#it’s totally gonna be late

[chaoswarfare]

danny falling asleep in weird places part 2! because i’m so tired 😀

[wzardjellies]

Gwourtney week !!!!!!!!!! 💖💕💕

Day one: yearning/first date

[waterghostype]

i thought this was a beautiful nonbinary lesbian but it’s just morro from ninjago

[starstriix]

Jock Week 2024 — Day 3: Maybe Brick and Jo wanna kiss and make up?

aka tdroti if they weren’t cowards

[oneluckydragon]

BREAKING NEWS!!! Local idiot ghost absolutely blown away when boyfriend gives him a nickname for the first time, more info after this broadcast.

Bonus pet-name edition:

(Yeah I know it's ooc for grovyle to EVER use the term "babe" but lets go ahead and assume he's done it accidentally a few times rather than intentionally. He's deeply in love with the dumb ghostman, ok. Sometimes it just slips out.)

Dusknoir is still recovering from hearing it. And when he finally calls grovyle "love" himself on accident a few days later, he falls deathly ill for two weeks cause his body couldn't handle the aftermath and started rapidly shutting down on a molecular level.

[tekkenenjoyerblue]

Living off the land

[yourlocalgremlin96024]

Ya know what-

(Aroaces your racers)

(Non-flag coloured version below cut! ^^)

[updatingranboo]

do we know how much the genloss patreon will cost?

ranboo was polling on twitter for $5, $10 $20 and $30+ options a few weeks back, so that looks to be around the range! there will almost certainly be a $5 tier as the cheapest, since that was the most popular choice. above that, i'm not sure what the exact other prices will be. ranboo also said the patreon will be free to follow, so even if you cant pay for the exclusive options there will likely still be posts over there you can see for free!

[phonydiaries]

a Dance in The Dark - P x Reader

It’s late when you reach the puppet’s quarters. Long shadows loom along the walls of the hotel and a draft rustles past you, pajama-clad and disheveled from a night of restlessness. You hadn’t bothered to switch your clothes, knowing your dear puppet wouldn’t pay it any mind. You had half expected to find P dormant at this hour, but instead he’s laid out on the floor with his legs kicked over the side of his bed. A book -which he seems thoroughly engrossed in- is held up above his head, its pages illuminated by the yellow-green light of Monad’s lamp, which casts a soft halo about the edges of his face. You rap your knuckles against the doorframe and his eyes jump to you, startled out of their careful concentration.

“Can’t sleep.” You sigh, gesturing down the hall with a tilt of your head. “Walk with me?”

With a twitch of a smile, Pinocchio tosses his book to the side and rolls haphazardly out of his place on the floor, clumsy with excitement. 

Knowing the hotel well enough, the two of you make your rounds of its many chambers in the dark, ever so often bumping elbows to each other’s ribs. Your barefoot steps cast dull echoes through the halls as you dip in and out of doorways, poke behind desks and rummage carelessly through shelves. In the deep blue foreignness of nighttime, you feel exploratory; curious like children let loose in an enormous garden just brimming with unrealized discoveries. 

Passing through the entrance hall, you seize the coveted opportunity to act a fool behind the front desk. “Hello, you’ve reached Hotel Krat.” You say, picking up the receiver of the hotel’s long-dead rotary phone. You’re sat on top of the desk now, your legs swinging over the side. Pinocchio glances up at you, his hands preoccupied diligently petting the hotel’s beloved orange tabby. You feign listening to the nonexistent voice on the other end of the phone. “Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Spring is busy at the moment. I’m afraid he’s in a very important meeting.” 

After thoroughly nosing about, you find yourselves settling in the piano room, you and Pino curiously flipping through pages and pages of sheet music. P’s interest is especially piqued by one booklet and he takes a seat at the piano, attempting to make sense of its pages. An admirable attempt is made as he plinks slowly and diligently away at the piece, tugging at your sleeve when he gets stuck. You barely know more than he does, and as you sit together at the bench your fingers tangle and trip over each other. The resulting notes are dissonant and clangy and you both fall into ripples of laughter at your duet's messy melody. 

The night wears on calmly, P fingering through a box of cobwebbed records, most of which are scratched beyond recognition. He retrieves one with some care and blows a layer of dust from the cover, his nose scrunching as it flutters across his face. 

You’re lying on the floor, limbs outstretched like a lazy snow angel as P futzes with the gramophone. There’s a few moments of anticipatory static before the record crackles to life; a somber piano score reverberates through the dim and intimate space. You close your eyes  as a woman’s wispy voice floats through the room, cool and calm. Something about the melody, the echo, the timbre of her voice makes your ribs fall heavy around your heart like a slowly but surely shrinking birdcage. 

Close your eyes,

Come to me,

Feel alright,

Just dance with me all through the night

“I can’t stand it.” You start, “It’s beautiful… but it makes me so sad.” 

You wonder if P is affected differently, maybe even more than you are by the emotional quality of the music. He certainly seems to have a fascination with it. “What about you?” You ask, your head turning to glance at the puppet. 

P’s eyes flicker towards the ceiling and his mouth twitches to the side in thoughtful consideration. He lifts a finger at you -hold on- while he rises from his place at the piano stool and arranges himself with precision beside the grand. He stands up tall, shoulders back, one arm held out just-so at hip level, the other outstretched as if resting on the shoulder of a ghost. You beam at the fine mimic work in front of you. 

“Really?” you ask, your brows knitting with intrigue. “Makes you want to dance, huh?” 

He nods enthusiastically and motions for you to join him. Your mouth hangs open for a moment. 

“Oh- no really I don’t know the first thing about it.” You stammer. Before your days at the hotel as Pinocchio’s companion, you had never known such affluent people and knew very little of high society or of their practices. Any formal knowledge of dance was utterly foreign to you. 

P assumes a swordsman’s stance and shrugs at you, nonchalant, as if combat training and dance were the most naturally drawn parallels in the world. 

“Sparring with you isn’t the same.” You say flatly, but P’s already made up his mind, and before you know it his hand is closing around yours and he’s tugging you up off the floor. You laugh nervously as you rise to your feet. “No, I’m serious! I don’t-” You begin to protest, but you catch a glimpse of his face, wide pleading eyes and creased brows. He smiles with all the calculated charm of a fox, handsome and cunning. You exhale deeply, steeling yourself before meeting his gaze. 

“Oh fine.” You relent, much to his chagrin. “Just watch your feet, I mean it.” 

P’s smile is annoyingly triumphant as he holds his hands palm-up out to you, seeking your guidance. Always so much concern for your comfort, you feel your cheeks warm just barely and hope the low light of the piano room masks it.

“Right. Um. Let’s see, you’ll put your hands…here.”  You say, taking his hands in yours and leading them to the crook between your waist and hips. He steals curious glances at you as you do. 

“And then I guess I’ll just…” You trail off, as your hands fold neatly together at the nape of his neck. You stand still for a moment, just looking at each other in the dark, the features of your faces obscured and foreign. This isn’t the way these things are normally done, you think, in pajamas, in the dark, but you can’t imagine it gets any better. If not for the undercurrent of music, you may have forgotten your purpose here entirely. P takes the first step, and you follow his lead with a dull anxiousness. Strangely enough, your movements feel still and mechanical compared to his. You try to loosen up, rolling your shoulders back, allowing yourself to be disarmed. P’s presence has a funny way of setting you at ease. 

The two of you move slowly in circles through the room, swaying gently like awkward young lovers. You draw into him as the music carries. Your cheek settles against his shoulder and his arms wrap around the small of your back and you breathe easy. It’s a lovely feeling, the way your bodies fit together like this, like they were made to. As you continue to step and sway, you close your eyes and listen to the gentle whirs and clicks of your companion’s heart…although… 

You maneuver slightly and press your ear to his chest. With some surprise you notice a skipping in its usual rhythm, bolder than you’ve ever heard it. You pull your head away and look up at P’s face in awe, a glinting smirk crossing your lips. 

“Pino, are you nervous?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. His face contorts and he opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes of it. He actually looks flustered and you almost don’t believe it. “It’s just me.” You say simply. At this, Pinocchio’s face softens, his brows turning up as if he’d taken offense.

“Just you?” He asks, and the timbre of his voice surprises you. You spend so much time together, and yet hardly do you hear him speak. Your smile fades slowly, replaced with an expression of curiosity. You nod hesitantly and hum in reply. P shakes his head at you, deliberate and slow. 

“Not just.” He murmurs, his gaze holding yours intently. “Never just you.” You realize you’re holding your breath. A ghost of a whisper slips past your lips. 

“Oh.”

Your fingers itch for something you can’t quite name and you find yourself pulling the puppet closer. His head dips to meet you and you feel a stray lock of his hair brush your cheek. His breath is warm.

The song ends. 

The needle of the gramophone lifts and the air is stretched thin with a cutting silence. You’re left in the dark together again, frozen in place. It feels terribly long, like you’re both waiting for something.  

“The music’s stopped.” You say, shattering the stillness of the moment, and as P moves to retrieve the record you immediately wish you hadn't. Your hand extends to stop him, fingers closing around his wrist. “But- we don’t have to, you know.” 

In the dark, you think you see him smile. He holds you like glass, delicate, and picks up again, moving leisurely to the music playing only in his head. He hums the tune softly and you follow suit, the two of you meeting in a duet of somber sounds. You wonder if your chests swell the same, if your breaths and heartbeats synchronize, following each other blindly the way you do now. The motion feels like crashing waves, steady and rhythmic, comfortingly repetitive. You fall into the flow of it all over again, leaning against P, sturdy and secure. You wouldn’t mind doing this all night.

Feels alright, indeed. 

[i-will-always-love-the-jedi]

(Spoiler for Temptation of the Force)

✨just had to sketch one of my favorite scenes✨

I legit died at this scene because it has so MUCH MEANING ok, it’s the song sacrificing herself to strengthen the ocean with the light of a Star and-

…

[merrinpippy]

on masks

so shockingly miracle mask has huge mask theming in like every aspect. basically every significant character is 'wearing' a mask literally or metaphorically, except for luke who remarks in ludmilla's costume shop that he doesn't think any of the masks suit him (since the events of the previous game luke can be authentically himself now.) this is fun to notice on its own, but there's more to be discussed than just the presence of masks.

every mask in miracle mask backfires on its wearer to some degree! the most obvious case of this is descole and the masked gentleman straight up underestimating their own mask/s and failing to see their plans to the end, and the resulting consequences. dalston and henry's masks of stoicism turn out to have kept them from years of friendship they could have enjoyed, and paint them both as suspects in the masked gentleman case. angela's aloof facade and distance from everyone around her allows her to be kidnapped for a significant portion of the game without anyone but the professor noticing (and even then, he notices that something's up with her, but chalks it up initially as not knowing her anymore). less obviously, emmy's mask only means she'll end up hurting the people she has come to care for even more when the time comes.

most interesting to me, though, is hershel! even as a teen he's remarkably reserved, though clearly passionate. he keeps himself very controlled, and seems to care very much about coming across to others as helpful, grounded, and 'normal'. the interests that we know he has he keeps locked up, literally hidden away in cupboards, not to be acknowledged aloud to himself or others. he never gets angry or ever really displays any stereotypical teen behaviours apart from awkwardness.

now what this means is he is treated as the reliable one who will nonetheless go along with whatever randall wants him to do. he's never particularly assertive (something he will learn to be as an adult) so his willingness is taken for granted. he's put in mortal danger in akbadain because it never occurs to randall that hershel's protests are anything more than for appearance's sake.

and when randall falls and hershel is alone, he yells! he falls to his knees, completely overcome. he cries. he pushes through. and when he reaches angela and henry, alone, covered in dirt, looking completely haunted... they don't even ask him if he's okay. angela bodily shakes him. in the past and present, nobody treats hershel as if he's been through something traumatic - to everyone else, he was either a bystander to or complicit in randall's death, but controlled, mild-mannered and rational hershel is never considered a victim in his own right even after years have passed for everyone to think on it. years after the fact angela apologises to hershel... when she realises she needs his help. and henry immediately accuses him of betraying randall's memory and abandoning him.

and to be clear this isn't me saying oh they're evil or whatever but it's significant that they acknowledge how the trauma affected them and their behaviour from that point forward but it doesn't occur to them that hershel's behaviour and life trajectory was also altered forever! because hershel has for his whole life masked so well that to everyone else he does not have an interior life that isn't puzzle solving.

and the absolute funniest thing about it is that when hershel confesses this all to emmy and luke.... it's immediately back to the investigation, "where do we go now professor!" i'm sure there's no reason to ask if hershel's okay, he's probably unaffected by all that, let's go! readers i laughed out loud. tfw you mask so well everyone forgets you're a person

[mrpenguinpants]

Hypothetical question but are we still into windbreaker (nii satoru)? Y'all cool if I put my hyper fixation on center stage?

[tomaturtles]

Made this for a poll a while back but felt like posting it on its own :) doomed timelooper besties

[asexual-shelly]

JO?

i for gor sorry

[angelpuns]

Thinking about taking a break for like a week or two even though it will ultimately be more stressful cause I am significantly stressed out about other things in my life ( mostly driving. Almost exclusively driving. )

Like I have the first week of updates for the next mini arc ready and I'm nearly finished the the next page ( and its only 3 pages ) but jfc there's so much going on suddenly and it all kinda hit me rn. Conveniently the night before the start of my work week haha.

its a lot of miniscule silly things but unfortunately thinking about them all at once is making my brain explode a little ;-;

I don't WANT to take a break, especially because once I try to start again I probably won't be able to. I find it very difficult to stop when I have a set routine and then just...not work on something. Which is why some of the Kid Leo arcs in the past have had HUGE lapses in posting :/ I also feel significantly guilty when I take breaks cause I know I don't do as well after I take a break lmao. Breaks usually don't benefit me, which is why I don't take them like ever.

The next three weeks are like...gonna be super busy on the weekends and super stressful driving wise. Like I'm talking long long trips of me having to drive. And then the week after the long trip I am gonna be boothing at a local convention which is always stressful. And I still have to make things for it.

I don't know, I'll decide sometime tomorrow if I wanna go ahead and commit to posting the mini arcs or not. I do plan on taking a significant break after Chapter 12, but that's still a bit away and this is more of an 'emergency break' type situation. Even though its not an emergency. You get the idea.

I don't wanna say for sure if I'm going to take a break cause hey, maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and be like ' man those silicone fumes made me feel like the world was ending lmao' and I'll be fine but it's very much a ' we shall see' type situation. I'll still draft up the posts in case I do wanna post, but this is somewhat of a warning. I'll announce if I really am gonna take a break or not later. I'll probably still be posting regardless, but it won't be full updates or anything like that. Probably just sketches and maybe pics of the stuff I'm cooking up for this convention :)

Anyway TLDR: I MIGHT be taking a break. Hard to say right now.

EDIT: THIS IS ONLY SOMEWHAT RELATED TO THE CATHOLIC GUILT POST OKAY BUT DW I DONT FEEL TOO GUILTY FOR MAYBE NEEDING A BREAK JUST A SIDE NOTE I DONT WANNA WORRY ANYONE!

[jesterjaxx]

OK SO DJUNCAN WEEK IS HAPPENING

Scheduled from Mon. April 22 to Sun. April 28

Heres the Prompts :3

Day one: Crush realization/ First Date

Day two: Pets/Movie Night

Day three: Halloween/Christmas

Day four: Future/ role swap

Day five: Cooking/ Carving

Day six: AU/ Angst

Day Seven: Free day

Tag your djuncan week art with #djuncan week so I can make sure to reblog it :D