then that's just one more mystery of the internet.

[hinotorihime]

i do just want to take a second to express mourning for the victims of the simchat torah massacre last year, and also grief for the betrayal, bigotry, and loss of safety that the jewish community has been experiencing since then.

[skrunksthatwunk]

the land of the gods

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

[flufflecat]

everyone shut up and look at this slightly blurry pic of a cute bug I saw last night

[saints-who-never-existed]

Lovely weather for it and by "it" hehe well let's just say dabbing innocent young Victorian sailors. 💦🔪🩸