#it was a good vibe tho

[lmaowh-at]

Lanns n Starks lineups/costumes sketches that I will probably add other houses to. Tywin and Joff & the rest aren't here because I was lazy and Cerseis dress took all of my energy. Don't ask me about inspiration or historical basis for these

[caffeine-high]

my brain has been in Waiting Mode™ since about yesterday evening for a thing happening this afternoon, and i just cannot

i stress drank 4 cups of coffee before breakfast and am now on my 6th, all while i was actually supposed to start on [actually finish, but i didnt start earlier, so start] my report

edit: at least with the amount of caffeine im drinking [in combination with sleep deprivation] i wont need to consume as much alcohol to fit in with the rest of the group im going with [most of whom i barely know adding to my stress levels] like my brain already barely functions rn regardless

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[hinamie]

domain expansion

[cowardlykrow]

"That is where you are wrong, my boy!"

@ratb4stard3 and I deliver another Cowardlyghostbro's(™) collab ✨💛

[occulee]

['Cause "blah blah, bla-blah blah-" is so overdone!]

Wanted to draw Mind in an outfit inspired heavily by this video bc ooh blue and shiny

[nickyroethemarinebiologist]

Humphrey Bone, light of my life

[beescake]

Sorry for the spam (^o^;) I just really like your blog

no need to apologize ayy!

in this corner we welcome all forms of enjoyment, regardless of whether you're a

happy to have yall here w me,

headin into homestuck 2024 :^)

[kyo-mei]

Very haphazard doodles of HEARTSTEEL's Ezreal

A friend made me listen to PARANOIA; I am a changed person now.

bonus: my 2.2k pins of skz stuffs in pinterest is now finally put into use again.

[virgothozul]

[voidcat]

togame jo cannot find it in him to refuse when you ask him to accompany you to your friend's city. just as their city is known for the violence and suspicious activity surrounding it; the one you’re currently in shines in contrast— infamously known for inhabiting so many students, the night never comes there, all the places and activities are for those with a young blood.

and you look so happy! giggly and giddy, rushing left and right after your friend as if pulled by them, and dragged by your hand thightly latched onto his, he follows in cue.

it's only the second day and already three in the morning, the streets have gotten quiter but there are still people here and there, he notices. you and your friend shout a bunch of letters in unision, the name of a club? perhaps. he has lost track a while ago already, his attention solely on you.

"come on, jou–" you drag your words, "it'll be fun! just a couple a' drinks an' moving around." "i could really do some moving around." one of your friends interrupts and he can hear it in the poor bastard's noise, they mean it literally, body aching for a good stretch after an entire day of exploring, eating and drinking.

The city is too loud and fast for his preferences but he manages alright, your arm pressed to his side, grounding him before overwhelming sensations can take over.

he obliges without a word, your assurance silent yet clear in your eyes already. when it gets too loud, the lights burning up or the people a bit too much, the two of you just can excuse yourselves and dip out for a bit. it doesn't help his case that all the songs are somewhat dirty, and you are dancing right behind him, so close yet so far away, body barely brushing his. In your element, in your own bubble, unbeknownst to anything else surrounding you; be it the others dancing together, eyes of strangers’ watching the lot of you or how you’re slowly driving his resolve up to a wall.

you mumble something about going to the bathroom and he follows in tow. what self restraint he barely had left is all bu vanished by the time the clear night air hits– early morning? the nights have been of lighter color for the past weeks, and all he can focus on is the chill air and your warm body pressed against his.

"quite the interesting songs you were dancing to." he leans in with a loopsided smile when you look a bit better to stand on your own, balancing himself with one arm against the wall and you right before him.

"really?" your voice comes low, "haven't noticed." you lie with a smile, leaning further into the wall.

"if the offer still stands, i'd like to take my chance." togame says, slowly dragging his free hand by your waist. he really hopes he heard the lyrics right in the midst of all that, else, well, it's not like you'd poke fun at him forever for it, but the embarrassment would stick with him for weeks.

letting your eyes close at the sension his hand creates for you, you focus on his touch– soft, faint and burning. when you meet his gaze, you are smiling, looking at him in a way he can only describe as sultry.

"for you? always."

as soon as the words leave your mouth, he closes the distance in an instant, lips latched onto yours, body pressing you further into the wall until there is no space left.

[payidaresque]

CHRISTOPHER PLUMMER as Raymond Swan Inside Daisy Clover (1965)

[noxious-fennec]

A redraw of an old thing because exam season is the only time i get creative energy ig

[azen13]

I'd love to inquire about the Starlight Pawnshop. While the chess piece intrigues me, can I have the double sided coin? (Hoping for Aventurine, you see!)

King of Hearts, Ace of Spades

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Double-Sided Coin: A coin where both sides show the same pattern, allowing its desperate holder to not need to rely on luck to win this bet and secure their prize.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Description: You live on a dying planet, making just enough money playing poker to get by. One day, you meet a new player, Aventurine of the IPC, who has come to your world as a part of the IPC's plan to take your planet over. While he wasn't planning to make any big gambles himself, the thought of you being his might change his mind.

CW: Yandere Themes, Drinking, Mentions of Death, Non-Sexual Intimacy

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The scent of smoke and spirits is heavy and acrid, looming over your favorite poker table like a thunderstorm as the dealer shuffles a deck of cards. They’re red and black waterfalls in his weathered hands, rippling from left to right, right to left. Left to right, right to left, and again, and again. After you and the dealer, there are four empty wooden chairs, once occupied by players earlier in the night, now long gone after losing all their money. That left you and the strange man.

In your eyes, he looks rather gaudy in his well-pressed suit, practically shimmering from head-to-toe due to all the jewelry he wears. Unlike you and your rigid, controlled posture, he seems perfectly relaxed, draping himself over his chair, a king on his throne, overlooking his kingdom with a smile that seems to shine in his neon-colored eyes like diamonds. When the dealer passes out cards, dealing two to you and two to him, he glances at them without so much as a change in expression before he has settled back into his original position. His cards are so close to you that if you craned your neck just a little to the right, you might be able to know how to play this upcoming round. You know better, though. This is an impossibly important match, and if you lose it, you wouldn’t be able to pay your electric bill.

Still, the thought is tantalizing. Unlike the people you usually played against, who had easy tells and rarely won–unless you were having an off day–he was clearly well-versed in the game of poker, and had the luck to go with it: pocket aces, straights, a royal flush, even. You were certainly no novice either, but he had slowly been chipping away at you, taking high risk after high risk, to which you always folded, even when you had the cards to win.

Looking at your cards, you have to bite back a smile. In your hands lie the ace of diamonds and the ace of hearts: pocket aces. It was as though the stars–however invisible they were in the sky on your planet–had aligned in a serendipitous syzygy. This was the moment you needed. The moment your hard work would pay off. If all went well, you could pay your electric bill, as well as buy some bread. If you were really lucky, you could purchase a ticket off this planet, a world of decay and death, to go somewhere brighter and better, and start a new life.

Of course, that was all just wistful thinking, you remind yourself. Snapping yourself from your momentary reverie, you place your cards on the table, glancing over to the blonde stranger opposite to you. His eyes gaze at you with such unceasing focus, it almost feels like you’re being lasered straight through. You squirm in your seat a little, concentrating on the curve of his lip and the calm emanating from his posture, hoping to find some clues as to what your opponent might be thinking. Despite your best attempts, you come up with a blank.

“Why the long face, friend?” His voice snaps your attention like a toothpick, the words as thick and syrupy as honey as they pour over your ears. You do your best to force his voice out of your head, instead watching as the dealer lays out five cards in the center of the table and flips three over: king of hearts, jack of clubs, ten of diamonds. Just the sight of each card makes your heart thrum with excitement.

With shaky hands, you throw caution as far away as you can, and push your meager stack of chips into the pot. “All in,” you whisper. You have not prayed to the Aeons in many years, but in this moment, you send a silent prayer out to the cosmos, hoping for a response.

The stranger raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. Suddenly, you feel very small and insignificant, like an ant beneath a shoe. Perhaps this wasn’t a good decision, not when you’re on your last leg in this match, and you need this money. But playing it safe wasn’t working, and you’re almost out of money, so might as well go out with a bang, right? “All right,” he chuckles, leaning forward and using his free hand to push all his chips into the center of the table, “I suppose I’ll do the same.” 

After a moment, the dealer flips over the remaining two cards: a queen of clubs and a ten of clubs.

Shuddering, you lay down your cards.

Your heart shatters so violently and thoroughly, nothing remains but a pit in your stomach.

He has pocket aces too, but unlike you, he has the ace of clubs, giving him a straight flush.

For several minutes, you watch yourself sit listless, as the dealer gives your opponent the winnings and heads off for the night. Now, in this part of the gambling den, only you and the winner remain. The man picks up a red and white chip, running a gloved finger across its damaged edge. “A good game. Excellent, even,” he remarks, flipping the coin in the air and catching it in his palm. He looks at you again, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “How about a drink? I’ll pay.” 

You want to say no. All you want to do is go home and cry and scream and figure out how you’re going to sustain yourself for the next week or so. You want to eviscerate this stranger for taking your money when he hardly needs it. He isn’t struggling to pay bills, or afford food and water. But you are. Even though you want to do these things, a free drink is a free drink, and with how tight money will be in the upcoming weeks, it’s not like you can decline the offer. “Sure.” You let him guide you away from the poker table, past strangers clad in shadows betting their miniscule fortunes and drunkards drowning in fleeting moments of hedonism to a small bar.

Lit by flickering neon lights and pungent with the smell of cheap liquor, it reminds you of everywhere on your home planet: trashy. There are no patrons by this time of night; all the reckless people have already spent their money, and those smart enough to not give into temptation know the price is far too much for just one pleasant night.

The man sits on a stool, lounging just as comfortably as he did at the poker table. “Well, what do you want?” He asks, propping up his chin with a hand. You search the bar, trying to find a menu, but come up with nothing. Not knowing what to do or say, you shift on your feet, chewing on your lip as your eyes flit over the room again.

Noticing your unease, your former opponent simply chuckles, sidestepping you to walk up to the counter. “Two glasses of sparkling water please,” he says, pulling out a black and gold credit card and sliding it over to the bartender. After a moment, he’s already handing you a fluted glass full of a pale, effervescent liquid. “By the way, I’m Aventurine,” the man says, offering his free hand to you. 

In return, you muster up a weak smile, though bitterness leaks through the cracks. “I’m Y/N,” you respond. You clasp his hand and shake it once or twice, before letting go. After a moment, you take a sip of your drink. “Thank you for buying me this,” you add.

Aventurine waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he says, “it’s not every day I get to play against someone so talented.” Even with how horrible you feel, the compliment is enough to brighten your expression a little.

A momentary silence settles over the two of you, and you feel the urge to say something. To do something. But before you can ask a question, something stops you in your tracks.

Your stomach growls.

You feel your face warm a little, embarrassed at how loud the sound is in the quiet. Aventurine tilts his head a little, an eyebrow raised. “Hungry?” he asks.

You give a curt nod. “Food is hard to come by nowadays. I make it by with gambling, but…” your voice falters into a sigh. This man isn’t family, a lover, or even a friend. Just an acquaintance you met only hours ago. You shouldn’t be sharing your life problems with him. “With everything getting worse, it’s only getting harder and harder,” you explain. 

Aventurine’s eyes are intense. You never noticed how strikingly beautiful they are, as luminescent as the lights overhead. They gaze at you with a certain understanding, a solidarity even, as though he is silently saying ‘I have been hungry, too.’ Then you watch the light in them shifts, darkening like clouds covering the sun. “I could help you,” the blonde gambler offers, a smirk dancing on his lips, “for a price.”

At the sight of your confused expression, Aventurine continues. “I could give you anything you might want. Food. Water. Shelter. Luxury. I can show you the universe,” he says, gesturing to a cracked window showing the expansive, empty night sky. You have a distant memory of seeing the stars as a young child, but they are long gone, obscured by decades of pollution. 

“What’s the price?” You ask, immediately thinking of an old saying your parents used to tell you as a child: nothing in life comes for free. For such a bargain, surely there must be a price to pay?

With the flick of his wrist, Aventurine procures a poker chip in his hand, tossing it up and catching it; unlike the warped, dingy ones the gambling den owned, the one he held is in mint condition, colored green and gold. “Oh, nothing too costly,” he chuckles, leaning in. “Just you,” he murmurs. 

While the air feels electrified, you feel frozen in place. “I don’t understand,” you respond, the words moving past your lips like a drunk man hobbling home. Perhaps you are drunk with how your mind is spinning in every direction like a tornado. You check your glass. Still practically full.

Aventurine’s smile widens. “And you don’t have to.” His eyes bore into yours; for a moment, you feel like you’re being hypnotized by how the kaleidoscopic hues in them seem to swirl and shift. You want to move, but you’re still frozen where you stand. “To be honest, I myself hardly understand what I see in you,” he adds, “but I know I need it. I need you.” 

The declaration hangs over your head like a thunderstorm, ready to strike you down in all its passion. Before it can, though, you manage to stand up on shaky limbs. “I refuse,” you mutter, storming out of the gambling den, leaving Aventurine sitting alone.

An easy smile rests on his face, his mind assured that this won’t be the last time he sees you.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You return to the gambling den the next evening, intent on one thing: winning. Your electric bill payment might be late, but if you manage to eke out a victory, you can pay for both that and your upcoming water bill. Your dreams are immediately halted by the sight of Aventurine, lounging at your table as though it’s his, eyes glittering with what you now recognize as greed. It only takes a moment for you to put the pieces together: how precarious your finances are; how you make most of your money through gambling; how much he needs you.

He’s trying to crush any chance you might have at earning money, so that you willingly walk into his arms.

His expression is unceasing. He knows you’ll give in eventually, you have to. But you aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of winning. Not yet. So, with fire in your heart and daggers in your eyes, you stalk over to your table, and sit yourself down.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It’s only a matter of days before you lose everything. Electricity. Water. Heat. Sewage. Waste. You don’t try to scrounge around for food or water, and don’t even bother looking for a job. You haven’t heard of an open one for weeks, especially with unemployment rising steadily. Most of all, you don’t bother going to the gambling den. You don’t want to see Aventurine’s smug expression.. Your home, a small, drab concrete box, will be your tomb. You’re sure of it. 

That is, until you see those neon eyes glowing in the darkness of your room. 

Immediately, you attempt to stand up, but your body protests, your vision growing blurry from vertigo. “What are you doing here?” You mumble. You try to channel fury in your voice, but you can’t find any fire in yourself, only weak, meaningless sparks.

Aventurine only laughs. “I’m here to offer you another deal.” With the flourish of a hand, he pulls out a small poker chip, the same one he held that fateful night you first met him. “If you accept, I’ll uphold my end of the bargain, and give you anything you want. But if you win a coin flip, then you don’t have to uphold your end,” he explains. “And let’s be honest: you don’t exactly have any more options, do you?” he asks, that smug smirk easily settling on his face. You scowl at him, but say nothing.

Finally, after a few seconds, you mutter a half-hearted ‘fine’. With the way Aventurine’s eyes light up, it’s like he’s already won. You suppose he has. After all, he has an extraordinary ability to get lucky when necessary.

“Hearts or spades?” he asks, though you hardly pay attention. You grunt out the former, watching as the coin flies high into the air, a blur of motion, before settling back down into Aventurine’s palm. 

You see the symbol of a spade, but instead of fear, you feel relieved, oddly so. You slump into yourself a little more, sinking back down to the floor. After a moment, you feel Aventurine’s presence by your side. “Hey, love, it’s okay,” he murmurs, tenderly brushing some of your messy hair out of your face. Then he starts working his hands against your scalp, gently attempting to detangle the knots in your matted hair. “I know how hard this must be, but it’s going to be alright,” he whispers. “I’m going to take good care of you, I promise.”

To your worn-down mind, that sounds divine.

[socksandbuttons]

My apoliges but the swap dimension we firts knew is gone since it disappered when the hole collapse happened-

Our boy tall Lunar is gone

No he's right here.

[garbasaur]

Amber from Rune Factory 4!